#People did always call me mature.....

[eclipsecrowned]

old fandom: actually [thing i endured but they don't know that] isn't that bad and when this character carried out that act it it was complicated so it's not actually evil, and like if you're going to be so sensitive why read horror at all? the character didn't do anything wrong, he's so daddy. if you're uncomfortable with content i am comfortable with then you don't belong here. new fandom: yeah he serves the narrative and all but also i think this character's victims should beat him to death live on screen.

[apathyfairy]

my whole life ive been thinking im an old soul bc everyone would tell me i was bc i was “serious” and quiet and shy as a kid and riddled with social anxiety so i was like ok. i must be then. and now im realizing im not lmao like honestly as stupid as it sounds i think that was putting pressure on me to know how to live my life and what to do all the time but now im like oh im new no wonder im afraid of absolutely everything and i cant function and everything disappoints me it’s bc i dont know whats going on. im new in town. and im incorporating that into my belief system now

[our-lady-of-mcr]

yet again wondering when ill realize that certain people do not change and are always going to try to fuck me up ):

[yoongifis]

💌 switching positions | myg

where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*

pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi

; genre: smut (18+), pwp

; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)

a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p

-

“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”

The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 

He’s groaning out of boredom. 

“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”

You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”

You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.

And that’s what he did.

He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.

Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 

Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.

Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 

How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.

It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 

“Still a date,” he mumbles.

Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 

“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”

“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”

“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”

“Exactly.”

You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?

“How about we make a deal?”

He hums, “I’m listening.”

“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.

“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”

It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”

—

Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 

He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 

These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.

“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.

You laugh at him.

“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”

The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.

“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”

You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.

God—Yoongi is really serious about this.

You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.

You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.

“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”

All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.

A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.

“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 

It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 

You remove your hands away from him.

“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”

It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.

“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 

“Not even just for a little?”

You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.

“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Now that definitely hurt.

He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.

Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 

The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.

Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?

You immediately got to thinking.

And it hit you.

You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”

“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”

You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.

You mentally smirk to yourself.

Now that’s what you were waiting for. 

He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”

You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.

He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 

Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 

You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.

You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 

Nothing. No reaction. 

You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.

He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.

He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.

“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 

You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 

“Enough.”

You could tell on his face that he was being serious.

Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.

You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.

“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.

“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”

You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 

“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 

The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 

“Please—,” you mumble.

It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.

He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.

“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 

The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.

He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.

He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.

“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”

You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.

He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.

“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 

What a damn smart ass.

He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.

“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”

He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 

“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.

Silence.

“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.

Nothing.

The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.

You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.

That was just it.

Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!

—

You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.

“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”

His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 

Fuck—it  made him way too happy.

You hum, carefully picking out your words.

“I was going to film something.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 

“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.

He scoffs at your words.

“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”

“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”

He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.

“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.

Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.

“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”

He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 

As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me what you were about to film.”

“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”

“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.

You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 

“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.

“What is it?” 

“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.

“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.

Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.

“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”

You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 

“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”

As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.

He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 

You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.

You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.

With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.

“Panties to the side, princess.”

You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.

“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”

You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.

You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.

“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.

“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”

You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 

“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.

“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.

He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 

“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.

He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.

He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.

“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.

He hums against your clit before removing himself.

“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”

“Please—! Need you!”

He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.

“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.

“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.

“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 

He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.

“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”

You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 

He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 

“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 

You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 

“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.

He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 

You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.

“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”

You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.

“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”

You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.

Ah…What a smartass.

He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.

“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 

The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 

Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 

“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”

At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.

“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.

He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.

“Take the hoodie off, baby.”

You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 

God, you blew him away. 

You were just so. damn. beautiful. 

The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.

He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.

“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.

God, he needed you so bad.

He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.

“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 

The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.

“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 

He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.

Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.

“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”

He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.

He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.

“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.

You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 

“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.

He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.

You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.

The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.

He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.

“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.

He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 

You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.

“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”

You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.

“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.

He chuckles.

“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.

“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.

“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”

“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”

“Extremely, Yoongi”

He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.

“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.

Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 

Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 

“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”

He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.

You let out a little whine from his touch. 

“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.

He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.

“It’s all yours, baby.”

He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 

He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 

He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.

“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 

He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”

You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.

“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”

He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.

He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.

You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.

He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 

“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 

“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 

A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 

Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 

He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.

“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.

He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.

“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”

Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.

“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”

He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.

He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.

“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”

He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.

“Bring your feet up, baby.”

You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.

“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”

You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”

You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.

“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.

He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.

The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.

“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.

He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.

“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 

The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 

“Remove them, now.”

You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?

You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.

“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”

Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.

“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 

He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.

“More pressure baby.”

You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 

“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.

He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.

“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.

“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”

You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.

“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 

He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 

Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o” shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 

He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.

Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.

He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.

“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.

He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.

“Mmm…yes, baby?” 

“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”

He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 

He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.

“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.

“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”

He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 

“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”

He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.

“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.

“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 

Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 

Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 

He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.

“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.

He smirks at your words.

Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 

“Beg for my cock, baby.”

You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.

His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.

“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”

“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.

He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”

“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”

He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”

He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.

“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”

He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.

“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”

He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.

“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.

“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.

He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 

And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.

 “—Please—!” You cry out. 

“Remind me who I am again.”

“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.

“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”

You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.

He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.

“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”

He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.

“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.

He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.

“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.

He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.

He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.

“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.

God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.

“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”

What a fucking invite.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 

You seriously knew how to turn him on. 

How fucking dangerous.

He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.

“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.

Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.

Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?

He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 

You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.

He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 

His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.

He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.

You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.

“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.

He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.

Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.

“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.

The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.

He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.

“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.

“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”

You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.

He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.

If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.

“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“You’re insane, Yoongi.”

“Am I?” He lazily smiles.

“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”

He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 

Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 

—

You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 

You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 

This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.

You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.

-

After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.

“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.

“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”

He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.

“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only allowed in bed.”

“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”

He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.

“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”

He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.

“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”

Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”

You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.

“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”

Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.

You sigh in defeat.

“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.

He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 

-

if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)

i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!

[euthymiya]

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

[uzurakis]

hello!

Can we have JJK guys reaction to his friend/buddy being in love with his girlfriend? (can sukuna and other any other characters you like).

THEIR FRIEND ALSO . . . LIKES YOU?!

featuring: ryomen sukuna. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi.

n. hey sweetheart, i’m not used to writing sukuna, but i tried to write him as him as much as i can! i hope it suits him. thankies for the req x—x

GOJO SATORU. when gojo found out that his friend also liked you, his reaction was, unsurprisingly, far from what most people would expect. instead of anger or jealousy, he simply shrugged it off, his trademark smile playing on his lips.

“did you hear what i just said?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t fazed. “your friend likes me.”

gojo laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “oh, i heard you,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with an amused glint behind those glasses. “but why should i be worried? i know you’ll choose me at the end of the day.”

you blinked, taken aback by his confidence. “you’re not even a little bit concerned?”

“not at all,” gojo said, grinning. “i mean, can you blame them? you’re everything. but they don’t stand a chance against me, darling.”

“besides, it’s not like i don’t trust you. i know you love me.”

his words were playful, but because you know him well, he was serious. it was just the way he expressed it. “you’re right,” you admitted, tracing figures on his hands. “i do love you.”

“see? nothing to worry about. let him have their crush. it doesn’t change anything between us. if anything, it’s flattering. just proves i have excellent taste.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA. being in a relationship with sukuna meant navigating his unpredictable moods and overwhelming presence, but you had never seen him this angry before. the air seemed to crackle with his frustration as he paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“babe,” you began, trying to calm him down. “what’s wrong?”

he stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression dark. “fucking jerk, it’s that so-called ‘friend’ of mine,” words spat out immediately. “i found out he likes you.”

your heart skipped a beat. you had noticed the way his friend had been acting lately, but you hadn’t thought much of it. now, seeing sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how serious this was.

“ryo,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “i chose you from the start, right?”

he growled, his hands clenching into fists. “i don’t care about that. he should have known better. he should have known that you’re mine.”

sukuna lined up his hand on your chin, causing your eyes to meet. “if he comes near you, he’ll face my wrath,” he whispered, his tone still laced with menace. “no one threatens what’s mine.”

“especially my woman.”

ITADORI YUUJI. you told him about his friend’s feelings while you both were sitting inside your cozy room. itadori’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he leaned back in his chair, processing the information.

