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thatonegirlonhere · 2 days ago

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Laced With Lust

Changbin x F!Reader

Okay so um… Changbin may or may not have been laced with an aphrodisiac while he was at the bar with the boys…. And you may or may not be the only one who can help him…. (So many rounds… like- SOOOOOO many… like it’s crazy)

I know I say the same thing every time but this one is like major warning for this panty soaking, thigh clenching smut. And as per usual: Eat a snack, drink some water, put a towel down, and get ready to read ;)

Content warning: cock warming (light), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!!), edging, fingering, oral (m And f Receiving), overstimulation, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, degradation, praise, hair pulling, spanking(light), rough, dominance, possessiveness, aftercare.

word count: ~2400

Master list

Lmk if you want to be added to my tag list ☺️

MDNI 18+⚠️⚠️

You weren’t expecting him home so late.

The clock glowed past 2:00 AM and you were still curled on the couch, half-asleep in one of his oversized hoodies and nothing else. The buzz of your phone hadn’t stopped — texts from the boys:

Minnie: Is he back yet?

Han: He wasn’t feeling great.

Chan: Somebody spiked something. Keep an eye on him. Please.

You didn’t understand the urgency… until the door slammed open.

Changbin stood in the frame, breathing heavy. Chest heaving. His shirt clung to him, soaked through from the summer rain or maybe sweat, you couldn’t tell. His pupils were blown. Wild. Like he wasn’t all the way there — or too far gone. His lips were parted like he couldn’t get enough air.

“B-Binnie?” you asked, standing. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes snapped to you. Laser-focused.

Then he growled. Actually growled.

“Fuck. You smell like mine.”

Before you could even react, he was on you.

Your back slammed into the hallway wall, hoodie shoved up so fast it yanked your arms with it. He buried his face in your neck and groaned like the scent of you alone could end him.

“What the fuck was in that drink—” he muttered, then licked a stripe up your throat. “Can’t think. Can’t breathe. I need—” He paused and grabbed your ass, lifting you up effortlessly.

“I need to fuck you. Now.”

⸻

He carried you through the apartment like you weighed nothing. Tossed you onto the bed. You bounced, breathless.

Then he pounced.

Changbin ripped the hoodie over your head. His palms roamed like fire — grabbing, squeezing, devouring you with his hands and his mouth. He was everywhere at once. Lips at your tits. Teeth scraping your nipples. Fingers between your legs.

You gasped. You were already soaked.

“Oh my God, you’re dripping,” he growled. “You want me this bad already? Or is it this fucking drug driving me insane—”

“No,” you moaned, bucking into his hand. “It’s you. It’s always you.”

That snapped something.

He shoved your legs open and buried his face in your pussy.

No teasing. No buildup. He ate you like a man starving to death, like if he didn’t have you, he’d die right there on the floor. His tongue flicked your clit with obscene precision while two fingers pumped into you fast. Curling. Stroking.

“Bin— fuckfuckfuck—”

Your thighs locked around his head, and he moaned against you, loving it.

“You’re gonna cum for me like this,” he growled. “Taste you first. Then ruin you.”

And oh, he did.

Your orgasm hit hard, hips jerking, whole body shaking — and still, he didn’t stop. He licked you through it, chased every drop, until you were twitching and overstimulated and begging.

“C’mere,” he grunted, yanking his pants off and lining up his cock. Big. Thick. Veiny. Angry red.

“Still so fucking hard,” he growled. “Still not enough.”

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

You screamed.

No prep. No warning. Just raw need and his cock stretching you wide. Your nails clawed his back as he pounded into you like a beast, head dropped into your shoulder, panting like he was going mad.

“Mine. Mine. Fuck, you’re so tight— I’m gonna fucking break you—”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Just moan, cry out, take him as he rutted into you, bed slamming against the wall.

He grabbed your thigh and hooked it over his shoulder. Deeper.

You saw stars.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Changbin, I’m yours—”

He came with a roar, spilling deep inside you, cock pulsing hard as he kept fucking through it. He didn’t even stop. Still hard. Still feral.

He looked down at you, soaked in sweat and cum and moaning beneath him.

Then he smiled.

A dark, dangerous smile.

⸻

You barely had time to breathe.

Your thighs trembled from the first round, still dripping with his cum, your chest rising and falling in broken gasps as Changbin pulled out. His cock was still rock-hard, gleaming with your slick and his release. He stared down at you like you were prey — eyes glazed with lust, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes up.

“You think we’re done?” he growled. “Get on your fucking knees.”

You obeyed without a thought.

You dropped down on the bed, crawling forward with shaky limbs, already knowing what he wanted. You were addicted to the way he looked at you like that — like he was about to destroy you just because he could.

Changbin fisted your hair and yanked your head back, his thick cock brushing against your cheek.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

You did. Tongue out, lips parted.

He slapped the tip against it. Once. Twice.

Then he thrust in.

Hard.

Your throat stretched around him as he shoved his cock deep, no warning. Your gag reflex flared — he didn’t slow. Just let out a ragged moan, head thrown back, hips snapping. He face-fucked you like a man possessed, holding your head still and using your mouth like it was his personal fucktoy.

“Fuck, yes. Just like that. Such a good little cumslut for me,” he panted, the filth pouring out of him uncontrollably. “Gag on it. Choke on my cock.”

Tears blurred your vision. Drool dripped from your chin. You couldn’t speak — he didn’t care. He wanted this, wanted you like this, messy and ruined and soaked with spit and sweat and sin.

You moaned around him.

That nearly undid him.

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva snapping from your lips to his cock. Your jaw ached. Your throat burned. Your eyes were glassy and your cunt clenched nothing, desperate.

“You want me to fuck you again?” he rasped, dragging your body up by the hips and flipping you over like a ragdoll.

You nodded frantically.

“Beg.”

“Please,” you gasped. “Please, Changbin, fuck me. I want it. I need it. Use me. Fill me up again—”

He snarled and slammed into you from behind.

You screamed into the mattress as he bottomed out in one thrust, hitting something deep and unforgiving. His hands gripped your waist so tight it bruised, holding you still as he rutted into you with feral force.

You were shaking, melting, unraveling.

He spanked your ass once — hard. You cried out. He did it again. Then again. Each one sending jolts of heat straight to your cunt.

“You take it so good,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “So fucking tight around me. Gonna cum again. Gonna shoot it deep inside this perfect pussy.”

You choked on a sob. The overstimulation was brutal. Blistering. But god, you loved it.

Changbin grunted and suddenly pulled out — only to push you flat, grip your thighs, and shove back in even deeper. The new angle wrecked you. You clawed at the sheets as your second orgasm built fast, too fast, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

“Changbin—!”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going through your climax, fucking you harder, faster, chasing his own.

And when he came again, it was violent — a growl torn from his throat as he spilled deep inside you for the second time. Hot, messy, dripping.

He collapsed over your back, panting, hips still twitching.

You thought maybe that was it.

But then he reached around, cupped your face, and made you look at him over your shoulder.

“You think I’m done with you?” he whispered, breath warm against your ear.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

⸻

Your body trembled beneath him — used, soaked, marked.

You were hazy from back-to-back orgasms, legs like jelly, throat raw from choking on his cock, pussy pulsing from being fucked within an inch of your sanity.

And yet…

The second he pulled out and flipped you onto your back, you still opened your legs for him.

Because you wanted more. You wanted him. All of him.

Changbin looked down at you with his soaked cock in hand, still thick and hard, twitching with the need to be inside you again. His chest heaved, lips parted, but his eyes were razor sharp now — no longer wild.

Just obsessed.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he rasped. He crawled over your body, lined up again, and rubbed the fat head of his cock through your folds. “You were made to take me. Fucking built for it. Look at this pussy. Still open for me.”

He kissed you — rough and slow — while he pushed back inside. Inch by thick inch, dragging it out.

You whimpered into his mouth, so overstimulated your body twitched.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Feel every fucking inch.”

And when he bottomed out, seated fully inside, hips flush against yours… he didn’t move.

He just held you there.

Chest pressed to chest. Arms caging you in. Cock buried deep and heavy inside your aching cunt.

“I could stay here forever,” he whispered. “Just like this. Inside you. Filling you.”

“B-Bin—” you gasped.

He rolled his hips once. Deep. Grinding. Possessive.

Your head dropped back against the pillow and your legs trembled.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “That’s it. Let me fuck you slow now. Let me own this.”

And own you, he did.

This wasn’t the chaotic rutting from before. No — this was slow. Deep. Devastating.

Changbin fucked you in long, deliberate thrusts, hips rocking into yours like waves. Your legs were pressed up, bent and spread wide, completely helpless under him. One of his hands gripped the back of your thigh, the other tangled in your hair. His lips ghosted over your jaw, your neck, your collarbone — everywhere.

“You feel that?” he growled. “That’s me inside your womb.”

You cried out.

“Gonna keep you full of me,” he murmured, breath hot on your skin. “So full of my cum you’re leaking for days.”

Your pussy clenched tight around him and he moaned into your neck.

“Ohh… you like that,” he smirked. “You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you?”

Your entire body arched. You couldn’t form words — only broken gasps as he hit that deep spot again and again.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice dropping to a growl. “Say you want it.”

“I— I want it,” you sobbed. “Fuck, Changbin, I want it, I want everything—”

“That’s right. Fucking take it.”

He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head, using his full weight to press you into the mattress. His cock dragged along your walls with every stroke, perfect and brutal and relentless.

You were cockdrunk — fully gone. All you could do was let him fuck you open, let him stuff you full, let him own you in every way. You were his. Mind. Body. Soul. Cunt.

He leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered. “You’re mine now.”

That was it.

You shattered — your orgasm exploded through your body, your back arched off the bed, eyes rolled back. You screamed his name so loud it echoed through the walls.

Changbin snapped.

With one final thrust, he plunged in deep and stayed there — grinding, pulsing, shooting his load inside you so hard you felt it paint your walls.

So much cum.

So hot.

It leaked immediately, and he kept pushing.

“That’s it,” he moaned. “Take it all. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

You whimpered beneath him, twitching, overstimulated and stuffed full of heat and him.

He collapsed on top of you, panting hard.

You thought maybe that was it.

But then his cock twitched inside you again.

And he lifted his head.

⸻

Your body was trembling like a live wire, slick and sticky with sweat, his cum still warm and flooding your insides.

Your legs were weak, your skin hypersensitive — every touch from him felt like fire licking at your nerves.

But Changbin wasn’t done.

Not by a long shot.

He pressed himself deeper inside you, hips barely moving — just a constant, slow grind, his cock pulsing with each heartbeat, never leaving you.

His fingers traced your cheek, thumb brushing your trembling lips.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, voice low and raw. “So fucking good for me.”

You could barely breathe. Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned down and kissed your jaw, neck, collarbone — every touch slow, reverent.

Then his mouth was moving lower, trailing kisses down your chest to your stomach, his tongue flicking over your nipples, worshipping your skin.

Your thighs quivered as his hand slid between them, fingers brushing your soaked folds.

He whispered, “I want you to cum again. One more time.”

You whimpered.

“C-can’t—so full…” you choked out.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Just feel me. Feel how good you are.”

His fingers found your clit, rubbing delicate circles, teasing you as he continued grinding his cock deep inside.

You gasped, hips bucking weakly, overstimulation turning into aching, desperate need.

“You’re mine,” he breathed against your skin. “All mine.”

You moaned, overwhelmed, as the warmth of his tongue and fingers set off a wildfire inside you.

Your orgasm hit — slow, rolling, dripping over your body, hands clawing the sheets, nails digging into his skin.

Changbin’s hips snapped faster now, chasing his own release, his cock pulsing inside you in waves of bliss.

With a guttural growl, he spilled again, filling you so completely you thought you might cry.

He collapsed over you, holding you tight, lips pressed against your temple.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You melted into him, shivering but safe.

He kissed your forehead, brushing damp hair from your face.

“Get some rest, baby,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

The haze in his eyes was finally clearing. The wild, desperate fire that had consumed him was softening into something warmer — something human again.

Changbin’s chest rose and fell against yours as he lay beside you, sweaty skin pressed close, still utterly yours.

His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, careful now, gentle.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured, voice low and rough but full of softness.

You shook your head, breath catching.

“No, Binnie… I wanted all of that,” you whispered. “I wanted you, no matter how feral.”

He chuckled quietly, a sound like gravel and honey.

“You’re insane,” he said, pulling you closer so your faces were just inches apart.

“Maybe,” you smiled tiredly. “But I’m your insane girl.”

His thumb brushed your cheek.

“I love you. I’m not just some beast you have to tame.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep — a promise.

“Next time,” he said, voice playful but serious, “I’ll warn you before I get laced.”

You laughed, soft and breathless.

“Please do.”

He pulled you even tighter, arms wrapped like a shield.

“Sleep now,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”

TYSM for reading!!

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w0rm3y · 13 hours ago

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MILKING POPPIES || S. GOJO || VII. FALLACIES

TAGS: College AU, Best Friend!Gojo x Fem!Reader, but also CEO!Gojo (but it's different), friends to lovers, fwb, smut, slow burn, angst/comfort, fluff, Gojo is a simp for reader, like a hardcore simp, I am not joking

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, suicide, drug addiction, drug overdose, drug-induced psychosis, alcohol consumption, obsession, SA, violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, toxicity, depression, manipulation, explicit sexual content, explicit language, cheating, reader is OBLIVIOUS, everyone is making bad decisions, but it's fun THIS CHAPTER: explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, groping, mentions drug use/drug addiction, implied/referenced cheating

SUMMARY: You meet a new friend, Satoru, who helps you navigate your screwed up, toxic relationship with your boyfriend. According to him, friends always do it better, even if you're too oblivious to notice that. Little do you know, your friend isn't the perfect guy you think he is, which leads you to being a pawn in his family's fucked up game.

WORD COUNT: 7k, loosely edited, def contains at least three typos

|| Series Masterlist || FALLACIES >INEBRIATIONS>

“Don’t hate me, okay?”

That was the first thing Satoru said to you this morning after stepping into his office, thirty minutes early instead of just ten, and that was what he decided to lead with? If you were being honest, the sentence scared you a little bit, which was not something you needed to feel this early without even a sip of coffee, which you had taken upon yourself to provide you both with, because you’re the best–and he dares to lead with something like that?

“What did you do?” His fist came to his mouth as he looked down at you with a guilty expression. “Satoru.”

He blew out a breath. “There is maybe a slight chance that I might’ve overlapped my own meetings today, and perhaps you might have to attend one for me to take notes.”

As soon as he finished, you shoved at his shoulder. “Don’t fucking scare me like that,” you scoffed, brushing past him to take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. When he spun around to face you, there was a look of shock plastered on his face.

“You’re not mad?”

“No, I’m not mad!”

“You sound mad,” he mused, dropping his guilty look to join you in the chair next to yours. You handed him his cup of coffee with a scowl.

“Yes, because you implied that you did something that was going to make me hate you, not even two seconds after opening your office door. Who wants to hear that this early in the morning?”

“Well, after the way I treated you the last time you overlapped my meetings, I didn’t want you to be pissed that you have to deal with it now. Especially, after I dragged you in here so early-”

You held up your hand to stop him. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind. What else are assistants for if not to bear the grueling, exploitative work of their bosses?”

“Exploitative and grueling? Please, I make this job easy for you. If I made you do everything that was listed in your job description, you’d quit.”

“Doubtful, the pay is too good. So, why’s this meeting so important that it had you overlapping meetings?”

“Right, I forgot to tell you. This evening, I’ll be leaving to visit a property that I’m interested in purchasing. The meeting is with the current owner, and since the purchase is more of a personal matter, I moved it up to have more time to work on actual work before I leave.”

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach at the mention of him leaving. Hopefully, you suppressed it well enough behind your forced smile. “Where’s the property?”

“Kyoto.”

Your smile faltered only slightly. “Oh…”

There was a sinking feeling gathering in your gut, something akin to jealousy, or maybe just the fear of missing out on something you’ve wanted to do for a while. While Kyoto wasn’t that far from Tokyo, you’d still never been there before, and you really wanted to go.

“What’s with the frown?” he asked, pointing to your face.

“Nothing–when will you be back?”

“I’m hoping by Friday evening, but who knows? I already took it upon myself to reschedule the meetings up until then, but if I end up running behind, you’ll reschedule the others, right?”

You forced a smile. “Of course. What will you have me do while you’re gone?”

Playfully, he tapped your nose. “You have that time off. You’re welcome.”

Wow, thanks…

But you didn’t say that; it would have sounded ungrateful. And it’s not that you weren’t appreciative of the time off–you will definitely be using that time to catch up on studying, it’s just that you wanted to go to Kyoto, too. However, you knew better than to make a request like that.

So, you opted for the following, making sure to add as much sincerity as you could muster: “Thank you, Satoru.

* * * * *

Per his request, Satoru drove you back to your apartment that evening after work, explaining that his flight wouldn’t leave for another hour, and it was too cold for you to walk back outside. So, you conceded to his demand and got into his car. As soon as he pulled away from the curb, your phone chimed with a new message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: baby, please talk to me.

It had been four days with no contact from your end, and at this point, Charlie was starting to get a bit restless. You knew this to be true because his sporadic texts had started to become more than that, spamming message after message throughout the day, taking only a couple of breaks before starting up again.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him. In fact, you knew it was necessary, but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to respond. You didn’t know how.

And how fucking cowardly of you.

It wasn’t his fault that you fucked up; it was entirely on your lap, and while you and Satoru were now on good terms, that just made it all the harder to reach out to Charlie and fix things. And if the guilt wasn’t eating you alive already, Satoru had to go and be too nice by offering you a ride home. So now, not only had you cheated on Charlie, you were now accepting a ride from Satoru. Surely, that goes against most codes in the book of relationships.

And that wasn’t even acknowledging the immense guilt you felt after last night, when you and Satoru chatted back and forth for a little while. The banter was anything but sexual, yet you still felt as if you were betraying Charlie for even entertaining someone else. Not to mention, while entertaining someone else, you also had these… warm and fuzzy feelings.

That alone was wrong on so many levels, and you hated yourself for it.

But you couldn’t stop.

Being with Satoru was easy, whereas being with Charlie, nothing comes easy. Everything was a fight with him. The simplest things turned into an all-out screaming match, and you were fucking exhausted. Although there were things that you and Charlie had in your relationship that you and Satoru wouldn’t–shouldn’t have in your friendship. That being time, romantic affection, devotion, and all the other lovey-dovey things that went along with something that strays more than platonic.

Because at the end of the day, that’s all you and Satoru were–something platonic. Perhaps that can include the warm and fuzzy feelings, as you weren’t sure they would be going anywhere anytime soon.

“What are you thinking about?” Satoru asked, steering you away from your conflicting thoughts. Your phone lit up again, this time catching his attention, too. “Charlie?” he guessed, hitting the nail right on the head.

You nodded and glanced over the message.

Unknown Number: This is such bullshit. Answer me.

“He wants to talk, but I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s only natural after what he did-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I can work past that; the issue lies with what I’ve done to him.”

“I see.”

Another message came through.

Unknown Number: Why are you dragging this out so long? I fucking miss you.

That was like a jab straight to the heart. It was your fucking weakness, and you caved every time.

“Am I a bad person? After what we did–after keeping it from him for this long, I’m starting to wonder if… I don’t know,” you trailed off with a despondent sigh. “Do I tell him?”

“No.” Satoru’s voice was terse. As if you were asking for permission rather than his opinion. While you didn’t appreciate the tone, you knew exactly why he said it with such finality. “For your safety, please don’t.”

And there it was.

“You speak as if he’d kill me.”

“I don’t think he’d kill you, but there are worse things than death, right?”

Your eyes widened. “Jesus, Satoru. He isn’t a psychopath.”

He let out a ragged sigh. “I’m not trying to offend you-” You interrupted him with a scoff, one that he didn’t like, if his irritated groan was any indication. “Can you blame me for assuming the worst after what he’s done over something as simple as a text? And you want to tell him what we did? No. Fuck, no-”

“I wasn’t seeking your seal of approval–I just wanted to hear your thoughts.”

“And you have them. I think it would be stupid to tell him, especially if it’s going to leave you stranded here alone. Did you forget I’m leaving in a few hours? If you tell him, and he freaks out like he did last time, then what? Who’s here to save you?”

Your jaw clenched as you bit out, “It’s presumptuous of you to assume I need you to save me from my boyfriend. Like I’m some sort of helpless woman. He’s not going to…”

Upon your trailing sentence, he looked over at you with raised brows, waiting for you to say the inevitable. “He’s not going to what? Hurt you? As if he hasn’t done it already-”

“I’m done talking about this,” you snapped, closing yourself off to the topic.

After a few seconds of tense silence, you felt his hand slide onto your knee, forcing those warm and fuzzy feelings into your bloodstream again–something that was highly inappropriate, given your previous subject of conversation. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to push his hand away.

“I understand that you want to tell him what happened. You’re a good person, I wouldn’t expect anything less. I also know that it’s going to eat you alive until you tell him, but please, don’t do it yet.”

“But, Satoru-”

“If not for your own well-being, do it for me? Please? I’m about to be hours away–I don’t want to have to worry about your safety. Please-”

“Okay. I won’t.” Your hand slid over the top of his, wrapping around his fingers and offering him the same comforting squeeze that he’d done for you.

“Promise?”

You smiled and raised your hand. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll pinky promise you.” You pulled his hand off your lap and entwined your pinkies. “I promise to wait until you’re back before you tell Charlie. But Satoru, I have to tell him eventually. This isn’t something that can wait-”

“I know.” He returned your smile as he enveloped his hand in yours, grazing his thumb over the back of your knuckles. And what a wonderful feeling that was. Something so simple, yet it nearly took over your mind.

So much so that when the same motion was replicated by Charlie a few days later, it made you wonder why his touch didn’t elicit the same type of warmth in your chest. It should have, right? Especially given your current position, that being completely bare against one another, granted, a little sweaty, but in the end, the mood was just right to be feeling the… warm and fuzzies.

And why were your thoughts straying back to Satoru right now?

Fuck, you’re horrible, aren’t you?

You forcibly swallowed and removed your hands from Charlie’s, afraid that if the contact continued, he’d be able to see everything that had happened between you and Satoru in your eyes. Or, maybe you’d just end up breaking your promise to Satoru and spilling your little secret. Either way, you just needed to get Satoru out of your mind.

Usually, Charlie was great at occupying your mind, but recently, that hasn’t been the case. Even while in his presence.

“Do you want to get dinner?” you asked, pushing yourself to sit up on the bed, holding the comforter to your body.

“No money,” he grumbled, rolling onto his side. “I’ll just eat something when I get home.”

You frowned at your boyfriend and asked, “Weren’t you going to spend the night?”

“I planned on it.”

Your mouth fell into a flat line, realizing his little ploy here; guilt-tripping . Too bad he didn’t know that his efforts in doing so were a waste; you were already guilt-tripping yourself. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve all night. I’ll pay.”

It’s the least you can do after what you’ve done…

“We should get pizza,” he added, pulling out his phone to scroll through social media.

“Sure. You call and order it. I’m going to go shower and get dressed.” You didn’t wait for a reply from him before exiting your bedroom. You made a quick pitstop to the living room to retrieve your phone from its hiding spot to check if you had any messages from Satoru, only to find your message thread empty. The last message he sent was that he’d landed in Kyoto.

That was two days ago.

You sighed and placed the phone back in its hiding spot, one that you knew Charlie wouldn’t go searching through to find it. He was more of an out of sight, out of mind kind of person, and after what he did with your last phone, you didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, Satoru wouldn’t be too happy if he had to buy you a new phone. But you guess that since your paychecks were coming in now, you’d be able to buy your own phone.

That still didn’t give you the confidence to leave the device lying out where Charlie could find it, though. If he saw the messages between you and Satoru, though they were nothing but platonic, it would send him spiraling into a bunch of questions, and you knew you’d end up breaking down and telling him the whole truth.

The truth of what happened Saturday, but also the smaller details, like Satoru purchasing a new phone for you, Satoru hiring someone to clean up your apartment, and you staying with Satoru while your apartment was being cleaned. All of those things would only add to the shitshow that was bound to ensue. But you were only prolonging the inevitable, and you knew that.

Surprisingly, Charlie didn’t ask about your new phone. It’s like he just assumed you would have purchased a new one for yourself with the way he was spam-texting you a few days ago. As if he knew you were just going to answer him. Not only that, but upon entering your apartment, he only made a slight comment about how clean it looked, like he just knew you’d have it spotless after his little freakout. Both of those things irked you like no other.

And to top it all off, he didn’t even ask what had happened to you after he locked you out of your own apartment.

His lack of care truly showed this evening, and while it pissed you off to no end, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say anything about it to him.

Because after what he’s done, you felt like you’d done much worse. Betrayal is worse than his temper could ever be.

You needed to make this up to him in some form. Pizza wasn’t going to cut it for you. That thought led you to your next conversation.

“We should take a trip,” you announced upon entering your bedroom again, this time freshly cleaned and clad in a towel.

“A trip?” You nodded, making your way over to your chest of drawers. “What kind of trip?”

“Just a little weekend trip. Shoko was telling me about this trip she took with her girlfriend. Apparently, her parents own a cabin in the countryside, and she said we could borrow it if we wanted to.”

“How far?” he asked, looking up from his phone.

You shrugged. “Just a couple of hours. I can drive-”

“Pass. A couple of hours in the car for a little cabin? I’m good.”

“Are you sure? She said it’s really nice– it could be fun-”

“Can we talk about this later? I’m kinda tired. I just want to eat and go to bed.”

Your mouth fell closed then as you complied with his request, wincing as a surge of disdain seeped into your chest. But with the reminder that you fucked up, you let it go. If he didn’t want to go, that’s okay. Why force him into something he doesn’t want to do in the first place? That was just a recipe for disaster– you had learned that lesson in the past.

“Sure. Maybe in the morning…”

That conversation didn’t come in the morning either. What a shocker. In fact, no conversation came in the morning– at least none of the civil kind. An argument ensued moments after opening your eyes.

“I just don’t want to. I’m not in the mood-” Charlie rolled his eyes and pushed himself off your bed. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Home? What, are you going to walk?” you groaned, pushing yourself to sit up.

“I’ll have my mom come pick me up-”

“Charlie,” you implored, reaching out for his arm, but he quickly pushed you off. “You can’t get mad at me for not wanting to have sex-”

“But you never want to anymore. Every time I ask, it’s always an argument.”

“That’s not true. We had sex last night.”

He slipped into his shirt. “In case you haven’t realized, it’s morning now.”

You just woke up, and already, you were so fucking exhausted.

“You’re seriously going to have your mom come pick you up because I don’t want to have sex.”

He shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s your fucking attitude all the time-”

“My attitude? I just woke up, and you’re asking me to suck you off! Who would be happy about that?!”

“A girlfriend who actually loved her boyfriend and wanted to please him. You know, like I do for you all the time.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not true-”

“It is true! It’s always me coming onto you, never the other way around. It’s like you don’t love me– like you don’t find me attractive-”

“I never said that!”

“You don’t have to!” he shouted loudly as tears started welling in your eyes. “It’s the way you fucking look at me– you don’t care about me, you don’t love me-”

“I do! I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!”