“wow,” he said softly, scratching the back of his head, those pink locks becoming messier. “i didn’t see that coming.”

bitting your lower lip, you’re worried about how he might take the news. “you’re not mad, aren’t you?”

but your boyfriend shook his head, full of understanding. “no, i’m not mad, baby. feelings are complicated, y’know? it’s not like he can control how he feels.”

you sighed in relief, appreciating his maturity. “okay... i was just worried about how you’d react.”

“baby, i trust you, and i trust our relationship. besides, i’m kind of curious now. like, since when did he start liking you? how did i miss that?”

feeling the tension ease out of the situation, you chuckled at him. his obliviousness always gets in the way. “don’t know the exact moment, but i guess it’s been a while.”

“hmm,” the guy leaned forward, resting his chin on his free hand. “did he ever try to tell you or make a move?”

you shook your head. “no, i guess he didn’t. i think he knew about us and didn’t want to cause any trouble.” after your statement, a thoughtful expression was written on his face. “that must have been tough for him. i mean, having feelings for someone who’s already in a relationship.”

“it probably was,” you agreed. “but i’m glad you’re handling this so well.”

“hey, anyone would be lucky to have you. i just got there first.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. he took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. after fushiguro found out that his friend liked you, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit. the knowledge gnawed at him, and although he tried to brush it off, doubts began to creep in, making him question his own worth and your relationship. “i found out that one of my friends likes you.”

“really? who?” you blinked in surprise, not expecting that. he named the friend, and you frowned, thinking back on any interactions you might have had. “i had no idea…”

fushiguro nodded, but his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t either. it just… fuck, it bothers me.”

“i guess it makes me question things. like, am i good enough for you? do you have feelings for him too? those sorta things..”

your hands immediately caressed his by instinct, seeing him like this made your heart ache. “baby, you’re enough for me. i don’t have any feelings for them. i’m with you until the end.”

the man looked down for a long while, his grip on your hand tightening. “but what if i’m not enough? what if there’s something lacking in our relationship that makes you look elsewhere?”

“there’s nothing lacking, megumi. i’m happy with you. and i love you just the way you are.” you shook your head, cupping his face with your free hand.

after that he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. “i don’t want to that jealous boyfriend but i can’t help it. the thought of losing you to someone else…”

“you’re not going to lose me,” you interrupted softly. “i’m here with you, and that’s not going to change. fushiguro then opened his eyes, searching for reassurance in yours, before closing them again. a little, relieved smile tugged on the edges of his lips. “i love you. i’m sorry for doubting us.”

@uzurakis

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how clingy sylus copes with your absence

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

characters: sylus

link to master list here!!!

authors notes: so basically we all love clingy!sylus and i don’t think people talk about it enough, so i here i try to do him some justice </3

i tried not to mischaracterise him, but i find it difficult to imagine how he’d react. he’s a full fledged adult - 27/28 years old - so i can see him trying to be mature about it. but after a while, it gets hard to wait any longer no?

more below the cut!! :3

first few days of your absence sylus is fine, i mean it’s one day - people get busy, people get tired. sylus understands better than most that life gets tough.

he checks his messages maybe two or three times to see if you’ve responded, but nothing. that’s okay, he’ll wait for you.

after five-ish days he’s a little irritated, how could you forget about him for that long?

yeah you could be busy, but seriously?

he gives you a call but it sends straight to voicemail, to which he refuses to leave one.

i bet he secretly feels a little embarrassed at how much your absence is bothering him, and out of spite he refuses to check his phone during the day.

“Tsk, ignoring me?”

luke and kieran definitely notice his small shift in attitude - his nonchalant facade isn’t perfect after all.

they are also secretly cursing you for disappearing, i mean come on! how could you leave them with an angry boss!!

another few days pass, how long has it been since he last saw you? a week?

gets fidgety and cracks, calling you again - no reply.

when he gets sent to voicemail he speaks in his typical, slow tone.

“Why aren’t you picking up my calls, kitten? Get back to me when you listen to this.”

despite his seemingly calm voice, he’s starting to really lose his cool. your absence was unsettling, and yeah he’s disappeared before for a few days on business, he at least picks up calls.

he never leaves you clueless for even a few days, let alone a whole week.

mephisto is sent out for surveillance of the n109 zone, and sylus keeps his phone close. always in his vision, hearing range, whatever.

every notification catches his attention, eyes snapping to the illuminated screen only to slowly drag away when he sees it isn’t you.

from the first to second week of your absence, his irritability shoots up. sylus is getting agitated, brushing it off as annoyance.

after all, what the fuck did he do for you to ignore him for this long?

he texts you almost every day now, the texts getting increasingly shorter, decreasingly floral and more concerned.

“Kitten, why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“[YN], are you really ignoring me?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Call me.”

he’s calling you every other day now, his sleeping schedule is deteriorating and his mind isn’t focused.

sylus is getting angry at himself, why is he so messed up about this? so what if you haven’t spoken to him in 13 days, isn’t it pathetic to be so affected by your absence?

he lived 27+ years without you, he can live another hundred without.

yet he still finds himself rearranging the plushies you two caught together, checking for your messages, scrolling through your posts.

almost a month has passed since your disappearance, and sylus isn’t getting any better.

why did you go? are you okay? did you get hurt?

god forbid something happened to you.

he’s hired some people to search for you, fuck waiting he’s worried.

finds himself drinking more alcohol with his meals than usual, to the point where even he - a heavy weight - feels his head becoming a little dizzy, his hands twitching for his phone.

one night, after downing a bottle of wine himself, he calls you at least five times, before leaving a voicemail.

his voice lacks its usual slow, bored tone. instead his words are a little slurred, his voice seems a little higher pitched - not too much but it is noticeable - and he’s speaking a little faster too.

“[YN]? Where are you, are you okay? Please pick up, it’s been a month. Do you really- have I deterred you? I know you dislike me, have you ran away? If you have, then at least tell me you’re alive. I mi-”

he catches himself before he says it, because he’s just realised something, something that was so blatantly obvious he feels shocked that he hadn’t noticed it

he misses you, he isn’t angry. he isn’t annoyed that you disappeared, he’s upset.

the fact that it took so long for him to realise is stupid, and all he can do it sit and chuckle drunkenly to himself.

“I miss you, [YN]. Please call me back.”

when you finally call him - exactly 43 days since you left - he almost scrambles to his phone

sylus picks up immediately, yet miraculously finds himself at a loss for words. what does someone say after over a month of waiting?

kind of just stands there, frozen - if you wait before speaking you can hear his almost shaky breaths

“Hey Sylus, you miss me? You left over 13 voicemails and 65 texts, I’m touched.”

gods your voice smoothed over his tense muscles like honey

he sits down, heart beating faster than usual. it’s stupid how much hearing your voice affected him, but he couldn’t help the way his body relaxed at the sound.

if he was a dog his tail would be wagging so fucking hard

“Come here, now.”

when you do arrive, you seriously expect to get killed or something. his tone sounded seriously pissed - i mean like the most pissed you’ve ever heard it

but when you open the door you just get swallowed into a chest and a pair of arms

if you try to move away or struggle, they just hold you tighter and restrict your actions and- oh, sylus is hugging you.

his face is angled down into your head, and you can’t see his expression - only the beating of his heart against you, and it was fast.

“Where the fuck were you? I missed you.”

explain whatever the hell you want to sylus, he’s already decided that you’re not going out without him knowing ever again

probably tries to download some sort of GPS tracker on your hunter’s watch to make sure he knows where you are

TLDR; sylus doesn’t realise how much he really cares for you until you go MIA for over a month in which he starts to genuinely tweak out! :3

AN; guys i actually spat this out in like an hour i think i might have clingy!sylus brain rot because oh my god anyways this isn’t proof read i just needed to express my love for clingy!sylus that gets worried because he isn’t just a dominant badass gang leader he’s also human and he also gets sad and upset and feels emotions argahdbansn he just sucks at recognising his own desires (get it because his evol eye can see other people’s desires but he can’t see his own :3)

[kyeomofhearts]

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

Part Two: II

[hoshifighting]

Crush on Music Student Jihoon

"So, I couldn't help but overhear something at lunch today," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. Your heart skips a beat as you try to recall what you might have said that caught his attention. "Oh? What did you hear?"

Jihoon chuckles softly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Well, it sounded like someone might have been talking about me..."

— Synopsis: Where you have a little crush on the music student Jihoon. He definitively is not like the jocks from the campus, his quiet demeanor between his loud friends, calls your attention, and your friends tell you to let go of this crush once and for all. But Jihoon shows up to show you that your admiration for him was worth it. — WC: 5.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, dirty talk, praising, overwhelming, fingering, blowjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, public kiss, their friends having a heart-attack when they kiss, tears and sobs of pleasure, g'spot stimulation and etc.

So, here you are, finally in college. No more high school drama, no more teachers breathing down your neck, and no more petty cliques. It's like a whole new world, and you're loving every minute of it.

College is different. People here have their own inspirations, their own goals, and their own quirks. It's refreshing to be surrounded by so much diversity. You feel more mature than ever, like you're finally coming into your own.

But then there's Jihoon. Your friends won't let you forget about him. He's a music student, from the same campus, and apparently, he's got you feeling all sorts of things. They tease you mercilessly, saying you're acting like a girl in high school with a crush.

"Ah, Jihoon. He's always been the quiet type…" They say. You've noticed it too. While his friends are loud and outgoing, he's content to stay in the background, quietly observing the world around him. It's one of the things that drew you to him in the first place.

But your friends don't seem to understand. They keep trying to push you towards guys like Dokyeom or Seungkwan, who are the complete opposite of Jihoon. Dokyeom, with his extroverted personality and vibrant energy, always seems to be the life of the party. And Seungkwan, well, he's practically a celebrity on campus with his charm and athleticism.

But as much as you appreciate their efforts, your heart just isn't in it. While your friends are off drooling over Mingyu at the football games, you prefer to sit quietly in the back of the university theater, listening to the sweet sounds that emanate from Jihoon's fingers as he plays guitar or piano.

You're sitting with your friends at lunch, trying to enjoy your meal while Jihoon's group of friends acts loud and rowdy as usual. Jihoon himself is sitting nearby, quietly changing papers, which you assume are lyrics for his music.

"So, when are you going to talk to him?" Hyeson asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. "I don't know, maybe when I feel like it," you reply nonchalantly, taking a bite of your sandwich.

Your other friend, Seungjun, chimes in, "Come on, you've been crushing on him forever. He's probably too shy to come and ask you out. Or maybe he's too busy burying his face in those ridiculous scores."

ou shrug, trying to play it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just enjoy his music, that's all."

But your friends aren't buying it. They exchange knowing looks before turning back to you with raised eyebrows.

"Come on, you can't deny that there's something there," Hyeson says, leaning in closer. "Why don't you just go talk to him? What's the worst that could happen?"

You hesitate, chewing on your lip as you consider the idea. "I don't know... What if he thinks I'm weird or something?"

Your friend rolls her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "You've practically had the whole college eating out of the palm of your hand since you started to study here."

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck as she lays it all out there. "I don't know if I'd say that..."

But she cuts you off before you can finish. "Come on, Y/n. Let's be real here. You've practically dismissed every other guy in this place because you only have eyes for Jihoon. And you're worried about him thinking you're weird?"

The conversation about Jihoon continues to flow at the table, with your friend passionately expressing her opinions. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mingyu approaching. Your friend doesn't seem to notice, her mouth still going a mile a minute about Jihoon.

Quickly, you reach out and wrap a hand around her mouth, effectively cutting off her words. She widens her eyes in surprise, shooting you a confused look as Mingyu stands next to your table, likely coming over to talk to you all.

Mingyu starts talking about the upcoming football game this night, mentioning that there's going to be a frat party afterward. Your friend's ears perk up at the mention of Jihoon, and she can't help but blurt out, "Is Jihoon going to be there?"

Mingyu furrows his brow in confusion, glancing over at Jihoon who is still engrossed in his papers at the other table. "I don't know," he replies honestly. "It's been a long time since he appeared at one of our parties."

But then Mingyu's gaze returns to your friend, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "Wait, why do you ask? Does someone here have a crush on Jihoon?" he asks, his voice a little too loud for comfort.

You widen your eyes in alarm, shooting a panicked glance at Jihoon and his friends who are now looking over at your table, clearly intrigued by the mention of Jihoon's name.

Your friend's eyes widen in shock, realizing that his question may have been a little too loud. "Um, well..." she stammers, searching for an excuse.

But before she can come up with anything, Mingyu's gaze returns to Jihoon's table, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Looks like someone has some explaining to do," he says, loud enough for Jihoon to hear.

"Oh my god, I fucking hate y'all…" 

[...]

As you make your way to the promised frat party tonight, your friend nudges you gently and says, "Come on, Y/n-nie, don't be mad at us. We're just having some fun."

You shoot her a playful glare before sighing and shaking your head. "I know, I know. I'm not really mad. Just a little nervous, that's all."

But your other friend chimes in, unable to resist poking fun at the situation. "Seriously, though, I still don't understand why you like him that much. He doesn't even look like he fucks."

You roll your eyes at her crude remark, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. Brushing away the thought of your recent fantasies about Jihoon, you try to play it off coolly. "Oh, please. You don't know anything about him."

But deep down, you can't deny the truth in her words. Jihoon may seem shy and reserved on the surface, but there's a fire burning beneath that quiet exterior. And just the thought of him touching you, of him fucking you, sends a shiver down your spine.

How is Jihoon's cock? Could he really fuck you like you've been fantasizing about? The image of him moaning beautifully as he sings, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings of his guitar, sends a wave of desire crashing over you.

You squeeze your legs tight together, trying to ignore the pulsing ache between them as you continue towards the party. Each step brings you closer to the possibility of seeing Jihoon again, of finally making your move.

But as you approach the frat house, the thumping bass of the music growing louder with each passing second, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind. Your friend's little black dress that she lent you, hugs your curves in all the right places, a departure from your usual style, but you can't deny that it looks amazing on you.

She had insisted that Jihoon would love it, teasing you about your "Jihonnie" and the potential for a romantic encounter tonight. You couldn't help but laugh at her antics, secretly hoping that she might be right.

But as you glance around the crowded place, your heart sinks a little. Jihoon is nowhere to be seen. You try to push down the disappointment, reminding yourself that there are plenty of other people to talk to and enjoy the party with.

You lean against the bar, swirling your punch in your hand as you chat with your friend. Her eyes suddenly light up, and she says something that makes you furrow your brow in confusion. Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Mingyu walking towards you, with Jihoon by his side.

Jihoon walks with his hands in his pockets, his black shirt hugging his muscular arms perfectly, while his hair falls in his face in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. Your friend takes the hint and excuses herself, leaving you alone with the boys.

Mingyu gives you a sly grin and nudges Jihoon in your direction. "Go on, hyung," he says encouragingly. "You've been wanting to talk to her all day."

Jihoon's cheeks turn a faint shade of red as he leans against the bar with a sheepish smile. "Uh, hey," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the music. "Mind if I join you?"

You feel a rush of excitement as Jihoon starts a conversation, his shy demeanor only adding to his charm. "Of course," you reply with a smile, motioning for him to take a seat next to you.

As the conversation continues to flow between you and Jihoon, you find yourselves laughing and exchanging stories about your time at college. You're pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to talk to him, and before you know it, hours have flown by.

Suddenly, Jihoon pauses mid-sentence, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, I couldn't help but overhear something at lunch today," he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

Your heart skips a beat as you try to recall what you might have said that caught his attention. "Oh? What did you hear?" you ask, feigning innocence as you take a sip of your punch.

Jihoon chuckles softly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Well, it sounded like someone might have been talking about me," he admits, his eyes meeting yours with a shy smile.

You can't help but scoff at his comment, feeling a surge of embarrassment wash over you. "You mean Mingyu mentioning your name out loud?" you reply, trying to play it off coolly.

Jihoon laughs and nods, his smile widening. "Yeah" he says with a nod. "I guess I've been on your friends' minds lately."

You chuckle, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over you at the thought of Jihoon overhearing your friends teasing you about your crush on him. "Yeah, sorry about that," you say sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. "My friends can be a little... outspoken."

But Jihoon just shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No need to apologize. It's actually kind of flattering," he says, his gaze meeting yours with warmth. "And to be honest, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now."

Your heart skips a beat at Jihoon's confession, and you feel a rush of excitement as you muster up the courage to admit your own feelings. "Yeah, I've been wanting it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jihoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, and he leans in closer, his eyes shining with curiosity. "Oh yeah? What have you been wanting to talk to me about?" he asks eagerly.

You feel a pang of panic shoot through you as you realize you hadn't prepared an answer to that question. You stutter for a moment, trying to come up with something to say.

Finally, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Um, your music project! It sounds awesome," you say, mentally kicking yourself for not being more prepared.

You can tell by the look on his face that he knows there's more to it than just his music project. And as the silence stretches between you, you can't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you.

"I was expecting something else," Jihoon says with a small, teasing smirk, his voice laced with mock disappointment.

A strange tension hangs in the air between you, and you can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You wish you had been more honest with him, you can't help but wonder if this awkward moment has ruined your chance with him. With a heavy sigh, you take a sip of your drink.