He scoffed, “Sure, whatever. I’m going home, I’m not in the fucking mood anymore. Thanks for making my dick so fucking soft.”

And with that last repulsive and embarrassing statement, he slammed your bedroom door shut, harsh enough to once again knock a picture off the wall. Once you heard the front door slam shut, too, that’s when you let the tears freely fall down your face.

You moved back on the bed and found your normal sleeping position before closing your eyes and falling asleep again, hoping that he would have come to his senses by the time you woke up. These arguments happen far too often, and you were growing very much sick of them.

Much like limits, everyone has their regrets, too. And you think you were starting to realize what yours is.

Much later that evening, the persistent sound of someone banging on your front door woke you up, serving as a reminder that you had slept through the entire day. You gasped when you realized and rolled out of bed, rushing to the door. In your drowsy state, you didn’t check through the peephole before pulling it open.

Your mouth fell open. “Satoru?” He sighed in relief and brushed past you, into your apartment, toting a bag with him. “What are you doing here?”

“I landed around noon, and I’ve been calling and texting nonstop. I started to get worried that something had happened…” You yawned as he explained and shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I slept all day and my phone-” You moved to grab the device from underneath the couch. “Was down here.”

“Why?”

“Uh… Charlie was over. I didn’t want him to find it.”

Speaking of Charlie, your previous argument came to life in your mind, instantly souring your mood. The growing headache due to dehydration and the irritation around your eyes wasn’t helping either.

“I assume that’s why you look like you’ve been crying?” he asked, a growing look of concern on his face. “Your eyes are puffy.”

You nodded and rubbed at them. “Yeah, they swell when I cry myself to sleep.” Still groggy, it wasn’t until after those words came out of your mouth that you realized how pitifully sad it sounded. “Sorry, that’s– I shouldn’t hav-”

“It’s okay.” You swallowed back your embarrassment and tugged at your nightgown, reminding you that you were still indecent. Satoru seemed to have noticed your current attire, too. “Is that the famed Hello Kitty nightgown?”

You bit back your smile. “It is, indeed. Though it’s more like an oversized shirt. Let me go change-”

“Don’t bother, it looks comfy. And it’s my fault for coming over unannounced, so…” He looked around your apartment, eyes finally settling on the bag he had in his hands. “Oh, right. I got you something.”

Your heart clenched in your chest.

Damn, those warm and fuzzy feelings.

“You did?” you asked, almost breathless.

“Of course, I did.”

He sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him as the cellophane crinkled in his hands. “I tried my best,” he nervously chuckled as you took your spot on the couch, too. “But I don’t know too much about the characters, so I’m not sure if I got the right thing.”

“Oh, my god, you didn’t have to do anything, and I would’ve been happy.”

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe Shoko wants it-”

“No!” You reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I mean, you’re already here, so… lemme see.” Hesitantly, as if he were truly nervous, he handed the bag over to you. When you opened it, your lips parted in a small gasp as you looked at the two little stuffed animals inside. “Satoru.”

“If it’s not right, I’m sorry. I couldn’t give the store employee anything more to go off besides a little white bear character. I forgot its name, and all I could remember was what was on that nightgown you wore. But there was so much, and I have no idea what they-” you sniffled and took the two bears out of the bag. “You’re crying– I’m sorry, I can send them-”

“No! No, these are perfect! These are the right characters, I just– this is so thoughtful, Satoru.” You wiped away a stray tear. “Korilakkuma and Rilakkuma are their names.”

He chuckled. “I knew you’d correct me, too–oh, hey-”

You startled him when you nearly launched yourself into his lap and pulled him in for a hug. Your arms wound tightly around his neck, pulling him so close and relishing in the warming contact. When he seemed to gather his bearings and wrap his arms around you, too, you sighed and relaxed into his hold.

You knew it was wrong, but after the argument between you and Charlie, you needed this.

“Thank you.”

He tightened his hold. “You’re welcome.”

After a few moments of silence, you still couldn’t pull yourself away. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The way that he spoke so calmly and quietly, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. Maybe he felt the same way because he didn’t try to separate you either.

“How was the rest of your trip?”

“Good. The property was beautiful. I’m signing off on it tomorrow morning. There were a few new restaurants that I tried, and you would have liked them. Then I visited some family, and came home.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” you murmured, feeling a tad jealous that you didn’t get to go, too. But, nonetheless, you were thrilled that he enjoyed himself.

“Fun? I wouldn’t say that. It was nice, but the only thing that could have made it better was if I had my favorite assistant with me.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. Luckily, due to your position, he couldn’t see just how happy that comment made you. “Really?”

“Obviously, you’re not just my assistant, you’re also my friend, and everything is better with friends, right?”

“I guess so.” Your giggle slowly diminished as you subtly added, “I missed you.”

“Mmm, I missed you, too.”

“Really?” you found yourself asking again.

He chuckled, this time pulling away to rest his hand on the side of your neck. “Why do you keep questioning me? Think I’m lying to you?”

You shook your head. “No, I just… find it hard to believe sometimes. You treat me so well, and I guess I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve it.” He smiled silently, reaching up to grab the scrunchy that was messy, and barely holding your hair out of your face. Gently, he tugged it away, releasing your hair from it. “You deserve to have whatever you want.”

You took note of his normal-sized pupils. “You’re sober.”

“I am. Have been since this morning.”

But, if that were true, why is he still looking at you like this? With that same admiration in his eyes when he looked at you at the party and in his office the following Monday. You had brushed it off, blaming it on the drugs, but now here he was, completely sober, still looking at you the same way.

That look in his eyes wasn’t the only thing that seemed to match; you also felt that same pull to him. This wasn’t the work of drugs; you’d been sober for days. Could it be from exhaustion? You were a bit groggy, but then again, you slept all day. Your mind was fully rested, just a bit foggy.

So, why was he looking at you like that? Why were you experiencing certain feelings? Why were you both leaning in closer?

Why the fuck are you kissing him? More importantly, why is he actually kissing you back?

And why does it feel so good? So right? So perfect?

There were no thoughts of how wrong it was, no thoughts of Charlie, just Satoru.

You gasped when his hands moved down to your hips as he yanked you forward, positioning you on his lap just as you were on Saturday. The only difference now was your startling sobriety, but not even that could make you back out of the kiss. Your fingers dipped inside the collar of his shirt, skirting around his warm skin.

His palms traced up your thighs, settling on your lower hips, only to skim his fingers between your legs seconds later. You sighed into the kiss, flexing your hips to follow after his retreating hand in hopes of more contact. You felt his lips curve into a smile. “Do you ever wear underwear?” he playfully asked, his lips tracing and grazing yours.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “Sometimes,” you answered, guiding him with you as you lay back on the couch. Your thighs moved apart to accommodate him, and you pulled him in closer– something he seemed all too happy to do. His palm splayed flat against your thigh, trailing down to sink into the flesh of your ass, and in the same motion, lift your hips to meet his.

Your lips parted in a gasp, something he took as an invitation to slip his tongue into your mouth, tracing against yours sloppily. This served as a brisk reminder that you had just woken up.

“Wait-!” you panted, pushing at his chest. “I didn’t brush my teeth.” A heat spread over your face, much to his amusement.

“I really don’t care,” he retorted, moving back in until you stopped him again.

“But, it’s gross– my mouth tastes gross-” He bit back a laugh and leaned back in anyway, kissing you for only a second before pulling away again when you pressed on his chest.

“It’s a waste of time to get up and brush your teeth when my mouth could be occupied with something else in a second,” he mumbled, moving his kisses from your mouth to your jaw and finally to your neck.

“W-What?”

Rather than answering, his fingers slowly moved to your inner thighs, trailing up and up until they were tracing against your pussy. “Unless you tell me to stop.” He paused then, waiting for your answer.

As if you could say anything else, given the predicament, besides, “I don’t want to stop.”

A sound, something caught between a groan and a whine, vibrated against your skin, teeth nipping at your neck as his ministrations resumed.

His two middle fingers slipped against you with ease, finding that you were already soaked. You had been since you first felt his breath brush against your neck while you were sitting on his lap. That feeling had goosebumps spreading over your skin, little waves of gratification leading straight down between your thighs that he was toying with now.

Slow and gentle circles rubbed against your clit, spreading the accumulating wetness all over. You felt your nails sink into the skin of his biceps, but you couldn’t help it; this feeling was unmatched by anything you’d felt before. With the back of your hand to your mouth, you tried your hardest to suppress the mewls that were slipping out, but when his tongue slipped over that certain spot on your neck, all of your efforts were in vain.

A low moan fell from your mouth involuntarily, followed by pathetic, breathy pants. He took note of the reaction and did it again, earning the same response. Little pinpricks of pleasure zipped across your nerves, leaving you a heady mess. It felt like your head was underwater, the sound muffled by the lulling voice that begged him to keep going and never stop.

Or was that you?

His breathy laughter barely registered in your mind. The only true indication is the vibrations from his chest. He could’ve been making fun of you, and you wouldn’t have been lucid enough to notice– too caught up in feeling this good to care. “I won’t stop. Not until you ask me to.”

Now, who would ask for something like that?

When his teeth slightly nipped against that one spot right below your jaw, his two fingers slipped inside of you, only dipping in enough to give you a taste before retreating to circle around the entrance. He was teasing you, but you were getting off on it.

Who knew…

His kisses strayed lower, moving down your collarbones to settle on your chest. Over your shirt, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, coating it in the warmth from his tongue. The dampened cloth cooled instantly when he pulled away, moving on to the other to repeat the action. However, this time, after soaking the cloth with his spit, his teeth bit into the bud.

It keeps getting better…

“I’ve barely touched you,” he chuckled, slipping his fingers back inside of you. It was then that you realized that you had spoken out loud once again. How embarrassing. Before he could move any lower, you grabbed onto his shirt and tugged him in your direction, slotting his mouth against yours. “Thought you didn’t want to kiss me anymore?”

His rhetorical question should have grounded you, but instead, it had the opposite effect. You suppose that’s just what his voice did to you– it sent you somewhere that wasn’t here . It made you feel fucking high; that had to be the reason for the words he was able to pull out of you.

You shook your head. “No, no kissing…”

Forget the embarrassing words; that was nothing compared to the humiliating sounds he was forcing out of your mouth.

“No?” he asked coyly, speeding up the pace of his fingers. The noise between your legs was fucking sloppy. “No kissing, then what do you want?”

Your tongue slid across your bottom lip, collecting your combined spit that gathered there. “You… I want you.”

“Mhm, but you already have me,” he continued to taunt, working you higher than you’ve ever been before. “So, what do you want me to do, then? Since I can’t kiss you.”

“U-um…” His pace quickened, stealing your ability to form coherent sentences.

“I can get you off, make you cum,” he offered, glancing down where his hand disappeared up your nightgown. “You’re really close. I can feel it.”

Such foreign, dirty words spilling off his tongue.

You shook your head again. “I can’t– don’t work that way.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, working on holding back a smirk, you’re sure. “I beg to differ. The way you’re squeezing around my fingers, I know you can do it. You’re right there.” To prove his point, he maneuvered his fingers inside in such a way as to bring you right to that metaphorical edge within seconds.

Yet, he didn’t let me fall over. He kept you balanced right there, almost over-stimulating, but in such a good way.

“Think you can do it now?”

He already knew the answer– you both did. His question wasn’t a matter of if you thought you could do it; you both already knew it was going to happen. No, his question wasn’t even a question at all. It was a bargaining chip– he wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to admit that he got you there, he wanted you to ask for it.

He had you in a fit of desperation. There’s nothing he could ask of you that you wouldn’t helplessly devote yourself to.

So, you nodded your head. “Yes, please, ple-”

That’s all it took for him to massage his fingers in just the right way inside of you, all while rubbing his palm against your clit, sending you over the edge just like that. You shielded your face on his shoulder, unabashed moans escaping your mouth as you trembled underneath him. Your hips moved against his palm, creating your own rhythm to ride out your orgasm while his fingers mimicked it perfectly.

All of your nerve endings felt as though they’d ignited, flames lasting what seemed like minutes until your hips slowed to a halt. The pleasure slowly fizzled out, leaving you an absolute panting mess with a brain that seemed to be working at half-speed. You felt yourself wincing as he pulled his fingers out of you, too sensitive to the movement.

Realization slowly started creeping in.

For minutes, you stayed in that position as the lust-filled haze lifted from the room. It was like plunging into ice-cold water– a hurt, charged feeling that screamed ‘I fucked up.’

His hand moved to the armrest of the couch as he tried to push himself up, but you latched onto him, securing his towering frame to yours. “Hey-”

“I don’t want to look at you yet,” you mumbled into the collar of his shirt. Tears sprang into your eyes as he pried himself away from you. Your gaze didn’t meet his; you were too ashamed. “I’m horrible-”

“No, you’re not-” His finger moved under your chin, forcing your face up to meet his eyes. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“I feel sick– I-I…oh, my god-” Your stomach churned as hot tears coated your cheeks.

“No, no– it’s okay,” he whispered, hands falling to either side of your face. “I promise, it’s okay-”

But you couldn’t believe him. How on Earth could this whole thing be okay?

“I’m a monster,” you sobbed, pushing yourself away from him. His hold didn’t relent, and instead, he held you in place.

“You’re not a monster– it was a mistake. You’re a good person and even good people make mistakes-”

“I’m a cheater.”

And on that obvious confession, he didn’t try to deny that. It was the truth; his silence proved so.

Just your luck, a familiar phone chime rang out, cutting through the silence. With a shaky hand, you grabbed your phone and saw a text notification from an Unknown Number.

“I have to tell him.”

* * * * *

[You’re actively trying to make new friends]

Um, no? Not really.

Click.

[Your living and work areas are organized]

Definitely not.

Click.

[Even a tiny mistake will make you doubt your abilities and knowledge]

Yes. Yes, all the way.

Click and submit.

Finally, you had finished the very long questionnaire. Your eyes followed the spinning circle as it calculated your results for the online personality test. Should you have been wasting company time to take this? Probably not, but who was going to stop you?

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice peeped from the doorway. Your eyes flipped to the perky brunette, who didn’t hesitate to blind you with one of her smiles. “Satoru has requested to see you.”

Oh, perfect. Just the man you didn’t want to see.

“Can you tell him I’m busy?” you asked, knowing it was wishful thinking. You’d been doing this to her all week, and been avoiding Satoru just the same.

After coming to the mutual decision to just, once again, forget that it happened, you quickly found that you were not able to do that, and the constant flashbacks of him fingering the fuck out of you were starting to make your stomach churn with some sort of feeling you weren’t able to figure out. It wasn’t discontent, not even guilt–it was something closer to resentment, but you hadn’t fully figured it out for yourself yet.

The other assistant turned back to face you. “Look, I like you. You’re my favorite assistant that Satoru has had so far. But I’m not going to participate in whatever feud you two have going on.”

You huffed out a sigh, deflating back into your chair with a diminished sense of hope. “Is he at least in a good mood?”

She winced. “It’s definitely been better, but the longer you keep him waiting, the worse it’ll be. He seems really… antsy this morning.”

Damn.

You looked back at your screen, noticing it was still spinning with its calculation. With a grumble, you closed out of the window and exited your office, hesitant steps leading you in his direction. Just as you made it to his door, hand raised to knock, the doors flew open to reveal an erratic-seeming Satoru.

“Christ-” you gasped as he pulled you into his office, shutting the door behind you. “What the hell? Shoko said you were antsy but-”

“Shut up,” he snapped gruffly, sifting through loose papers on his desk. “Sit down.”

You bristled under his tone. “I’m not a dog.”

He gritted his teeth. “Fine. Stand there. The IT department called a little bit ago. Said a certain employee flagged some of their search filters.”

You crossed my arms. “And?”

“And per protocol, I had to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’ve been blowing me off all week, saying you were busy, but you’ve just been looking at this?” he retorted, splaying the papers out so that you could see.

“You went through my search history? You can’t do that-!”

“I can do whatever I want on a computer I own. I’m the boss. Let’s go through some of what you searched for. Cheating statistics, is kissing considered cheating , is holding hands considered cheating , is it okay to kiss your best friend-” Your face felt like it was on fire. “Signs of cheating , a cheater mentality, cheating with your boss-”

“Alright-!”

“No, it’s not alright! You single-handedly searched the word cheating over a hundred times! Do you know how long it took for me to explain this to IT?!”

You gasped, “You told them?!”

“They already knew about it! They’re the ones who told me your search history was flagged!” he groaned, clearly exasperated as he shuffled the search history papers into a pile and tossed them harshly into the trash. “You’re lucky everyone signs an NDA, or this little stunt would be all over the place by tomorrow morning. And that’s assuming they actually read the document before signing on the line.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “My search history. Sure, okay, Satoru. I forgot everyone just knows who I am-”

“No. But they know who I am. They know we’re friends. They know you’re my assistant. So that little search– kissing your best friend, cheating with your boss– people want to know that kind of shit, and they’re willing to pay for it. If that happens, it’s not just you that’s on the line. It’s me and my reputation– this entire fucking company. Now, sit.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk with a glare.

“No, I don-”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you; sit down. Now.” He stared you down, waiting for you to turn away and deny him his request, but something in you was holding you back from doing so. So, after a few seconds, you took your seat, looking up at him as he leaned back on the edge of the desk. His stare held just as much anger as yours. “We’re going to resolve this issue-”

You let out a humorless laugh. “There’s no issue to resolve. We’re forgetting that it happened, remember?”

“Oh, I remember that being what we both agreed on doing, but I can’t help but feel like you’ve not held up your side of the deal.”

“And what makes you think that?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, trying his best to remain composed. “Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“I don’t appreciate yours, either.”

“Right.” You clasped your hands together over your knee. “If we’re on the same page, why am I still here?”

His knuckles turned white due to how hard he was gripping the desk behind him. “Because you’re angry.”

“Correct.”

“Why-?”

“We can talk about this later when the drugs aren’t making you give a shit about the situation.”

“Screw you, I’m sober.”

“Then a couple of lines should do you some good.”

His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “You know what, fine. I’ve been trying to fix whatever is wrong all week; it’s your turn now. Suguru and I are going to Vault Borealis this evening. I’ll tell them to add your name to the list, so show up or don’t. You’re dismissed for today.”

And that walk back to your office was so fucking cold.

|| Series Masterlist || FALLACIES >INEBRIATIONS>

taglist is open :) @man1cslut @tetsuski @arrozyfrijoles23 @kazukuro @salmonroebonitoflakes

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purple-plum-petals · 2 days ago

Note

I saw your post about the freak circus and honesty pierrot is the best and needs more fluff. like what if reader puts makeup on his mask and he does readers makeup

⊱ All Dolled Up ⊰ || Pierrot and the Reader Doing Each Other’s Makeup

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Pierrot (The Freak Circus) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): None! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship. Word Count: ~750 words. Request: “I saw your post about the freak circus and honesty pierrot is the best and needs more fluff. like what if reader puts makeup on his mask and he does readers makeup” Author’s Note: Since the type of request wasn’t specified, I decided to do a headcanon/scenario format since those tend to be quicker for me to write the majority of the time! I also decided to write the headcanons in a way that the two of you are doing stage/costume makeup instead of makeup that would be worn more traditionally out in public (aka, Pierrot makes you look like a clown 🤡). This was super fun to think of him in such a fluffy/domestic situation, so I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🍰: For Pierrot to allow you to see him without his makeup on, it means that he fully trusts you with his entire being – heart, body, and soul. There’s a vulnerability in not having something to hide behind, allowing himself to be seen by you without the mask he wore around everyone outside of the circus. That was what they all wore, something that kept them safe and protected them from the cruelty of humans… yet, here he was, allowing himself to be seen without it. Then, there you were, sitting next to him with a brush in your hand and the well-worn palette of face paint in the other, smiling brightly and completely unaware of how much this moment meant to him.

🍰: He allows you to do his makeup with a bashful expression on his face (whenever he gets like that, you find yourself wanting to pinch his cheeks or nuzzle your head against his – he was just too cute sometimes), his grey-colored skin flushed darker as you sit him down and begin to dip the brush into the white paint. Pierrot closes his eyes, the bristles much more ticklish than usual. Normally, he never noticed the way the brush softly caressed his cheeks, but when you were the one in control, he found himself hyperaware of every single movement you made, his hands balling into fists as they rested in his lap.

🍰: If you’re not very good at putting on his makeup, he can’t help but suppress a laugh at the poorly done job when you hand him a mirror to look at your handiwork. He tries to praise you somehow, though, not wanting you to feel downtrodden by the less-than-great job. Even if you try to clean it off for him, he tells you that it’s okay – he’ll happily walk around with your handiwork for all to see, viewing it as your unique way of claiming him. If you’re embarrassed, he’ll tell you there’s nothing to be embarrassed by, wearing it like a badge of honor and standing with far more confidence than he usually does. However, if he has a show, he’ll just touch up a few areas you missed with an impressive speed and steady hand. If you’re adamant about washing it off, though, he’ll let you wipe his face clean with a small pout.

🍰: If putting on the face paint is something you’re good at, he might ask you to do it for him more often, pretending that he suddenly cannot do it by himself (Pierrot would definitely say his hand was hurting or something along those lines to try and convince you to help him lmao). If any of the other circus members notice the difference in the way he looks, Pierrot will proudly claim that you were the one who did it for him, chest puffed out all the while. He actually doesn’t wash it off for quite a while afterwards, wanting to wear your handiwork for as long as possible before the paint starts chipping away. If it means he can experience you putting on his makeup again, though, he’ll gladly wash it away after asking you to repaint his face with hearts in his eyes.

🍰: Now, if you want him to do your makeup, that’s a bit of a different story… Pierrot has no experience with using blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, etc., so if you want him to give it a try, he actually gets very nervous; he doesn’t want to do a bad job and upset you. You’ve never seen him shake as much as he did holding a tube of foundation, looking like a kicked puppy, so you lovingly give him a pass. However, if you wanted him to do your makeup like his, the same white foundation and all, he’ll gladly do that for you (he has a lot of experience in that department)! Pierrot gets into his routine, finishing up your face paint and adding details that mirror the ones he paints on his skin quickly, and he low-key regrets completing it as fast as he did (bro fumbled the moment because he was too good). If you enjoy him putting makeup on you, though, he’ll enthusiastically agree to do it anytime you ask! He thinks it's sweet you trust him enough to share such an intimate moment with him.

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blitziwitchwrites · 21 hours ago

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HOW TO GET A PH.D IN BOYS! masterlist. pairing: athlete!toji fushiguro x nursing student!reader content warnings: MINORS MDNI, 18+ , sports injury, concussion, brief mentions of violence, toji being down bad, toji crushing at first sight, mention of megumi’s mother dying in childbirth, single dad!toji, lowk being a neglectful father for a second there author’s note: it has been a hot minute since i’ve written for toji!!! i hope y’all enjoy! feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog, as it helps give me motivation and inspiration to keep writing!

— — — — — — — —

athlete!toji had never felt a need to go to the school nursing station before- others on the football field feared him, often backing away or flinching whenever he ran with the ball through the field, or raising their hands to protect their face and having bruised knuckles whenever they attempted to intercept one of his throws.

athlete!toji who was always injuring others, rather than being injured himself, as the greatest football quarterback in the college football league.

athlete!toji who got injured for the first time, receiving a hard hit to the head and a concussion, after he made a run with the ball and got knocked over by his own teammate and ended up getting dogpiled by the other team while he was down.

athlete!toji who grumbled, cursing and angry about not only his concussion, but his teammate messing up toji making the final play, demanding to see the tapes back so he could find the son of a bitch who gave the other team a win, as he was walked down by his coach to the nursing station.

athlete!toji who stopped cussing or saying anything at all when he walked into the nursing station and saw you, a young, bright, enthusiastic nursing student working to get her degree by volunteering her free time at the school. athlete!toji had never seen anybody ever so eager to be working at nearly midnight on a saturday.

athlete!toji who held still during his entire exam, even blushing when you lifted his eyelid a bit to get a good look at his eyes. your hands were so soft, especially in comparison to his calloused and worn hands, and they smelled faintly of vanilla and strawberries.

athlete!toji who had no problem agreeing to weekly visits and checks with you, even if it might clash with his time he got with his son. it would only be for a few weeks, and he was determined to make it work!

athlete!toji who’d never been flustered by a woman before, even the mother of his son who had just been a one night stand that died giving birth to megumi, until he watched you bending over the countertop of the nurse’s desk, writing down the nurse’s station number, his future check-ins, and a list of things to do to ease his concussion, giving him a straight few of your cleavage gently pouring out from your nurse’s uniform.

athlete!toji who asked for your phone number, only for you to giggle and tell him, “i did even better and gave you the nurse station’s number, so one of my co-workers can help you if i’m not at the station!”, making him facepalm as he left the nurse’s station, making his headache worsen. he hadn’t even corrected you, his hands trembling as he took the paper from you, never having been this off his game before.

athlete!toji who decided that… maybe he wouldn’t beat the hell out of his teammate that pushed him. he would let it slide this time. because their team may have faced a loss, but toji knew he received a personal win from it.

— — — — — — — —

written by blitziwitchwrites. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my works. thank you for all of the support! my main masterlist!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji jjk #fushiguro jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro headcannons #jjk #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #toji fushiguro imagines #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #anime #anime imagines

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bluebnny · 16 hours ago

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Hey friend,

I am having horrible anxiety lately and was wondering if I could request modern fluff Law and Ace (separate or poly) comforting the reader who is having a bad panic attack? Like instead of hyperventilating they get abnormally quiet, disassociative, and tend to end up secluding themselves and crying even when they can't figure out why, tends to dig their nails into themselves to keep from crying in front of anyone.

If this seems a bit too heavy or if it's not something you want to write while settling from your move please just ignore this request.

Bathroom floor

trafalgar law x gn!reader x portgas d ace

contents: starts off a bit angsty, but gets suuuuper fluffy. ace is a firefighter, law is a heart surgeon, decided to make them poly bc why not, they would have a really funny dynamic. law is not mean like i would usually write him as, he even has a sense of humour in this! ace is a sweetheart

warnings: description of a panic attack in the beginning, a lot of crying – If you think this could be triggering to you, please do not read this!!

a/n: thank you for this request! i feel you, my anxiety used to be so awful, i had multiple panic attacks a day for a while :( hope this isn’t too triggering! <3 i tried to describe a mild panic attack the way they always happened for me, but i’ve never really dissociated, so hopefully this still feels authentic to you <3 semi proofread bc it's almost 1 am <3 enjoy! :D

word count: 2.618

It’s been a rough couple of days. You’re stressed and have barely gotten any sleep. It feels like everything in your life is crashing down at once, and at the same time, like nothing is happening. You’ve been anxious for days, and you’re starting to feel it taking a toll on you, both physically and mentally.

There’s that distinct feeling rising in you so very telling of a panic attack. Although you’re not showing the usual signs, it’s almost like you’re beyond that point. Your heart is beating abnormally fast, but other than that, it feels more as though your body is shutting down. Like it’s trying to fight back against something, but even your own brain is too tired to deal with it properly.