You feel the unease settling in, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach as you realize the gravity of the situation. Are you really going to lose this chance? Are you really going to ruin this opportunity?

Hell no.

Your hand clenches around the red cup with more force as you weigh your options. Taking a deep breath, you muster up the courage to speak, determined not to let this moment slip away.

"That's not what I meant," you say, meeting Jihoon's curious gaze with determination.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

"No, I mean, your songs are really awesome," you clarify. "But I have one more thing to say."

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his ear as you whisper softly, "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Before Jihoon can react, you close the gap between you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. The world fades away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, your bodies pressed together in an electrifying embrace.

Jihoon responds eagerly, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matches your own. In that moment, there's no awkwardness, no tension, only the undeniable chemistry between you and Jihoon igniting into something fiery and intoxicating.

You break the kiss, your lips still tingling with the remnants of his touch, feeling flushed, satisfied, and breathless. A sweet taste lingers on your palate as you lean against Jihoon's chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Jihoon's breath is ragged as he pulls back slightly, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of desire and adoration. "Let's get out of here," he says softly, his voice husky with emotion. "Before our friends have a heart attack."

You glance over at Mingyu and your friends, who are practically collapsing with shock after witnessing your kiss. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Jihoon's hand intertwining with yours brings you back to the present moment.

You nod in agreement, grateful for his quick thinking, and allow him to lead you away from the crowded room. As you step outside into the cool night air, a sense of freedom washes over you, and you find yourself smiling up at Jihoon.

"Sorry about that," you say, a hint of amusement in your voice as you squeeze his hand. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

Jihoon just chuckles softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "No need to apologize," he murmurs, his voice warm and reassuring. "I'm just glad I finally got to kiss you."

"You should have kissed me before," you tease, nudging Jihoon playfully as you walk together across the campus, heading towards the dorms.

Jihoon chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. "Oh, really? And risk giving our friends a heart attack sooner?" he replies with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes at his response, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fair point," you concede, leaning into his side as you continue to walk. "But you could have at least hinted that you wanted to kiss me earlier."

Jihoon's smile softens, his gaze turning tender as he looks down at you. "Oh, really? And here I was thinking you were the one making all the moves," he says softly, his thumb tracing circles on your hip.

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation, swatting at his arm playfully. "Hey, I can't do all the work," you retort, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's about time you stepped up your game."

Jihoon chuckles, leaning in closer to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "Well, consider this me stepping up," he says, his voice low and husky as he pulls back to meet your gaze. "And trust me, I have plenty more where that came from."

As you and Jihoon approach his dorm, the air is charged with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach. The conversation flows effortlessly between you, filled with laughter and teasing banter as you navigate the familiar paths of the campus.

"So, you're telling me that you're going to make up for lost time?" you ask with a playful smirk, nudging Jihoon's side as you walk.

Jihoon chuckles, his eyes glinting mischievously as he glances over at you. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you reach his dorm door, Jihoon suddenly stops in his tracks, turning to face you with a wicked grin. Before you can react, he slams you against the door with a sudden force, his hands grabbing your ass firmly as he leans in to kiss your neck.

A gasp escapes your lips as his lips trail along your skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel his warmth radiating against you, his strong arms holding you tightly as you cling to him, your hands gripping his biceps desperately.

With a sense of urgency, Jihoon grabs the door handle and swings it open, pulling you into his room with him. The moment you step inside, the door closes behind you with a soft click, and you find yourselves enveloped in darkness, save for the faint glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.

Unable to detach your bodies from each other, you stumble forward, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. Jihoon's hands roam freely over your body, igniting sparks of desire with each touch, while your own hands explore the contours of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt.

Jihoon's eyes search yours, filled with desire. "Tell me," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You furrow your brow in confusion for a moment before he repeats himself, his tone more insistent this time. "I want you to tell me, with words."

You feel a thrill run through you at his words, and you hold onto him tighter, your lips still brushing against each other as you melt into his embrace.

For a moment, you're lost in the sensation of being so close to him, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to find the right words to express how you feel.

And then, before you can respond, Jihoon speaks again, his voice teasing and playful. "Come on, Y/n-nie," he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me."

You can't help but chuckle at his bold request, feeling a rush of heat spread through you at the thought of indulging his playful banter. "Why?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence. "Are you planning to use this in your songs?" you ask breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper as his hands slip under the fabric of your little black dress, hands find their way to your breasts.

Jihoon laughs at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he shakes his head. "Who knows?" he replies with a smirk. "But I think I'd much rather hear it from your lips than write it in a song."

You roll your eyes playfully, a smirk playing on your lips. "Fine," you say, leaning in closer to whisper in his ear. "But you're going to owe me for this."

With a sly grin, you reach down and find the waistband of his pants and underwear, pulling them down in one swift motion. Jihoon gasps in surprise as his pink, big cock springs free, standing shiny and eager in the dim light.

You can't help but let out a low moan at the sight, desire coursing through you as you gaze hungrily at him. "God, I wanted this cock so bad," you whisper, your voice dripping with desire. "I've been dreaming about it for so long."

As Jihoon holds back the urge to roll his eyes at your words, you lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin as you lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping the hem of his shirt as he tries to steady himself against the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. "Hmm Y/N yes!" 

With a hungry desire, you take his cock into your mouth, filling your cheeks with his hardness as you work him with eager enthusiasm. Jihoon's hands tremble slightly as he holds onto his shirt, his moans growing louder and more desperate with each movement of your mouth.

Feeling your own arousal building with each passing second, you can't help but reach down between your legs, pushing your panties to the side as you slide your fingers into your dripping wet pussy. You can't help but moan around Jihoon's cock as you pleasure yourself.

Jihoon's moans grow even louder at the sound, his hips bucking involuntarily as he struggles to hold back his release. "Fuck, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," he says, head thrown back. With each thrust of your mouth and each stroke of your fingers in your pussy, the tension in the room grows thicker, until finally, with a loud cry, Jihoon reaches his climax, his hot cum spilling into your mouth.

As you swallow eagerly, relishing the taste of Jihoon's release, you feel a surge of ecstasy coursing through you. But before you can fully enjoy the moment, Jihoon's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Stop," he says, his voice hoarse with desire.

You reluctantly remove your hand from between your legs, your fingers still slick with arousal as you look up at Jihoon with glazed eyes. He takes your hand in his, pulling you to your feet and guiding you towards his bed.

Your dress is now bunched up around your waist, the fabric clinging to your skin as Jihoon manages to remove his shirt with trembling hands. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as he presses you gently onto the bed, his hands roaming over your exposed skin.

With a sense of urgency, Jihoon leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he explores every inch of your mouth. You moan softly into the kiss, the sensation of his lips making you feel rewarded.

As Jihoon's hand finds the fabric of your panties and tugs them down your legs, throwing the piece away, you shiver with anticipation, your arousal pooling between your thighs. His fingers find your sopping wet cunt, and you moan at the slight touch, your body trembling with desire.

With a wicked grin, Jihoon leans in close, his voice low and husky as he begins to dirty talk to you. "You know, Y/n-nie," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I saw you all those times you sat in the auditorium, watching me play."

You gasp at his words, the memory of those moments flooding your mind as you feel a surge of heat spreading through you. "I loved knowing you were there, looking at me, wanting me." Jihoon continues, his voice dripping with desire. "I couldn't help but wonder what was passing through your little filthy mind as you watched me." 

"Did you imagine me touching you, pleasing you, making you scream my name?"

His words send a surge of desire rushing through you, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. With a desperate need, you arch your hips towards him, silently begging for more as you lose yourself in the intoxicating heatness of Jihoon's dirty talk.

s Jihoon's fingers sink inside your pussy, you let out a gasp of pleasure, the sensation overwhelming your senses. Your mouth opens to answer him, but all that escapes is a string of expletives as pleasure washes over you.

"Fuck!" you swear, your voice strained with desire as Jihoon's fingers move inside you. The sound of your arousal fills the room, loud and squelching as his fingers slide in and out, your wetness coating his hand with each delicious thrust.

His movements are slow and deliberate, each stroke driving you closer and closer to the edge. You squirm beneath him, your body writhing with pleasure as ragged gasps leave your lips. With each movement of his fingers, you feel yourself spiraling out of control, lost in the intoxicating heat of the moment.

And as Jihoon continues to drive you wild with his fingers, his voice fills the air with a mixture of desire and frustration. "Fuck," he breathes, his words heavy with longing. "Everyone told me to take action, but..."

But what? You find yourself holding your breath, waiting for Jihoon to finish his sentence. But he doesn't say anything else, leaving the words hanging in the air between you, tantalizingly unfinished.

You can feel the tension mounting, the anticipation building as you wait for Jihoon to speak again. But instead of words, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But now that I have you like this, begging for more," Jihoon continues, his voice dripping with lust, "I never want to let you go." 

The admission sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you, knowing that Jihoon has been thinking about this moment just as much as you have. 

As Jihoon pumps his fingers inside you, you grip his forearm tightly, feeling the muscles flex beneath your touch. Your head spins with pleasure, and your stomach flutters with anticipation as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Every sensation is overwhelming, from the scent of his cologne to the intensity of his gaze, to the sound of his voice saying all those filthy things that send shivers down your spine. You're lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy, unable to think about anything except the pleasure coursing through your veins.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, you feel yourself tensing, your pussy throbbing and clenching around Jihoon's fingers. He senses your impending release and curls his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge.

"And I promise," Jihoon murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin, "I'm going to make you feel so good, Y/n-nie. You won't be able to think about anything else but me."

You arch your back, a pornographic moan escaping your lips as you cum around his fingers, your juices coating his hand and forearm in a sticky mess. The intensity of your orgasm is overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling in Jihoon's arms.

"You're amazing," Jihoon continues, his voice low and sensual. "The way you moan, the way you tremble beneath my touch... It's driving me wild."

You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you at the thought of Jihoon being so captivated by you. His praise is like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and you find yourself craving more with each passing moment.

"Can I fuck this pretty pussy, hm?" Jihoon asks, his voice low and filled with desire, as he flips your clit with his thumb.

You gasp at the sensation, your breath catching in your throat as pleasure shoots through you. "Yes, please," you whisper, your voice thick with need.

Jihoon chuckles softly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Are you sure you can handle it?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You whimper at his words, feeling a surge of desire coursing through you. "Yes," you moan, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

As Jihoon's tip presses against your slit, you quiver with anticipation, feeling the wet folds parting to welcome him inside. His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he guides his cock deeper inside you.

You moan into his mouth as he enters you fully, his length stretching you deliciously as he fills you completely. A gasp escapes Jihoon's lips as he sinks into you, the sensation overwhelming both of you with pleasure.

With his cock buried deep inside you, Jihoon opens his mouth in a gasp of ecstasy, his breath hot against your skin. You whimper at the sensation, feeling a surge of desire coursing through you as he bites your chin lightly, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

As Jihoon moves inside of you, his hips rolling with a rhythm that drives you wild, you can't help but cling to him desperately, your hands finding purchase on his back as he fills you up so perfectly. The previous orgasm has left you sensitive and achingly aroused, making it easy for him to slide in and out of you with ease.

You look into his eyes, lost in the depths of his gaze, feeling a connection that transcends words. His necklace brushes against your face with each thrust, a reminder of his presence, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

Tears stream down your face, mingling with the pleasure and overwhelming sensation of having him finally inside you. It's not a dream – Jihoon is here, fucking you with a passion that leaves you breathless and shaking.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent cry of ecstasy as you surrender yourself completely to the pleasure, every movement of his hips sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You hold onto him desperately, your nails digging into his skin as you ride the wave of sensation, knowing that this moment will stay with you forever.

As Jihoon's cock hits your G-spot, you arch your back in ecstasy, the pleasure overwhelming you as you cling to him desperately. He watches your reaction with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you.

But then, a sob escapes your lips, the intensity of the sensation bringing tears to your eyes. Jihoon hears your sob and responds by thrusting in the same way, driving you even closer to the edge of pleasure.

You sob even louder at the sensation, the pleasure so intense that it's almost unbearable. But Jihoon is there for you, cooing softly as he continues to move inside you, his touch bringing you both pleasure and comfort.

You call out his name, your words babbling as you try to express just how good it feels. "Jihoon, it's too good," you whimper, your voice thick with desire. "Too good..."

"Shh, it's okay," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he holds you close. "I've got you, Y/n-nie. Just let go and feel it."

As Jihoon turns you around and pushes your head onto the pillow, you let out a scream of pleasure, the intensity of his thrusts overwhelming your senses. With each movement of his hips, you feel yourself weakening, surrendering completely to the pleasure coursing through you.

Jihoon's thrusts are intense, his cock driving deep inside you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. His hands tremble as he grabs onto you wherever he can, his moans mingling with yours.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, you feel it – the tightening in your stomach, the trembling of your muscles as your pussy walls hug Jihoon's cock tight. He spasms with pleasure everytime you clench around him. 

As you feel the wave of pleasure building inside you, you grip the sheets and pillows tight, your body convulsing with the intensity of the sensation. Jihoon continues to thrust into you with the same relentless rhythm, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each movement of his hips.

And then, it happens – you cum on his cock, your entire body trembling with the force of your release. A long, exasperated cry escapes your lips as you convulse around him, your pussy gushing with wetness as you ride the waves of pleasure.

Jihoon watches you in awe, his own desire reaching a fever pitch as he sees you spasming and creaming around his cock. He holds himself back with every ounce of willpower he has, determined to wait until you're fully satisfied before allowing himself to succumb to his own release.

But as he feels you tightening around him, the sensation driving him to the edge of control, he knows that he won't be able to hold out much longer. With a guttural groan, he lets go, his own climax crashing over him in a tidal wave.

As Jihoon rides out his climax, his cum mixing with yours as it drips from your pussy, the sound of the messy aftermath echoing around the room. You both collapse onto the bed, spent and breathless, the intensity of your orgasms still coursing through your veins.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a tangible reminder of the passion that has consumed you both. But as you lie there together, wrapped in each other's arms, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

As Jihoon plays with your hair, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you, he asks softly, "Are you going to continue watching me play in the auditorium?"

You smile up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him perform again. "Of course," you reply without hesitation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Jihoon's eyes light up with a hint of mischief as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Good," he says, his voice filled with determination. "But this time, I want you to be in the front row, not on the last chairs."

You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of being so close to him while he performs. "I'd love that," you murmur, your heart pounding in anticipation.

[astonmartinii]

insta au req about reader and charles being best friends and a rift comes between them because of his girlfriend(or whoever!!) and reader and max finally get together and she shades ferrari and charles purrrrr (if not i totally get it queen love u loads)

into the arms of another | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

after charles leaves her out in the cold, y/n falls into the arms of another.

part two part three

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, arthurleclerc and 506,823 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: dumb and dumber: vacation edition

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user1: they're really just the definition of no thoughts behind the eyes

user2: it's crazy cause we all know you have to be smart to drive an f1 car and she has a literal degree in architecture but they are always in the most insane situations ever

charles_leclerc: that's my private jet don't call me dumb

yourusername: *rented, dumbass

liked by maxverstappen1

user3: they're friendship goals like perfect example of platonic soulmates and male and female friendship

arthurleclerc: so like what does a man need to do for a feature on your instagram?

yourusername: soz arth, step ur aesthetic up x

user4: oh to be besties with an f1 driver

user5: wait so like all the leclercs and their gfs went on this holiday, right?

user6: yeah arthur’s and lorenzo’s gfs have posted about being there

user5: so it’s kinda muggy that y/n refused to post the girls?

user6: not really she’s posted with the girls loads i think y’all just want an excuse to be mad at her

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,231,907 others

charles_leclerc: summer spent with the best people

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user8: no y/n ....

user9: did yall see that tweet about the girl who met y/n in corsica when charles left her stranded on the beach to walk home on her own

user8: what ???

joristrouche: love you brother

charles_leclerc: best mate

user10: the vibes have shifted, the atmosphere is weird and the absence of y/n is the centre of it

user11: i fear i've seen this film before and y/n is defo getting iced out because charles in back in a relationship

user12: noooooo i thought he'd matured past that after the last time he fucked y/n off for a girlfriend

user13: babes please stop expecting so much from men

liked by yourusername

pierregasly: you look sunburnt calmar, did you leave it at home cause y/n isn't there to remind you?

charles_leclerc: she's here and i have been putting it on the sun just has it out for me

yourusername: i tried pierre, believe me

user14: well this is fucking awkward

user15: charles is not beating the allegations of forgetting about y/n while in a relationship LOL

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,034,667 others

maxverstappen1: simply lovely to win my home race again. the orange army never disappoint and i'm so thankful for all the support here this weekend

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user20: call me a conspiracy theorist BUT he thanked the orange army and the support separately i.e. Y/N Y/LN

user21: now you bitches usually jump to conclusions, but i'm hearing you this time

martingarrix: next set just gonna be super max on a two hour loop

maxverstappen1: i'll be there

user22: i'm sorry i'm new here why is y/n being in max's garage such a big deal? who is she? (gen.)