The room suddenly feels much too hot and crowded, despite it only being you, Law, and Ace. Your mind is reeling, and you’re overcome with the sudden urge to be alone.

“Gotta pee.” You say, trying your best to sound believable to the two guys sitting on either side of you on the couch. You make your way to the bathroom, getting up a little too quickly, hoping they’re too distracted by the video game to notice.

You’re wrong.

Unbeknownst to you, Law’s eyes are following you as you leave the room. He’d noticed you getting more and more quiet all evening, barely engaging in conversation in the past few hours.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Law never talks more than he needs to. It had taken you some time to get used to at first, but you’ve since learned to appreciate the silence. There’s something very grounding about it.

You can’t leave the room fast enough, forcing yourself to walk slowly despite your heart hammering in your chest. It beats aggressively against your ribcage, almost like it’s trying to escape your body.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, your hands are clammy and numb. You quickly lock the door behind you, slowly sinking onto the floor. The tile is nice and cool under your burning body, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it makes you less calm.

The tears start falling before you know it, running down your face and dripping onto your knees. It’s only when you bring your hands up to wipe your eyes that you notice you’ve been digging your nails into your palms. The little indents show how much you’ve been keeping it together for the past hours.

You start crying for good now, bending over from how hard you’re trying to hold back your sobs. A part of you feels a little more relieved about letting it out, but there’s another side that only becomes more anxious. As if acknowledging the numbness inside you somehow makes it worse.

Before, it was something you could ignore, push aside for later. But now that it’s starting, you have to find a way to deal with it. Even though you feel like you can’t.

It's sort of ridiculous, but the more you cry, the more you think about how much you’re crying. About how you’re sitting on your own bathroom floor, your boyfriends just in the next room waiting for you.

Despite the pain inside you – the feeling of wanting to run away from everything, to just disappear – you can’t help but notice how the teardrops hit the tile by your legs. How you can see some dust particles swirling around the surface.

You think about how the three of you should sit down together and finally make that task-board you’ve been talking about for ages. You make a mental note of adding “mop bathroom” to the list.

The absurdity of it all makes you cry harder.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent like this – probably close to a million years, or maybe about five seconds – but you’re momentarily pulled out of your haze when someone knocks on the door.

“Y/n?” It’s Ace. “Are you ok in there?”

Fuck. You were hoping to have a little more time alone. You’re nowhere near as composed as you would like to be.

You try to stop your sobs, arms wrapped around yourself so tight your nails are making little crescent marks in them. But it’s no use. The tears just keep coming, and you can’t bring yourself to respond, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n!” His voice is a bit harsher now, and he presses down on the handle a few times. “Please, I just want to know if you’re alright.”

The alarm in his voice is too much for you to bear in your current state, sending another rush of panic through you. It’s becoming increasingly hard to breathe, and you’re starting to become lightheaded.

You try to focus on your respiration, forcing yourself to breathe in all the way to your stomach. It only makes you more dizzy, and you faintly wonder why everyone always says it’s supposed to help. Maybe you’re just doing it wrong.

The doorknob rattles again. Ace says something, but you barely hear it. You’re more frantic now, stressed out of your mind, and starting to become pissed off by how he just won’t leave you alone.

When you stand up, your mind is swimming as much as your vision. You ignore it, and snap in the direction of the door.

“I’m fine! Just go back to the game, I’ll be right there!” Your voice is nasally from your stuffed nose. Hopefully, the echo of the bathroom and the door between you will be enough to muffle it.

“Ok, I believe you. But… I need to see that you’re ok first.” He says. “Can I come in?”

You pause for a moment, thinking. You really don’t want anyone to see you in this state, not even your own boyfriend. But you know how incredibly persistent Ace is. There’s no way he’ll back off now that he knows something is up.

Plus, if you make too much of a fuss, he’ll just go and get Law, who is by far the most stubborn out of you three. Then you really won’t stand a chance.

But despite wanting to be left alone, you’re also so incredibly tired of it all. The will to resist has completely left you, and you just feel empty and drained. So, you do what you think is easiest: pretending everything is ok.

“Yeah, alright. Uhm… one moment.” You try to make your voice seem as unbothered as possible.

“Y/n, I’m not leaving until- oh… ok.” Ace’s concern is clear despite his efforts to put on a determined tone.

You try to wipe your nose as best you can without making any sound, flushing the paper down the toilet. When you get to the sink, you wash your face instead of your hands. The cool water feels nice on your skin, and you hope it will reduce the puffiness and redness from crying.

Opening the door a moment later, you greet Ace with a bright smile and a straight posture. Like you weren’t just a crumpled heap on the floor a few moments ago. You intend to slip past him into your room, maybe tell him something about being tired and needing a nap alone.

But you don’t even get the words out. Ace grabs your arms before you can take two steps, pulling you into a tight hug.

The gesture is so unexpected that you immediately start sobbing into his chest, eyes wide in surprise. Your hands tremble somewhere by his sides, not gripping him back just yet. Afraid of letting yourself lean into his embrace too much. Of feeling safe, because what if it just makes everything crash down harder?

But you don’t really have a choice when your knees buckle, and you instinctively cling to his t-shirt for support.

Ace doesn’t say anything. He just steps into the bathroom with you snug in his arms, closing the door behind himself, and sinking down with his back against it just like you had done a few minutes prior.

But unlike you, he doesn’t cry. Doesn’t break down. He just sits with you, one hand resting tenderly on your back, rubbing slow circles into your heaving frame; the other on the back of your head, keeping your face pressed into his chest. As if to tell you that he wants you to lean on him.

As if to say, “If you’re going to fall apart, let me at least pick up the pieces.”

Ace doesn’t talk. Doesn’t ask questions. He just sits with you, looking at the floor, rubbing your back tenderly. And there’s something incredibly comforting about simply being held. You let yourself indulge in it just this once.

It takes an eternity, but you start feeling vaguely… better. Not good. Far from it. Just a little better than before. But it feels like a lot.

After a moment, there’s another knock on the door, and Ace shifts so that Law can enter the bathroom. It’s getting pretty cramped with all three of you in here, but not in a suffocating way this time.

“How are you feeling?” Unlike Ace, who still hasn’t spoken, Law gets straight to the point.

You see why it’s always Ace who comes looking for you first. He navigates situations with a far more refined set of social skills, which Law simply can not be bothered with. The mental image of them coordinating this like some sort of tactical rescue mission makes you smile weakly.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Law!” Ace breaks his silence for the first time to scold his boyfriend. It’s very typical of the two. You can’t help smiling a little, watching their back and forth.

“What? If everything was ‘fine’ we wouldn’t be having a therapy session on the bathroom floor,” Law barks back. Then, turning back to you, “How are you really? And if you say you’re fine again-”

“I don’t know…” Truly, you don’t. Now that you’re saying it, the tears are welling up in your eyes again, and you can’t even begin to comprehend why. A moment ago, you were smiling at your boyfriends’ bickering, the next, you’re sinking back into that weird pit that just seems to keep opening up under you when you least expect it.

Ace looks ready to rip Law a new one, but quickly bites back his remark when you speak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.” You mutter, eyes drifting from Law to the floor again, landing on where your tears are now drying.

You see little rings of dust where teardrops had previously been, making your mind wander. “I was thinking, we should really figure out who’s in charge of mopping. The bathroom floor’s getting dirty…”

Dead silence. It feels tense, uneasy.

You look up between Law and Ace for reassurance, and see them sharing a look.

Ace looks worried, staring at his boyfriend as though begging him for an explanation. As a firefighter, Ace has some medical training for emergencies, but isn’t qualified to deal with mental health issues. This is where he’d usually be quite happy to let Law take over. But Law’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“W- What?” You’re the one to break the silence first, uncertain because of the sudden shift in mood. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Can you tell me your name, please?”

“It’s y/n. And I’m not dissociating, Law!”

Ace is visibly relieved, letting out a heavy sigh. “Shit, y/n, you scared me for a sec. Never do that again.”

“Hmm, idk,” Law mutters. “You were showing a lot of the signs before…”

“I’m telling you guys, I’m fine!” You’re saying it more forcefully this time, like that somehow changes the fact that you’ve been sobbing on the bathroom floor for most of the evening. “I just get… sad sometimes. Or like, stressed maybe. I don’t know...”

Ace has a hand on your face, gently wiping a tear with his thumb. “It’s ok, we’re here for you. Just… please don’t shut us out again, y/n.”

“Emotionally and out of the bathroom,” Law adds sternly. “Just to be clear.”

Ace shoots him another glare, but his face softens when he sees you smiling. Law’s expression is as serious as it was when he entered the bathroom, although you can tell he’s relieved too.

There’s another little pause, then Ace speaks again.

“Ok, so if you’re fine, and we’re all in agreement that the bathroom floor is disgusting... can we maybe go back to the couch again?” He shoots you a tentative look, as though trying to see whether he’s going too far.

“Hmm, ok.” Just as you try to smile, another involuntary tear slips out. The frustration at it almost makes you cry again, but you manage to compose yourself enough to say, “Maybe we can finally talk about dividing the chores. Then we won’t have to fight about it every time.”

“Us three fighting about dumb stuff is half the reason this relationship works,” Law casually says while getting up, making you let out a watery giggle. But he quickly corrects himself when he sees Ace’s murderous glare. “But, uhh… if you think it’ll help, of course we can do that.”

“Fucking tactless,” you hear Ace mutter as you’re getting up as well.

“Y/n is better, I don’t need to be tactful,” He responds drily, already walking out of the bathroom. Then, a bit further away, “I thought that’s what we have you for, anyway...”

Ace is too busy helping you to get up to argue back, which says a lot about his dedication to you. Telling Law off is by far his favourite pastime.

The two of you get back to the living room a few moments later to see Law already sitting on the couch. He has some paper in his lap, on which he’s drawn three columns; one for each person, presumably.

You sit down, getting comfortable between the two.

“Who is H?” You ask, leaning over Law's arm.

“That’s an ‘A’ for Ace.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Maybe we should let someone who doesn’t have chronic doctor handwriting do this,” Ace adds, following your gaze with furrowed eyebrows.

“Fucking ungrateful.” Law drops the paper and pen into your lap, but he doesn’t look too bothered by it.

“Is this ‘C’ supposed to be an ‘L’ for Law?” you ask, trying not to laugh too much, especially since you can hear Ace giggling next to you.

His only response is to narrow his eyes at you, but that’s confirmation enough. Ace snorts. Seeing the two of them like this makes something comfortable and warm spread through your chest for the first time this evening. For the first time in a while, now that you think about it.

You lie down on the sofa, head resting in Law’s lap, and your legs in Ace’s.

You start with the first chore, “Alright… who’s going to mop the bathroom?”

Silence.

Then, “Well, you were already well underway…”.

Law immediately jumps up. “Oh, so I can’t make that joke about the fighting, but you can make fun of y/n for crying all over the floor?”

Your laughter breaks up their argument, and they look down at you, completely starstruck. They both look pleased at hearing your laugh again.

“No problem, I can do it. It’ll be… therapeutic.” You add it to your column. “That means that you two clean out the fridge. It’s definitely a two-person job.”

Ace and Law look utterly disgusted, sharing a look of deep regret. But neither of them argues this time around. Maybe they’re tired as well, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that they’re both too busy watching you giggle to care about the fridge.

Not me finally looking up how to properly punctuate dialogue for this lol. Anyway, I hope you liked it!!

Dividers made by me

This is my fic, don't repost or use in AI training! Reblogs are always appreciated <3 Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece ace #one piece fluff #one piece hurt/comfort #trafalgar d water law #one piece law #trafalgar law fluff #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #request

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 hours ago

Text

Pent Up 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The rest of the drive home is tense. For you at least. Thor hums, his hand on yours as he steers with the other. His mood has notably brightened.

You look down at your finger as he toys with the stone there. Married? To this man? You are in big trouble.

He pulls up to the curb of your stepfather's house. That's another issue. Your mom is lackadaisical but her husband makes up for it. He is controlling down the length of the grass on his lawn.

You glance over at the house. It still doesn't feel real. It's all just a bad dream. It has to be.

"I will walk you to the door." Thor offers. You don't respond as you keep staring up at the suburban greenery. "My queen?"

You make yourself look at him.

"No, it's okay. I can--"

"I am a gentleman. I insist." He undoes his seatbelt and pushes open his door. You can't stop him. Not from anything. You're down a very deep hole you dug yourself.

He comes around as your seat belt snaps back. He opens the door and offers his hand. His large hand. It's hard to forget his size but each time you see him, it's a surprise.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why the heck did you mess with a criminal? Several, even.

You hope down from the high truck and he takes you up the walk. You trip up the front steps and he steadies you. You turn to him as you blink away the haze.

"My queen, are you unwell?" He rubs your shoulder.

"F-fine," you stutter. "Thor, I just need..."

"Time. You said. But my queen, not much. I spent too much of it caught up in my errors. Please, don't make me wait too long."

You nod as you stare up at him. He's not just so much bigger, he's older. You almost want to ask but it doesn't really matter. The grey hair threaded into the gold, the lines around his eyes and across his forehead, all tell you he's far too old for you. Yet, his thick arms, his burly chest, they contrast those little hints of age. He is still a lot stronger than you.

"I know. I promise. It's just... My parents won't be back for a few--"

Your name crackles in the air. You gulp. Your eyes go wide as Thor's face creases with confusion. Your lips part as Andy's voice rises from the speaker again.

"I know you can hear me. Who's this?" Your stepfather demands from the doorbell cam. Shoot. You didn't think about that.

"Ughhh, hi, Andy," you turn and wave to the lens, moving to block Thor from view. "No one."

"I told you, no visitors." Andy growls.

"He isn't... He's leaving right now. Sorry." You rub your neck.

"You have two minutes." Andy warns. "Or--"

"No, no," Thor gently urges you away from the camera. He bends to look into it. "No, you don't speak to her that way."

"Thor," squeak. "Please."

"Excuse me?" Andy scoffs. "Who the hell are you? This is my house."

"And yet you lack hospitality." Thor accuses. "We were saying our farewells. Nothing more and you interrupted."

Andy says your name again. "Two minutes and the cops are on their way."

"Andy, please--"

"He comes back and I will be discussing this with your mother." He sneers.

You frown. "Yes, Andy." You touches Thor's elbow. "Please go."

"Hmm," he stands straight and faces you. "Only because you asked. Not him."

"Okay," you say. "Okay."

"My queen," he turns you to him completely. "I will return but know every moment will be empty without you."

If you weren't so dang scared, you would laugh at his cheesiness. You just stand there as he leans in to kiss you. Once more, his figure dwarfs you in a frightening way.

The epiphany truly sets in as his lips move on yours. You cannot stop this man. Not ever.

He draws away and sighs. A much less enamoured breath comes from the speaker. You shoot Thor with your fingers. He grins dumbly and blows you a kiss as he stumbles backward down the steps.

"You will always be right her, my queen." He pays his chest.

You force a smile and watch him traipse back to his truck. You wave as he get in the driver seat. You gnash your teeth as you wait for him to pull away. Finally, he's gone.

"I should tell your mom." Andy drags you back to panic.

You spin and face the lens, showing your palms.

"Andy. Please. It's not--"

"Not in my house. You have your own place. Go be a slut there."

"Andy." You gasp.

No response. You say his name again. Still nothing. Oh frig.

💕

The night is no less stressful than the day. You pendulum between exhaustion and fear. You're tired of your own mistakes. Your stupidity. Your insecurity. This is all because you just needed validation.

And you're scared of Thor and Andy and all the consequences of that. You can't even wallow in self-pity. You deserve this.

You spend the night on the couch. You have a plan. In the morning, you're going to wash the guest bedding and clean up all the evidence of your occupation. Then you're going home. Your stepdad can keep watching through the camera.

You fall asleep against your will. You don't have any choices anymore. When you wake, your head is pounding and your body is stiff. The TV is still on.

You sit up and shut it off. Yellow sunlight peers in between the curtains. You groan. What time is it?

You grab your phone. Dammit. It's almost noon. You have about a dozen notifications. You can assume who they're from.

You stand up and grab your head as if it might fall off your neck. You're dizzy. You blink long and hard as you gather your wits.

You drop your hands and pull on your loose pajama shorts as they bunch between your legs. You hobble towards the hall and pause as you hear the door click. No, please... Thor would try, wouldn't he?

You face the door, preparing for the intruder but you're not ready for who enters. Andy stops short as he sees you. He grips the door handle tighter as he stares you down.

"Andy," you murmur.

"Good morning," he scoffs. "I see you're enjoying yourself."

"What are you..." You try to see past him. "Did you come home early?"

"Just me." He says. He calmly shuts the door and twists the lock.

You cross your arms, overly aware of your lack of bra. You linger in the doorway as he puts his keys in the tray. He turns to you and you reach up to rub your throat.

"Andy, I'm sorry about that guy. It's not--"

"I didn't tell your mom." He interrupts. "Yet."

"Please," you bet.

"We should talk." He insists.

You frown deeper. You know what's coming. A lecture.

"I..." You swallow.

"I could use some coffee, after driving all night." He says. It's more of a command.

"Okay. I'll make some." You flinch. "I'm sorry."

"Mm." He hums flatly and strides past you.

He goes into the dining room and you reluctantly follow his steps, instead veering into the kitchen. You fidget before you get your bearing. Coffee. Right.

The time it takes to brew isn't enough to prepare yourself. You pour two cups. You need it before your head shatters to pieces.

You bring them into the dining room. You place one before Andy on the table mat. You sit across from him. He huffs as you mindlessly set yours directly on the wood. You move it on the mat and apologise once more.

He stares at you. His cheek ticks. He's thinking. You twitch and sip your coffee.

"I told your mom I came here because a pipe leak." He says.

"Oh," you babble.

He considers you as he takes a gulp of black coffee. He narrows his eyes.

"That man is a bit old for you, don't you think?" He challenges.

"Um yeah, but... But... Andy it's not..."

"Your mother would agree, don't you think?" He spits.

You nod and pout. "I know."

He's quiet again. You slump and mope at the table. You fold your hands on your lap and wait for him to continue.

"I didn't know you liked older men." He says. "Explains why you never bring any boys around."

You look up at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"It's interesting." He shrugs as he crosses his arms on the table and leans in.

"Ummm." You don't know what he means.

He stares at you. You want him to stop. You shiver.

"Might not be so cold if you had a bra on," he chides.

Your eyes go wide and you cover your chest with your arms.

"I can see everything." He snarls.

You squirm.

"Andy?" You hiss.

"May as well not even both with the shirt if you're going to flaunt around like that." He snips.

You girmace, "why are you saying those things?"

"I'm treating you exactly like you should be. Bringing strange men to my house behind my back." He snarls.

Your lip trembles. "You're... You're not my dad."

His lips slant, "I know."

His tone sends chills through you. You're speechless. Your chest binds up and you struggle to get a breath in.

"If your mom knew..." He tuts.

"I was just about to clean up and leave." You croak.

"Sure, you can clean up your mess." He says evenly. "But I meant what I said."

"Huh?"

"About the shirt."

You gape at him. You don't get it.

"Take it off." His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. Yet you know exactly what he said.

"Please."

"So I should tell mom?" He asks.

You look at the table then the wall. You shouldn't care. Your mom chose him a long time ago but she's all you have.

"No," you utter.

You drop your head and inhale. You let it out slow and uncross your arms. You shudder as you curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt.

Do it.

You swipe the fabric up and whimper. No one's ever seen you like this. You're embarrassed.

"Mm. That's... A lot." He leans forward. "Stand up."

You keep your eyes down. You stand. Your stomach churns.

"Alright then. Get started."

You flick your eyes up and shrug. That only makes your chest jiggle. You cover yourself.

He tisks. "Ah, no."

You sniff and drop your arms. He groans. Your throat locks up as if you might vomit.

"Dishes." He commands.

You nod and walk away. Each step has your chest bouncing. You go into the kitchen and turn on the sink.

You sense him come in behind you. "And you can do the floors after." He says.

"Okay," you put the few plates you used into the sink.

As the sink fills with bubbles, you reach into scrub the plates. The water sprays down and the water is hot on your skin. You don't hear him until he's right behind you.

Andy hooks his arms under yours and cups your tits. They overflow his grasp. He squeezes and pushes himself against your back.

The plate slips out of your grip. He breathes into your hair. "No, keep going."

Your hands are clumsy as you search in the sink for the plate. You can't focus as he kneads your tits. He rocks his pelvis until you feel him. You can't believe this is happening.

"Why?" You snivel as a test slips free.

"Because you owe me," he snarls.

#Thor #dark Thor #dark!thor #Thor x reader #pent up #series #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #MCU #avengers

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anime-in-new-albion · 3 days ago

Text

11:02 PM ~ Rafayel

Summary: It's raining. And yet Rafayel decided to show up at your house without an umbrella or a coat, leaving him positively soaked...

Pairing: Rafayel X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 587

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

It was pouring. And yet Rafayel decided to visit you. Needless to say, he was drenched by the time he reached your door.

“Hello bodyguard.”

“Rafayel!” You gasped, quickly ushering him inside. “You’re all wet! Did you walk here without a coat or umbrella with you?”

“I didn’t have time to get one.” He shrugs, but allows you to pull him into your house. “Besides, I couldn’t be bothered to grab one anyways.”

You sigh and shake your head. “You are impossible, I swear. Here, let’s get you warmed up. You must be freezing.”

He nodded as you led him out of the foyer and into your living room. Sitting him down on the couch, you went to grab a fresh set of clothes and a towel for him.

“Alright, you can go into the bathroom to change. I’ll dry your hair when you come back.”

Rafayel eyed you with suspicion. “Really? You’re going to dry my hair? Don’t you think I can do that myself?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you can, but be serious, are you really going to tell me no when I’m offering to spoil you?”

He shook his head. “No…”

“Good. Then go change and I’ll dry your hair.”

And with an arrogant huff, he grabbed the spare clothes you got for him and went into the bathroom to change. You shook your head as you patiently waited for him to return. When he changed, he didn't say anything but sat right in front of you so you could dry his hair.

Carefully, you draped the towel over his soaking wet hair and started to dry it. Instantly, he leaned into your touch. A contented hum escaped him. You couldn’t help but smile as well. Rafayel was like a giant puppy when you spoiled him like this. Sometimes you’d have to scold him, but most of the time you got to love him. And of course, he loved you as well.

“Raf, I want you to remember to bring an umbrella with you next time it rains, okay? I am not going to do this for you again.”

He scoffed, looking absolutely offended by your words. “I thought it was your job to protect me from everything, bodyguard!”

“Like a common cold?”

“Exactly! You should put my well-being before everything else.” He shot back before he added under his breath, “Besides, I really don’t need an umbrella.”

You scowled and rolled your eyes. “Please. Even the great Lemurian Sea God still gets sick.”

There was a slight pause before he asked, “Would you take care of me if I got sick?”

“Yes, of course, but I don’t want you intentionally getting sick just so I can take care of you.” You scolded, but there’s a soft smile that’s beginning to tug at your lips. It sounded exactly like something he would do.

He scowled before he begrudgingly nodded. “Okay, I won’t. But thank you for taking care of me.”

You smiled. “You’re very welcome.”

When you were done drying his hair, Rafayel took his spot next to you on the couch and pulled you into his side. You managed to grab a thick blanket and turned the TV on to a movie he wanted to see.

Glancing up at him, you were overcome with that overwhelming love and fondness you harbored for him and you kissed the bottom of his jaw. This caused him to smile and nuzzle closer to you. Yep, he was definitely your giant puppy dog.

#Love and Deepspace #Love and Deepspace Fanfiction #Love and Deepspace Drabble #Anime #Anime Fanfiction #Anime Drabble #Rafayel #Rafayel X Reader #Rafayel Fanfiction #Rafayel Drabble #Rafayel Fluff #Qi Yu #Qi Yu X Reader #Qi Yu Fanfiction #Qi Yu Drabble #Qi Yu Fluff #Drabble #Fluff

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tjwritesfanfics · 20 hours ago

Note

Hi moootttieee! :D

Can I get a Yandere Seth Durand x GN reader using the Yandere prompt list with the numbers 1, 8, and 11 :3

1 - “If you want me to beg, then I’ll beg for you.”

8 - “You were beautiful in the photos I took, but you’re absolutely perfect in my arms.”

11 - “Can’t you see? The world is a scary and dangerous place. If you stay here, you’ll be safe. In my arms.”

Words: 570

Warnings: Stalking, Kidnapping

An: I want to start writing short for content. Gotta learn not everything has to be a novel.

Main Masterlist | Richard Harmon Masterlist

Seth Durand just couldn't see how you didn't understand why he was doing this. Why he had to kidnap you. He loved you and just wanted to protect you.

Even of that meant taking you from the outside world.

It was easy to get you too. Your routine was simple - home, school, home. Every day and even on the rare chance you went out with someone, you were always home by 6.

Of course, it always worried Seth when you would go out. Who knows what could happen? He had to follow you to make sure you were okay.

Seth would watch as you walked down the street, the lights above you starting to turn on. So dark. Who knows what creeps are lurking in the shadows? It was a good thing he was looking out for you.

He moved in, quick and quiet, the chloroform-soaked rag covering your mouth as you take a deep breath in the scream, though nothing came out. Your body sagged a little and hell limp into his arms.

Seth bushed your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty up close. He had been near your, in class and sometimes in the hallway, but nothing would compare to the sight he was blessed with right now.

“You were beautiful in the photos I took, but you’re absolutely perfect in my arms.” He smiled, lifting to hold you bridal style. His perfect subject. And they were finally in his arms.

It had been 3 days since then and once again you were once again demanding for Seth to leave.

"Just let me go!" You plea, tugging on the fabric tying your hands together. "I won't tell anyone I promise!"

Seth had made sure you were comfortable in your new home, a bed, comfy couch, a fridge for food. Hell, there was even a bathroom in this basement. He has made sure you would have everything you would need to live here, with him, forever.

And yet you still wanted to leave?

"No..." He continued pacing, his hands running through his hair. "No no... I can't let you leave. It's too dangerous out there. You are safe here, with me."

"Seth... Seth please." You try again.

He shot from his spot in the middle of the room to where you sat on the bed, his speed earning a yelp from you, but all he had done was wrap his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest.

“Can’t you see?! The world is a scary and dangerous place. If you stay here, you’ll be safe... In my arms.”

Seth felt every single nerve start to calm down now that he was holding you, the effect you had on him almost immediate. He pulled you down onto the bed, cradling you with such softness that you were almost convicted he wouldn't hurt you.

“If you want me to beg, then I’ll beg for you.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead. "Please stay. Please please please."

He continued to say silent pleases, holding you closer. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his frantic heartbeat. All of it eventually morbidly lulling you to sleep, Seth's arms never leaving you once as he watched you sleep.

"You love me. I know you do. It may take some time, but you will see that I am doing this for you, for us."

#richard harmon #seth durand #richard harmon x reader #seth durand x reader

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ddearina · 2 days ago

Text

Mutual rings, mutual feelings.

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Side note: Inspired by the Jeongin part of this picture and Jeongin from Paris D1, because seeing him in real life left me gagged.

. * • . • * . • . * • . * • * ☆ . • * .* • . • * . • * . * • *

Pairing: ChildhoodBsf!JeonginxTwoYearOlderBsf!FemReader Word count: 6.5k (6558) Content warning: Fluff!, 21!Jeongin, 22/23!Reader, Jeongin is referred to as Jeongin and Innie, Jeongin is not an idol, Reader is referred to as Y/n, Noona, reader was born in February, Ants!mentioned, Chan!mentioned, Seungmin!mentioned, Overthinking!mentioned, Jealousy!mentioned, BlindDate!mentioned, Cursing, Description of male upper body, A lot of tension, Confession, Please, tell me if I forgot anything!

. * • . • * . • . * • . * • * ☆ . • * .* • . • * . • * . * • *

Summary: Reader and Yang Jeongin have been friends their whole lives. You always saw him as that little boy, smiling with dirt on his dimples and clothes. That young neighbor, whom you cherished and treated as someone you had to protect. Jeongin, on the other hand... without you knowing, he was trying again and again to change the vision you had of him. Jeongin was a man. Jeongin was in love with you. And he needed you to know.

. * • . • * . • . * • . * • * ☆ . • * .* • . • * . • * . * • *

How... did you get in this situation? Your childhood best friend, Jeongin. And you. His body was framing you against the counter of your kitchen. His hands were on each side of your body, his face inches away from yours. What happened?

It all started twenty-one years ago.

As a toddler, you always loved what was little, tiny-sized, or small. Even if you weren't a fan of insects, it wasn't a surprise for your parents to find you crouching on the porch of their house, looking at ants. Unlike children of your age, stepping on them wasn't something that made you smile. You loved watching them walk, moving their little legs and antenna, picking up crumbs of the biscuits you were eating during your observation.

Your mother and her friends knew well that you'd prefer beads over crayons for your birthday. With your tiny fingers, you always liked the feeling of holding onto those little marbles.

When looking at a book, you didn't care about the writing. Not because you didn't know how to read yet, but mostly because you were busy looking at all the details of the illustration. How the bird was given a tiny hat, how that one pink flower was so small compared to the pot it was planted in.

So when your mom's best friend gave birth to her second child and asked if your family wanted to visit her, your parents did not hesitate. As adults were talking, you were wondering why you had to spend the day in your neighbor's house. It was so close to yours. Why couldn't your parents let you home? When you first noticed the bouncer, you didn't really give it a lot of attention. But as soon as you saw a minuscule hand pocking out of it, your curiosity pushed you towards it. No one could describe how fascinated you were as you looked at this two-week-old baby. Your mom took your hand and encouraged you to offer him directly the fox-plushy she sewn for him. No one could have predicted that instead of catching the orange tissue, Jeongin's hand would wrap around your index finger, leaving you with the biggest smile ever.

That's how your affection for Jeongin started. He was born on the 8th February, twenty days before your third birthday. Everyone could already tell you two would be friends forever.

When your mother gave birth to your little sister, everyone expected you to be as fascinated as you were the say you met Jeongin. Same thing when his parents got their third and last child. You found them cute, but not as much as him.

They were not Jeongin.

When you turned five, it was normal for you to play with your best friend after school. Even during school. The thin wire fence was not enough to stop you from playing together at every break. There you were, sitting in the dust, talking to each other, showing drawings, lending toys... When you turned seven, Jeongin's parents decided it was time for Jeongin to have a bigger bedroom. How happy you were the day you discovered he was now sleeping in the room with the window that gave onto your own room. All of your days consisted of waving at each other through the window as soon as you woke up. It took a while to convince your dad to install a zipline. Only you and Jeongin knew what you exchanged in that basket.

Now, you were twenty-two years old. Your best friend was twenty-one, and nothing changed. Well, from your point of view. As you were busy with your own life, Jeongin was busy thinking. Overthinking? Thinking too much about how to make you feel different about him. How to make you see him differently.

"Can't wait to see you! I'll wait at our usual spot so you can pick me up?"

You texted him. He tried to swallow the smile that was growing on his lips as he texted back.

"Sure." "There's no way I'm letting you drive." "Passenger princess ofc"

His heart skipped a beat as he saw your answer.

"😚😚"

He tried. He really tried to treat you as a friend. But unconsciously, he was always making more effort when it was for you. He noticed how he would tense for a second each time he'd hear your name, or how he catches himself waiting for you to text back. Bangchan, his roommate and closest male friend, also noticed that you were an important person for him. Without even meeting you, he saw how Jeongin was going above and beyond for you. When Chan confronted him about you, he tried to deny it as "she's my closest friend" or "I'm just thankful because she took care of me all these years". Chan did not believe a single word, but left him thinking he was. Until today.

"Jeongin?"

He called him as he pushed the door open. Your best friend was rummaging through his closet, his t-shirts, shirts, and long-sleeved clothes were on the floor. Chan leaned against the door frame, his lips pressed into a crooked and skeptical pout.

"D'you need help here?"

"Hyung, I... Does black go with yellow? Or maybe it'll look too much like a bee. But she loves bees. She said bees were cute. But I don't want her to think I'm cute. Do you think I dress too much like a child?"

Chan blinked once, twice, then scoffed. He walked to his friend and patted his shoulder. Maybe to reassure him, but mainly to stop him in his overthinking.

"Hey. How did you want to dress up? Before thinking too much?"

Jeongin looked down and picked up a few pieces of clothes. Chan nodded and smiled.

"Then go for it. No doubt she's going to love it."

Your best friend took a deep breath before picking up a tie, too. He walked out of the room, mumbling something like "She loves ties. A black tie is great." Chan laughed, shaking his head, and crouched, picking up the clothes from the floor. Folding them, he smiled at the picture that was on his nightstand. A little girl, her mouth wide open as a baby was holding her finger. Chan recognized his roommate instantly.

"Yep. You can't trick me on this one."

The door of his car closed, Jeongin exhaled one more time. He pulled out a few rings from his pocket and slid them on his fingers. Jeongin always loved rings. Jewelry in general. So when it was time to buy new ones, he always looked for the most detailed ones. Maybe he knew you'd ask to take a look at them. Maybe he knew you'd have to hold his hand to do so.

Pairing his phone to the Bluetooth of his car, he scratched his throat and looked at the passenger seat. He picked up his bag and stretched out to put it on the backseat, letting the seat empty, ready for you to sit on. Jeongin then turned the contact on and drove off.

While Jeonjin was busy preparing himself, you were in class, trying to listen to whatever your college teacher was saying. Six minutes left... You pinched your lips as one of your nails repeatedly tapped against your table. Your pencil case and notebook were closed, ready to be slid inside your bag. Those six minutes felt like hours, the teacher correcting the last evaluation he gave. Officially, every student here had to listen to the corrected version. Informally, those who did well enough could pretend to listen. Your eyes were now glued to the clock. Three minutes... When, finally, the teacher dismissed the class, you smiled and put your stuff away. Pulling out your phone, you clicked on Jeongin's profile.

"Done with my last class! I'll be here in a minute 🫶"

You knew Jeongin was always early. And who would make their best friend wait? Not you.

When you arrived at the parking lot, finding him was not difficult. He was leaning against his car, wearing a green New York cap. The tip of his nose was red, but when he saw you, his face lit up. Like he always does, he ran to you and smiled, his eyes turning into two thin lines.

"Innie! Why didn't you wait in the car? You look so cold..."

Without letting him answer, your hands are on his cheeks. Jeongin's brain turns off as you stroke his skin.

"My Jeongin... Oh, come here."

Your arms wrapping around his frame didn't help either. He hugged you back, trying to ignore how hot his cheeks now felt.

"N-Noona, I'm okay. I'm wearing a vest. It's okay."

You pulled back and inspected his outfit. A white shirt, a pair of blue jeans, a black tie, and a dark colored vest. On top of it, he's wearing his cap and at the bottom, a clean pair of white sneakers. Tilting your head on the side, you gave him the look he despised as much as he loved. Worried but caring. He chuckled and pointed at the car.

"Should we..."

Before you could nod, he had taken your bag and was walking towards the car. You giggled and jogged to catch up with him.

"Since when did you get so tall? You used to be the one walking behind me, always following me around. Now I'm the one who needs to run after you."

Opening the backseat door, Jeongin tilted his head. Seeing him as a child... At least you're seeing that he grew up. He put your bag next to his, sighing. He then took a step to the side to open the door for you.

"How about I offer you a drink? So I'm sure you won't be cold?"

"Noona... We can go to a café, but don't brood over me like that."

"'Brood over you'?"

Your laugh made his heart melt, the way you always covered your mouth with your fist when you chuckled... He wasn't even pissed off by the fact that you were laughing at his mistake.

"I don't 'brood over you'. I wrap you in cotton wool."

Patting his head, you smiled at him as you entered the vehicle. Jeongin had always been like this. Gentleman, sweet, smiling... even if he had days where he was a bit calmer or speaking less, he'd always make sure he was being nice to you or treating you right. And on days when he was feeling a bit loud? He'd always check on you, seeing if his loudness was not annoying to you. Rare were the times you had to tell him to calm down; Jeongin knew how to read you.

As he was driving, you were typing on your phone. Jeongin tried to stay focused on the road, but his curiosity was flaring up to the point where you knew what he was thinking without him having to ask you.

"Noona?"

You turn your face towards him, smiling.

"Yes, Innie?"

Jeongin scratched his throat at the name you called him. Did he hate it because it's the same since he started talking? Yes. Did he want you to stop? Never.

"Can I ask who got you so busy like that? You usually turn the music on as soon as you sit in my car. You know you can use my phone, right?"

He pretended to check his blind spot, turning his head away from you. Watching you in his wing mirror, he didn't miss your small scoff and the way a crease appeared between your brows. As he pulled up at a traffic light, he turned towards you and placed his hand on your thigh.

"You can tell me, Noona. You seem.. annoyed?"

"Well... there's this guy.."

His heart dropped as you tilted your head, resting against the window. He slowly but surely removed his hand. Maybe to establish distance. Or maybe to give you respect. Who knows. He tried to listen as you continued talking.

"My mom organized a... 'blind date'. She wants me to meet her colleague's son? I think. She showed me a few pics of him, but... he's not..."

He watched you sigh once more. As you turned to look at him, you couldn't repress your smile.

"Innie~ Why do you look sad? You're scared Noona is going to leave one day?"

Jeongin tried not to blush as you softly pinched his cheek. Falsely annoyed, he wrapped his hand around your wrist and leaned closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat as he pressed his lips against the palm of your hand. Locking his eyes on yours, he softly spoke against your skin.

"Who says you're leaving? I'm willing to stay with you as much as I can. I love being with you, Noona."

The air in the car filled with a new feeling. Something thick prevented you both from looking away. You jolted as a car honked behind you. Jeongin chuckled, guiding your hand on the gear lever. He placed his hand on top of yours and shifted up. Looking down at your hand, your cheeks heated up as Jeongin's fingers intertwined with yours, driving like he would normally do.

"So, are you going to see him? Do you even know what he looks like... or his name?"

"Um.. Kim... What was his name? Kim Seungmin. Mom told me he was an author and... a model. I mean, he's handsome but... He's a bit young."

He tensed as you chuckled, trying to ease the tension. Too young...

"How old?"

You turned and faced him, then looked back at your phone to answer your mother.

"I believe he is twenty-one. He was born in 2000. He must be born at the end of the year, since he's still the same age as you."

Jeongin scoffed as he decelerated, driving towards a parking lot. You looked outside, recognizing the place.

"Are we going to walk?"

Jeongin nodded, trying to hide the turmoil of thoughts he had in mind. He was tensing his jaw, tapping against the steering wheel. You started to squirm, not knowing what to say. Did he want you to remove your hand from the gear lever? Or did he want to go home? Maybe he was still cold from waiting for you in the parking lot? You glanced at him as he lowered his window to print the parking ticket.

"Innie... is everything-"

"I'll pay for the parking."

"Oh. Okay.."

He removed his hand from yours, and you hid yours under your thighs. Realizing how harsh he might have sounded, he bit his lower lip and sighed. Dumbass... she's not doing anything. Don't treat her like that. When he stopped the car, he sighed as you stepped out of it. He followed you outside as you were picking up your bag. Jeongin walked around the car and softly wrapped his hand around your wrist.

"Innie?"

"I'm sorry, I.. I didn't mean to sound mean."

His heart melted as you smiled and cupped his cheek.

"I know Innie. It's okay. I know you, haha, you never did anything to hurt me."

I nodded and picked up his own bag. Sliding his glasses on, he locked the car as you started to walk towards the elevator. No matter who that Kim Seungmin was, he hated him already.

The wind was pushing clouds all over the city as you walked towards the café. You pushed your hair away from your forehead, glancing from time to time at Jeongin. He was hiding behind his glasses, a pair you had complimented once in the past. After that, you never saw him going out without them, no matter if it was in his bag or on his nose.

You adjusted your coat as a gust of cold wind came right into your face.

"Aren"t you cold?"

Jeongin blinked and looked at you.

"I'm okay. How about you?"

You shrugged your shoulders, smiling.

"I'm.. okay too. It's refreshing."

He smiled, shaking his head. A thing he loved about you was the way you always found a way to be optimistic about every situation.

"You know..."

You turned around as Jeongin stopped walking. He was fidgeting with the strap of his bag. You took a step towards him, wondering what he was trying to say. He opened his mouth, then sighed and shook his head.

"I'm thirsty. And hungry too."

You blinked then tilted your head. Trying to ignore the fact Jeongin was changing the topic, you nodded.

"Okay. I'll treat you well, then."

He gave you the smile you knew and loved so much and started walking again. Pulling out your phone, you looked at the text you just received.

"Hi Y/n, it's Seungmin. I understand you're not available at the moment, we can postpone our date, if we can call it like that. You seem like a nice person. I'm sorry our moms are forcing us to meet. See you later 🙂"

You put your phone in your pocket, feeling mixed. On one side, you were glad he understood. On the other side, you were sad for him. He seemed like a nice person, too. How could you tell him you never wanted to date him?

"Welcome! A table for two, you can sit on this table here."

You both walked into the café, smiling as a comfort from the heat of the room. As you took your coat off, Jeongin placed his hand on the small of your back. Slowly, he guided you towards the most comfortable seat.

Without saying anything, he waited for you to sit down before he took a seat in front of you. He smiled at you and crossed his hands. The smell of chocolate mixed with the aroma of coffee and different syrups. Looking down, your eyes quickly found his rings.

"Is it a new one?"

You pointed his left index finger, already inspecting details from afar. He nodded and raised his hand, letting you inspect the jewelry on his fingers. You scoffed as he silently refused to remove the ring from his finger, obliging you to hold his hand.

"It's funny, it looks like a...chain? Like, it's making several loops... It's really pretty."

"The other is more chain-like. Look."

He showed you his second hand, and quickly, you were holding both of his hands on the table. Even if it wasn't in a romantic way, that was the kind of action Jeongin would do to feel closer to you. Being tactile wasn't something he was extremely fond of, except when it was his close friends or family members. But you? Oh, Jeongin would beg and give everything he had to hold you or yours hands, brush hair out of your face, wipe your mouth, or hug you.

"Can I give you anything?"

A voice raised as you were still holding his hands. A bit embarrassed, you looked up and scratched your throat.

"Um... We'll need a few more minutes to decide. Sorry."

Jeongin lowered his hands and picked up the menu, looking at you.

"You don't need to apologize, Noona. We can take as much time as you need."

"Thanks... I won't lie, I'm a bit stressed. I... might have canceled my date to be with you right now."

Jeongin choked on his throat as your words came to his mind. He looked up, blinking.

"With that man?"

Nodding, you leaned on your hand and sighed.

"Mom's going to be disappointed.. She doesn't understand why I don't see someone. She's like... 'worried' she won't have grandchildren."

Scoffing, you pouted as you looked away. Jeongin bit his lower lip and whispered.

"And... Why not tell her you're seeing me? Like, you're going out with me?"

Smiling, you patted the top of his head.

"You're so cute.. Don't worry, I'll find an excuse."

After this, you quickly decided on your drink, still feeling pressured by the waitress. Your best friend, on the other hand, was facing another explosion of doubt. If he took a chocolate shake, wouldn't you think it's too childish? He should take a coffee... but he doesn't like coffee. Maybe a cappuccino? What's the difference between all of them... Maybe the smallest one? So he doesn't have to drink a lot of it? Iced Americanos are served in big cups... It'll be too much. An espresso? A double? They make singles, too?

As the waitress came back, Jeongin was still struggling with his choice. That's why you looked at him with surprise on your face as he ordered a Ristretto. A.k.a the strongest coffee type that was made here.

"Since when do you drink coffee, Innie?"

You leaned on your elbows, looking at him.

"I... tried. With my friends. And now I'm trying different kinds to see which one is my favorite."

He exhaled softly as you nodded. You'd be lying if you said you were one hundred percent believing him right now. But why accuse him of lying when he sounded so cute? You smiled and went back to your discussion with him.

When a few minutes later the drink finally arrived, you kept an eye on his reaction. Jeongin was struggling to keep a smile when the cup was brought under his nose. Frowning, he looked down at the cup, mentally cursing. Who drinks this?! Taking a sip of your creamy hot chocolate, you looked at him. As soon as he felt your eyes on him, he picked up his cup and took three mouthfuls. You burst into laughter as he lowered the recipient. His face was twisted in a weird grimace, clearly showing how he hated coffee.

"Are you okay?"

You asked, wiping the corner of your eye. Jeongin started to laugh too, realizing how stupid his act was. Without hesitating, you took his cup and placed it in front of you. As he looked down, he found your nearly full hot chocolate for him.

"But... Noona.."

"Drink it. It's okay."

You reassured him as you winked. With red cheeks, Jeongin looked down once more and took a sip of his 'new drink'. Sweet, sugary, and hot. A chuckle made him look up at you, a bit embarrassed.

"I..."

"It's okay Innie."

He nodded, watching you bring the cup to your lips. A part of him was happy because of the fact that you two exchanged cups, so indirectly kissed. But the other part was frustrated as his plan to make you look at him like the man he was now failed.

"I thought I was supposed to invite you, Innie! Why did you pay? I knew I shouldn't have been to the bathroom."

"It's the least I can do. Plus, what kind of men would let a woman like you pay?"

Jeongin laughed as you smacked his shoulder. As you both stepped out of the café, you realized it started to rain.

"Oh..."

"Maybe we can borrow an umbrella?"

As he was turning to enter the café again, you took his hand. With a smile, you pulled him under the rain and started to run.

"N-Noona, you're going to be drenched!"

"Who cares!"

Bursting into laughter, a smile crept to his face as he intertwined his fingers with yours. Being in the middle of February made the rain cold, but not cold enough to change it into snow. It was pouring, but you couldn't care less. Your chests and stomachs still felt hot, thanks to your drinks, and the way your hands held each other gave you that little spark. A little spark screaming in Jeongin's ears how much he loved you. How much he wanted to stop running and kiss you. Right now, right here, under the rain.

Entering the covered parking lot, only the sound of your exhausted and fast breathing covered the sound of the rain. Your hand still in Jeongin's, you smiled sadly at him.

"I'm sorry, you're wet now.. How about we go to my place and you take a shower? So you can warm up?"

He burst into laughter, adjusting his glasses.

"Didn't we take a drink to warm ourselves up?"

Teasing, he nudged your shoulder before walking to his car. Jeongin shook his hair, droplets falling on his skin. Wiping his face, he shivered as water dropped down his neck. You might not have been discreet while observing him. He looked up at you, smiled, and removed his vest.

"Hey, you're gonna get sick-"

Jeongin raised his hand and started to wipe your drenched face. Even if both of you were soaked, something about him taking care of you made your heart melt once more. Without saying anything, he just made you less drenched. Just enough to be comfortable. Giving you a smile, he then stepped back and entered the car.

"To your place we go!"

The ride to your car was relatively quick. Jeongin was the type of person who drove well, making every ride with him a nice moment. Before you even said anything, he turned the heat on.

"Wow... Innie, we raised you well."

You burst into laughter as your best friend gave you the weirdest look ever. What do you meant by 'raised you well'?

"Don't say that, you sound as if you were a family member. Or a.. mother?"

"Oh wow. Is that a not-so-subtle way to call me old? I'm still twenty-two!"

"For less than twenty-four hours, Noona."

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you looked down at your phone. Yes, tomorrow is your birthday. It's not that you forgot. You knew, but spending time with Jeongin pushed every important thing out of your mind. He chuckled, glancing at your surprised expression.

"Aren't you going back to your family?"

"Hm.. no. I have classes this week, so I don't have enough time to go and come back.

Nodding, he tilted his head.

"..want us to celebrate it? I mean, together?"

He spoke softly. It was normal for you to celebrate each other's birthdays together, but usually, you'd do that with both of your families.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. Or tomorrow. Or tonight and tomorrow. Like, we buy a cake and you blow out your candles at midnight."

The idea sounded like a good one. A perfect one. Well, it was good enough to make you smile broadly.

"What do you think, Noona? You seem to like it?"

"I'd love to."

You didn't have to say more; Jeongin was already driving towards the closest bakery. As soon as you pointed one out, he pulled over and turned his blinker.

"I'll wait here, you go and take the cake you'll prefer?"

As you nodded, he looked down at your outfit. Before you could place your hand on the door, he had removed his vests and handed it to you.

"Noona. Put this on. Your... So you don't get cold."

Chuckling, you took it and went out the car.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Innie."

His heart melted as you gave him the biggest smile ever while putting on his vest. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he kept watching you. Not in a creepy way, Jeongin would never do that. More in a.. 'lost in your gaze' kind of way. Everyone watching him would see how his eyes screamed love and affection for you.

As you stood in line, he smiled, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. When you made eye contact, you smiled at him and waved. Through the window, you were trying to ask you a question. He chuckled, watching you move around. You patted your pockets but frowned, realizing your phone was in the car. I guess you'll have to decide the flavor of the cake on your own...

A few minutes later, you sat down in the car. Jeongin drove off, smiling.

"I had no idea of what you were trying to say, Noona. Was it important?"

"I forgot to ask you which flavor you wanted. For the cake."

"But... Noona, it's your birthday. So you choose?"

"Yeah, but what if my Innie doesn't like it? They had Tiramisu, but having coffee late at night isn't a good idea. So I took chocolate!"

Jeongin stayed silent, looking at the road. Even if he looked fully focused, he was actually fighting his thoughts and feelings, trying not to fall even more for you.

By the time you reached your apartment, it was already dark outside. Mostly because it's still February and nightfall is at 17 o'clock. After closing the front door of your apartment and taking off your shoes, you took back the cake box, smiling at your best friend.

"So... a chocolate cake is a good option, right?"

"Of course it is."

"I'm glad.. because you didn't answer earlier. I thought I didn't choose well."

Placing the box on the counter of your kitchen, you looked at Jeongin. After removing his shoes, he stood awkwardly, fidgeting with his rings.

"You know where the bathroom is, right? You came so often, you know you're like home here, right?"

Nodding, he put his stuff on your couch. If you were about to celebrate your birthday with him, that meant he had to stay late. Knowing you, that also meant you'd refuse to let him drive home late.

"Innie? Last time you came, you left a pair of shorts, no? And a T-shirt. The ones you forgot."

"Uh... I might. But it was a long time ago.

"Let me grab them for you."

You disappeared into your room, not realizing that a lot more time had passed than you thought. That's why you found yourself embarrassed as you came out of the bathroom, all cleaned and cozy.

"N-Noona? Do you have something else?"

Jeongin was standing in the middle of your living room, holding the t-shirt he had forgotten several months ago. The thing is... he started hitting the gym in the meantime. And saying he didn't change would be more than a lie.

"Innie, what are you..."

"I'm sorry, I tried to put it on but... it just doesn't fit. Like, I can't put it past my neck. My... arms don't fit. Neither my shoulders"

Looking away, Jeongin was clutching the fabric against his torso. When did he get this buff? You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to push the piece of clothing out of the way. Without even showing himself, you could see how brawny he was. Muscles bulged out no matter where you looked. His arm flexed as he shivered. Who knew if it was because of the cold or because of your eyes on him?

"Oh."

Silence fell in the room as you were trying to think. Jeongin was trying to remember how to breathe as you blinked. New shirt. For him. Now.

"I... will try to see if... If I have something. I.. Wait."

As you disappeared into your bedroom, Jeongin crouched. Hiding his face in the fabric, he tried to realize what was happening.

"Shit..."

You, in your bedroom, were rummaging through your closet. You weren't the smallest person ever, nor the tallest, but how could you give your 172-cm-tall-I-went-to-the-gym best friend something that would fit him? Sighing, you pushed your hangers away. Maybe... this one? Even if you weren't a fan of extra-tight clothes, you had bought a few for special occasions. But larger clothes... suddenly, every t-shirt, every sweater seemed too small. Too tight, even minuscule. Except...

"Why is the only t-shirt fitting a pink one?"

"...Your favorite color used to be hot pink... You're lucky it fits, I have no other options."

"Yeah, but this one is pink pink. Not hot pink. Plus... is that Snoopy?"

Rolling your eyes, you looked at Jeongin as he smiled, tugging on the fabric. The t-shirt was a bit too slinky on him, but was still wearable. As you cut the cake box open, you tilted your head nonchalantly.

"You prefer the black shirt from earlier?"

Choking on the air, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's what I thought. Can you get me a plate, please?"

Jeongin pouted, adjusting his glasses.

"You seem to enjoy this situation way too much, do you?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Jeongin had leaned his hand onto the counter next to you, raising his arm to open the cupboard. You gasped, half surprised, half silenced by the sudden intimacy between you two. Jeongin was so close, the type of proximity that allowed you to smell the soap of his recent shower and his remaining perfume. You couldn't tell if you were mentally cursing or thanking yourself for deciding the plates' place should be in the specific cupboard.

"Um.. Noona, do you need a big plate or the.. tray here?"

Noticing the absence of an answer, he looked down at you. His right arm was still up, waiting. At the same time, it was lifting the bottom of his shirt.

"Noona?"

Looking up, you had to take a second to think of an answer. Abs. Pink. Snoopy. Pink again. Mouth. Eyes.

"Uh... a big plate."

"Here."

You looked down again as he placed the plate on the counter. The cake. Yeah.

"Thanks..."

Not seeing the turmoil of thoughts that were going through your head, Jeongin sat down at your counter. Leaning on his arm, he didn't notice your phone until it rang against his skin.

"Can you tell me who that is?"

As he peeked, his smile flickered a little. Kim Seungmin.

"It's that guy. From earlier."

"That guy... Oh! Seungmin?"

A scoff left Jeongin mouth as you placed the cake out of it's box.

"You're already calling him by his name?"

"Hm.. Well, how do you want me to call him? Kim? Or.. Blind date guy?"

He tried to chuckle with you, but a feeling was boiling in his chest. Something he didn't like.

"Hm."

"And it's not like I called him.. I don't know, 'Seungminnie' or something? We're not... Oh my god!"

Jolting by the sudden raise in your voice, he looked up at you.

"No! Don't move. Oh, Innie.. Do you know you used to lean on the table like that when we were younger? You grew so much... Where did my Baby bread go?"

"Stop calling me that."

"What, you want me to call you Daddy Toast now?"