user23: y/n is charles' best friend, they've known each other since childhood and she's supported him through all levels of karting and single-seaters. though they haven't interacted too much in the public eye, max and y/n have known each other for as long as charles and max have. charles is a bit notorious for dumping y/n to the side for his girlfirend any time he's in a relationship and being inseparable once he's single again. after he ALLEGEDLY ditched her at a beach in corsica over the summer, y/n hasn't been seen with him or interacting with him online and was then in max's garage.

user24: maybe i'm messy but i genuinely want max and y/n to be together

yourusername: the red bull catering was defo worth breaking the cost cap

maxverstappen1: you're welcome any time

user25: can someone please check charles' pulse

landonorris: he looked like a cartoon with steam coming out of his ears earlier

user26: LANDO WHAT?

user27: tbf i think that's just a general side effect of driving the ferrari

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 542,987 others

yourusername: hard ball or soft serve

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user28: in my professional shadow identification opinion, i have deduced that it is in fact max verstappen

user29: ur so delusional (i believe you)

charles_leclerc: so that's who you've been getting our vanilla and chocolate cones with

yourusername: i'm not entertaining this argument over the internet charles you know where i live

liked by maxverstappen1

user30: she's so much better than me i'd rip him a new asshole right here right now

arthurleclerc: please come to dinner on sunday, carla can't come and i don't wanna fifth wheel plsssssss y/n

yourusername: sorry chickie i've already got plans but give mama my love

arthurleclerc: noooooo what could be better than mama's sunday lunch

yourusername: i promise i love those dinners but i've had enough experience seventh wheeling you guys and would love time with someone who loves me for me

liked by maxverstappen1

user31: yall i feel like i'm in the family group chat in this comment section this feels illegal to see

user32: max is so sly with the comments he's liking but that's MY petty king

f1

liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 1,304,783 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

f1: oops. charles leclerc takes championship leader max verstappen and himself out of the race at the first corner. the two did not mince their words, verstappen saying: "i tried to stay out of trouble but trouble came to me"

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user33: the way i RAN to twitter

user34: i'm not a verstappen fan but that quote goes so hard

user35: i'm all for leaving the drivers' personal lives alone but lord the tea is piping and sky cutting to y/n in max's garage? OOP

user36: no cause someone at sky has been watchign too much drive to survive because putting "charles' childhood friend" on her name banner as she's in max's garage was pure cinema

user37: charles be chatting mad shit for the man at fault

user38: leclerc drove into verstappen and perez and thought he'd manage to get out of the blame again LOL he's such a joker

user39: i think it's a good thing that y/n is skipping that dinner

user40: the way charles' gf wasn't even there this weekend and he was clearly looking for y/n in the garage

user41: the drama is too much for me to keep up with

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 603,487 others

yourusername: only 16 years in the making but we finally got a clue

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user42: i'm going into cardiac arrest

maxverstappen1: finally now i can comment freely about my unbelievably sexy, smart and hilarious girlfriend who i love and defo haven't pined over for ten years

yourusername: awwwww maxy, if it makes you feel better i've liked you for that long as well

user43: hmmmm idk this all seems a bit fake

yourusername: babes i still fancied him when he was a lanky, spotty teenager

arthurleclerc: i can confirm this

user44: the way y/n was always so nice and constantly hyping charles and his gf in their comments ... where's charles

user45: tbf she is dating his rival

user44: oh please we all know they never hated each other and have been good friends for years, charles is just being petty

danielricciardo: never thought i'd see the day when max would grow some balls and finally ask you out

yourusername: i thought you were meant to be some great wing man, i didn't see you helping

danielricciardo: i didn't want to get ran over by charles, no thank you

user46: i'm so sad i want bestie charles and y/n back

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, martingarrix and 1,409,875 others

maxverstappen1: some girls might want to ride a ferrari but mine wants to ride a red bull

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user47: THE CAPTION? THIS MAN IS SO UNHINGED

user48: mad max returns and in the form of shady instagram captions

yourusername: but you didn't even let me drive :(

maxverstappen1: babe i love you but you don't have a license and that's a very expensive car

user49: wait don't make me depressed didn't charles say in an interview ages ago that he was going to teach y/n to drive? did this never happen?

yourusername: sorry to ruin your day but i'm still illegal on the road

landonorris: so no photo credits? i watched you guys kiss for so long to get that shot

yourusername: i didn't hear you complaining on the day

maxverstappen1: let him be lonely in peace

landonorris: that's really not the save you think it is but thanks mate

user50: i am so happy that y/n is happy but the way charles can't be happy for her relationship like she always is for me is so sad to me

user51: i get that the charles and y/n situ is sad but she's clearly happy with max leave them be

fin.

note: hope you enjoyed my love, i hope this was kinda what you were envisioning, i'm happy with it but would be up for a part two if people want it lol xx

[petew21-blog]

Friends with benefits

Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.

This is Trent

Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks

On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair

This is Brett

So hairy.

Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon

Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM

Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"

Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"

Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"

Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM

At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.

Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"

Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"

Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"

Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"

Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."

Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"

Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."

After a few beers

Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"

Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."

Brett:"So what did you do?"

Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"

Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"

Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"

Brett:"You calling me fat?"

Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"

Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"

They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.

Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth

Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.

Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.

He turned around to get up

His body. He has a different body

Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up

Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"

He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.

He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"

He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.

He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband

Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick

It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"

There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock

Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"

Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"

Trent:"So this is your doing?"

Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"

Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"

Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"

Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"

Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"

Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"

Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"

Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."

Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"

Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"

Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"

Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"

Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up

Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"

Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"

Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick

Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM

Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.

A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"

Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress

Trent:"You need to stop!"

Brett:"What? I was just flirting"

Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"

Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"

Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"

Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"

A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads

Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"

Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"

Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."

Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"

Trent:"And your point is?"

Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"

Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"

Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"

Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"

Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"

Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"

Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"

Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"

Brett:"So you agree?"

Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"

Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"

Sunday, August 4th

Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"

Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."

Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"

Trent:"And my dick..."

Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"

Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"

Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"

Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"

Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"

Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"

Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"

Wednesday August 7th

Trent:"How are you settling in?"

Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"

Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"

Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"

Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"

Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"

Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"

Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"

Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."

Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?

Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"

Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"

Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"

Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"

Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."

Brett:"Sure thing, bye"

Monday, August 12 th

Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"

Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"

Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"

Saturday, August 17th

Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"

Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"

Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"

Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"

Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"

Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"

Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"

Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"

Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"

Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."

Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"

Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?

Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"

Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.

Thursday, August 22nd

Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"

Friday, August 23rd

Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."

Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"

Sunday, August 25th

Brett:"I'm ok"

Trent:"What the hell happened?"

Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"

Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"

Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"

Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"

Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"

Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"

Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."

Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"

Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"

Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"

Sunday, September 1st

Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"

Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"

Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"

Monday, September 2nd

Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games

The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table

Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."

Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"

Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"

Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"

Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."

Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"

Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"

Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"

Trent:"You want money?"

Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."

Trent:"You have lost your mind"

Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett stands up and goes towards Trent

Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge

Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"

Brett:"Atta boy"

They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin

The kissed even more

Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different

Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"

Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"

Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"

He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready

Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole

Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain

Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"

Trent:"Brett, please slow down"

Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"

Trent:"Please, get lube or something"

Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"

Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time

Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.

Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."

Brett:"Louder"

Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"

Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"

The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face

Trent watched in awe what just happened.

Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"

Trent:"Brett... I?"

Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"

Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"

Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"

Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.

Several months later

Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up

Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"

Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"

Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"

Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"

Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"

Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed

Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"

A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas

Hope you like it :)

P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes

[jo-speaks]

congratulations

in which...

fem! reader has her own way of congratulating quinn on all his accomplishments.

warnings: MDNI. 18+ readers only. use of sex toys (vibrating panties), slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m! receiving) while driving, mature language, brief mention of a captain kink.

~✩~

note: in honour of Quinn's one-year captain-iversary a few days ago! he's accomplished so much, and i love seeing how much he continues to develop as a player and a person.

You knew you wouldn’t be joining him for a regular team dinner once you saw that glint in his eyes. He was up to something, but you weren’t quite sure what.

“Babe! You ready?” Quinn called out to you, waiting for your presence in the living room of your shared apartment.

“Just give me another minute!” You replied, holding the top half of your lingerie set to your chest in the mirror. 

A few days ago, Quinn had told you about this dinner. The team had planned it to celebrate all the successes he’s had in the past year. Being named captain, leading the team to the Stanley Cup finals, winning the Norris, being on the cover of NHL 25, and so forth. 