Sighing, he watched you take your phone from the counter and snap a picture. But his mind was still on the man your mother wanted you to date.

"I'll send them to you."

"Noona... You said he was too young for you, no?"

"I did."

You answered as you clicked on your phone, sending the pictures to your best friend.

"What about me?"

Jeongin whispered. As you were not looking, he had stood up and had taken a few steps towards you.

"Huh?"

"What about me?"

He repeated, his voice calm and low. Your eyes met as silence fell into the room. Jeongin's heartbeat was so loud he swore you could hear it. Taking another step, he spoke softly.

"You always say you see me as.. 'your baby', 'your younger best friend', 'someone who was born after you'. But... I don't want you to see me like that. I'm a man."

"I know you're a man, Jeongin, what do you..."

"No. When you say that, you mean it as 'a boy'. I meant a man."

He whispered those two last words, placing his hands on the counter behind you. His body was now framing you against the counter of your kitchen. Jeongin leaned forward, looking at your lips.

"I saw the way you looked at me. I know you saw how I changed. I'm taller than you, but you still treat me as a little boy."

You sucked your breath in as he leaned his head on your shoulder. His hair brushed against your cheek, jaw, and neck as he sighed.

"Don't get me wrong, I love it when you look at me. But not... like that."

Scooping his hand closer to you, he pulled back. It's like he was restraining himself from hugging you.

"Jeongin... what are you trying to say..?"

"I like you."

There, he said it. What he has been feeling for the past ten or maybe more years. He felt the weight of the biggest secret of his life leave his shoulders and chest, letting him finally breathe.

"You like me?"

"Yes. Not as a friend, not as a best friend. A lot more than that. I like you. So much."

"In a 'I-wanna-kiss-you' kind of way?"

"Worse."

Oh.

Seeing your face gaining probably three tints of red, Jeongin chuckled and, for the first time in a while, cupped your cheek.

"But kissing you would be an amazing start."

Who said that all words had a meaning? Because right now, you were incapable of understanding a single thing. Closing your eyes, opening them, you suddenly realized how Jeongin was behaving with you. How close he was right now. How beautiful he looked as the soft light was falling on his face, caressing his sharp features.

Your "Innie baby" suddenly seemed manly right now. Handsome. He had always been, everything just seemed a little more obvious now. Taking a breath, you leaned your head against his hand. He definitely noticed it because a smile appeared on his lips the moment you moved.

"Innie..."

"Yes?"

"You know what would be a perfect gift for my birthday?"

He chuckled, looking down at your lips. Jeongin swallowed and looked up. You smiled. How easy it was to read his mind. To guess what he was thinking of.

"Tell me?"

"You... kissing me. I'd love this."

Teasingly, he pulled out his phone. Even if you both took time for your showers, then spent time together, it was not tomorrow yet.

"If we take the cake now, place candles, you make a wish, and you blow the candles, then it'll be your birthday. I'll be able to give you your gift."

You blinked a few times, trying to hide your disappointment. Looking down at you, Jeongin smiled and cupped your cheek with his other hand.

"I'm joking, Noona. Sorry."

Leaning towards you, he whispered in a serious tone, making you look up at him.

"Can I?"

"Yes."

You whispered back, closing your eyes. One centimeter away from your lips, he smiled.

"Happy early birthday, Noona."

A firework was displayed in your chest as his lips pressed against yours. That night was the best birthday gift you could ever ask for. Nothing could overtake this moment. Not even when, once midnight and your candles were behind you, Jeongin pulled out the same ring he had, but in a slightly smaller version. No matter if you'd love him back, he wanted to offer it to you. Well, he was even happier now that he knew his feelings were mutual.

The coffee you both shared earlier kept you awake for a long time. Enough to chat, hug, cuddle, and kiss. When sunlight peeked through the curtains that morning, it was to show the world how cute and peaceful you looked, tangled up on the couch.

His hand was not far from yours, nearly falling from the couch. Somehow, none of you seemed willing to move. Like if, unconsciously, you both knew you were in the place you were meant to be in.

Mutual rings, mutual feelings.

. * • . • * . • . * • . * • * ☆ . • * .* • . • * . • * . * • *

Thank you for reading! Feel free to give constructive feedback!

. * • . • * . • . * • . * • * ☆ . • * .* • . • * . • * . * • *

Please consider that English is not my mother language.

No ai used.

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#skz #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #i.n #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #i.n x reader #yang jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin stray kids #yang jeongin x you #jeongin #yang jeongin x y/n #kpop

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ladyhelona · 20 hours ago

Note

Can you please write an nsfw version of the pathetic reader x seb one please? Where he both degrades and praises her? Only if you want to though

Sebastian Michaelis with a “pathetic!Reader” part 2

A/N: This took me a while and isn't proofread, but I had SO many asks in my inbox for a part 2 to this one with nsfw. This is the last part in this series. if you want more of this "insecure/undesirable/pathetic" reader trope, just send a new ask!

Not proof read

Content Warnings:

CW: Smut (MDNI), moderate dub‑con, degradation + praise, possessive Sebastian, insecure/touch‑starved reader, semi‑public (library), overstimulation, breeding talk.

Read part one here

You’d retreated to the quietest corner of the manor’s library, curled up in a chair with a book you’d barely been reading. The words blurred; your focus was elsewhere.

On staying small. On keeping unnoticed.

It didn’t work.

“You hide poorly,” came that low, velvet voice from behind you.

You stiffened. “I’m not hiding.”

Sebastian stepped into view, his hands clasped behind his back, gaze sweeping over you in a way that felt less like looking and more like possession.

“No?” His head tilted. “Then you sit here alone because you’re content with it? Or because you’re waiting for someone to notice how very desperate you are for attention?”

The words struck low, deliberate. Your breath caught. “That’s—”

He didn’t let you finish.

A single step closed the space between you, the shadow of his presence draping over your chair like a net. “You wear it like perfume,” he murmured. “That aching little need to be seen. To be wanted.”

You stood too quickly, heart pounding. “I’m going back to work.”

His hand shot out, catching your wrist—not harsh, but immovable. You turned, eyes darting anywhere but his.

“Run from everyone else if you must,” he said softly, dangerously. “But not from me.”

His free hand rose, gloved fingers brushing the side of your throat in a touch that made your knees feel unreliable. “You don’t get to hide from the only one who sees you.”

Your pulse was a hammer beneath his fingertips.

When you tried to step back, he didn’t let go—instead drawing you closer, his other hand already at the laces of your corset.

You froze. “Don’t—”

That earned you a low chuckle against your ear. “Ah… embarrassed? How very sweet.” His lips curved against the shell of your ear. “Do you truly think there is a single inch of you I would find anything less than… mine?”

You stiffened under his touch, hands catching his wrist and pushing it away. “Why?” you breathed, not meeting his eyes. “Why me? Is it because I’m—” your voice caught, bitter and low “—so desperate you think I must be easy?”

His brows rose, just slightly. “Easy?”

You swallowed, eyes fixed on the floor. “No one else has ever wanted me. Not really. I’m not—” the words trailed off into silence, but the weight of them lingered between you.

For a moment, Sebastian simply watched you, that unreadable gaze taking in every inch of your flustered posture, every trembling exhale. Then he leaned in, voice a silken thread wound tight with something darker.

“Mm. Not easy,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Just… starved.”

Your breath hitched.

“And tell me, little one—” gloved fingers found your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his eyes “—should you only be this way for me?”

Your heart hammered. “I—”

“Shouldn’t every pleading look, every shiver, every desperate thought be mine alone?”

You looked away again, staring at the row of spines on the shelf beside you as though one might hold the answer you couldn’t find in him.

“Why?” you asked quietly. “Why me?”

The smile he gave you was maddening — unreadable, deliberate.

“Because you hide.”

Your brow knit. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get until you’re ready to believe it,” he replied smoothly, taking one slow step forward. The edge of the table pressed into the backs of your thighs now, caging you in.

His gaze roamed your face, lingering — seeing. “You think yourself plain. Pathetic, even. That is what they told you, isn’t it?”

Your throat tightened. “It’s true.”

“No,” he said, the word firm but quiet. “It’s convenient. Convenient for them to overlook you, because then they never had to admit they lacked the discernment to see you.”

You almost laughed — a bitter, shaky sound — but it died when his gloved hand came up to cup your jaw.

“I see you,” he said simply. “Every flicker of doubt, every hesitation, every time you shrink away from kindness because you’re certain it’s a trick. And yes—” his thumb brushed over your lower lip “—I enjoy breaking those habits. I enjoy watching you remember that you are not small.”

You swallowed hard. “You make it sound like I’m some… project.”

“I don’t waste my time on projects,” Sebastian said, his voice dipping lower, silk drawn over steel. “I invest in treasures.”

For a moment, you just stood there — your breath catching, your heart in your throat.

Then, because you couldn’t help it, you whispered, “And what do you want with this… treasure?”

His smile deepened, but there was nothing kind in it. “To keep it,” he said without hesitation. “To make certain it never forgets who uncovered it.”

Your knees felt unsteady. “That sounds… possessive.”

“It is,” he admitted readily. “And I will not apologize for it.”

You should have pulled away. You should have moved. But the heat in his voice — the quiet, unshakable claim in it — held you in place.

His thumb stroked along your jaw, tracing the line to your chin until he tilted your head back just enough to make you meet his eyes. “Still trembling,” he murmured, almost like he was savoring it.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” The hand at your jaw slipped lower, his knuckles grazing the hollow of your throat. “And I think we both know it isn’t fear.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

Sebastian leaned closer, so close that the edge of his coat brushed your skirts. “Say it.”

Your brow knit. “Say… what?”

“That you want this,” he said simply, voice dark and quiet. “That you want me.”

Heat flooded your face, and you turned away, eyes catching on the rows of books like one of them might save you. “I’m not saying that.”

A low hum, deep in his chest. “Then I’ll make you.”

His gloved fingertips skimmed the neckline of your dress, slow, deliberate — not enough to give, only enough to remind you how close he was to undoing every inch of your composure. “Halfway to worshipping you properly,” he murmured, “and I will stop if you don’t give me what I want.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re—”

“Cruel?” he suggested with a faint smirk. “Perhaps. But if you want me to keep going, little one…” His lips brushed your ear, velvet and venom. “You’re going to say it.”

Your silence stretched between you, fragile as glass.

Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter. “Mm. Stubborn little thing.”

The hand at your jaw slipped lower, gliding down the column of your throat until it found the first lace at your back. Hisfingers toyed with it idly, almost as if he were distracted — though you knew better.

“Every ribbon you hide behind…” he murmured, giving it the faintest tug, “I could undo in a breath.”

You stiffened, pulse spiking under his touch. “Don’t.”

A low chuckle hummed against your ear. “You think I haven’t already imagined it? Lace by lace, until there’s nothing between my hands and the truth of you.”

His fingers tightened on the cord, just enough to make you feel the promise in it. “Say it, little one,” he whispered. “Say you want this… or I’ll find out anyway.”

The cord slid free with a whisper, loosening the first layer of your defenses.

You inhaled sharply, shoulders curling in on themselves. “Sebastian—”

“Shhh…” The sound was almost soothing, but the way his hand splayed over your back felt like a brand. “You flinch as though I’m going to find something to disappoint me.”

Another lace came undone — slow, deliberate — the fabric slackening under his practiced fingers.

“You’ve convinced yourself,” he murmured, close enough that his breath stirred the hair at your nape, “that no one could look at you without seeing flaws.” His tone dipped lower, dangerous. “I will undo every lie they told you… even if I have to strip them from your skin.”

The next cord loosened. The bodice shifted. Your pulse thundered.

“Tell me, little one,” he said, fingertips brushing bare skin now, “if I looked my fill… would you still think yourself undesirable?”

You made a sound — small, half-protest, half-something else — and he caught it with a low, knowing hum.

“Say it,” he urged again, the laces hanging loose now. “Say you want this… or I’ll prove it to you without your permission.”

Your lips parted before you could think better of it, a sharp inhale catching between you. His mouth followed like he’dbeen waiting for the opening, deepening the kiss with a languid certainty that left no room for doubt — only the taste of him, the press of his will against yours.

The loosened corset shifted again under his hand. The other gloved palm skimmed the curve of your cheek, down the line of your throat, like he was relearning you by touch alone.

“You see?” he murmured against your lips. “Not fear.”

Heat pooled low in your stomach, sharp and insistent, but you shook your head — or tried to. His hand on your jaw kept you from turning away.

He leaned back just far enough to look at you, his crimson eyes catching the low lamplight. “I could worship you for hours,” he said, the words silk and steel all at once, “and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

The way he said it made your pulse trip — not a compliment, but a promise.

His fingers brushed the edge of your bodice, knuckles grazing bare skin in a touch too light to be accidental. “Shall I?” he asked, but the slow curl of his mouth told you it wasn’t a question.

When you didn’t answer, he smiled like you’d given him exactly what he wanted.

“Good girl.”

The laces gave way under his practiced fingers, the fabric loosening further. His mouth brushed your jaw, then lower, leaving deliberate, reverent touches as he went — worship in the shape of possession, each kiss a claim staked deeper.

By the time his hands slid to your waist, drawing you flush against him, you weren’t sure if he was holding you up or holding you still.

The edge of the table dug into the backs of your thighs before you realized he’d moved you that far, his presence crowding every escape route.

Then, without warning, his hands shifted — one at your waist, the other at the back of your thigh — and you were lifted clean off the floor.

A startled gasp escaped before you could swallow it. The skirts and petticoats shifted around you, and heat rushed to your face. “Sebastian—” Your hands caught at his shoulders, the embarrassment coming sharp. “Put me down, I’m—”

“—light as air,” he finished smoothly, setting you on the edge of the table as though you weighed nothing at all. The faintest smirk touched his mouth. “Or did you think I’d struggle?”

You looked away, jaw tight, and his gloved hand caught your chin again, forcing your eyes back to him. “Mm. That’s it, isn’t it? You think yourself too much in every way… too much to want, too much to lift.” His eyes narrowed just slightly, crimson deepening. “But I will tell you the truth you won’t say aloud—there is not enough of you in this world to satisfy me.”

“…there is not enough of you in this world to satisfy me.”

You barely had time to register the weight of the words before his mouth was on yours—firm, claiming, not the gentle brush that would have given you space to think. No, this was a kiss meant to consume.

His gloved hand still cupped your chin, holding you right where he wanted you, while the other slid from your thigh to your hip, anchoring you against him. There was nothing tentative about it. Each press of his mouth was deliberate, coaxing and taking in equal measure, as though he’d been waiting far too long to taste you and now had no intention of stopping.

When you drew in a sharp breath, he used it—deepening the kiss until you felt dizzy, his tongue tracing the shape of a surrender you hadn’t meant to give. The table edge bit into you with every inch he closed between you, his coat brushing your skirts, the faint scent of clove and something darker wrapping around you like a trap you didn’t want to escape.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to let his words ghost across your lips. “I’ll have all of you, whether you give it freely or not.”

It was at that moment you felt that his hand had slipped underneath your petticoats, zeroing in on the wet patch of your underwear that you practically melted against him.

He angled your chin so you had to meet his gaze, his eyes crimson and utterly certain.

“Tell me to stop, and I will… but you won’t, will you?”

When you don’t answer, his smirk deepens — slow, knowing, cruel in its confidence.

“Ah… there it is. That sweet little paralysis.”

His fingers shift, teasing rather than claiming, making your thighs tense under the layers of skirts.

“You want to deny me, but you don’t. You want to pull away, but you won’t. You’re caught, little one — and I intend to savor every second of it.”

He leans in, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw in a kiss that feels far too much like a brand.

“So stay very still… and let me show you what happens when you stop running.”

His gloved hand pressed just enough to make your breath stutter, rubbing your clit through the material of your underwear.

Small shocks of pleasure coursed through you, and you could do nothing but fist the material of his shirt, trying to ground yourself in something.

Soft kisses littered your jaw while a gloved finger pulled your underwear aside. Sebastian could feel you freeze against him.

It dawned on you then that you were in the middle of the manor library, and you felt the sudden urge to cover yourself, but there was nowhere to go. Sebastian had caged you in.

“Your body’s honest, telling the truth you won’t.” He murmured, pulling out gloved fingers soaked with your slick. “You come apart so easily for me, it’s both pathetic… and perfect.”

Perhaps you wanted to say something in retort, but there was nothing that you could think of. But within that split second, Sebastian had managed to take his gloves off and plunged two fingers right inside your wet hole.

You choked out a moan, or maybe it was a sob, you couldn’t tell. His thumb rubbed soft circles right on your clit, increasing the pressure now and then. Your eyes stayed shut as you breathed deeply.

You whimpered slightly when he picked up the pace, fingers curling into a particularly sensitive spot. Sebastian could feel the heat radiating from you, feel you soaking his fingers.

His fingers stilled entirely, leaving you clenching around nothing. “Tch… look at you,” he said, voice low and edged. “Pathetic enough to soak my hand, but too proud to ask for more.” His eyes lingered on your flushed face, the shiver in your thighs. “You’d be exquisite if you begged. Say it, and I’ll prove it… or I’ll leave you aching and desperate for the rest of the night.”

You looked up at him, flushed with wide eyes. Sebastian resisted the urge to devour you whole; you looked like a delicacy to the demon.

You swallow hard, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please…”

He tilts his head, smirking faintly.

“Please… what?”

When you hesitate, he leans in until the tip of his nose brushes yours, his hand still motionless between your thighs.

“Mm, that won’t do. You’ll be very clear for me, little one. What exactly are you begging for?”

Your cheeks burn hotter.

“I… want you to—”

He presses just enough to make you gasp, then pulls his hand back entirely, forcing you to chase the sensation.

“You want? No… You need, don’t you?”

Your throat tightened, the word caught somewhere between shame and want.

“I—”

His fingers traced lazily along your inner thigh, maddeningly close but not giving you what you wanted. “Say it,” he murmured, voice low enough to feel rather than hear. “Tell me exactly what it is you need… or you’ll get nothing.”

You shook your head faintly, but his hand didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in, lips brushing the edge of your jaw. “Mm… stubborn. You’d rather suffer than admit you want me here—” his touch skimmed dangerously near your clit, and he rubbed a soft circle on it, “—doing this.”

A sharp inhale gave you away.

“Ah… there it is,” he purred, catching the sound like a prize. “That little gasp that says you’re halfway undone already.”

You tried to speak, but he interrupted with a slow drag of his knuckles where you were already warm and aching. “You’re trembling. That’s not fear… that’s your body begging for me.”

“Sebastian…” you whispered, the plea unintentional.

His smirk deepened. “Better. But you’ll be clearer than that.” His free hand tipped your chin up so you had to look at him. “Say exactly what you want me to do to you, little one.”

Your cheeks burned. “I… I want you to—”

The lightest press of his fingers had you catching your breath, but before you could finish, he pulled them away entirely. “No, not like that,” he said, voice edged with mockery. “You don’t want. You need. You’re pathetic for it, and I adore it.”

He stepped closer, crowding you on the table until there was nowhere to go. “Say it,” he commanded softly, “or I’ll leave you here flushed and aching until you come to me on your knees.”

His gaze stays locked on you, crimson burning, hand still cruelly absent.

“You need,” he says again, quieter now, like he’s savoring the admission you haven’t given him yet. “Say it.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Mm…” His smile tilts, dangerous. “You’ve spent your life being overlooked, little one. But now that someone is looking… You can’t even ask for what you want?”

The words sting. Your pulse stutters.

“I—”

“Clear,” he interrupts softly, as if it’s the simplest demand in the world. His hand hovers, the ghost of a touch where you’re still throbbing for him. “Tell me exactly what you need me to do to you. Or I’ll walk away and leave you to stew in it.”

Something in you gives — a shiver, a crack — and the words tumble out before you can catch them.

“I need you—please—”

“Better,” he says, though the slight arch of his brow dares you to go further. “Finish it.”

You swallow hard, shame and heat tangling in your voice. “I need you to touch me.”

His smile sharpens, satisfied. “There you are.”

And just like that, the restraint snaps — his hand is on you again, not teasing now, but claiming, his mouth crashing back to yours with the kind of hunger that says he was always going to win this.

You whined against his lips, hips moving on their own, desperately against his hand. It was like he already knew every inch of you. Knew where to curl his fingers just right to make you moan into the kiss.

It’s messy, his hand covered in your slick, but that’s what he wanted. Sebastian wanted to be the one to take you apart and put you back together.

“I knew you’d be beautiful when you begged,” he murmured, thumb rubbing harsh circles on your puffy clit.

“Look at you, so desperate for pleasure you’re practically humping my hand,” Sebastian mused, watching the way you were already falling apart. His hands were still fisted in the material of his shirt.

“I could make you fall apart like this all night,” he murmured, fingers never slowing. “But I think we both know that won’t be enough for either of us.”

Your breath caught, hips stuttering against his hand. “Sebastian—”

He silenced you with a kiss, deeper and hungrier than before, the kind that left no question about where this was headed. His hand left you just long enough for him to pull at the loosened bodice, the fabric sliding further down your arms.

“Off,” he said, voice like a command and a promise in one. “All of it.”

When you hesitated, his smirk returned — slow, dangerous. “Don’t tell me you’ve come this far just to shy away now.”

His hands were on you again, turning you easily before pressing you forward along the table, the wood cool against your front.

“Down,” he said, voice like velvet over steel. You caught yourself on your forearms, skirts shifting as he stepped in behind you, between your thighs.

His hands slid under the bunched fabric and stilled. A soft, dismissive click of his tongue. “Mm… no. I won’t have these in my way.” The words were smooth, but there was a blade in them. “I want to see you. Really see you.”

Before you could ask, he caught the hem of your petticoat and peeled it away — slow, deliberate — until it was gone, leaving you bare from the waist down, the cool air licking at your skin.

“There…” His tone shifted, softer now — not gentle, but reverent, as though he were taking in a priceless artifact. His bare fingertips traced the slope of your hip, slow enough to make you shiver. “Perfect.”

The reverence didn’t last. It never did with him.

“Now there’s nothing between my hands…” His voice dipped, steel under velvet. “…and the only soul I might ever keep.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing the shell of your ear, words sinking like hooks. “I’ll give you what you begged for, little dove…” His grip on your hips tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you he could. “…but you’re going to take all of me when I do. Every inch, every moment. Until you forget there was ever a world without me in it.”

You could hear Sebastian shuffle behind you, but you couldn’t look, not with the way he had you bent over the table. The wood was cold against the thin chemise you were in. But you were completely bare from the waist down.

There was a slight draft in the library; the cool air nipped at your skin. But that quickly left your mind the moment you felt the blunt tip of his cock rub up and down your slit, gathering your slick.

His hands locked on your plush hips, something you always hated about yourself, but was quickly becoming something Sebastian loved. His grip was tight, drawing you back into the first slow push, forcing you to take him.

It stung, the way his cock nearly split you open. Sebastian gave you no mercy as he pushed into you, forcing your silken walls apart. “Shh… breathe, little one. I’ll make every inch fit.”

A low hum rolled in his chest. “Mm… already shaking,” he murmured, savoring the tension in your body. “It’s almost adorable—how little it takes to undo you.”

He leaned in until the edge of his teeth grazed your ear. “You’ve been empty for so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself now, do you?”

A slow thrust punctuated his following words, before he was fully inside of you. “Don’t worry… I’ll fill you until you remember who you belong to.” The air left your lungs as he filled you completely, and stayed there.

You could’ve sworn the tip of cock had knocked at your cervix.

“It’s like you were made for me,” he breathed at a particularly deep thrust, making you cry out.

You felt so full. Tears stung your eyes as your fingers dug into the table, looking for purchase. You wanted to close your thighs, but he prevented you from doing so. Forcing you to take the stretch. It hurt so good.

Every movement kept you trapped between him and the table, your palms sliding against the wood as you tried to ground yourself.

“Look at you—gripping me so tightly, like you’re afraid I’ll leave you empty,” he said, his tone a cruel kind of amusement. You couldn’t help it; he felt so big, even if you tried to relax, your body just wouldn’t listen. “Your body begs like it’s been waiting for me all its life. Look at how wet you are. Practically drooling for my cock.”

You shivered when his fingers curled tighter into your hips. “Pathetic… and yet—” his voice softened, enough to make your knees weaken— “this is exactly how I want you. Starved for every inch I give you. Needing me more than you can admit.”

Sebastian tilted your chin back so you had to feel his breath when he said, “If I stopped now, you’d beg me to keep going before the minute was out.”

Two fingers reached down, smacking your puffy clit. You mewled, fingers digging into the wood.

The rhythm shifted, less coaxing and more claiming now. Harder. Rougher. It stung so deliciously, you hadn’t realized you were arching your back just to take him in deeper. “That’s it—take it. Take all of me,” he purred, the sound edged with satisfaction.

“You’ll think about this later,” he murmured against your hair, “when you’re alone, aching, wishing I’d kept you on this table until you forgot your own name.”

You choked out a pathetic whine as his fingers dug into the meat of your hips. Every few rolls and snaps of his hips against yours had you moaning, desperate to stay quiet, but Sebastian pulled every sound out of you.

Your legs trembled, threatening to give, but he held you steady, pressing you down into the wood with every sharp drive of his hips. “Remember this—remember me—because you won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

His pace was brutal, and you did nothing but surrender to the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. “Look at this, squeezing me so tight.” And gods, were you wet. His dick is slick with you, creamy almost.

His hips stuttered, your eyes fluttering as your pillowy walls clenched him. Sebastian buried himself inside of you one last time, holding you still as he spilled deep inside of you. The sense made your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

When you sagged forward, spent and breathless, Sebastian only leaned in closer, his mouth grazing your skin. “Pathetic little thing… and still, I’m not nearly finished with you.”

And he wasn’t, Sebastian took you again and again on that table, where anyone could’ve walked in.

But he made sure no one would.

No one was going to interrupt him, not when he had you begging and moaning for him not to stop.

He had made you come so many times that your head felt hazy, the overstimulation had made you squirt a few times, and he mocked you for it.

“Look at that, like a little whore, aren’t you little dove?”

“Oh my, I could watch this pretty pussy all day.”

“That’s it—give me all of it. Every last drop of you.”

At last, he slowed — not out of mercy, but as though simply choosing to let you breathe. His hands stayed on you, anchoring you there, the weight of his claim still heavy in every place he’d touched.

You sagged against the table, lungs working hard, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks he’d pulled from you.

Sebastian leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “You’re coming with me,” he murmured, voice low and certain, “because you’re mine now. Every breath, every thought, every inch of you belongs to me.”

A shiver rolled through you, and his smirk deepened. “No one else will touch you. No one else will have you. I’ve made certain of it.”

His gloved fingers tipped your chin back, making you meet those impossible crimson eyes. “You wanted to be wanted. Now you are—and I’ll never let you go.”

#ladyhelonawrites #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji #yandere sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler #black butler x reader #black butler fanfic #sebastian michaelis smut #dark romance #black butler sebastian #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji angst #sebastian michaelis #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction #anime smut #anime x reader

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rabotimagines · 7 hours ago

Text

"Content" GN BOT Reader x Optimus, Skyfire, Blaster, Megatron, Astrotrain, Stunticons/Menasour

Summary: You wanna be big spoon tonight.