Quinn had never been one to want to celebrate stuff like this for himself, but rather for the people who made it possible. However, he was never one to turn down free food. Originally, it was supposed to be just the team, but they were meant to be dining at one of your favourite restaurants in the city. Luckily for you, JT’s wife, Natalie shared the same love for the food here as you did. And with a few strings pulled, as JT was the one who originally planned the event, she not only managed to get you and herself a part of the occasion but a few of the other wives and girlfriends who were willing to join the celebration.

Naturally, when she told you the news, you figured it would be a great time to give Quinn a little congratulatory gift of your own. Before the event, you had ordered a Canucks blue set of lingerie, leaving very little to the imagination. It cupped your breasts in a way that was pleasing to the eye, and it did your ass the justice it deserves. The lining of the bra covered your nipples, but the rest of the material was sheer. And to add to the thrill, the bottoms of the set came with a remote. A remote that, with the click of a button, could send a silent vibrating sensation running through your body.

You didn’t want to show this number to your boyfriend quite yet, hence your decision to let him discover it later in the night. Throwing on a semi-formal dress that was appropriate for the dinner over it, Quinn was in for a surprise. You quickly strapped on a pair of heels that complemented your outfit, grabbing your purse and phone, and opening the door of your bedroom. 

The reaction on Quinn’s face was one you would never get sick of seeing. His jaw dropping slightly open as his eyes trailed up and down your figure repeatedly, trying to get the image engraved in his mind. 

“Wow.” Was all he managed to mutter out before you giggled and stepped closer to him, his hand instinctively wrapping around your waist as you placed a soft kiss on his lips which he gladly reciprocated. 

“Looking pretty handsome yourself, Captain.” You teased, knowing what that word did to him when it fell from your lips. 

He let out a sigh, almost like he was biting back words. Instead, he just pulled you impossibly closer to his body, leaving no space between the two of you. 

“I can always cancel. We could stay here…” He trailed off, slowly moving his hand to the curve of your ass. 

You smiled, “No way. I’ve been dying to see what’s new on their menu. Plus, it wouldn’t be very nice to leave your teammates hanging.”

He rolled his eyes jokingly, “They’ll be fine. I’m more interested in finding out what’s under this dress than some dinner.”

“Well, in that case.” You slipped your hand into your purse, pulling out the small remote.

Quinn’s eyebrows furrowed at this, his instinct being to immediately press the first button he saw. You let out a soft moan as you felt the vibrations so suddenly, reaching out to press the button to shut it off. You dropped your head to lean against his chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Let me explain before you click anything else.” You mumbled, immediately gaining his attention. 

He shook his head before you could even get a word out. “It’s your underwear, isn’t it? That’s what it’s for.”

“How did you-?” You began before he cut you off. 

“I opened the box they came in. You set it to my billing address, so my name was on the box. Thought it was that book I ordered, but this was even better to see.” He explained.

You let out a short whine of complaint, “So you knew I had these?”

He nodded, “Just been waiting for you to use them.”

Just before you could say anything else, his phone rang, and a number unknown to you was displayed on the screen. “Hello? Yeah, we’ll be there in twenty.” He turned back to you, taking your hand into his, “Time to go.”

Moving on from the previous discussion, you gave him a bright smile, excited to feast with him and the team. You dropped his hand, walking towards the front door to grab his keys off the hook when he clicked the button yet again, the pleasurable buzz in between your thighs causing your legs to buckle slightly. 

He walked up behind you, grabbing his keys for himself as you leaned your forehead against the wall, eyebrows knitted together as you tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to give him an audible reaction to his surprise attack. 

Having been with you for the past two years, he knew exactly what you were doing. So he peppered kisses alongside your neck, reaching his hand up to thumb at your covered breasts. “C’mon, baby. Let me hear those pretty noises.” 

You did your best not to give in, a small whine slipping past your lips before he clicked the button again, stopping the feeling. You let out a sigh of relief and disappointment, at which Quinn let out a chuckle

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you tonight.”

He opened the apartment door, standing to the side as he watched you compose yourself before exiting the home, following you out, and shutting the door behind you. He locked the door, placing his hand on your lower back as the two of you began walking towards the parking garage where his car was parked.

You should’ve known he would mess with you from the second you left the apartment. As you walked towards the elevator, waiting for the lift to reach your floor, he pressed the button yet again, remote concealed in the pocket of his dress pants. You tensed up at the feeling, thankful you were at least alone, until the elevator dinged, revealing an elderly couple you guys had met over the time you lived at the apartment complex. They smiled warmly at the pair of you and you did your best to silently greet them with a smile. 

“You two are dressed so nicely, going out on a date?” The woman asked.

Quinn looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted you to answer. Was he crazy? If you opened your mouth right now the only thing that would come out would be a loud moan of his name. But he didn’t seem to care as silence slowly started to linger. 

So, in an attempt to not slip up, you settled for a smile and a “Mhm.”, hoping it would be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t.

“Where are you going? Robert and I tried this new seafood place the other day, best shrimp in the whole city!” She laughed. 

You took a deep breath, knowing Quinn wouldn’t answer for you. “Was it Coast? That’s where we’re heading right now.” 

She nodded, “Yes, yes. Something like that. Oh! Their crab dip was amazing!”

Doing your best to keep your composure, you let out a soft laugh, sighing in relief when the lift dinged again, stopping on their floor. 

“Well, you two enjoy your dinner! Treat her to an appetizer, will ya?"

Quinn laughed, “You know I will.”

They bid you two goodbye, the doors taking what seemed for an eternity to shut. Once they did, you let out a groan of relief and pleasure, the sensation becoming too much for you to bear. Quinn let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against him, your hand searching for his in an attempt to have something to hang on to. 

He had some mercy, giving you his hand and letting you squeeze it as lewd noises slipped past your glossed lips. “Gonna have to quiet down, baby.” 

“Kinda hard to do that when you made me-,” He turned up the speed. “Speak!” 

You could tell he was having way too much fun with this as you peered up at him through watery eyes, a smirk never leaving his face. Once again the elevator dinged, opening up the door to reveal the parking garage. He gave you a gentle push, your wobbly legs doing their best to stay upright and get you to the car. 

“Think you can hold on until we get to the restaurant?” Quinn asked.

You gave him a deranged look. “What? No. No way.”

He shrugged, “Either you wait or I leave you like this the whole night.”

“Quinn, please.” You whimpered, approaching the car.

He ignored your pleas, walking ahead of you to open your door for you. Even when he’s torturing you sexually, he’s still a gentleman. You slowly stepped in, doing your best to ignore the way the buzzing intensified as you settled into the seat. Quinn walked around the car and got in next to you, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You gripped the armrest of the seat, hoping it would give you the strength to hang on.

Your boyfriend noticed the way your thighs twitched subtly under his hand, your body struggling not to give in to the pleasure. He decided to cut you some slack, reaching into his pocket to turn up the intensity. You let out a moan, leaning your head back against the seat, your nails digging into the leather. 

Your brain was incredibly foggy, the only thing running through your mind being the amount of pleasure you were feeling. You hadn’t even noticed Quinn pulling out of the parking lot, and driving onto the main road. 

“This is your free pass, sweet girl. Let go f’me.” He encouraged, keeping his eyes on the road, silently praying for a red light. 

The traffic odds seemed to be in Quinn’s favour, the next light turning red as soon as he approached it. He turned his head, watching the way your eyes shut and your jaw dropped further, your legs trembling as you came with a cry of his name. 

If he could get this moment tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, he would. He watched as you writhed in your seat, dropping your head down as you came to. Quinn reached into his pocket, shutting off the feeling to give you a chance to calm down. 

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a comforting kiss to the back of your hand. He smiled as you gripped his hand, happy it was able to provide you that relief. 

“Holy shit.” You eventually sighed out, relaxing into the seat. 

Quinn smirked, “Oh, my beautiful girl. You have no idea what I plan on doing with you.” 

Letting out a breath, you opened your eyes again and looked at him. His jaw was clenched and his grip on the wheel made his knuckles go white. You quirked an eyebrow at the intensity of his gaze. “Hey, you okay?”

He didn’t answer you, he didn’t even glance at you. Now it was your turn to trail your eyes down his figure, seeing the bulge of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. A smirk rose to your face as you glanced at the GPS that Quinn had been following, seeing you were only eight minutes away from the restaurant.

You mustered up all the strength in your body to sit up and lean across the console of the car, pressing a kiss to his flushed cheeks. 

“I’m driving.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control himself. 

You ignored his words, trailing your hand down his upper body and stopping when it reached the now extremely prominent bulge in his pants. He groaned, nose scrunching at the feeling. Smiling at his reaction, you let your kisses trail down his neck.