G1 Characters: Optimus, Skyfire, Blaster, Megatron, Astrotrain, Stunticons/Menasor

Genre/Theme: Romantic fluff

Warnings: Motormaster being terrible to his gestalt, Motormaster man handling Reader a bit,

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: You're dating the rest of the Stunticons but also in a weird love hate situation ship with specifically Motormaster via gestalt proxy (You're both rude towards each other.)

You'd rather generously chosen to indulge Optimus in a bit of quiet time together in his berth. He climbs in after you when you'd already laid down. His servos find your frame and Optimus pulls you closer while his digits map out over the dips and curves reflexively. His own servos knowing when and where to pull and trace. Optimus almost pulls you even closer before you press a servo on his chassis and get your frame under one of your own gauntlets. And- you want to hold him instead right now? He... had assumed that was what you were about to do?

You shuffle up farther on his berth and your servos cup his helm- than you lead his faceplate to- ah. Optimus understands as your arms wrap around his own helm. He let's his own arms wrap around your frame as well. His em field bumps into yours when it's already curling against the top of his frame. Even if Optimus weren't practically next to your spark he'd still be able to feel it pulsing through your em field. Your digits trace the edges and make up of Optimus's own helm. His finials involuntarily twitching whenever you traced over one of his audial covers.

And Optimus believes he can lose himself to this feeling. The feeling of you. And since he's on his time for once, Optimus allows his plating slack and for his face mask to bump against your chassis. He doesn't realize he's recharged till he's booting up afterwards and his chrono reads some joors later. Regardless Optimus will allow it always if you ask him. He won't exactly ask himself however, he feels a bit... silly doing so. However on days he's truly in need of a pick me up, he may shove his helm against your chassis as soon as he gets a moment alone with you.

Dear, please help Optimus keep himself together when he feels like he may fall apart by the struts from exhaustion. He desperately needs it more than let's himself believe.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

You'd told Skyfire not to keep you waiting too long so he makes the effort to leave the lab before it gets too late. When he spots you in his berth he smiles and makes his way over towards you. You see him and just- open your arms out wide like- "Would you like a hug-?" He questioned while you just urge him to get in the berth already. So he does just that. While taking extra care how he does so he's not forcing you to adjust too much- but once he's laid down properly you just wrap your arms around his helm and pull him against your chassis. Skyfire's optics cycle as he stares at your chassis. Your arms settling to get more comfortable as do the same with your servos.

You want to hold him right now-? Your vocalizor hums by his faceplate when you speak.

You vent when his plating slacks and Skyfire can hear the very dull hum of your own internals continuing to keep you functional. Your servos are dipping and tracing the edges of his plating like guides to the more sensitive seams that now peeked out under his lax form. Digits still just feathering and touching and, stroking his armor. He can even feel your cheek nuzzle softly against the top of his helm. Skyfires frame so very warm under your clear affections.

Skyfire hums in pleasure when your digits start to skim over the base of his wings. Clearly following the groove of them. He vents deeply allowing your own natural aroma to fill his senses. Skyfire can tell he's nodding off with his faceplate buried against you. He murmurs out as much to you since he didn't want to trap you here in his grip while he was fully in recharge. His own digits ghosting over your own armor in time with your own touches on his. You're undeterred so Skyfire ends up coming to afterwards still tucked against you. Definitely a repeat offender and he does so when feels exhausted enough to ask. (Which was becoming more common now a days).

His function as a shuttle has left Skyfire with less than ideal expectations for support. Since you've offered to aid him like this he feels like he can afford to be a bit selfish with you...

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

There's a hum of light static when Blaster clears his vocalizor roughly. Primus, he was tired. But seeing you curled up in his berth when he gets to his room still makes him crack a smile. "Well hey hey hey'. What do we have here now?" You just look up at him and stay curled on your side while Blaster holds a digit to his audial cover like he was making a call "Blaster calling in to report we have an intruder currently crashing my pad. The bots worn out already and description? Dangerously cute." Blaster ends up crawling in when you urge him to join. He lets out a sound of shock when you latched your arms around his helm. And you just thwap back onto his berth still attached to him taking him with ya.

His servo comes up to lightly grab one of your arms. You hum and tell him you wanna just hold him right now? Blaster relaxes further now clued into the game you were playing. Your digits just keep tracing idly on his helm. All till you start touching his audial extensions and he tenses a bit under the attention. Your digits still just slowly caressed over his metal slow and oh so tranquilizing. Blaster takes a hot klick to actually start letting himself fully enjoy your touch. Blasters more used to holding- usually any of his cassettes or even you so it just takes a klick for him to get with it. It's easier to do when he focuses on all the lil' noises he can hear your frame making pressed up against you like this. Vents, the hum of your vocalizor, he even thinks his enhancements are letting him make out your spark tempo.

But once he does get with it Blasters so down under he's almost in stasis with how dead weight his frame is feeling like. Your digit pads moving from his neck back to his audial extensions again makes him sigh under his vent. Blaster can tell he's about to go under so he tells you as much. So you aren't surprised when his murmured conversation with ya suddenly up and stops. And he comes too with you in recharge still curled against your chassis and- Oh the little sneaks. You're utterly surrounded by his cassettes. Rewind and Eject are both by your helm and his. Steeljaw is curled up against your back. And Ramhorns right next to the cybercat but down by your hips instead. Blaster definitely will be enjoying the low turned silence with you again. While his cassettes will just try to cuddle up with you whenever they think they can squeeze up next to you on a berth.

He's got a busy job keeping everyone connected day in and day out. So Blaster won't exactly be too shy when he already knows you're so sweet on him. (And how sweet he is on you too.)

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

It's no surprise to see you in his berth when Megatron returns to his own habsuite at the end of the day. You were one of the only other bots to have access to his living arrangements. He detaches his cannon and props it against the wall on his side of the berth as you turn to stare up at him. You tell him to lay down and Megatron can tell you want something from him by the look in your optics. He climbs in, fully expecting you to take advantage of your time together for activities of a more sultry nature. So when your arms wrap around his helm and he's been dragged into lying on his side when you pull him down with you, he's... puzzled.

His optic ridge is almost pressing against your chassis while your grip is tentatively pulling the rest of his frame closer- Megatron lightly stiffens when one of your servos finds the back of his neck. He has to fight the urge for his plating to shudder when your digits start dragging slow circles on the sensitive area. You mumble how you want to hold him right now, as your other servo starts following your firsts lead. Both now treating him delicately as you continued to satiate yourself by tracing patterns on his plating.

Megatron is... patient enough to allow you to continue with your sudden self-serving driven course of action. Every light touch and trace and caress you make of his frame. Even when your em field starts bleeding into his own Megatron simply allows it to do so. He does realize he's nodding off. But allows it under the guise of informing you he will be sorting through his internals for the next few klicks. It's not a habit Megatron will indulge in too often- no he's much too busy and or much too heated to take the time to do something as heedless as resting his helm on your chassis.

Megatron cannot rest properly until he's won this war- however he is not foolish enough to delude himself into believing he doesn't require maintenance.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

You'd told him you were going to let yourself into his berth, so Astrotrains grumbling tapers off when he does see your frame exactly were you'd said. Once he shuts the door you're crawling up and inviting him into his own berth. Astrotrain huffs and does just that. You shuffle out of the way as he gets himself comfortable. That includes grabbing you, but before he can pull you where he wants, you squirm and tell him you wanna hold him-? You? Hold him? A sound of amusement rumbles out of his train engine at the thought (he still does this if you're his size. Astrotrain is used to holding, not being held-) and you just pull yourself up and reposition yourself. Arms wrapping around his helm and pulling him against yourself.

Astrotrain huffs when you stay exactly where you are- frame only moving to make yourself more comfortable. Servos holding him like he's fragging fragile or something, before your digits press firmer to properly touch him. Servos dragging and curving along the dips of his helm kibble and his pauldrons. Digits rubbing against the tender area of it to only follow it over his pauldron to his wings. Astrotrain's plating clamps down a bit when your digits start sparingly gliding across his wings. Your em field slowly beginning to pull along himself too.

Your digit pads dragging, following along the paint colors on his wings where you can reach. Your chassis buzzing lightly against his faceplate as you hum a sound, when his wings twitch under your touch. Astrotrain let's his own digits settle on your frame and start worrying along the side of your thigh. Astrotrain is another one who doesn't realize what's happened till he wakes up joors later with his helm still against your chassis. He curses and berates himself up over the time lost but he can't deny how good of a defrag it was for his processor. Astrotrain won't ask either, this will definitely have to be something you offer. Unless he's mad enough he might just drag you into his berth with him and shove his helm against your chassis.

He doesn't have much going for him, being transport ninety percent of the time. So Astrotrain likes having at least one more option for something to look forward to at least.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

It started had with Breakdown feeling like his fuel tank was about to come up on him! And you wanting to try something you had to drag him to your habsuite for-! Why does it have to be your habsuite?! You said it was private and you could go to his instead if he didn't want to- no no no! He can't have you in there! He has everything how he wants it (and so he knows if anything been moved!). And when you get there you're dragging him into your berth-!? Breakdowns helm smacks into your chassis and you tell him to vent. Why!? because you're poisoning him-

You tell him to shut up and Breakdown's mouth clicks shut with a clank. And he vents- and vents- and your servos are tracing his helm kibble- Your em field wraps around him and it's warm and maybe it's... nice and he thinks he can feel your spark thrumming.... Breakdown doesn't realize he's stopped doing anything at all until you tell him the mission was in a few klicks. Huh...? Breakdown cycles his optics and checks his chrono. Breakdown pulls himself up with a shout. How did he lose a joor!? But- but it felt nice...?

Breakdown starts asking If he can put his helm on your chassis when everything starts getting unbearable. He needs to be away from the Decepticons- from his gestalt-! And most importantly them-! Immediately! Which is usually how you end up with him cuddled up to you. Helm pressed against the front of your chassis. Arms wrapped around him and your servos fiddling with his kibble. He might start talking about everything he's been put through for the day- but other times he just clings onto you, like you might slip through his digits- like none of this is real and- your digits press on his pauldrons and the thoughts melt back into the background. Breakdown then shoved his faceplate closer against your chassis.

Can't he have just a little bit longer...?

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

Dead End only wanted to figure out where Breakdown was running off too. Heading in the opposite direction of his own habsuite when Motormaster tells Breakdown "They're after him". It shouldn't matter. In fact It didn't matter. Just like everything else. However Dead End wants to know where he could possibly be going that frazzled. They didn't have any battles or any plans so Dead End follows simply to satiate his own curiosity. Which is how Dead End watched Breakdown shakily enter the code to your habsuite and throw himself inside.

Dead End's curiosity isn't satisfied by watching the act. So he ventures forward still and types your habsuite key in himself. Only to find you both on your berth and instead of doing what was more obvious you're both on your sides and Breakdown has his faceplate shoved against your chassis. Breakdown screams and shouts at him to leave and he does while you try to coax him back inside before the door closes. What a frivolous thing to be so upset about.

The days bleed together again and you've found him in his berth.

He doesn't feel the need to stop you when you climb in after him. Or when you drag his dead weight helm and press it against your front chassis plating. He can feel your em field pressing and pulling against his own frame. Dead End eventually feels his own bothering to reach back and he let's you guide it where you want. He's stuck counting the plating on your arm in his helm instead of any alternative. And he finds the drive to pull himself up to follow when you rise to leave. Dead End also finds the drive to start finding you before the dread fully settles in his chassis.

Even if Breakdown seems like he wants to hoard you for himself.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

Wildrider is doing donuts around Dead End lying like scrap on the sparring room floor-! Which is just fine, cause he's a good obstacle and Dead End doesn't even flinch when Wildrider almost runs a part of him over! So when Dead End gets up and starts walking Wildrider just tilts his donuts so he can keep making them while Dead End's moving and moving- and going-! Wildrider grunts when his side slams against the wall by the entrance of the room. He bounces backwards from the force of it and he almost runs over Dead End when he punches it to keep going- with a laugh Wildrider only stops when he realizes Dead End left him.

Alone in the training room.

Wildrider burns rubber and his tires bounce on the slight exit clip on the door. He transforms mid air and barely misses Dead End's frame and instead goes crashing into the wall. His frame slams into the ground next. He scrambles upwards and he's on his pedes running in the direction Dead End went off in. He almost misses Dead End but he did see him turn down this hallway. And then he's gone. The hallway was empty by the time Wildrider got there. Ah okay where-? his optics lock on a door he knows it's yours! Wildrider keys in your code and throws the door open. And is being yelled at immediately- frag yeah!

Wildrider ignores the insults from his two gestalt members and makes himself comfortable in your room. He ends up sitting upside down on one of your chairs, top half hanging off of it. Watching cause they won't tell him what you're all doing. Breakdown even smacked him when he asked if you guys were interfacing (Ha!). And- oh? They're just taking turns lying with ya? Wildrider wants a turn! When Dead End let's go of you, Wildrider tosses himself onto you before Breakdown comes back in. They both shout at him but you just try and talk over 'em both. The low rumble of your chassis hums against his helm when you use your vocalizor. Wildrider chuckles and clings onto you while Breakdown grabs his leg and physically tries to get Wildrider off of you.

Wildrider could keep dropping by with 'em! Especially when it was also with you! He liked your sounds the most.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

Dragstrip knows the rest of his gestalt are fighting over something but he doesn't know what. It starts with Breakdown getting mouthier with Dead End. Then they both instead just got mad at Wildrider a few weeks ago. And they were still mad as slag at Wildrider. It's not until they get back from a mission do they start racing with no warning! Full on alt mode and everything-! But Dragstrip wouldn't let 'em just steal a victory from him right under his olfactory! Dragstrip of course transformers and speeds after them in the nemesis hallway.

It's bumpy and they almost hit some stragglers but Dragstrip passed Wildrider for first and he realizes your habsuite is the only thing important over here- so he turns sharp that way and Wildrider smacking his own side against the wall to make the same turn tells him he's right! And more importantly that Dragstrip was gonna win! Dragstrip transforms into root mode in a run and nearly skids past your habsuite door on his pedes. He slams the code in with the others right on his tailpipe. Dragstrip locks optics with you and rushes forward when the sounds of pede falls behind him don't slow- in fact they get worse. Your room wasn't the goal!? What was then-!? His optics lock back on you and Dragstrip throws himself at you and you fall back onto your berth with him on top of you.

You're exclaiming and asking him what the frag was going on. Then everyone catches up and they sigh or curse or in Wildriders case cackles like a loon. And at those beautiful sounds Dragstrip let's himself laugh and his plating relax. He'd gloat further really- pull his faceplate up to see their sour expressions-! But then he'd loose his spot against you. And Dragstrip could tell they wanted to be him real bad right now-! But Dragstrip won it, so he's not going anywhere right now! You sigh and grab his kibble and shake him a bit- telling him to stop being such a stubborn aft. His engine just purrs when your servos move to start stroking down his spinal strut instead.

The still present sounds of his gestalt upset about loosing to Dragstrip was just a great topping to the oil cake your attention was.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

Motormaster can feel his sparkdamn plating clamp down further the longer he has to keep following the ugly tire streaks. Some dumb afts had been making a mess in the nemesis halls. Now normally Motormaster wouldn't give half a frag about whatever destruction whatever nobody con decided to cause. But the dumb afts responsible for this mess were unfortunately Motormasters dumb aft gestalt. Megatron telling him to get a hold of his sparkdamn gestalt and curb their stupidity immediately. Oh, Motormaster was gonna curb something alright when he got a hold of one of them... the tracks end at your habsuite.

Motormasters frown curls into a scowl staring at your key code lock.

He slams his fist hard enough against your door the metal dents under the force. And when Wildrider opens it Motormaster shoves him out of the way to enter. "What do you rejects think you're doing!?" The noise died at the demand. You were standing there stupidly gawking while holding up Dragstrip in your arms. The try hard's optics widened, and he immediately started clambering to get out of your hold when Motormaster got closer. No one spoke. "Well-? Was it you who started this slag-?" Motormaster stared right at you at the question. Breakdown and Dead End started bumbling about something but flinched when Motormaster looked their way.

And you say it was you, making Motormaster's optics flick back onto your faceplate.

So Motormaster grabbed you with a solid grip on your armor kibble and started dragging you towards the door.

The rest of his gestalt stupidly started panicking and trying to protest- "Oi-! You rejects are gonna clean your fragging mess up from racing-" Motormaster yanked you and your pauldron smacked into his own frame. "Or else- Got it?" And just like that they shut up and Motormaster dragged you out of the room. By the time he'd gotten to his own habsuite he just shoved you inside as soon as the door opened. You sighed and all stupid asked if he needed to do that- Motormaster's servo clamped onto your jaw and he made you look him in the optics. "Don't act smart with me. I know you lied for those losers." Your digits were wrapped around his gauntlet and they were about to warp his metal under it. You just repeated yourself and said- you what?

You couldn't be serious. But the dumb flat look in your optics said ya were. Motormaster scoffed and started dragging you towards his berth. "Fine ya wanna prove it- show me what stupid little thing those dumbafts were fighting over." Your digits do actually dent his gauntlet this time when he released your jaw just to hook you back by your frame kibble again- and drag you down with him on his berth. You crack your fist against his chassis hard enough to sting. But before he has a chance to grab you back for it, you wrap your arms around his helm kibble. Motormaster stills waiting for you to start squeezing or go for his optics even. But you just stay there- holding him. Like you said you were doing to- oh for Primus fragging sake. You weren't lying.

You tell Motormaster you're taking him out to spar and to kick his aft after this for scaring the others and Motormaster scoffs. He almost responds but stops short when he realizes can hear your inners working when you're pressed close like this. You hum and Motormaster can physically feel the sound. He's not used to this. You're usually hurting each other when you're this close so he... doesn't know what to fragging do. "Those losers were actually fighting over this-?" You tell him to shut the frag up as your digit pads racked over one side of the kibble covering his helm. Your em fields not as hot as it usually is but it is warm.

You don't start snapping at each other again till those rejects show back up at his door and Motormaster tries to threaten them.

· ·══════⊹⊱≼·✶·≽⊰⊹══════· ·

Menasor hates it- hates this! Hates them-! Him-! He growls and multiple engines rev. Whatever-! Whatever-! It didn't matter. didn't matter-! Useless-! Useless- Useless! He doesn't know if he's talking about the Autobots or himself- (it's both-) his engines growl louder and he almost drops his sword right down on the loud sound that grates on his audials on his left- and he slams his sword into the ground next to you staring up at him- you- You-! You! Menasor drops his sword and he drops too. You almost fall over as Menasor grabs you with servos- you make a sound he hates and he almost drops you. He moves you instead so you don't make it again-!

He's mad at himself-! But he wants you more-! Fix it-! You can fix it! You've fixed it before-! He drops you and Menasor gets even lower to the ground. It's dirty- dirty- Disgraceful! And Disgraceful makes him want to purge. But Menasor still drops his cheek against the ground and his digits claw right into the dirt. His plating flattens and he's useless-! He's angry-! His engines growl and he almost gets up to claw at his own chassis-!

Warm and familiar by his faceplate makes him freeze.

Something small is brushing against his helm along with it and his plating clamps back down from how it was jagged before. You say his designation-! And your servos are nice- a broken sound that rattles his struts comes out of his vocalizor. Pathetic- Pathetic-! He growls again and one of his servos goes over the top of his helm and grips hard enough all the sounds get fuzzy. You say his designation again and the warmth goes over his entire faceplate- The sharp sounds stop hurting and it's replaced by the small hum that rolls over four of his engines. You press your entire frame by him and say something that makes Menasor's final engine stop growling sharp. You brush under his optic and Menasor's plating finally slacks. The noise drowned out by the sounds you were making and four of his engines. Menasor tilts his helm towards you while you continue to touch him.

Menasor can't think much about much else besides how you're touching him...

But the only sound that really seems to matter right now is the things you're telling him... so it's probably fine...

#transformers x reader #transformers x cybertronian reader #transformers x y/n #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader #skyfire x reader #blaster x reader #stunticons x reader #x reader #gn reader #rabot writes #astrotrain x reader #me: man why dont i do the combiners more often? Ill do the stunticons for this.#Me actually writing them: Oh jesuschirsthelp

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zclhes · 22 hours ago

Text

Title: "Break Me Right"

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

POV: First person (Harry’s POV)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: ~4.2k

Content Warnings: D/s dynamic (femdom), power exchange, orgasm denial, spanking, restraints, subspace, emotional breakdown, explicit sexual content, praise kink, consensual control, mental health themes (burnout), aftercare

Summary: 2024. Harry has been lost in the silence ever since the tour ended. He thinks obedience will fix it. You know better. So you make him wait. You make him feel. Until he breaks—and finally lets himself be put back together right.

It’s too quiet. Not the warm kind. Not comfort. Not the kind that follows laughter or sex or music spilling into the kitchen. This is the kind of quiet that makes your skin buzz.

You’re upstairs. Moving. Light steps. One drawer opens, closes. The sound of fabric shifting. Measured. Deliberate. You’ve always had that still, commanding way about you. Like you carry gravity with you. Even now, just hearing you breathe from another room, I feel it. That... presence.

And I’m down here. Kneeling. Not because you told me to. You haven’t told me anything. That’s the part that scares me. I thought I needed rest. After the tour ended, I told myself I’d take time. Just a little. A pause. But the pause has stretched into something else. Something soft and slow and… empty. I don’t know who I am without stages, without cameras, without someone needing something from me every second of the day. I’ve spent so long being seen, always giving, always doing—and now the silence feels like rot.

So I started giving you everything. Clean counters. Dinners ready before you ask. Laundry folded. Obedient. Sweet. Always kneeling when you come home. Good boy. So, so good.

But you haven’t touched me in three days. Not like that. Not with purpose. Not with weight. You kiss my forehead. Touch my arm in passing. But I can feel you watching me. Pulling back, careful and patient. Not punishing me, but waiting. Like you know exactly what I’m doing—using submission to disappear.

And you won’t let me do it. You won’t play with me when I’m not really here. You won’t take what I offer if I’m not in it fully, heart and body and soul. So you wait. And the waiting is unraveling me.

I hear you start down the stairs. My body reacts instantly. Knees tighter together. Spine straightens. I press my palms flat against my thighs. Breath shallow. You don’t rush. Of course you don’t. You make me feel every second of it. Every second of what I’m not getting from you. You stop behind me. Close. I can feel the heat of you—barely inches away. But still… you don’t touch me. Don’t say a word. Just exist behind me like an unanswered prayer. The silence stretches.

And then I crack. I clench my thighs. My fingers curl in. My throat closes, then opens, and before I can stop myself, it spills out. “Please.” It sounds broken.

I lift my head slowly. My eyes catch the hem of your pants, the angle of your wrist by your thigh. Still. Grounded. Unshaken. And I’m falling apart.

“Please…” I whisper again. “Tell me what to do.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Then your voice—calm, smooth, low. “Color?”

“Green,” I whisper. My voice is already shaking.

You move in front of me, crouching until we’re level. Your hand cups my jaw, gentle but firm. Holding. Guiding. Turning me to look at you. Your eyes search mine like they always do. Deep. Seeing too much.

“This isn’t about service,” you murmur. “You know that.” I nod.

A tear slides hot down my cheek. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I admit. “I just… I don’t know how to stop. And when I do, it feels like I don’t exist.”

Your thumb brushes under my eye. “So you tried to disappear into me.”

I nod again, guilt tight in my throat. Your gaze sharpens. “But you don’t get to vanish, Harry.”

I blink, chest hitching. “Then please. Break me right.”

You hold still. And then that edge wakes up behind your calm—coiled and dangerous. Beautiful.

“Get upstairs.”

I obey instantly. Legs shaky. Already shirtless. The bedroom door closes behind us. I don’t look back.

“On the bed. Face down.”

I climb onto the mattress and flatten myself, breathing hard. I hear the drawer open. The familiar sounds: leather, buckles, lube. My pulse spikes. Restraints lock around my wrists. Ankles, too. Spread wide. Exposed. Yours.

“Breathe.” I try.

Then the first slap lands. Loud. Hot. Crackling.

“Count.”

“One.”

Another. “Two.”

Harder. “Three.”

Heat blooms across my skin, each strike loosening something deeper inside. I moan. My cock presses into the mattress, leaking already. But you don’t let me get close.

You spank me until I twitch, until I cry out, until I shake—and then you stop. Press your palm against the bruises you’ve made. A soft contrast. Then lower. Between my legs. To where I’m soaked and aching.

“You want to come?”

“Yes, Ma'am.” I gasp.

You stroke me once. Twice. Stop. “You don’t get to yet.”

I whimper.

“Not until you’re empty. You understand?”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am.”

You unbuckle one ankle, flip me over. Then buckle me back in, face up now. Cock flushed and twitching, still untouched.

You lube the plug. Slick. Cold. You press it in slow.

“Breathe. You can take it.”

I moan. You’re careful, always. It slides in deep, and I gasp at the stretch. The pressure. I feel so full, I can’t move. I’m already starting to float.

And then… you leave me. Walk away. Sit down. Fully clothed. Legs crossed. Watching. Waiting. Minutes pass. I’m shaking. My cock pulses helplessly. The pressure in my arse makes my whole body throb.

“You still want to come?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Why?”

“Because I… I need it.”

“Not good enough.”

I choke out the rest. “Because I’ve given you everything. Because I don’t know how to carry this anymore. Because I’m falling apart and I need you to break me open and fill me—so I know I’m still real.”

Your jaw twitches. Your eyes go dark. You rise.

“Good boy.”

You walk to the bed and remove the plug. I moan, wrecked by the sudden emptiness.

You unbutton your blouse slowly. One button. Two. Three. I’m shaking. Desperate. You strip. Fully. Gorgeous and terrifying. And then you climb over me. You take me in your hand, guide me to your heat.

“Don’t come.”

I nod. I sob. You sink down onto me. It’s everything. Hot. Tight. Consuming.

You ride me slowly, grinding your hips in slow, devastating circles. I strain against the cuffs. My vision blurs.

“Stay here. Don’t run. Don’t disappear.”

“I’m trying.”

You fuck me until I lose my sense of time. Until I’m begging again. Until my voice breaks. “Ma’am—please—I’m gonna—”

You grab my jaw. Lock eyes with me. “Come for me.”

I break. It’s not just an orgasm. It’s an obliteration. My whole body arches, shudders, collapses. I come harder than I ever have—sobbing, twitching, emptied. You ride me through it. Hold me down.

When I stop shaking, you unbuckle me. Pull me close. Wrap around me like a second skin.

“Green?”

I whisper, “Green.”

You kiss my temple. My lips. My throat.

“You did so well.”

And I finally let go. Let it all go. Because you broke me. And you did it right.

#creators on tumblr #zclhes #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #sub Harry styles #dom reader #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #smutty fanfiction #d/s relationship

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ray935sworld · 3 days ago

Text

The involuntary truth

Pedrenzo with truth serum

Cw: mention of bondage use but not in a sexy time content

"Little warning" Vale said, his hand resting on Dani's shoulder. The younger man looked up in surprise at the sudden approach.

"Your boyfriend drank a truth serum. He can't shut up and he can't lie."

Dani turned around, his eyes wide. The Italian just nodded, a smile that borderlined at insanity. He could only guess what had been revealed to him that made him look like that.

"He says everything that comes to his mind. It's bad. And hilarious. For me at least." "He... Everything?" "Everything." he replied with a fierce nod. "I had to run when I asked him how his sex life is and I gotta say - Pedrosa. Damn!"

Dani blinked, unsure what exactly Jorge might have said. They had a healthy - and kinky - sex life. So he was actually too scared to ask.

"I - I don't even wanna know." he said, the other chuckling. "Just keep your mouth shut." "Unlike you-" "You really wanna judge sex stories? You?" he asked, his arms crossed infront his chest. "May I remind you of when I caught your and-" "MOVING ON!" "Thought so." he muttered and looked around.

"So... Where is he actually?" "In his motorhome. Probably cutting his tongue out." he shrugged.

"I should check on him, shouldn't I?" "That's why I was telling you" Surprised Dani turned to him. The question visible lingering in his eyes why Valentino Rossi of all people cared about Jorge.

"What?" The older shrugged. "This seems to be getting to him... And it's not fun teasing him when he looks like a kicked puppy. Makes me feel cruel. And you always make him look like a less kicked puppy. So work your magic, gremlin!"

Dani sighed, thinking about arguing back over the nickname but deciding against it.

He quickly stood up and instead made his way over to the yamaha motorhome. He entered the code and let himself in.

"Jorge?" he asked loudly, looking around. "Are you there?" "Yes - Fuck!" he heard his boyfriends voice coming from the bedroom.

Dani entered, seeing him sit on the bed, his legs pulled close to his body. He watched how Jorge literally bite into his cushion as he stared at the older one.

"Are you being serious right now?" he asked chuckling at the sight. Jorge nod.

"I could get you the gag if you want to" he offered, more as a joke. Normally he was the one using it. "You know, see where it leads us..."

Almost immediately, Jorge's head popped up, his eyes wide, the cushion still in between his teeth as he replied wuth a muffled but understandable "Yes. I want that."

As Dani stared at him, confused and unsure how to react, the cushion fell down. Jorge's cheeks red, seemingly catching up to what he just said. "I... Ehm... I mean..."

It wasn't like they hadn't used a gag before. But Jorge had said he didn't want to use a gag on himself or be tied up. He had said that while he trusts Dani completely, he wasn't comfortable giving up control like that. Dani had respected it and never questioned it.

Until now

But he decided to brush it off. "No need for any explanation" he reassured him with a gentle smile. "I'm just here to check on you, my love. I heard that you were having troubles"

He nodded. "I can't lie. Which is shitty cause I... I say everything I think too. I... I also said some things I shouldn't have said about you." "Yeah, Vale mentioned that-" "I said you look amazing in bondages" "I-" "Salucci heard... And some yamaha officials." "That is..." Mentally he crossed yamaha of the list of options if he ever left Honda. "And Luca."

Dani decided to not think about the fact that a 15 year old now knew this about him. He swallowed hardly, biting his lip as he tried to think about an appropriate response.

Apparently his thoughts were evident on his face because Jorge made a sad noise. Dani looked at him, surprised his normally so tough boyfriend was even capable of making a noise that could be described as a whine.

"I'm sorry. Please don't hate me." he whispered and his voice broke. "I'm - I fucked up and I'm really, really sorry. I didn't want to say that. Vale asked and I- I couldn't shut up. I never would have-" There were tears in his eyes, the frustration about the situation and the pressure boiling up and clearing being too much for him.

Dani immediately felt bad for him and crossed the room. He sat down next to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Jorge, don't cry" he whispered. "Don't cry. It's all good. Everything is okay. I could never hate you"

"But - You're... You're going to leave me-" "I am not going to leave me" he replied, confused why he even thought that.

"Yes you are. I fucked up and you're going to leave me and I'll be all alone and i will miss you a lot" he said while tears streamed down his face.

Dani froze a little, realizing that this was Jorge's actually thought process. He had said something bad - not his usual stupid comment but actual hurtful and bad - something that seriously violated Dani's privacy. And under other circumstances, Dani would at least be pissed.

But he genuinely had no choice. Still he blamed himself.

He thought Dani would leave him for something that wasn't his fault.

He felt his heart break a little at the thought. He wondered how many times Jorge had been afraid he'd leave him over a minor comment before. How many times he had feared dani would leave him over something Dani hadn't even realized, might be an issue.

"Fuck I didn't mean to say all that." Jorge muttered, brushing his tears away. Dani wanted dto reach for him and care for him. Wrap him up in a blanket and protect him. "And this shitty potions now also makes me cry?!"

"Who cares? You can cry. It's-" "It's embarrassing. I shouldn't-" "It's not" "Name one cool person who publicly cried and it wasn't embarrassing!" he dared and Dani rolled his eyes. "Nicky Hayden."

"Of course he's the first person you can think of." Jorge muttered and almost immediately his eyes went wide. But Dani didn't care. He knew the comment was about the past relationship Dani and Nicky Hayden. Jorge always hated that even though the Honda teammates had broken up long before Jorge and Dani got together.

But Jorge always said that Nicky was everything he wasn't. Kind.

Dani disagreed.

He didn't mind the comment so he just playfully nudged him. "Mad that I came up with someone? So stop complaining about crying." "But I meant-" "Jorge" he interrupted him, avoiding another inappropriate comment.

He moved a little around until he infront of him. He looked at him, his hands softly cradling his face.

"You can cry. It's okay. I'm always gonna be hear when you cry and I will hold you when you do." he leaned in and kissed his forehead, watching the soft smile wash over his face.

"Because I love you. I love you so much. I'm not going to leave you. I will stay here with you and annoy you forever. Wherever you go, I'll be there with you." "You swear?" "Of course I swear it. I love you so much, Jorge."

The younger one nodded slowly. Still visible unsure. "I love you too" he replied. "Very much, I.... I really want to be your husband one day. I want to marry you and grow old with you and I'd get you pregnant if I could. I promise to come in you every time to at least try and -" he closed his eyes, mouth shit. He cringed at his own words. "I didn't mean to say that" he whispered.

Dani just laughed.

"I take it as a compliment" he chuckled. "I wanna marry you too."

#ray's writing #valentino rossi #motogp rpf #dani pedrosa #jorge lorenzo #pedrenzo

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jigglyjeon · 5 hours ago

Text

karmic energy -> jjk (four)

summary: you take a trip down memory lane with your boyfriend, from the days to the hours that lead up to that silly renaissance fair that started it all; you reminisce on the times he spent fighting for your love.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

pairing: witch!fem reader x himbo!jk

genre(s): established relationship, 80s au, college au, slice of life, smut

word count: 10.6k

warnings/tags: flashback chapter, their lives leading up to the day they met! d&d slander but i'm not a hater okay! i love d&d and i need y'all to know </3, slight cat and mouse dynamic, oc plays hard to get, drive in movie date, making out, cunnilingus, implied car sex, and fluff :D

author's note: idk how i feel about this chapter but this was meant to be a flashback chapter, so here it is before we get back into the main story :> i also didn't really proof read this...sorry guys i'm sick AHEM AHEM but felt like she needed a nice lil update anyway

soundtrack: abracadabra - steve miller band // take on me - a-ha // gyspy's, tramps & thieves - cher // hungry eyes - eric carmen // i got my mind set on you - george harrison // every breath you take - the police

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Your staggering breaths sound so pretty layered in perfect harmony with his soft groans and heavy panting. Jungkook lets out a low whistle as he falls to the mattress beside you and a faint, tired chuckle leaves his lips as he tries to catch his breath. You rub at your eyes, dragging out a tired whine as he tugs you close to him, having you face him to collide your lips with his in a slow, wet kiss. You sigh into his mouth, feeling spent and content.

“Aren’t you glad you got over the whole fucking yourself thing?” You snort, lowering a hand in search for his. He intertwines them for you and holds it against his chest; you can feel the flickering beats of his heartbeat that have yet to come down from the high from mere moments ago.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, using his free hand to gently shove the side of your face away from him and into the pillows. “Oh, don’t get it twisted. I am far from over it— I just love you too much to care about it right now.”

You hate that he can just utter three simple words, and they always managed to break down your resolve. Yeah, but they weren’t just three words to you.

They were three words strong enough to have your heart soaring, even though you hid it well. Never catch a man knowing the effect that they have on you, always remain two steps ahead.

But this is Jungkook— he isn’t just any man to you, not anymore. In fact, he’s this whole other subspecies of man that makes the other men invisible in your eyes. You’re so sure you can’t love anyone else again. Jungkook boyfriended so damn hard that he’s completely ruined the idea of ever dating anyone after him. Not that you want to, you didn’t even think about it for a second.

“Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?” You shuffle onto your side to face him, sliding your hands beneath your head. Jungkook hums, turning his head to look at you.

“Yeah, you looked at me all funny, I thought I had a booger in my nose or something.” He releases an amused breath through his nose. “I never told anyone that I loved them before, like, maybe Ma or whatever but that’s about it. I was losing it when you didn’t say anything to me for five minutes straight.”

He tells his mother that he loves her! Add it to the list of reasons why you could never love anyone else ever again.

“You didn’t even say anything! You just sat there and stared at me! It didn’t help that you didn’t even look nervous, like you were so…just…ugh.”

“I was quite literally shitting myself, thank you very much.” He snorts, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.

“You were just sitting there and eating all my fries!”

“And they were delicious! Thank you, babe.”

You groan, snatching the pillow from beneath his head to whack him with it, two times because once wasn’t enough. “Why did I ever say yes to dating you, you’re criminally annoying.”

“You don’t mean that.” He sits up, squishing your cheeks between his fingers to pull you down for a kiss. “And I worked real hard didn’t I, Princess?”

“Mhm” You smile against his lips, stealing just one more kiss from him. “You did, you spent all that time trying to win me over, I bet you’re regretting it right now.” You’re only half joking, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. He pulls back, frowning at you.

“Take it back.” He deadpans

“What? No! You could be with some normal girl right now and you’d still be in your body and–”

He slaps a hand over your mouth, muting you. “If I could go back in time? I would do it all over again.” You raise a brow. “Scout’s honour.” He lifts three fingers up and snort at the action.

“You were never a boy scout, Jungkook.” Your voice is still muffled by his hand.

“I mean it anyway.” He smiles, finally removing his hand. The hand cream you’ve been urging him to use every day leaves a chemically taste on your lips, you grimace, wiping them with the back of your hand. “I mean it because my life before you was such a drag.”

Football, college, frat parties, cheap beer, sleeping knowing damn well he was going to have a hangover when he waddles into class the next morning— it was growing old.

“But when I saw you for the first time…I swear to fucking god I forgot how to breathe. You’re that beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that.” You fold your arms over your chest in a pouty huff. “You have to say these things, you’re my boyfriend.”

“You bet your ass I am, but that isn’t why. You really are the most beautiful, I don’t know what to tell you.” He repeats, cupping your cheeks in his hands, staring deeply into your eyes. You break, growing bashful under his gaze.

“You always say the right things, it isn’t fair.” You mumble, but not even seconds after you say it you break into the smile you hardly try that hard to suppress. “Hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He teases. “I like it when I make you blush, s’cute.”

You groan, pushing his hands away from you so that you can hide your face in his neck. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your broad back. “When we change back, remind me to prove to you just how beautiful I think that you are.”

“Remind yourself, you clown.”

“Gonna to rock your world, pretty little witch.” He noses at your neck, sighing.

You audibly gag, purposefully being dramatic at his corny words. “Bite me, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Don’t you worry baby I will, and you can count on it.”

His teeth scrap against the skin of your neck and you gasp loudly, but you can’t find it in yourself to move. “Jungkook!” You whine when his tongue flattens against his attack, your head falling to the side to give him the extra access.

“There she is.” He hums against your skin, and you whinge that he’s annoying, but he knows it only means he has you exactly where he wants you— puddy in his hands.

“C’mere beautiful, I’m not done with you yet.”

September 1st, 1988

It was already noon, but Jungkook was still fast asleep, laying on his stomach with his arms shoved beneath the pillows. His body is probably making a dent in the shape of him into the spot on his single-sized mattress; he hasn’t moved an inch from since he conked out last night. His lips are slightly parted and there’s the tiniest bit of drool dripping from the corner of his lips and pooling onto his pillow.

An elongated honking sound blares through his eardrums and has his head darting up. He can barely open his eyes, and just as quickly as he lifted it, his head face falls front first into his pillow to block out whatever the noise was.

“Wake the fuck up, you moron!”

Of course, because who the hell else would it be if not Taehyung.

He blows lazily into a small party whistle that hangs from the corner of his lips to a remixed version of happy birthday. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid by waking up in the morning.

“Remind me to file a complaint to the student board later.”

“Don’t be such a sour puss! Are you sure you’re turning 21 and not 201?”

“No one lives 'til 200, Taehyung.”

“Well actually that’s not true, there’s–.” Jungkook shoots his best friend a narrowed glare, intrigued by his protest. Taehyung cuts himself short. “Just get up!”

“It’s my birthday, I should be allowed to sleep in.”

“The moment you declared me your best friend was the moment you signed away those kinds of rights. Now get the fuck up before I make you.”

“Then make me, smart ass.”

Taehyung pulls back the weighted blanket and reaches for the waistband of Jungkook’s shorts. His eyes shoot open, and Taehyung lets go immediately, letting the fabric smack against his lower back. “Hah, wow! No panties Jeon?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn beet red and he’s fuming when he begrudgingly gets out of bed, suddenly wide awake and glaring coldly into Taehyung’s eyes. Of course that doesn’t deter him, nothing ever does. Taehyung will always be triumphant in the game of convincing Jungkook to do something— nothing could shake him, because next to nothing exceeded this guy’s boundaries. No matter how many cruel pranks Jungkook tried or even threatened at him, he would raise his brow and reveal that it was exciting. He could counterattack, tug down his sweats but he’d probably flaunt it, and say something that would make Jungkook feel stupid for even doing it in the first place.

While he knew that Taehyung didn’t really want him in that way he constantly teased him about, that he only did it because he knew it ruffled Jungkook’s feathers and tarnished his fragile male ego, it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. And it worked literally every single time without fail, much to Taehyung’s pleasure.

Straight men were so easy to fuck with; Taehyung thinks it’s one of his favourite pass times, and he wishes that were a sport he could participate in instead of football.

When he successfully drags Jungkook out of their shared dorm, he shouts him his usual iced americano and talks far too openly about some goth girl he hooked up with at a party last night. Something about blindfolds and ropes and never having been dominated by a chick before. Jungkook’s only half listening, and he knows not only because he’s staring out the window of the coffee shop, but because he hums absentmindedly at the obscenest graphic details.

Besides, there’s this girl with a really pretty smile just outside by the benches, touching the arm of some guy as she laughs with him. Whatever he said to get her to look like that probably wasn’t even funny. Jungkook reckons he’s even funnier than that guy.

“Look at what the cat dragged in.” Taehyung snickers, wrapping his lips around the straw of his caramel frappe, looking up through his lashes at the person in question. Jungkook turns, not so subtly, and discover he’s talking about Jimin. He smiles at Jungkook when their eyes meet, shuffling over to their table.

“Oh, hey Park. How’s it going?” He holds up his hand, clapping it against Jimin’s who looks so out of place doing it. His nose crinkles at the harsh collision. “Oh shit, is the paper done already? You’re actually a wizard, man; our tutor only handed it out yesterday!”

Jimin scoffs. “No. I just–” His eyes flicker over to Taehyung, who smirks at the blond, leaning back in his chair. “I came to give you something.” He slams something onto the table in front of him, causing everyone to look down at the small black box wrapped in gold ribbon. “Happy Birthday, Jungkook.” He says before turning on his heel.

Jungkook furrows his brows, giving Taehyung a look before he turns to look over his shoulder. “Thank–” He’s already halfway out of the shop, the bell at the top of the door sounding off as he walks through it. “Okay.” He smacks his lips together.

Taehyung snickers under his breath. “He does this every year.”

“Yeah, I don’t get him sometimes.” Jungkook shakes his head. He opens the small box, holding it up to see what’s inside. “Oh.”

“Well? Give us a look.”

“This is kinda rad.” Jungkook nods as he inspects the small piece of plastic, donning an upside smile. He was actually impressed with the small gift. “Neat.”

It’s a black guitar pick with his initials carved into it in cold lettering. He can never have enough of them, loses them like crazy, but this one was cool and personalised. He was sure to take more care of it.

“That is super sweet actually, might even beat the world’s stupidest baseball cap he got you last year.” The words world’s stupidest were literally branded into the hat. That one stung a little.

“Fuck that hat.”

“Hey! I like that hat.” Taehyung juts out his bottom lip.

“Yeah, you would.” Jungkook scoffs, slumping back into his chair. “It’s a stupid hat.”

Taehyung laughs, leaning over the table to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook bats his hand away, complaining that he was going to ruin it and he’d spent time patting down the cowlick that was pestering him this morning.

“Happy birthday, dummy.”

“Sit and spin, loser.”

Just outside of the coffee shop, nearby the benches in the courtyard Yoongi leans against a streetlight, and there’s a cute boy in a coffee shop has you zoning out of the conversation you’re having with him.

“I didn’t take you for the type to be into sleazebags.” His monotonous comment makes you blink, turning to him with a glower in your expression.

“That’s not nice, you don’t know him.”

“No, but I do.” Yoongi snorts. “That’s Jeon Jungkook. He probably has a girl under both his arms that slip love letters underneath the door of his dorm room— he plays football for Christ sakes.”

You hum in disappointment. “Maybe you’re right.” You look away before you can get too invested, following after him when he turns to walk away.

“How’s your brother and stuff? Still giving you a hard time about wanting to get rid of your powers?” He asks casually, and you widen your eyes, looking around you in hopes no one is close enough to hear him.

“Yoongi! Can you keep it down?”

“Right, sorry. I forget you guys are like, undercover or some shit.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket before shrugging. “I don’t get what the big deal is anyway.”

“The big deal is that involving mortals in witchcraft is dangerous and unjust.” You speak lowly through your teeth.

“I don’t know cousin,” he sighs. “Don’t you get tired of such a huge part of yourself from the people you love?”

Yes, the truth was you were extremely tired of having to lie to your friends, or the people you dated. It has caused so much self-sabotage, pent up anger and the abrupt endings of said relationships.

“Why do you think I intend to denounce my title and my powers? I’m sick of losing friends and breaking up with guys I don’t actually despise.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been saying this for years but have yet to actually go through with it. Why is that little cousin?” He taunts you, but he doesn’t look at you as he walks on. “Is it what you really want?”

“It is.” You reply to him a little bit too quickly. Yoongi raises a brow.

“Fine, okay…maybe it’s for the best. It is a little embarrassing that you’re a witch and you can’t even make a cup levitate without breaking something in the process.”

“Tch.” You give him an annoyed look before turning on your heel, walking in the opposite direction. “I already deal with this enough from Jin.” You grumble.

“Oh, will you tell him that his favourite cousin says hello!” He calls after you, but you don’t even turn, he only earns the flip of your middle finger in response. “Love you, also!”

You were definitely related to him.

September 3rd, 1988

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Jin sighs, coming up behind you to look at you through the mirror. You’re just finishing up the braids in your hair.

“Positive.” You answer easily. “This witch stuff was just never meant for me. I just want to live my life like a normal person, Jin.”

“Even if you were a mortal, you still wouldn’t be normal.” He jokes, but you can tell he isn’t ecstatic about it, but he nods anyway. “But fine, it is your decision at the end of the day.”

You’re getting ready for one of the many ancient fairs that passed through your town annually; the one you’re going to today is a renaissance fair, which usually came by in the fall. Do you have any interest in the renaissance? No– well, partially, history wasone of the subjects you were interested in when you were in high school for sure, but that’s not the reason why you were going this year.

Jin was more well-versed, he attended each and every one that came by here like clockwork, it wasn’t because he had a particular interest in the Middle Ages or anything, either. These types of festivals weren’t just for geeks and nerds who spent their free time playing D&D in their basements – perhaps to some degree they were – but they were a hot spot for witches and warlocks to come together and interact with one another, a place where they can freely sell and share potions and books and history to their kind without the mortals suspecting anything.

Of course, there were still mortals that knew they existed, that was inevitable in the 199th decade, but for the most part, it wasn’t exactly something looked upon lightly: to bring a mortal into a witch’s world, that is.

But this was the 80’s baby— anything was possible.

“You be careful with that dress, Y/N.” He scolds, “Mother will rip your head clean off your shoulders if you so much as make a tear in such ancient silk.”

This might seem normal; most mothers pass down dresses, bracelets, rings…a dress being the thing that was passed down to you. The difference is that this dress you’re wearing is around 500 years old, give or take, and it was supposedly passed down by an elven witch that descended from the bloodline on your mother’s side. That was apparently special, to be an elf and a witch— that meant that you were one of the more powerful ones.

The dress is pretty, it’s light green and, as your brother just mentioned, is made of silk. A silk that you couldn’t really get, unless you knew a witch that knew a witch that knew an elf. Maybe. But it fits you so perfectly, the ribbons at the side of the bodice allowing you to cinch it in at the waist. It was flowy and comfortable and looked nice with the arm cuff and vine-like head piece you were wearing to really play the part. Sue a girl for wanting to look nice at the opportunity to dress up.

It's the fact you shrug and huff at him as if it were any old nicely made medieval costume is what makes your older brother tense.

“I’m not gonna wreck the dress, Jin. It’ll be fine.”

You haven’t been to one of these things since you were seventeen, and the only reason you were going to them is because it was a non-negotiable in your family. Both your mother and father practiced witchcraft and were proud witches. That meant it was mandatory to participate in all thing’s magic.

Then why are you going if you’re so crabby about it? You’re so glad someone asked!

Apparently, there was a guy who knew how to get rid of your magic for good passing through at the fair today, and this was your chance to finally do what you’ve always set out to do since you were a teenager.

You hadn’t always hated this side of you. When you were a girl, you were just as ecstatic as the next kid blessed with powers. You would practise any of the magic permitted for a young girl and did so with utmost enthusiasm. Your mother never ceases to remind you how much you used to love being a witch. Then you got older, and you learnt what it could do.

It was your first best friend, Allie. It was the way she reacted.

“You have to promise not to freak, and not to tell anybody.” You’re in the girl’s bathroom, you’re twelve and you just couldn’t keep it from her anymore. Allie nods, tells her that she wouldn’t tell anyone and you make her pinkie swear it, which she does.

“I’m a witch.”

Silence.

Laughter.

“Yeah, right! Okay, okay. What were you really trying to tell me?” She holds her stomach, throwing her head back in hysterics.

“That was it.” You frown.

You and Allie never talked again after that. Four years of friendship had vanished in the span of 24 hours when you showed up to school the next day and everyone laughed at you, teasing you for thinking you were some magical people with powers. Every day, people pointed, called you a witch as if it were a negative thing. Up until then, it wasn’t.

Until it was.

The bullying had gotten so bad that your parents had to pull you out of school and enrol you into a new one. You vowed to yourself you’d never tell anyone about it again. Your love for magic and witchcraft dissipated over the years thereafter.

Even in your right to be a sour person that hated people, you tried your best to be the bigger person, because God forbid you ever treat anyone the way that they treated you that time you poured your heart out to them.

“You look like Peter Pan, by the way.” You snort, purposefully bumping into his shoulder when you walk past him. He gasps at your jab.

“How dare you!” He deflates, his voice small as he follows after you.

“Let’s get this shit over with already.”

It wasn’t as boring as you remember it to be. A lot of girls with similar attire compliment your dress, telling you look like a princess, and it made you adore the blessing of girlhood all the more. You followed Jin around like a lost puppy, but there was always something interesting that caught your eye, jewellery, food. The occasional cute guy— must be a warlock.

What cute guy that wasn’t a warlock would willingly attend a renaissance fair?

You thought about keeping your friends and dating options strictly to witches and warlocks, but you found them all to be pompous assholes. They truly thought they were better than everyone else just because they could cast spells and make potions. News flash: they were not.

The thought starts to make you grumpy. Then Jin suddenly turns around and points to the harp, twirling a stupid little piccolo between his fingers. Oh no.

“Do you remember how to play?” He flashes you a bright grin.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He drags you by the arm and over to the vacant instrument, even in your protests, pushing you down onto the stool. You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head away from him in a sulk.

“Play or I won’t take you to him.”

“Is he even here?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “This is the first time you’ve mentioned him since we got here.”

“He is. I promise.” He urges. “Just hurry up and play, people are starting to stare.”

“Because of you, you look ridiculous in tights.” You grumble under your breath, but Jin has already started to play the song that’s sat on the music stand in front of him. You begin to riff of him, not needing sheet music to complement his melody.

You don’t want to admit that you lose yourself in it the moment you catch up to him, your fingers playing the notes on their own accord, letting them lead in the feeling of the song. You hope nobody from your college recognises you here, how humiliating would that be?

Right now, though, as you play the instrument you grew up playing thanks to your mother and her high expectations of you; you’re kind of enjoying the nostalgia of it all, and it felt as if you were back home at your parent’s house with Jin, playing music for them in the living room as they watched you proudly. You would never let Jin know that you kind of miss those days: the living room recitals, all the little traditions that brought you together as a family, the freedom to be who you were on Halloween.

When you look up, that’s when you see him— the boy in the coffee shop from two days ago. He’s watching you play. He’s smiling at you. Shit, what the hell is he doing here?

Is he a warlock?!

Oh my god, he’s coming straight for you. Oh my god he’s smiling at you!

Jesus Christ, get it together.

You stand up too fast, and it makes your head spin. You flash a wide smile at him when he’s close enough, and you laugh bashfully.

“Hey.” His half-smile makes your knees buckle.

“Hi.” Your eyes are glimmering and big when they look at him.

You had such pretty eyes.

Jungkook feels nervous, and he doesn’t recall the last time he’s felt this way talking to a girl. “That was pretty cool; the music, I mean– was pretty.” He shoves his hands into his letterman jacket, and your eyes dart down to inspect it with a blush on your cheeks. How jock-like of him to be wearing his letterman jacket to a fair with a theme of the old-ages. You almost snort, but you don’t, you look back up at him and curl into your shoulders.

“Thank you! Uh– um.” You stutter. “Thanks.” You silently curse yourself for already managing to look like an idiot in front of him. It’s been literally two minutes— that’s a new record for you.

You’re too busy staring at his face, waiting for him to say something to notice he had dug something out of his pocket to hand to you. He has to clear his throat to bring you back down from the clouds you feel like you’ve ascended to.

With a meek apology, you look down to see what it is: a crumpled piece of paper with a number on it.

“Oh,” you lean your weight on your right leg, popping your hip out as you cross your arms over your chest. “I see.”

“Will you call me, gorgeous?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, will I?”

His low chuckle makes you internally squeal. You have to act nonchalant— you can’t scare off the hottest fucking guy you’ve ever seen by acting like desperate.

You’re not sure how well your acting skills are working this time around though, because your chest is tight with the heavy beating happening beneath your skin.

He digs into his pockets again, handing you a pen before rolling up one of his sleeves. “Give me yours?” He bites his bottom lip hopefully, looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes.

This guy knew how to make a girl swoon. He’s probably had tonnes of experience, in fact, he’s probably pulled the same shit on another today. It’s probably why he’s here in the first place, you think.

Yeah, probably.

Your fingers gently take his forearm, twisting it so you can scribble your number neatly just below his wrist with a little heart at the end. Why do you do that?

Today, you won’t be a witch anymore— that’s why.

You’re free to date a regular guy if you want, the most regular kind of guy of all just happens to be in your line of interest. When you’re done, you lift his arm closer to you, blowing cool air onto his skin; you can feel the bumps raising on his arm. You swipe a freshly manicured nail over the ink.

“Don’t go around giving my number away or anything.” You warn him, a playful glint in your eyes as you already begin to walk away. You look over your shoulder at him and tell him: “That’s just for you, handsome.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath through his teeth as he watches you walk away. Your hair sways behind you in sync with your hips and he thinks he may have just met an angel in real life.

“I have to admit that I’m surprised.” Taehyung’s words are laced with amusement. “That girl is in a completely different ballpark to you, man.”

“I gotta know her name.”

“You didn’t ask for her name?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, holding up the arm that has your digits written in black pen ink. “I gave her mine, but she never took it, gave me her number instead.”

“Hah! What if it’s fake?”

“No way, she was giving me the eyes.”

“Ahuh.” Taehyung scoffs, “Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“You’re the one that brought me here, dude.”

“Yep, and I did what I had to do, therefore, now we can leave.” Taehyung throws his arm over Jungkook’s shoulder and leads him toward the exit, further away from you. He turns his head one last time in hopes to see you, but you’re already gone.

You are all he can think about.

All the thoughts in his mind set aside and making room for your pretty face. The teasing smirk you gave him when you left him there, making it memorable just in the way you walked away.

He can’t stop staring at the number below his wrist.

“Just call her, genius.”

“If I call her now, she’ll think I’m some virgin loser or something.”

“Well, loser isn’t that far out of reach for you, sweetheart.”

Jungkook sighs, he has no energy for a rebuttal. Taehyung looks smug when he turns back to the book in his hands, no longer paying attention to him.

So, he’s just gonna have to do this the old fashion Jungkook way; he’ll have to psych himself up, bouncing around the room and shooting a few punches into the air to get his adrenaline pumping because that’s when all his best performances happen— the moments when his heart thumps so fast that he’s borderline about to black out. Beggars can’t be choosers, he’d argue: if it works, it works.

With a final exhale, he picks up the phone and looks back and forth between the numbers on his arm and the one that he dials into the phone. When the phone begins to ring, his heart begins to race and he shoots Taehyung a worried look, chewing at the skin of his thumb.

Taehyung gives Jungkook a thumbs up over the book he’s reading but doesn’t look away from the pages when he does. He’s glad he has such a supportive best friend to guide him in times of need!

“Yello?”

“Hi! Um…Who is this?”

“Jin.”

“Oh.” Jungkook clears his throat. “Um, is uh–is, well–”

“Y/N! Phone!”

For a moment, Jungkook worries that you really did play him and give him a fake number. He probably deserves it for thinking you’d ever give a guy like him a chance. Jungkook rubs the back of his neck and sighs.

“Hey! Y/N speaking.” You sing-song through the speaker.

That’s your voice. That soft, airy tone that just couldn’t be mistaken. It’s a little bit squeaky, and uneven in the most adorable way. You weren’t trying to put on this sultry, cool girl act; you didn’t care that it cracked a little bit whenever you raised the pitch. It was sweet and it was feminine, and it was unique. Jungkook is swooning already.

“Hey…” He drags out, blanking out completely when you come on the line.

“Hi?” You chuckle, the awkwardness evident. Jungkook lets out a particular heavy breath.

You pull the phone away from your ear and furrow your brows. “Who’s this?”

The feeling of his hair beneath his fingers is the only thing reminding him that he’s a functioning human being right now.

“Uh, this is Jungkook.” He eventually reveals.

“I don’t know a Jungkook.” Lie. You know who he is. Your cousin told you his name barely a few days ago. Jungkook is too nervous to pick up on the smile that’s clearly evident your tone.

“We met a few hours ago, at the…thingy.”

Your voice lowers a few octaves. Your flirting voice. “The thingy…right.” You bite your lower lip, twirling the wire around your finger as you lean against the wall where the phone hangs. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Jungkook?”

Jungkook smirks; you’re playful— he likes that.

“Can’t seem to get your pretty face out of my head.” The slight rasp in his voice makes you feel giddy, as your fingers tangle and twirl through the telephone wire. “Y/N.”

You like the way it sounds coming out of his mouth, the way it rolls off his tongue. You want to hear him say it again and again.

“Can I see you again?”

“Hm…” You pretend to think about it. “I don’t know; are you worth it, Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?” A nervous laugh rings through the line and into your ear. Your fingers twirch against the phone. He is not used to being turned down. You can tell it by his reaction.

“Are you worth the trouble?”

He scoffs, stumbles over his words. It hurts his ego. Usually this was the moment he admits that she’s the one who isn’t worth the trouble.

“I am.” He finds himself saying instead. “Let me prove it to you, Princess.”

There’s no way he’s letting you go that easily.

“I’m counting on it, Jungkook.” You taunt him, “Sweet dreams, pretty boy.” You hang up on him.

“Wait–”

The line goes dead.

That went well, he thinks. He connects the phone to its holder and adjusts himself in his jeans.

“Over a phone call?”

“If you heard her voice, you would too.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “She’s a tease, man.”

“Is she a tease or is she just not easy like your usual targets?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I dunno. I think this girl is going to drive me beserk.”

“You met her like five hours ago; you know virtually nothing about her?” Taehyung scoffs. “You’re nuts.”

He falls onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “I dunno, maybe I am.” He yawns.

He falls onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “I dunno, maybe I am.” He yawns. “Is that so bad?”

“Nah. Cool to see you so passionate about someone.”

“Not going there with you.”

“My sweet little hopeless romantic–”

The hard stare he shoots at Taehyung has him biting his tongue. “Gotchya.”

Jungkook most definitely has completely, officially gone nuts— nuts over you.

He’s having to hold off calling you again because you never actually made plans to see him again. Waiting by the phone hoping somehow you had asked around for his number to get a hold of him. Taehyung’s teasing went in one ear and out the other, and sometimes Jungkook would smile and agree with him.

“You’re whipped.”

“I know.” Jungkook drones.

“Over a girl who’s pulling your leg, no less.”

“I know.” He repeats himself.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

It was kind of boring not being able to make Jungkook squirm like he usually did when Taehyung made fun of him. Still, deep down, he was happy for his friend— he had finally met his match. You had humbled him in a way no woman has before, and it was driving him up the wall. He can’t stop thinking about you.

This was simple reverse psychology at its finest.

He tips his hat to the girl, he wonders if you’d be friends if you were to ever meet. That is, if Jungkook actually succeeds in winning you over.

The next time he sees you, is on his way home from a music theory tutorial. A little boring, a lot more interesting than music history. Or more so the music theory came a little easier to him. He hates research.

He’s only glad he was allowed to choose his favourite artists to talk about in that class. He barely needed to research much at all if it had anything to do with Led Zepplin or AC/DC. He knows just the person to put his yapping into a concise, legible paper.

You’re wearing a black nothing crazy; a pair of high waisted denim shorts that are rolled up at the ends, your jumper is pink and tucked into the waistband. The brown leather belt on your waist brings your outfit together and it matches your loafers. You lean down, hopping on one foot to tug on your cream-coloured slouch socks. When you stand up straight you toss your hair over your shoulder.

He thinks that you are effortlessly pretty when the only accessory you need is your smile.

“Y/N!” He calls you from across the field. You look around, lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the sun, eventually spotting him. You stop walking, tilting your head when he waves and jogs toward you. “Hey.” He bears his teeth when he smiles at you. It’s unfair to how nice of a day it is outside.

“Jungkook.” You nod in acknowledgement, rubbing your lips together to fight off a smile.

“You look cute today.” He compliments, pointing toward your outfit.

“Thank you.” You run your hand through your hair and sigh as if you’re bored. Uninterested. “I like your… flannel.” You lazily throw your hand in the direction of the button up.

You don’t need to know it’s his favourite and he only washes it once a week. What? It didn’t touch his body, and it was pretty much constantly layered over a hoodie or a shirt. There’s a tear in the shoulder that shows you how loved in it was. Jungkook beams at your compliment, not picking up on your slight judgement.

“It’s my favourite.”

“Clearly.”

“Well, I–” “Before you go, I wanted to–”

You chuckle, looking up at him through your lashes. “You go first.”

Jungkook wipes his palms against his jeans. “Let me take you out.” He huffs out.

You pull your head back and snort. “Bold.”

“I wanna get to know you.” He reasons.

“Then get to know me.” You shrug. “Nothing’s stopping you.”

He’s stunned into silence. What does he say to that? He knows that he needs to think quick or you’re just gonna walk away again.

You’re already moving, smiling over your shoulder with the wiggle of your fingers.

“I’m losin’ it.” He groans to himself, throwing his head back in defeat.

He needs to take a different approach.

Jungkook had heard through the grapevine that your name was Kim Y/N, you lived in an apartment not too far from campus closer into town. You were smart, quiet and didn’t have a whole lot of friends at college.

He doesn’t exactly know how Taehyung found all this out so easily, and quickly for that matter, but he’s too eager to worm his way into your life.

So, he sends you chocolates, they happen to be your favourite kind on accident. He calls you that night and you tell him as such, you giggle a little more at his jokes and this time you let him hang up the phone.

Jungkook has put his pride aside, making it his mission to call you every night at 6:45PM without fail. Each time he asks you to dinner, pr for coffee, and each time you have a well thought out excuse to give to him.

“I have to study, sorry!”

“Seeing a friend that day; can we take a rain check?”

“The neighbour’s cat looks lonely; she wants me to stay home today.”

The coffee shop where he first saw you through the window. He drags himself in so early in the morning he can barely make out the colours of the world around him. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“What can I get you– oh damn!” The barista hollers at his appearance. He’s in the sweats he wore to bed last night; his hair isn’t styled and it’s all over the place and his eyes are puffy with the lack of sleep. “Sorry.” He mutters to Jungkook who just grunts in response. He sighs, taking a while to open his mouth to recite his order but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Iced coffee, extra whipped cream on top please.” You tell him, he tells you the amount and you hand him the cash, telling him to keep the change.

Jungkook isn’t over the moon to see you over his shoulder like you thought he’d be. You do a bad job at hiding your frown.

“That isn’t my order…I don’t want that.”

“Sure, you do!” You beam at him, bring an excited smile back onto your lips. “I know you don’t really like the Iced Americano’s. I’ve seen your face when you drink them.”

You’ve made an observation. He’s being perceived. By you. You are perceiving him.

You pay attention.

He hums, his lips twitching up at the corners.

“I think you like your coffee a little bit sweet.” You say, feeling shy under his gaze.

“The iced coffee for the train wreck.” The barista snorts, but Jungkook doesn’t laugh. He utters his thanks and swipes the beverage from the guy’s hand. “Have a great day! Bitch.” The worker mutters the last word under his breath but you both still hear it, opting not to say anything.

Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to make a kafuffle about a crabby server today. “Thanks for this, see you–”

“Are you leaving already?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to sit with me?” You look everywhere but at him. “If you have the time obviously, of course. I wouldn’t wanna keep you.”

For the first time when it comes to you, his first instinct is to turn you down. He’s not doing the hottest, probably looks like he rolled in a puddle after it rained, and he doesn’t have the wit to keep up with you when you inevitably turn him down again.

He’s not giving up on you, far from it. Everyone had their off days sometimes.

“Sure.” He lifts his hand, showing you to one of the tables near the back wall. You reach for the chair, but he pushes you lightly toward the booth with a hand on your lower back, silently telling you to take the more comfortable seat. The chair screeches a little when he drags it against the floor to turn it around, throwing his legs on either side. He rests his arms against the back of the chair.

His stare is lowered in exhaustion, and it’s directed right at you as he takes a sip of the drink that you ordered for him. His brow twitches, and he hums softly at the taste. You knew he’d like it.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your smile sympathetically.

“Just didn’t get much sleep.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, leaving out the part that it’s because he spent the later hours of the night thinking about you. “You worried about me, or something?” He raises his brow, leaning forward a little as he flashes you a sly grin. He lacks the usual energy, his voice is low, and his face falls neutral faster than normal.

“No, of course not.” You scoff, but your eyes tell otherwise. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, looking between him and your half drunken coffee. “Are you free this Friday?”

Jungkook’s posture changes when you ask. He sits up a little, and his eyes lighten slightly. “I can be. Why?”

“Well…I heard that they’re showing a re-run of The Nightmare on Elm Street at the drive-in. Friday night.” You twirl the cup between your hands against the table. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to g–”

In front of you, his smile grows and grows, and he doesn’t even let you finish before he agrees. “I’ll pick you up.”

You can’t help but mirror your own. “That sounds good.”

He gets up, tucking the chair back into the table. “I actually do have to get to class, I’ll call you, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, hiding your stupid grin behind another sip of your coffee.

Jungkook makes a scene upon his exit, he claps loudly, garnering the attention of all four people sitting in the coffee shop, pointing at the Barista that called him a bitch. “And you, have a spectacular day, Sir.”

You cover your giggling behind your hand, and he gives you one last wave before he walks out the door.

You shake your head. “You’re dating that bogus loser?” Hoseok gawks at you, wiping down the counter when you lock eyes with him again.

“Not exactly.” You shrug, a smug look on your face. “But I think I like him.”

The actress on the screen lets out a blood curdling scream when Freddy Kruger shows himself, the drive-in was playing a re-run of The Nightmare on Elm Street in preparation for the fourth instalment that coming out in the winter, and Jungkook had mentioned something once about liking horror movies one time over one of your evening phone calls that lasted hours into the night.

However, you’re hardly paying attention when all your mind can focus on is the way Jungkook’s thumb is drawing gentle circles onto your knee. He squeezes your leg at every jump scare, not because either of you are scared, well, maybe he thinks the way you flinch in your sear every now and then is because you’re scared. You’re far from scared, though.

Your eyes are glued to the big screen of the drive-in movie, flinching at the gore depicted on the big screen. You’re not easily spooked or anything, but blood did make you a little nauseous.

“You okay?”

Much like yourself, Jungkook isn’t all that interested in the movie. He’s much more interested in you. Your head falls back into the seat of the car, and you tilt your head toward him. Should you tell him that his fingers rubbing up and down your leg has made your panties feel uncomfortably moist? You shift in place, deciding to it subtly instead.

“Yeah,” You bite your lip to suppress a smile. “I kinda wanna soda, though. Throats a little dry.”

“Yeah? No worries I’ll go get you one. You want a cola or a lemonade?”

“Can I get a lemonade if they have it, a cola if they don’t?” You request, smiling politely at your date.

“Too easy. Be right back, gorgeous.” He slides his hand up your thigh, giving it a tap before he flashes you a cheesy grin. He goes to get your drink, leaving you in his car on your own. It gives you time to freshen up.

You’re going in for the kill.

This was the guy that you had made work tirelessly for a date like this. He hasn’t tried to kiss you, grope at you and most importantly he hasn’t been analysing every single scene of movie like a psychopath. He’s been quiet.

And you’re so totally hot for how normal he’s acting. He’s sexy, respectful of boundaries and he doesn’t talk during movies? You might need somebody to pinch you, it’s the first date and he’s already ticking the first date boxes. Yes, you have a list for that— you don’t like time wasters.

Jungkook has been the personification of male yearning leading up to this awfully casual date.

Sending chocolates and flowers to your apartment with little notes, short and sweet that get his point across: he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and wants to take you out.

He’d sometimes deliver you morning coffees, showing up to your lecture halls to give them to you; he was flirtatious without pushing your limits in subtle winks and charming half smiles. He was truly making a decent effort, despite you playing hard to get and that in itself bewildered you. It’s been a little over a month since you met, and his efforts only increased with each day that went by, even when you continued to push him aside.

But it’s not any of these things that seal the deal for you.

It’s the moment that you accidentally hear him play guitar and sing. You’re in the music block because your cousin Yoongi was majoring in Music. You wanted to talk to him about something, or rather, someone.

You hear him before you see him; he’s humming quietly to himself in an empty room, plucking at the strings, stopping every few moments in thought, taking the pencil that rests behind his ear to scribble something down into a notebook. You don’t linger long, but long enough to hear him sing, and that’s how you know that there was more to him than just a freakishly good-looking face and a football scholarship.

This jock had layers. Jungkook was an artist.

Your panties have never been wetter.

Ever since he met you, his usual cool guy demeanour has been replaced with a clueless, blubbering mess of words that fail to express just how much he wants that one chance with you.

He could feign his confidence at times for sure, but whenever you looked into his eyes and held his stare, slowly blinking as you pretend to pay attention to what he’s saying? A goner: he fell for that shit every time. You had the guy malfunctioning.

Now, here you were.

Sighing as you wiggle around against the seat in his car, pussy aching because you want his hands to touch more than just your knee; you want the hand he has placed innocently there to move past your thigh and up your skirt. He’s not even here, or touching you anymore, and it’s still all you can think about.

If he doesn’t make a move, you might just go insane. Jungkook has spent so much time winning you over that you just couldn’t handle not having him anymore.

Looks like you’re going to have to do something about it instead.

When you see him emerge from the diner and back toward the car you look into the rearview. You fluff up your hair and rub your lips together after applying more of the grape flavoured lip balm you liked so much. The closer he gets to the car, the louder your blood pumps through you, and on a whim, you push down the strap of your top to reveal your shoulder. It’s subtle, but suggestive.

Leaning back in your seat, you pretend that you’re watching the movie just he opens the door.

He leans in, leaning over the console to hand your drink to you. “For the pretty lady.” He says, giving you a playful wink when you turn to look at him. You make sure to brush your fingers against his when you take it from him, muttering a quiet thank you.

As he settles back into the driver’s seat, you take a sip. You purposefully let some of your beverage fall past your lips, and the liquid drips down your chin and onto your chest. You don’t have to worry about a brown stain since you learn that it’s lemonade.

“Ugh, I’m such a clutz.” You pout dramatically, dabbing at the wet patch on your white singlet top.

You can feel his eyes on you before you even turn to him.

Jungkook is looking down at your lips when you do, your drink dripping off your chin, then looks back up at your mischievous eyes. He chuckles, reaching over to tilt your face up by your chin, using his thumb to wipe it off. He moves slow, tongue darting out to wet his own lips.

“You know,” he laughs again, shaking his head. “If you wanted me to kiss you, you could’ve just asked.”

Jungkook sighs deeply as he inspects you, turning your head by your chin, as if he’s inspecting the little mess you made.

“Now you’re just all sticky.” He clicks his tongue, cocking his head to the side as he leans closer to you, but not too close. Not close enough for you to close the gap and feel his lips on yours. “Do you need help cleaning that up, cutie?”

You hum but it comes out needier than you intend for it to, it sounds an awful lot like a moan. Jungkook raises an amused brow at you.

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t use your words, sweetheart.” He teased, letting go of your chin. He drags his finger up your throat and your head tilts back voluntarily, exposing your throat to him as your breaths stagger.

“Yeah, definitely a little sticky.” He confirms. “Let me fix it for you, hm?”

“Mhm…” your hand finds his arm and slides up his bicep and onto his shoulder as he dips his head to your chest, pressing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. Your chest rises and falls heavily in anticipation.

“Needy girl.” He tuts, against your chest. The wet feeling of his tongue gliding up your chest makes you furrow your brows, your lips parting in a quiet gasp. The low rumble of his laughter makes you groan in frustration.

“Are you making fun of me, Jeon?” You breathe out in annoyance, your fingers snaking to rest against the back of his neck as he starts pressing small kisses against your chest.

“Oh yeah.” He looks up at you and nods, a cocky grin spreading across his lips. “Absolutely.”

You push him off you with an offended gasp, but he comes springing right back, mainly because you grab his face and pull him into a desperate lip lock. You whine happily into him, like you just can’t hold back your attraction toward him anymore, and he smiles instead of laughing like he actually wants to. He’s glad that his instincts were true and that you weren’t just pitying him all this time.

He quickly takes over when your hands fall to his shoulders. He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck to tilt you back slightly, kissing you hungrily. Shit, he needs to reel it in a little. No, but he can’t because you taste faintly like Hubba Bubba.

There’s no chance of him pulling back now when it’s your tongue that slithers past his lips to find his. Jungkook groans into your mouth as his tongue twirls roughly with yours. In your state of bliss, he wraps your tongue around his lips and pulls back slowly, giving your parted lips a final kitten lick. Your eyes look heavy, and you’re swaying slightly when you look at his wet lips. You wonder what magic that tongue could do on your clit.

“Wanna found out, sweetheart?”

“Did I say that out loud?” You close your eyes in embarrassment. He kisses your burning cheek.

“Yes.” He smiles nosing at your cheek before biting the doughy skin. “Does your pussy taste as sweet as your lips do?”

You whine, shaking your head as if the action was going to rid you of all the impure thoughts in your head right now. “Jungkook…” You complain, but you don’t stop him from squeezing in front of you between the seat and the car floor, pushing your seat back and reclining it slightly for your comfort. You yelp when you go flying backwards without warning.

“Sorry, Princess.” He laughs, lifting your calf to press his lips against your shin. He goes to rest it over his shoulder, but you pull it back, widening your eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m about to show you what my tongue can do–”

You hide your face in your hands, pulling both your legs onto the seat, knees to your chest. You shake your head.

“What’s the matter, baby. You shy?” You whine at his words. He looks down, your panties on display beneath your tight mini skirt. “Are those Minnie Mouse undies? How cute.”

Without moving your hands away from your face you part your legs, stomping them apart against the seat. Jungkook looks to your clothed cunt immediately and spots the wet patch. “There she is.”

You flinch a little bit when his hands rest on your waist, squeezing when he comes closer to the spot you want him.

His hot breath fans against the spot that you want him the most right now. In your head, you were a vixen that barked at him to get on his knees and taste you, but when it came down to the crunch, you were quite the opposite. Maybe it was his dark eyes that forced you into submission, or maybe it’s the slight roughness in his hands. The hands of an artist and a football player.

“Are you alright with this, Princess?” He waits for you to hum in approval before he kisses you over the fabric, two chaste ones before he starts to sloppily make out with your pussy.

“Mmfh…” you sob into your hands, wriggling in your spot.

He drags his hands down, pushing up your pencil skirt. It gives you room to spread your legs further for him, which you do. It’s then he toys with the waistband of your panties, and he has you absentmindedly lifting your hips. He never tugs them down.

No, he digs his fingers into your hips, using his nose to push them aside before he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks gently.

“Oh! Hah– please…” You finally throw your head back, your hands taking purchase on the head rest behind you, as if you’re bracing yourself for what’s to come. Rightfully so, because that tightening knot in your lower gut grows more intense. He moans against you, swirling his tongue around your pulsing bud before sucking on it again a little harsher. “Shit, Jungkook!”

Of course he’s good at eating you out. The moment you saw his first you had suspected as much, not so much that he was going to have his head between your legs in the passenger’s seat of his car, but more-so that he would be a good lover.

He’s proven that he can be, in more ways than one. He calls you routinely at the same time every day, he lets you talk about your day, even asks you about it when you don’t seem to speak much. He asks you questions about you to get to know you instead of assuming that you’d like certain things.

For instance, lots of girls like roses, but you like daisies— specifically when they’re blue. The one time he did assume your preference was when he sent you those white chocolate heart-shaped chocolates. He nailed that. He was so proud of himself.

Now that he’s eating you out like a man starved for days, your heart is swirling happily at thoughts of him being a good boyfriend to you. This is it— this is the moment you relent.

You stretch your legs over his shoulders and arch your back, bringing a hand to push his head further into your cunt. “That’s its baby.” He pulls away to check up on you when you change your position, welcoming your legs to rest against his shoulders. His hand soothes against one of your thighs. “Feel good?”

“Make me cum, then I’ll give you a proper rating, dig?” You joke through shallow breaths.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the smile gives him away. “Yes ma’am.” He honestly kind of digs it when you talk down on him like that. He tugs your panties down roughly and grips your thighs before diving back in, no questions asked.

Without your soiled panties in the way, Jungkook has the ability to go all in. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit until your writhing your hips up for more. You cry out his name when he makes out with your pussy messily, pressing his tongue flat against you before shaking his head from shake to side. It encourages you to ride his face, even when he stops moving, allowing you to use his tongue as a means to get off. And you do, you cum hard.

He collects your juices from your entrance, licking you clean through the come down of your high. The way you take your fingers through his hair makes him fall puddy below you, and he continues to lick at you until you’re pushing him off. He pushes himself up on his knees, pulling the recliner back up, you snap up and your face comes inches before his.

“How was I, Princess?” He tilts his head, and your breath is lost to the display of how the entire bottom half of his face is glistening from your wetness. He steals another kiss from you while you’re distracted. You can taste yourself on his lips.

“I think I want you to fuck me, now.” You tell him quietly; your hands roam up his shirt as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth.

“Get in the back seat, pretty girl.”

“I miss eating your pussy.” He sighs dreamily, looking back on your first date with fondness.

You snort, raising a brow at your boyfriend. “What? You don’t like my cock?”

Jungkook stumbles over the crudeness of your words.

“What? N– well, it’s my cock actually, and no, I don’t want my own penis! I want my girlfriend’s pretty pussy.”

You look up, nodding in agreeance. You slump over in defeat, looking down at your now softening...dick. “We’ll go back to normal soon, I swear.”

Jungkook smiles, standing up from the bed. “I know, baby. I trust you.” It reassures you for now.

He saunters around the room, picking up the football off the ground before tossing it in your direction. On instinct you duck, your arms covering your head as it prepares for the impact. You open your mouth to scold him, but he holds up his palm.

“Your instincts need to be better than that, babe.” He tuts. “You’re going to at least have to learn to catch one before you go out on the field tomorrow.”

You groan, smacking your hands against the sheets dramatically. “I don’t want to!”

“It's cute that you think that’s going to work on me.” He tilts his head, mocking your pouting lips. “Now just...throw it back.” He motions for you to throw the ball.

With a sigh, you reach behind you to pick the ball up with both hands, looking upon it with twisted brows as if it’s a foreign object. You give him a doubtful look, curling in on yourself. “You’re just gonna laugh.”

“I would never. Just throw it, babe. Easy as 1, 2, 3.”

You lift your hand; throw the ball in the same way you’ve seen him do so many times. He catches it easily; there’s a proud smile on his face that makes you straighten your posture.

“There you go, now let’s do this like ten more times.”

“Or…we could just go back to making out?” You propose.

“We can do that after.” He tells you sternly, and like the good girlfriend that you are, you indulge him. As much as he claims to loathe it, you know that football is just as important to him than music or art. No one better tell his father that, though.

“You’re doing good, babe! You’re a natural.”

You know that you’re not, but you relish in the way he smiles at you and hypes you up to make you believe that you are.

Trust Jeon Jungkook to be the only person ever to get you to touch a football.

taglist: @mirinaeii, @soju4shi, @internetbelle

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