You could feel his hand looking for something, too distracted with palming him to realize just what he was searching for. As you fumbled with his zipper, he grabbed the remote that he had unknowingly dropped into the cupholder when you started showing him affection. He ran his thumb over the bumps of the buttons, finding the ‘on’ button yet again, but not pressing it quite yet.

You felt the object on your lower back as Quinn placed his hand there, needing to touch you as you got the zipper undone, freeing him from the constraints. 

“How much longer?” You whispered, kissing down his happy trail. 

He glanced to the side where his phone was, “Five minutes.”

You hummed, your kisses now finding his way to the base of his cock. He let out a deep moan as you took him in your mouth, the weight of it resting comfortably on your tongue. It took him a minute to adjust to the situation, trying his best to focus on driving and you at the same time. 

Quinn visibly relaxed, well, as much as he could while seeing how desperate you could be for him no matter the setting. He set the remote down, his calloused hand finding the back of your head, slowly pulling on your hair, then pushing. He sped up slowly, testing the waters. You grew frustrated at the pace, knowing you had limited time. 

As your patience grew thin, so did his. So, you reached behind to grab his hesitant hand, pushing and pulling for him. Thankfully, he got the hint and started his attack on your mouth. The gagging sound emanating from your throat made him throw his head back with a groan, immediately perking back up as he started driving off the road. 

Tears started forming in your eyes as Quinn kept pushing you far enough to reach the back of your throat. It wasn’t the most pleasurable feeling but the whimpery groans leaving his mouth were distractions enough. 

You became too entranced with his reactions to realize your hand was now resting on his knee, his hand no longer gripping your hair. The pace having set itself, he reached over, grabbing the control in his hand, and pressing the button that made you moan around his length.

Quinn groaned loudly at the vibration of your vocal cords, turning up the intensity of your panties before letting it drop to the ground and pressing your head impossibly further as he rutted his hips into your mouth. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” He mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

You mumbled back something incoherent, your brain going numb at the dual sensations and lack of oxygen. You felt yourself getting close again as Quinn’s thrusts got sloppier, hinting he was there with you. 

In an attempt to let Quinn know, you squeezed your hand against the bone, causing him to let out a deep whine. “You’re so close, aren’t you baby?” With the nod of your head, he sped up. “Doing so good. Come with me, yeah?”

He didn’t have to say it twice, your core tensing as your legs shook wildly, the moans escaping you enough to set Quinn off, his hips stilling as let out a groan. His hand on the steering wheel tightened, as did the one on your head, keeping you in place as you both reached your peaks. 

Even though he wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and fuck you properly all over the apartment, Quinn reluctantly pulled the car into the restaurant’s parking lot, stationing the car poorly and turning off the engine.

As you came to your senses again, you winced at the feeling of the intense vibrations still going between your legs. You reached your hand down under his seat, picking up the now familiar clicker and stopping the feeling.

You pulled yourself off of him, his cum dripping from your lips. Mesmerized at the sight, Quinn couldn’t help but press his fingers to your lips, running his thumb over them before pushing the sticky liquid in. You kept your eyes trained on his as you sucked around his finger and swallowed around it. 

“I can’t wait for this night to be over.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “Gonna mess you up so bad when we get home.”

Placing the remote in his free hand, his eyes looked at it momentarily before returning to stare at yours. “Who says you have to wait for the night to be over?”

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[trillscienceofficer]

from Sci-Fi Universe magazine, October 1996

KISS ME DEADLY: In REJOINED, one of the season's finest episodes, a kiss proved to be more than just a kiss

Maybe it's another sign of format maturity, but the modern Trek era has never seen anything like the controversy that erupted over the airing of DS9's Rejoined, which takes the science fiction story opportunity made possible by Dax's Trill host/symbiont race and twists it into a social comment on sexual orientation Gene Roddenberry would have been proud to call his own.

"Last July," begins Terry Farrell, whose Dax character is at the heart of the story, "Rick Berman called and asked me if I would kiss a woman, and at that point I guess I didn't take it that seriously. I said, 'Yeah, as long as she's beautiful I don't care!'

"And then it spurred me to thinking about it before it actually happened, and I felt bad I had been so flip, because I didn't realize how serious a love story it would be—and how nervous I would be about it, really want to be sure I'm honest and I'm doing the story justice, and I really want people to talk about it and think about it afterward. It really meant a lot to me.

"I think it's really important to love people for who they are, and spiritually it was a great show for me too, because it just reinforces that all of us—whether we want to admit it or not—can really be judgmental at times. That was a really important show to say, to the smallest degree, you've got to remember that people's lives are always so much more complicated than you think they are."

"We had a lot of advance buzz, but we also sat on that show a bit,' adds producer Steve Oster, who recalled the flap in 1969 when Kirk and Uhura made history with television's interracial kiss in Plato's Stepchildren. In fact, the show didn't go looking for attention.

"Because it had a kiss in it, and because of the Roseanne hoopla a few years ago (concerning the high-profile star's on-screen lesbian kiss), our publicity people wanted to have them come over and take pictures of 'the famous kiss scene,' have a news crew like Entertainment Tonight there—and we opted not to do that for a couple of reasons.

"For one thing, because we didn't want to become the Roseanne issue where stations were deciding not to air it, and secondly, to Rick's credit, he did not want to make that what the episode was about. It was not about two characters kissing—it was not about making that a tantalizing factor of the episode."

As directed by Avery Brooks, the episode maintained a remarkably naturalistic feel through the acting of all concerned, including Farrell and guest star Susanna Thompson.

"They chose to play it as real, as we would any other scene with those emotions going on: not 'Okay, a girl is going to kiss a girl,' but it was 'This is someone you were in love with before and you still are,' and that's the arc of the scene. It was not about the kiss," says Oster.

"I think we were trying to be as realistic as possible," Farrell agrees. "Really, the only scene I remember going way out and pulling back was the last scene were I give her the ultimatum—where Avery let me basically go all out and cry my eyes out and then pull me back. So that was the only time I remember going from one extreme to the other, trying a range; otherwise it was pretty natural."

In fact, the scene with Sisko was one of the easiest to play, she revealed, because of the natural affinity she feels tor Brooks, the actor. "He was so supportive of me during the first year of DS9 when it was really difficult for me, he was the only one who reached out and really made me feel comfortable, and tried to help me build my self-confidence and self-esteem in really healthy way," she says. "So I felt like I didn't need to do a lot of homework."

Farrell reveals that, in fact, the hardest scene for her as an actress was the moment in which Dax and Lenara Kahn realize at dinner, without voicing it directly, that they are still in love. Aside from the new situation of seeing Dax giddy like that, Farrell recalled it was the first day of shooting on the episode. "I felt a little uncomfortable and was feeling nervous about the whole thing," she says, "and I remember trying to make her comfortable at the same time."

The chemistry that sparked between Farrell and Thompson—finally out from under the makeup as a Romulan and Tilonian, both on TNG [on The Next Phase and Frame of Mind respectively]—came as no accident, since the producers had taken pains to have Farrell read with those who came in during casting for the role.

"We auditioned and auditioned and auditioned," Oster reports. "We needed to find that chemistry, someone who can play that role as a human being, not as someone who's wondering about kissing another woman. And if someone has delivered for us, we'll bring them back if they've been in makeup before because that can change."

"And," agrees Farrell, "we made sure we had a meeting before we started the show—Susanna and Avery and I—to discuss the show. Usually we don't have time for those kinds of things to happen on our show, but they just made the time. And it really made a difference, I think."

Before the show aired, executive producer Rick Berman said he hoped it would be "received with some controversy."

"I think it does deal metaphorically with homosexuality in the sense of how society puts taboos on certain sexual orientation," Berman said. "It deals with it from both sides, I believe. And I'm sure there are those in the gay community who will probably feel that, again, we haven't gone far enough. But our objective in this story was very specific and very related to the big points that are exhibited in the story—it was never designed to be 'how far can we push this?' It's another step in our attempts to supposedly open stories that deal with a variety of sexual orientation [sic]."

The low-key strategy seemed to have worked: among the affiliates who knew what was coming, Oster reports, none ever dropped the show completely. All ran the episode on first airing—with a parental advisory added by the Atlanta station—and "two or three" others cut the scene out when repeated.

"The studio was very supportive of it; it was one of those things that when Roseanne became the cutting edge and it passed by, it suddenly became not much of an issue."

—Larry Nemecek

"Negative callers couldn't make the leap between seeing this kiss and the famous one between Uhura and Kirk in 1969 as both being a matter of prejudice."

—Producer Steve Oster

[discotitsposts]

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo