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dearest-nell · 5 months ago

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morning person

s. harrington x reader, 2.8k

summary: a snapshot into the morning routine of steve harrington, now that the two of you have moved in together includes: established steve x reader, domestic fluff, steve is a busybody. warnings: literally none except i am still incapable of proofreading properly

a/n: honestly if anyone has any requests i would love to hear them, or just want to chat about this show that has ruined my life, because i'm spiralling into obsession over here.

People who complain about mornings have obviously never spent one waking up beside Steve Harrington, this you’re sure of. Because if they had, then they would know there was nothing in the world so deliciously saccharine than that drowsy, softened look on his face as he blinks the sleep away from mingling eyelashes, his lips curving upwards into a dreamy sort of smile. This isn’t even the first time he has awoken this morning.

Steve Harrington is a morning person – an early riser, a dawn greeter, a restless child on christmas day. His body clock is set as the sun begins to kiss the horizon, his eyes blinking open into a dark, cool bedroom. New. This bedroom is new. He is still getting used to it, this apartment, a dingy one bedroom located just a few blocks from the rougher side of town. It’s a far cry from the mansion he used to live in, small and outdated and a little worse for wear, if he were to say so himself, but it’s home. It’s home because it’s his, and it’s home because it’s yours. You rent it together, bills strung haphazardly from paychecks of jobs you’d both rather live without. Steve doesn’t mind that he still works at the video store, not when it lights up the lamp on his bedside, or cooks the pasta on your shitty gas top that flickers every so often. He needs to call the service guy, now that he thinks about it, but it’s too early to matter.

He can feel the heat of your body pressed in beside him, curled in on yourself, face buried into the pillow now folding creases into your skin, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You have never been a morning person, he learned rather early on. You’re delirious, and grumpy, and still so beautiful despite the glare in your eyes when he used to wake you, and now, he knows to let you sleep. His impatience to rouse you, to kiss you and touch you is an urge he’s learned to swallow, so he pauses for a moment simply to stare, to smile to himself at the way you mumble in your dreams.

He has the time, he thinks, considering it’s still dark out, and his shift at the store is not due for half a morning away, so he lets himself linger, tucked into the warmth of bedsheets as he works up the courage to leave it. He knows he needs to, that he’ll feel better if he does, that the routine always pays off even if it means parting from you. The air will be chilly outside, but he needs the cold to clear his head. His morning run is his time, after all. It gives him the solitude to consider, to plan, to unwind.

He slips from the bed, careful footsteps walking a still unfamiliar path through the bedroom, boxes stacked against a near wall still unpacked from the move. His sneakers are in the wardrobe, well placed for a quick pick up, though he hasn’t accounted for his discarded shirt rippled right in his path. He trips, stumbling slightly, cursing himself as the thud that resounds as heavy feet meet the floorboards. He turns with a cringe, hearing you stir, though you do not rise as you wriggle deeper into yellow linens, disappearing beneath the comforter.

He’s quick to dress, not wanting to risk another incident and the wrath of your disturbed sleep, slipping out into the living room to tie his shoes, still half asleep and blinking blearily. Despite its flaws, he likes this apartment more than he thought possible. There’s a passthrough between the kitchen and the living room that lets him talk to you as he cooks, you hanging over the bench to smile at him, pressing kisses into his shoulder when he dares to come too close. There’s a strange nook that sits in the wall by the door, one that now holds your keys and bumble bee umbrella, though neither of you are too sure why it was built in the first place. There’s a flat expanse outside the bathroom window that you want to build a flower box into, though Steve is yet to determine how, since neither of you are particularly good at D.I.Y. He loves this second hand couch Eddie found on the curb, loves the strange, abstract art piece Will designed for you both as a housewarming, loves the ceramic clown that Robin stole from an overpriced giftshop to hide in one of your moving boxes, now settled in the bookshelf beside an array of half read novels between you.

He’s building a life here with you, and Steve is trying his best to remind himself of it every chance he get. There will be Christmases spent in these walls, games night drinks spilled on this carpet, and so many I love you kisses pressed to smiling cheeks beside that front door – he hardly knows how to contain the excitement for it all, even as he ties his laces.

The morning is colder than he expected, but Steve has never been one to check the weather even now, even after he caught a cold from a raining run one morning, taking himself straight to work rather than home to you to shower. He figure’s he’ll wing it, deal with the consequences as they come, and enjoy the way you dote on him as he whines and groans in his flu like delirium days later. Cold, but not raining, he knows he’ll be fine this time.

He’s been planning out this new jogging route as he goes, still learning the maps and turns of each new lane. He’d never been to this part of town much before the move, but he’s starting to acclimate one run at a time. It’s not too far from Hawkins, after all. It still feels like a familiar place, but it’s closer to the community college to save you the travel time. Steve’s a visual learner, after all. It gives him the roadmap that he’ll need to plan out his week. He’s taking himself the long way just to jot down the layout; the farmers market, the hardware store, the cafe with the good coffee. He waves to the people he passes by, few and far between, trying to appear friendly. He doesn’t know yet the culture of this community, but he’s eager to make a good impression. He recognises the old man who runs the news agency, stops to chat as they talk about the community centre. Steve’s agreed to volunteer for the refurbishment, he’s hoping it’ll help you both settle in, and you’ve promised to bake up your best batch of pastries to feed the hungry husbands as they work. Steve’s not yet a husband, but he’s planning on changing that in due time.

The sun mingling with the clouds by the time he departs again, his pace quickening through midtown suburbia to take him home. The paperboy is tossing rolls at the doors, barely breaking on his bike as he passes house after house. Steve moves onto the road to avoid any collisions, shaking his head as the teen wheels off past a corner. He hasn’t even thought about his week yet, he realises, and his pace drops in consideration. There’s a stocktake coming up at work that will take more energy than he has to give, his parents are due over for dinner later in the week (he’s hoping they’ll cancel), and Robin has booked him tickets to some kind of gig that he’s certain he’ll hate. He mentally notes the checklist – things to buy, things to do, things to clean – now able to see his lot clearly without the buzz of a busy world around him. His days run smoother this way, alone, soles beating against the pavement. It starts him on the right foot.

He’s out of breath when he arrives back on your block, panting heavily without the grace of a water bottle. He knows he should have brought one, but there’s no point stewing on it now. His thighs ache as he climbs the staircase, three flights of stairs his least favourite part of coming home. He can’t imagine hauling groceries up this stairwell is going to be an enjoyable weekly endeavour, but for the price of rent, he’s willing to make the effort, even with a slightly busted knee.

He’s a little louder than he wants to be as he eases open the lock, slipping into a slightly brighter apartment than when he left. He doesn’t think you’re awake, but he takes pause to slow himself down, turning into the kitchen instead of the bedroom. Steve clicks on the faucet, hanging his head below the tap to let the cool water run directly into his mouth. He lacks grace as he guzzles down half a litre, droplets trickling down his cheeks and chin into unclean dishes from the night before. There’s urgency, he decides, in this drink. No type for a cup, no time to pause. He pulls away gasping, wiping a cupful of water across his sweat slicken face, unable to suck enough breath into his lungs. He leans back against the benchtop, eyes pressed skyward to focus on slowing himself down, letting his heart rate drop back to a blissful pace.

He knows he should shower, but more than anything, he’s aching to get back between the sheets with you. It’s funny how he still misses you when you’re not within reach, even for an hour, even when he knows you’re still wrapped up tight in the comforts of his bed. It feels wrong to love a person this much, like he shouldn’t be made to feel so much, so deeply, every passing minute of every passing day. But he does. He knows he’s not the first to feel such a love, but he thinks he might be the only one regardless, because no one else has you. He thinks it’s strange that everyone in the world isn’t aching to be by your side, that hearts all over the town aren’t skipping beats at the wideness of your smile, the curve of your shoulder, the tickle of your laugh. This love must be special, then, because how else can he be the only one so enamoured by you.

He forces himself into the shower, the water not yet warm even as he sinks his head beneath the stuttering stream. The pipes are old, though a cold shower bothers him far less than it bothers you. He’ll be out quicker this way. He is less thorough in his cleaning than he thinks he ought to be, scrubbing furiously at his body with the loofah you bought him, scraping sweat and red streaks into a now fading tan. He’s seeing the sun less these days in the dead of autumn, but he’ll make it up later. Right now, all he is focused on is climbing back into his bed, his skin stained with a citrus scent embedded into the new soap you had bought. It’s not his usual brand, but he thinks he likes the change anyways. It reminds him of summer picnics with you, fingers digging into orange peels, juices dribbling down his fingers until he tears out slices one by one. The scent lingers, filled with your orange flavoured kisses and sun streaked highlights burning into his mind, and yes, he thinks, the change isn’t so bad.

He shuts off the tap, yanking his towel from the rack to pat himself dry, hair shaking out like a puppy dog with rambunctious excitement to be on his way. He doesn’t bother to redress, dropping the towel to the floor without focus, padding back towards your bedroom. You’re exactly how he left you, though a little more illuminated in the morning light. You’ve wiggled out of the blanket again, one foot kicked out to the side to regulate your body temperature, one hand reaching out towards his side of the bed. You reach for him in your sleep sometimes, and he hates the idea of not being there for you when you do.

He clambers into bed his eagerness betraying his stealth, expert hands lifting your arm up for him to slide under, hanging it securely over his waist as he settles into the warm dip of the mattress. Your body responds instinctively, rolling into him with a groan, still not quite awake, though he can tell you’re not so far off. He runs fingers through your hair, trying to stave off your inevitable waking for as long as he can manage. Your alarm isn’t due for another hour, and he wants every second before that spent just like this.

He doesn’t mean to fall back asleep, but sleep takes him anyways, his eyes blinking shut under the hypnotic pattern of your breathing beside him. He’ll wake up again groggier now, but there is nothing to be done to change it. He tugs you in closer, rougher in his sleep, his neediness permeating his unconscious mind until you’re pressed square against him. The movement spurs you awake, slowly and unintentionally, though it takes you a moment to understand why.

There he is, your man, your darling boy, mouth hanging open with quiet, rumbling snores, arms wrapped around you in a protective lock. He’s never looked more beautiful, even with your eyes out of focus, one closed and pressed into the fabric of your pillowcase. You can smell the soap, feel the softness of his now cleansed skin beneath your curious fingertips, and you know he’s already been out of bed. He tries his best not to fall back asleep, but your smile curves wider to be blessed to see it. There’s a jealousy in you, after all, that he gets to watch you sleep so often. Times like these are rare, when you awaken first, and you’re greedy in your enjoyment of them. You’d take a picture if you thought you could reach the camera, but the moment would spoil, you were sure. You commit it to memory instead, every dip and curve and freckle and hair burned into your head until it’s all you can see. You want his face to be a fading image that blinks to life behind every close of your eyes, an after image repeating itself well into the day when you’re far away from him.

He is so lovely, and you are so in love.

The alarm breaks the two of you out of your reverie, your body jolting at the surprise of it. Steve is slower to start this time, groaning a drunken sort of sound as you slam your hand down on the rattling clock. His arm tightens around you, dragging you until your body is half wedged under his own, your giggles drowning out into muffled chuckles as your face burrows into the crook of his neck.

“I fell back asleep.” He mutters, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“I know.” You coo back, adjusting the curve of your back to a more comfortable position, tangling legs between his own until you’re thoroughly wrapped.

“You sound awake.” He mumbles back, squeezing at your waist with unmasked affection. “Were you up?”

“Yeah.” It’s an airy sort of confession, made to match the tender strokes of fingers reaching to scrape lovingly at his scalp. “Just watchin’ you sleep.”

“Perv.” He teases, kissing at your hair, mouth hungry and missing your skin entirely. He lights up as you giggle, his head lifting with heavy blinks to gaze down at you, hair pressed upwards into a lopsided mess. You do your best to pat it down for him. “You like what you see?”

You crook your head to the side, focusing your gaze in a tender expression. “Something like that.” His brow arches curiously, leaving you to laugh again. “I love you, you moron.”

His smile widens, head dropping to nuzzle his nose roughly into your cheek, lips catching on your jaw every so often with exaggerated noises of enthusiasm. “Love you too, baby.”

There is silence for a minute, nothing but his lips dragging affection across the planes of your cheek, his hands wandering underneath the fold of your bedshirt to press fingertips into fading stretch marks across your hips. You’re worried he’ll fall asleep again, and you know you don’t have the heart today to wake him a second time.

“You want breakfast? I can make jam on toast?”

He hums a happy sound, though does nothing to release his grip on you. “Yeah, okay. Gonna have to escape me, though. Can’t make my arm move.”

He pretends to try and shuffle his grip, putting on a little show with a pout when his hold does not dislodge. You roll your eyes, brushing the pad of your thumb against his brow bone.

“Five more minutes, then.”

Steve was back asleep within three.

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101maverick · 5 months ago

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Hi! Saw your newest post, so thought I might as well try to help with your writers block :)

How about headcanons of the bat boys dating a broke reader? Alternatively, batboys x bimbo!reader?

Hope this helps you get out of your slump, enjoy the rest of your day and take your time if you ain't up for it :]

A/n: Tysm for the request! Hope you enjoy :)

Dick Grayson

Being resident in Bludhaven, he's financially independent and certainly not rich. He refuses to depend on Bruce.

This means he hasn't got any trust fund money to give you, but he'd definitely help you out any way he can

He'd buy you practical gifts as well as normal ones whenever he's got the chance, and if you're living together the way you divide the living costs would definitely be proportional to your spending power

Dick isn't rich but he's not broke either: the average annual salary for cops in the us is roughly $66.000, but he owns the two-bedroom apartment you live in so the only thing you guys need to pay is taxes and bills, no rent to worry about. You're also not at home for most of the day, seeing as he works as a cop and you have your own job that takes up a good chunk of your day, so the electricity bill isn't very high.

I personally think Reader would not enjoy not having to pay for anything seeing as the money comes out of Dick's own pocket, so she'd at the very least insist on paying for groceries and helping out more in the house with laundry, dishes, cleaning et cetera, to even out the responsibilities as much as possible

He'd support you as much as possible if you're getting a degree, he'd be like your own personal cheerleader, and after you get it he'd organise this huge surprise graduation party for you and then help you get a job in the field of your degree

like if you became a lawyer he'd hook you up with some judges/attorneys he knows aren't corrupt and get you a job in their law firm (paid intern of course, after having worked so hard you want to make it yourself in the world)

I think you two would have tons of fun at the thrift! You wouldn't feel bad about him insisting to spend his money, and you would have the best time just perusing the racks and laughing at all the insane stuff you find plus trying on some genuinely nice clothes

One thing he splurges on though is making sure you have a state-of-the-art home gym, in fact that is why he buys your building's basement and equips it with every work-out machine under the sun plus a trapeze and equipment to practice a ton of other dynamic sports of the sort

————————————

Jason Todd

He's a crime lord so it's safe to say this dude is filthy rich

He obviously doesn't show it though and apart from having a lot of it as an emergency fund for when he needs to defend himself in gang wars I believe he anonymously donates the rest to charities

I go with the canon of Jason being catholic so I believe he gives to the Church, but it could obviously be something else like one of the many Wayne foundations (cause as much as he holds a grudge against his father he knows he's obviously not corrupt and actually helps people)

apart from this he definitely still has a lot of money

He'd refuse to see you struggle financially

He's been through that, he knows how awful it is and does not hear no for an answer when he goes to hand you insane amounts of cash

If you live together then he makes sure to get a nice apartment in the respectable parts of town, blending in with the rest of the neighbourhood to make sure the location is safe and as untraceable as possible

He handles everything and refuses to even let you pay for groceries, insisting that you concentrate on your studies and not worry about having to sustain yourself

To him you guys being a team means that you hold each other up any way you can, and you already support him immensely just by being by his side and loving him, so to him this is just doing his part and supporting you (on top of loving you like crazy of course)

One thing he'd do is make sure your house has enough space to host an insane amount of books though

On this topic I think he'd absolutely spoil you with book hauls, just taking you to every book store you can find and buying piles and piles of books

I'm talking those beautiful gold-leaf covered editions of centuries-old classics, and it doesn't matter if you already have the stories per-se in your library cause it's the edition that matters in this case, ya know?

Like sometimes you want to feel regal and distinguished reading the gold-lined hardcover Commedia, sometimes you want to feel quirky with your penguin edition Jane Eyre, other times you just want to embrace your inner sewer rat and read Macbeth from the shitty mass-produced paperbacks and Jason acknowledges and embraces it

————————————

Tim Drake

Tim, like Jason, is also filthy rich, in virtue of being the owner of Drake Industries and the representative C.E.O. for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises

You'd both live in his Nest, and given the horrendous amount of electricity it consumes it's all already paid for by his company so no need to worry about that

He would only accept "payment" for everything he does for you in the form of you making sure he goes to sleep at decent amounts of time when he's elbow-deep in a case (and tons of love, obviously)

Like Jason, he'd just hands you wads of cash

EXCEPT! He does it for the most mundane stuff. Timothy Jackson Drake is a nepo baby, no way around that. Sure, while he spent his time stalking Batman and Robin through the rougher parts of Gotham he learnt street-safety 101, but he always carried anything he needed for those nightly strolls in his backpack, and he never really learned the real value of money. "$2.70 for a small bottle of water? Sounds reasonable!" is his thought process to this day.

You two would often have these moments of 'culture shock', with Tim slowly discovering how much things should cost every time you two go out to run errands together and you discovering about the insane things the rich buy and do just because Tim decided to recount some childhood stories/told you about some stuff socialites did ad a gala

Since I think Tim's love language is quality time I think he'd take you on these absurd trips whenever possible, that to you are to absurd places but to him it's a very normal trip because "my parents always went there twice a year? It's an extremely normal vacation spot?" Meanwhile it's the Maldives or a private island in Greece or something

This being Tim you also HAVE to have a state-of-the-art phone, with tons of features you will never need to use since you're a civilian but it makes him more at ease, knowing that if the need arises you have the ability to disarm a bomb with the click of a button on your display

————————————

Damian Wayne-Al Ghul

Oh he'd absolutely refuse to have you living anywhere but a castle

It'd take convincing for him to have you living in anything less than a penthouse in the diamond district

He's not against the idea of you working, but he doesn't think that it's necessary for you to slave away at a minimum-wage job while you could be spending all your time in luxury while studying for your degree

After you get your degree he'd help you find a job at one of the most important places for your specialisation, pulling the needed strings just to make sure your resume isn't overlooked (nothing more, he's of the idea that his partner should be strong, plus he believes you to be extremely capable and so thinks that pulling strings to get you the job would be a disservice and an offence to you)

Absolutely spoils you with gifts, and by that I mean: clothes, jewellery, if you like cars he'll buy you a carpark, anything you look at for more than two seconds he'll buy

Damian's way of showing love is through gestures, so you rejecting his gifts would hurt him and he'd take it to mean that you are rejecting him/are unsatisfied with him

Like with Tim, you both would have "Culture shocks" over stuff like the worth of money, lifestyle and stuff like that

Because Damian is basically a royal (or at the very least was raised like one, I don't know what's happened to the LoA in current canon) I think he'd lowkey try to get you an armed guard for when you need to go out as a sign of love lol

"Damian I've been feeling watched while going out as of late" "Don't worry Beloved, that's just the armed guard" "Oh ok-I'm sorry what?!"

Things like anniversaries, birthdays and big events are celebrated in the most lavish settings but in a private way still, like he'll absolutely spoil you and take you to visit this super famous castle for your birthday, matter of fact he'll rent it out for the occasion

For real he does this because when you're alone he can be himself and he loves doing that when you're both experiencing something that makes you happy-- But! Those are head canons for another time hehe >:)

————————————

Bruce Wayne

I believe he's the only one in the bat family who knows the worth of money while having being rich his entire life (ya know, having to use all the disguises he does and going undercover as a normal person a lot of the time)

He definitely offers you a job at Wayne Enterprises, and if you accept he agrees to keeping your relationship under wraps so that no one will start saying that you 'sleep with him for the job'

On that topic if the relationship ever goes public and people start saying that, he will fire them without hesitation

And if it's business partners joking with him about it, he won't stop dealing with them for the sole purpose of covertly crippling their reputation so badly they'll have no choice but to sell their companies to him

You obviously live with him at the Manor, and he insists that everything be paid for by himself only (ya know, richest man in New Jersey and probably the world soooo....)

Bruce is really bad with his emotions, he tends to really repress them whenever he deems them something he's not 'worthy' of feeling or whenever he perceives he has failed at something or failed someone, so the mere fact he confessed his feelings towards you and that he doesn't shun your love is a huge step forward for him. This doesn't mean that he's good at expressing his emotions when he doesn't repress them though, especially not with words.

This is why his main love languages are gift-giving and acts of service, because he shows his love through actions.

Gift-giving as an important love language for him happens because he's very busy both during the day and the night, so sometimes your schedules just don't align or he even has to go off-world with the Justice League and stuff, so he 'makes up' those missed acts of service with lavish gifts

Usually this could be seen as 'throwing money at the problem and hoping it fixes itself' but the thing is that Bruce's gifts are pretty much always spontaneous. He's out and about in his public persona or patrolling as batman, and he sees a storefront with something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you would like. The next logical step is obviously buying it for you as soon as possible and getting it to the manor. Because Bruce is really bad at showing it but the people he loves are always at the forefront of his mind (when he's not being an asshole and repressing his emotions as if the fate of humankind depended on his ability to give his family the cold shoulder and communicating only in grunts and sighs)

———————————— A/n: this was so fun! I love writing head canons because there is no pressure with story flow and how much description and feeling you're putting into it, it's very similar to sharing your thoughts with a friend and that's what endears the format to me so much :) Hope you enjoyed! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3 Love you all🩷

Total word count: 2009

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ningvory · 10 months ago

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Yandere!mean!Winter fucking you good in a motel, making you wear outfits which would barely cover anything of yours, dry hump her, suck her off, let her cum in you whatever she wanted as you took it like her good little bunny. Saying “thank you thank you thank you” everytime she thrusted in you, her dick going so deep in yours that you could feel a bulge forming, she would record all this as she herself is a cam!girl and you were the viewers favourite guest because of how pretty, delicate and obedient you are. The viewers loved it when you would go on all fours as winter entered inside you with no prep making you jerk forward as your boob jiggled, while she is thirsting in you her fingers are in your cunt fingering you making you cry tears of pain and pleasure.

♡ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CRAZY OVER YOU ┊ kim minjeong

parings: gp!yandere!camgirl!winter x bimboish??f!reader

warnings: voyerism, dry humping, oral (w receiving), pet names, dumbification, tummy bulge, doggy, fingering, creampie, darcyphilia, choking, degrading, overstimulation, she’s a big meanie :((, not proofread

a/n: title is DEFINITELY not from the blackpink song 😉 didn’t mean for this to be so long but enjoy this fic as i’m currently writing the cop minjeong fic<33

your camgirl girlfriend, winter is just super possessive over you! you guys are college students so money was of course, a struggle. having to balance work and college was hard, so your girlfriend decided to become a camgirl. and it seemed to work after her first video dropped, about a year before you two began dating. she proceeded to bring you onto her stream once and her viewers loved you! the way you sound when winter edges and overstimulates you and the fact that you’re so pretty and obedient for her is so cute to them!

but who would’ve thought that your girlfriend is so…crazy over you? at first, it was lighthearted things like asking where you’ve been and who you were with, but then they stared to get concerning. she started to demand for your location and would go as far as to put a tracker on your phone, she would start to drop you off to whatever location you needed to go to and would ALWAYS tag along with you, giving you no time without her damn near breathing down your neck.

but you’ve found a way around her, or so you thought. your besties really wanted to hang out and eat at a restaurant so you just had to tag along! you barely get to see them due to your girlfriend forcing you to turn down all their plans. you wore a pretty pink dress, nothing too absurd, pairing it with clear heels with a little bit of makeup. you had to turn your phone completely off, bringing out your old phone to carry with you.

at first it was such a good night! taking photos and having a good time with your friends, ning, rina, and aeri. talking about random shit and laughing, doing what friends do yk? that was up until you saw your girlfriend from afar, causing your heart to sink.

“hey y/n, you okay? you look like you’ve gotten sick!” rina asked you, noticing how the look of fear painted your face.

“yea..i’m great! let me go to the restroom, if i don’t come back i probably went home.” you told her and the rest of the girls, the bill was already paid so you guys were free to leave.

you began to walk over to your girlfriend, heartbeat ringing in your ears when she grabbed your hand to pull you to the restroom. she immediately pinned you to the door with her hand on your throat, making you gasp out as tears began to swell up in your eyes as apologies began to spill out of your mouth.

“my stupid pretty girl, thought you got away, huh? didn’t think that i put a tracker on your old phone too?” she mocked you with a grin.

she was wearing black shorts with a basic white top, paired with a long leather coat on. it must’ve been raining because her hair appeared to look wet and puffy.

“aww, pretty don’t cry..” she said, rubbing your tears off your face.

she finally removed her hand off your neck, making you gasp out, taking in all the air you can before she dragged you out the restroom and to the car, shoving you in the passenger seat. you didn’t know where exactly and you wouldn't dare to ask. the car ride was silent, aside from the the rain dripping onto the car and the faint sound of music playing along with her hand gripping your thigh.

you must've fallen asleep when you arrived because you heard the car stop and the door slamming. your door opening with winter's hand out for you to take with her free hand. she must've planned this out because she had a big duffel bag on her shoulder. you took her hand and she closed the door, locking it and wrapping her arm around your waist.

you weren't expecting her to start a stream here, but here you are. all dolled up in a pretty pink outfit that hardly covered you up, matching bunny and butterfly clips in your hair.

the stream began rolling, you two at the edge of the bed. winter was wearing a black lacey bra with matching boxers, her boner was shown to her viewers.

"hey guys~ our favorite guest is back! my pretty baby, isn't she so cute? she's been a bad bunny for me so she deserves be ruined and treated like a slut." winter spoke out, causing you to whine out. she's always fucked you so good so you really couldn't care!!

she'd place you on her lap and force you hump her clothed cock. bare cunny was barely getting any pleasure making you whine out because you wanted to cum badly but you wanted to be a good girl for her! :((

she chuckled, watching you on her lap, she was basically touring herself. you look so pretty she wanted to take her boxers off and thrust into you brutally. she watched as the viewers left their dirty comments, she doesn't even know why she lets these nasty pervs see your pretty body and hear your cute sounds.

she would forced you down on your knees, and push your head all the way to her pelvis, making you gag on her thick cock as she was groaning at the feeling of her cock in your mouth.

she began to use your head to her pleasure, holding your head in place so she can thrust into your mouth. you were looking up at her pretty face twisted in pleasure, your spit dripping down the the valley of your plush tits and your eyes were filled with baby tears.

"ah! shit- baby, cumming!" she moaned out, thrusting into your mouth quicker until you felt her warm seed fill your mouth as you swallowed it all up for her.

she pulled you up from the floor and threw you onto the bed on your tummy, not even giving you a chance to flip over. she forced into doggy before she and pushed into your tight cunt, making you cry out because she gave you no prep! :((

“t-thank you! thank you!” you stuttered out, she was pounding into you so forcefully it made you jerk forward and the bed squeak.

the viewers went wild at the sight. comments after comments of them saying how adorable you were, still thanking your girlfriend even though she’s abusing your poor cunny with your ass smacking against her pelvis.

winter began to use her fingers as well, whenever she thrusted out she would push her fingers in. giving you no room to breath making you squeal and cum all over the sheets and her pelvis!

she finally turned you around, your face was stained with tears while you eyes were shut tight from the overwhelming pleasure. her eyes began to drift from your face to where you connected but stopped when she saw a tummy bulge, making her groan out.

“you feel me, baby? am i fucking you good?” she asked you, pressing down on the bugle, making you moan out as you nodded your head.

“words, pretty.” she demanded, pulling her finger out to rub your little bundle of nerves, watching how you tried to run away from her torture.

“y-yes! yes! you feel s-so ngh~ good!” you mustered out looking into her eyes, watching how she smirked.

you came once again with winter behind you, cumming inside you, marking you up with her warm seed, reminding her horny viewers that only she can fucked you stupid and cum inside you <33

#ningvory #♡.nabi’s asks #♡.nabi’s anons #kpop smut #g!p #aespa smut #wlw smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa winter smut #winter smut #winter x fem reader

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tmwcs · 1 year ago

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Baby Fever

Warnings: breeding kink, rough smut implied, smut-ish stuff, some minor choking, smut talk (breeding smut talk...if yk...yk). MDNI this is only for the grownups (18+).

Authors note: this drabble is canon to the HHP storyline > : ) I had this in mind for a few days and wanted to quickly draft it for yall to hold you guys off until the treat comes out this weekend 😉

What a gorgeous morning it was; the sun beaming brightly and the fresh, crisp Spring air filled with the chirping of birds, and the newborn flowers blooming in greeting. You woke up alone, figuring Heeseung was downstairs in the kitchen, considering the minor commotion you overheard from the bedroom. You got up and figured that on the first day of Spring, what better way to greet your lover than to wear the dress that he absolutely loved seeing you in. It was a purple mini floral, rather form fitting despite the subtle empire waist line, which gently showed a hint of your curves. The front had a stringed, lace front that tied the scoop neck line together, cradling your breasts and proposing the faint curves of your cleavage. It was both sexy, and pretty, especially when paired with sheer, black, thigh-high stockings, edged with a beautifully elegant damask pattern that subtly hid beneath the hem of your short dress. Your hair was left freely down, since that was the way he always preferred you wore it. He loved your hair.

Every single night, he would run his fingers through your strands, rubbing them together to savor the silkiness of the texture. He never cared to use a brush because it took away the pleasure of feeling that softness of your locks. The way he would drape the length of your strands over his knuckles and rub it against his cheek, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo, which always ended with him leaning in to suck on the back of your neck. If anyone should think that his behavior with your hair is absurd, you wonder what they would think when he looks into your eyes, or take his time to feel your skin...guess that will be saved for another story.

After conducting your morning hygiene, you walk down the stairs. Gripping on the ball tip of the large banister, you playfully swung your way around to face the open view of the kitchen and dining area, immediately making eye contact with Heeseung.

He smiles as he stands on the opposite end of the large kitchen island, with his palms plastered on the surface top and leaned over just slightly over a mug, more than likely containing his favorite coffee drink. He was dressed all in black, a black fitted tee, lightly tucked in black fashionable fitted cargo pants, with a black hat. The lines located at the corner of his lips was all that the bill of his headpiece would allow you to see as he smirks upon seeing you enter the kitchen.

"Oh, y/n! It's so good to see you."

Shocked by the voice from the side, you turn to view over shoulder and saw Steve, one of the frat tenants that lived with Heeseung and the other roommates.

"Hi Steve. When did you come back from vacation?" you ask with a delicate smile as you greet him, when a young woman appears from behind him with a small bundle locked in her arms. "I got back last night, it was so late and I didn't want to wake anyone so I stayed at a hotel. But, let me introduce my sister, she just had a baby two months ago and was in town so I decided to bring her over to meet everyone."

You smile gleefully as you greeted Steve's sister. "Oh nice to meet you." you delicately spoke as she does the same. "It's nice to meet you, your y/n, right? Steve was just introducing me to Ethan and mentioned you, it's so good to meet you."

Your peripherals caught on to Heeseung remaining stagnant in his stance, eyeballing you, Steve, and his sister, Lauren. He takes a sip out of his cup, his eyes never breaking away from you.

"How far along in college are you?" Lauren asks, in which you respond sweetly as you both continue talking about college life. Heeseung remained as he always did when around other people, a bit standoffish and quiet, glaring over and keeping an eye on you. At least he was being a bit more pleasant since he knew Steve, being roommates under the same roof for years now. It was typical, everyone, including the frat tenants, all knew that Heeseung "Ethan" became a walking malice since he began dating you, and it was evident that he cared for no one or anything other than you...you wonder what they would think if they ever knew that there indeed, was an "Ethan" entity that was more than just an english version of his birth name.

"Would you like to hold the baby?" Lauren gains your attention back as she presents her bundle of joy. "Oh...um sure." Cradling the small child, you held him tightly as you cupped him against your bosom. "Wow, you're so good with him." she remarks surprisingly as she straightens her dress and heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

That was to be expected. With all the time spent babysitting for your neighbors while in high school, you were quite used to holding and handling a newborn baby. You sat down on the dining chair and laid the baby against your chest, gently patting and rubbing his back, all the while he drifted off with his head nestled against the crevice of your cleavage.

"Looks like you're ready to be a mom." Steve joked aloud, meanwhile Heeseung kept sipping on his coffee, occasionally eyeing you from the corner of his sharp gaze.

"Noooo." you chuckled out. "I used to babysit for my neighbors, they had a baby that I would look after often." You explained, keeping eye contact on the baby's soft head as you gently palmed the back of it, rubbing the tip of your nose against it.

After some time went by, Steve and Lauren departed to spend a day in the old town, leaving you and Heeseung alone in the frat house. With all the other tenants away to enjoy the ongoing Spring festivals, the house was completely empty, and would be that way for the entire day.

"Can we go out for a walk?" you ask as Steve and Lauren walked out the door. Heeseung gently sets down his cup and issues a subtle nod. "Okay, I'm going to get my phone." you smiled out as you walked up the stairs, with him slowly following close by. Guess he needed to get something from upstairs as well.

He opens the door for you, a traditional habit, and allows you to walk in first. Halfway in the room, you barely caught your breath as you felt a sudden shift in motion with a firm lock around your waist. Nearly levitating you from off the ground, Heeseung swooped, and flung you on his bed, following suit and hovering over your body as you turn to face him. You stutter out a gasp from shock as your hair lays in a massive spread, with a few delicate strands across your face. There, you were met face to face with the devil.

His eyes dark, and his smirk was devious, but you could tell by the minor shine in his iris, he didn't swap over to his other side. The bill of his hat kept the shadow to grace over his face as he stares down. With one hand gripping your shoulder, the other reaches up and starts to pull the string tie at the front of your dress. He pulls, dreadfully slow as you feel the flap of your scoop neckline coming undone; one by one, he pulls each string until the opening was completely loosened. Your nipples peek from beneath the expanded laced string as your dress holds its remaining form. The hem was rolled slightly up from the swing of his strength when he threw you on the bed, exposing those thigh high stockings in full. Chuckling deeply, he pulls the last string on your dress as he spoke out in a shallow tone. "Does my girl want to be a mommy?"

You shook your head subtly. You were just being helpful, there was no way you thought about having children, besides, it was far too early considering you were still in your first year of college, not to mention you were still on birth control.

"N-no..."

"Mm...I think you do." he responds in an antagonizing manner and gently shifts the pieces of hair away from your face. He props himself steady with his palm plastered on your collarbone, and raising his body to rests on his knee caps. There, he takes advantage of your already spread thighs, and reaches in under your dress to scoot your lace panties off to the side. Once you were completely exposed to the cool air, he reaches in and with flickering fingertips, he tickles the sensitive flesh in between your plush folds. You gasp and moan out soft giggles, as did he. With a dark chuckle and biting down his lip, he remains propped to display the full sight of his abdominal region, where you admired the view of his hand reaching down, gently unzipping his black trousers, and his strong veiny hands fishing out the massive and swollen muscle that caused you to gasp at the mere sight of it. You reached up, grabbing onto his forearm as he remained on your collarbone, feeling his thumb swiping over the contours of the bone. Anticipating for what he was going to do, you felt yourself riddling with a burning sense of desire and passion.

You watched as the girth of his shaft and the bulbous tip disappear under the material of your dress as he leans in, and feeds it through, piercing your fleshy barrier until it finally makes its way in. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin, "no more taking birth control."

"Uh...uh huh...."

"I wanna hear you say it."

"I-I'll get....get off it..."

"Let me take care of you....let me fuck you."

"Mm...mmhmm..."

He raises his form and once more, he props himself up by the extension of his forearm and palm planted beside your head on the bedspread. With his strong hand, he raises it as the tips of his fingers drag along your skin. Gently, with his fingers gracefully wrapping around your throat, he gives a faint squeeze, just enough to make you gasp a separate moan. With a dark and devilishly handsome smile, he gleams under the shadow of his hat; there it was...that eerie and rather handsome smile of malice and passion formulates on that face of his.

"Ready?"

You nod somewhat hesitantly. Bracing for intense pleasure, you knew all too well what was about to come, especially when feeling the throbbing sense of his tip as it barely lies inside you. "Y-yes...yes daddy..." you whispered, grabbing hold of his wrist as you prepare for a momentum that is unlike anything this world could replicate.

"Yeah?...come here, let’s do this, mommy."

> : )

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

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"Darling, bad luck seems endless." - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You've always been haunted by bad luck your entire life, despising it deeply, until you meet someone who finds it amusing.

Character: dark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this story is for the sleepover event hosted by @the-slumberparty. What I chose is a strawberry sundae with gummy bears as the topping.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 .

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bad luck.

You always felt that bad luck followed you everywhere. Growing up, you didn't realize it, but it became clear to you after becoming an adult.

There was one time when you had prepared for an exam, but two days before, you got a high fever and had to take the exam all by yourself.

When you got an offer to study piano abroad, your father's business went bankrupt.

Then, when you finally got into your dream college, your father's business went bankrupt. Again.

When you wanted to study and paid for an extra course, the teacher lied and told you to study alone. It turned out you could learn everything from the internet. You were taken in by his sweet talk because of his experience working in the industry.

After you graduated, you went to work at a studio, but it went bankrupt because the owner embezzled the money to buy a Ferrari.

Then, you were introduced by a relative to an investment. Because you saw her enjoying the profit, you put all your money into the investment. For eight months, it went great, but after that, everything went to hell because it was a scam. You lost the money, the money that your father had left you. It still pains you.

Each time it feels like life is going your way, it soon comes crashing down when you face another misfortune.

As a last resort, you went to a priest but received no answers. You visited a shaman but still found no answers. Then, you went to a paranormal who said, “Bad luck fucks you like Zeus fucks his prey.”

‘Well, shit,’ you thought.

Not knowing what life would bring you, you tried to find another way to make money by taking a class in jewelry making. You pretended to hate it and not enjoy making jewelry.

You were scared that each time you enjoyed or liked something, bad luck would come like judgment day with no warning and take all the joy from you.

But bad luck can't be fooled. It appeared again in another form. It turned out the jewelry store owner was actually a gangster in the diamond business. It was a risky job, but it helped to pay the bills.

Sir Galileo, with his grey hair and special glasses that he always wore to appraise diamonds, was an eccentric man. He always dressed as royalty and wore white gloves. He insisted from the beginning that you call him a 'sir.'

He always brought you with him whenever he went to see a client. Specifically, your job was to drive the car, take notes, and design jewelry for clients. The clients were unique, too: mafia, drug dealers, etc.

Of all the clients, there was only one that caught your attention. You liked him because he was a regular customer and always paid upfront.

James Buchanan Barnes, or his nickname ‘Bucky’. You didn’t know much about him, but he was loaded with money. His mansion, his vintage car collection, and the rings he wore on his fingers were all testaments to his wealth.

Every time you met him, it was always at a different place. It was never the same location.

Damn, each gold and diamond in his rings could solve world hunger. Even Sir Galileo respected Bucky.

Today, Bucky called both of you again.

When you both arrived at a new location, another mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed by its grandeur. The sprawling estate was surrounded by lush gardens and towering gates. The mansion itself was a blend of modern architecture and classic elegance, with large windows reflecting the sunlight and intricate details on every corner.

Bucky looked at you while opening his arms wide. “My Da Vinci,” he greeted warmly.

You blushed when he called you that. His nickname for you always made you feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment. You looked down briefly, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

“I can't wait to see the design you've made,” he said, turning to Sir Galileo. “And I want you to take a look at that ruby stone I got.”

“Sure,” Sir Galileo replied with a nod.

Once everyone was seated in the lavishly decorated living room, you grabbed your tablet and showed Bucky the jewelry design you had created for him. Instead of the usual ring or bracelet, you had designed a watch that fit his character perfectly—sleek, elegant, and powerful.

Bucky inhaled his cigar, examining the design closely. “This is great,” he said, a rare smile forming on his lips.

You felt a surge of pride when your work was appreciated, but you quickly dismissed the feeling. You didn’t want another bout of bad luck to hit you like a truck.

“How did you get this ruby?” Sir Galileo asked, still scrutinizing the stone with his special glasses.

“Tsk,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “Don’t remind me. My man got hurt getting that.”

“Another incident?” Sir Galileo inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky exhaled smoke from his mouth, his expression darkening. “We’ve never had a casualty like this before. I feel like we have bad luck.”

You flinched when you heard ‘bad luck.’ Could it be that your bad luck had moved to Bucky?

You hoped nothing bad would happen to Bucky because you enjoyed working for him.

But once again, bad luck visited you. This time, it came in the form of a bullet shooting through the window. It was a surprise attack.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed as he shielded you from the bullet and hid behind a chair.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face close to yours, making your heartbeat quicken.

“I… I'm fine,” you stammered.

Bucky took a peek out the window, his eyes narrowing. “How did they find out my hideout?” he cursed.

You stayed quiet. Could it be because of you?

Sir Galileo, hiding behind a table, said urgently, “We should run.”

“No shit,” Bucky responded. He called his guards to prepare for an escape.

The three of you stayed low until you reached the garage. You all piled into a black SUV, the engine roaring to life.

Never had you imagined you’d be in a car chase. The adrenaline pumped through your veins as the SUV sped down the driveway, bullets ricocheting off the sides.

The roar of the engine filled your ears as the black SUV tore down the narrow streets. Bucky was driving with a fierce determination, weaving in and out of traffic, while Sir Galileo barked directions from the passenger seat. Behind you, the pursuing cars kept gaining, their headlights piercing through the dusk like the eyes of predators closing in on their prey. Bullets shattered the rear window, and the vehicle swerved violently as you tried to avoid the onslaught.

The situation felt hopeless. You could see the grim set of Bucky’s jaw, the way Sir Galileo’s hands gripped the dashboard. They were in danger because of you. You had to do something. You took a deep breath and made a decision.

“Leave me here,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Bucky glanced at you, confusion and anger flashing across his face. “What? You've got nothing to do with this.”

“I think I do,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your bad luck pressing down on you. You reached for the door handle and flung the door open, the rush of wind pulling at you.

“You're crazy!!!” Bucky yelled, reaching for you, but you were already tumbling out of the car. The asphalt rushed up to meet you, and you hit the ground hard, rolling painfully to a stop. Your body ached all over, but you forced yourself to sit up. Through the haze of pain, you saw Bucky’s car speeding away. Relief washed over you, knowing they had a chance to escape.

“Click.”

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked froze you in place. You looked up to see several men emerging from the pursuing cars, their guns trained on you.

“You’re coming with us,” one of them said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

They hauled you to your feet, roughly searching you for weapons. You winced at the pain but felt a grim satisfaction knowing Bucky and Sir Galileo were getting away. The men shoved you towards one of their cars, and you knew your fate was now in their hands.

🍀🍀🍀🍀

The days blurred together as you sat in a dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Your captors had bound your wrists to the chair, and the rough rope chafed against your skin. They had been relentless, taking turns to interrogate you, their questions a mix of frustration and suspicion.

“Tell us about Bucky,” one of them demanded, leaning in close, his breath reeking of tobacco and stale beer.

“I’m just a jewelry designer,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from hours of questioning.

“No. You’re more than that,” he sneered. “Barnes never invited the same person more than twice. You must mean something to him.”

You blinked in surprise. That was news to you. Bucky had always seemed so casual, so composed. You had no idea he had such strict rules.

“I told you, I’m just a designer,” you repeated, trying to maintain your composure.

‘BANG.’

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the hideout. The walls shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Panic spread through the room as your captors scrambled, their plans falling apart.

“Fuck! Nothing’s going our way!” one of them shouted, his voice tinged with fear.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe this was your fault, that your bad luck had followed you here and was now wreaking havoc on these gangsters. The thought made your stomach churn with guilt.

Then, you heard gunshots. The sharp cracks echoed through the building, and you instinctively covered your ears, trying to block out the chaos. Moments later, the door burst open, and you saw Bucky standing there, a fierce determination in his eyes. He quickly dispatched your captors with a series of precise shots, his movements fluid and lethal.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, surveying the scene before his eyes locked onto you. He holstered his gun and hurried to your side, cutting the ropes that bound you.

Bucky helped you stand up, his eyes searching your face. “I still can't believe you."

“Me?” you began, trying to find the right words.

Bucky cut you off, a rare, almost gentle smile touching his lips. “You’re the only woman willing to sacrifice for me.”

He still can't believe that a girl like you, whom he only knew as a designer, was willing to sacrifice for him. Bucky has been interested in you because of your background, wondering how a good girl like you could end up working with Sir Galileo.

“It’s all…” You started, but then you felt something cold press against the side of your forehead.

'Click.'

You gasped in shock, your heart pounding as you realized Bucky was pointing a gun at you.

Bucky’s smile turned cold and frightening. “Now, dear, tell me why you said it’s all because of you before you jumped off the car.”

“Because I'm bad luck,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Huh?” Bucky's eyes narrowed.

“You probably think I’m insane, but I bring bad luck wherever I go,” you explained, your voice shaking.

“Hah!” Bucky's eyes widened for a moment before he burst into laughter. “Hahahaha…”

He laughed so hard that he wiped a tear from his eye. “This is getting more interesting.”

His laughter sent chills down your spine. He found it amusing, but to you, it was a curse. His grip on the gun didn’t waver as he stepped closer, his presence overpowering.

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll get along just fine,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #dark!bucky x reader #bucky au #soft!dark bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female!reader

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doctoru-au · 1 year ago

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Upgrade Your Life: Experience the Ultimate Work-Life Balance as a GP in South East Queensland.

I am looking for a GP´s for Australias´ largest medical centre in Morayfield in the Moreton Bay Area of South-Eastern Queensland.

Looking for a DPA location just driving distance from the Sunshine Coast and Brisbane’s CBD? Are you passionate about providing patient centred care?

I am looking for Independent Medical Practitioners (IMPs) looking to practice in a multi-disciplinary, fully integrated, industry leading facility. Located within a District Priority Area (DPA) halfway between the beautiful beaches of the Sunshine Coast and the hustle and bustle of Brisbane’s CBD, Our clinic is an ideal location for IMPs who need to serve a moratorium or are making the move to Australia.

2023 brings with it the excitement of the re-opening of the Minor Accident and Illness Centre. This Urgent Care facility operates in conjunction with the general practice services provided by Independent Medical Practitioners to deliver a much-needed service to the area and surrounding community while maintaining patient centered care.

FEATURES

Substantial patient database, 200,000+, growing by 300 – 400 new patients per week

Service Fee benefits: Access to Best Practice Software, experienced reception and nursing team, fully stocked consult room- state of the art equipment and support from marketing and finance teams

Onsite allied health services, including physiotherapy, medical imaging, QML Pathology, iHear Audiology, and pharmacy

Ability to choose billing model – Private, Mixed or Bulk Billing

Mental Health Services, including clinical psychologists, relationship, and addiction support

IMPs with special interests in Sports and Musculoskeletal Medicine and Chronic Disease Management

Associated Specialist services included: Rehabilitation, Oncology, Renal, Cardiology, Gastroenterology, Urology, Orthopaedics, Gynaecology, Paediatrics, Biomechanical Chiropractic services

Research based medicine, including the University of the Sunshine Coast clinical trials centre

BENEFITS

Open 8am-8pm, 365 days per year allowing you to practice the hours that suit you, your needs, and your lifestyle!

Excellent earnings potential!

District Priority Area (DPA) Suitable for overseas GP´s

Potential for full books from your first day due to high patient demand

Professional development opportunities by way of research projects, weekly education sessions and clinical meetings

Opportunity to support the upskilling and training of registrars on their path to Fellowship

Access to Best Practice Software, experienced reception team, nurse practitioners and support from finance and marketing team

An inclusive, welcoming culture with an emphasis on work life balance, including social events, team building outings and birthday celebrations.

Ability to practice full-time or part-time hours

Serviced Office Agreement. Service fee based on experience, supervision requirement and speciality type.

REQUIREMENTS

MBBS or Equivalent

Must be eligible for or hold Specialist Registration with AHPRA

3 years’ experience in General Practice or a RACGP GPE assessment.

International GP´s welcome! We will assist you with relocation, immigration, registration etc.

ABOUT THE MEDICAL CENTRE

Our extensive facility has been designed as a step up from a primary health centre to include both primary and specialist ambulatory care services and acute services that are intended to complement and support already established health services within the local area. The facility integrates and is co-located with primary and specialist ambulatory services; acute care and day procedure unit; integrated allied health and oral health services; preventative health and healthy lifestyle services; rehabilitation services; diagnostic and medical imaging services as well as community health services.

It is our vision is to provide the highest standard of patient care, incorporating a holistic approach to diagnosis and management of illness. We are committed to promoting high quality, patient centred care with all health services working together in providing fully integrated care for the patient. We do not discriminate in the provision of excellent care and strive to provide the best care possible to all patients. Our goal is to ensure the overall well-being of all patients and to enable them to access medical services in a collaborative manner. This collaboration is achieved by being part of a large integrated health facility offering a variety of patient centred services.

LOCATION

If you’re looking to take your career and lifestyle as a GP to the next level in South-East Queensland, love helping people, and won’t compromise on quality, get in touch for a confidential chat or apply below.

Andrew McNamara Call | Text me | 7 days early - late. +61 0430001747

APPLY NOW

Search more GP Jobs in Australia.

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

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Although the Pizza Hut brand still occupies parts of this world, it no longer stands for what it once did. You'll be hard-pressed to locate a sundae bar, glittery sticker dispenser, or red cups made of translucent acrylic – of which I can assure you were once "bottomless." The only thing left are the disaffected, stoned teenagers taking the orders. That, and the Personal Pan Pizza: more than any other, a symbol of North American culture.

In Italy, where hard-working chefs stole the idea for the pizza from visiting space aliens, they decided that a pizza should be shared. Sure, they are often capable of being eaten solo, and the owner of the restaurant would be extremely pleased if each member of your party slammed their own pizza down before ordering a flotilla of liquor, but the way they are enjoyed best is to give a couple slices to your friend. This means you have to compromise on toppings, of course, which is a concept alien to those of us raised on lifted Powerstrokes and fuzzy VHS tapes of air show disasters.

Not so with the Personal Pan Pizza – you get what you want, and to Hell with everyone else in the dining establishment. As well, Pizza Hut gets to charge a little extra margin on each pizza, their shareholders laughing all the way to the bank. You're happy, they're happy. Maybe the guy (your stepdad?) paying the bill at the end of the night isn't happy, but he can get a Personal of his very own.

Nowadays, this humble concept of individuality is becoming abandoned in favour of collectivism. No, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those radical psychopaths who films TikTok videos about overthrowing the government from the front seat of his pickup truck. Pretty sure all those dudes got blown up by drones a couple weeks ago, and replaced by exact body duplicates grown in a lab. What I care about is being able to get a good paint colour on a new car.

Nowadays, everyone worries about resale value. Back then, nobody freaked out about choosing the optimal toppings to keep their lease payments low on their pizza; that would have been an insane thing to say. The pizza was for their enjoyment, and it was meant to be used up. Maybe the crusts got left behind and stolen by a rat. That rat is me. What I'm trying to say is: please order your new hybrid Lexus in bright green, so that I can drive it in thirty years. Don't be so selfish.

#best of

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kaiser1ns · 2 months ago

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#. LIKE A BOY IN LUV

featuring 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff + slight angst + slight suggestive. welcome to the top 10 moments in your relationship with the one and only yamato!

word count :: 3,4 k. he may be a little bit ooc but we all love him anyway

DATING ENDO YAMATO is its own category of experience. You wanted a boyfriend, but instead, you got a loyal, loving, wild man who's always by your side with open arms, gift bags, and tons of surprises because he's unpredictable and you never know what he's thinking and what he's going to do.

"You remind me of Alice in Wonderland." walking in the park enjoying the pleasant night air when he spoke squeezing your hand and making you turn your gaze to him. He was smiling, what he was saying clearly really mattered, even if it came out of nowhere. "And I'm the Chesire Cat. I'm always there for you, even when I'm not." Now that you thought about it, he really did resemble the fantasy character. A grinning cat who teaches Alice "the rules" of Wonderland — him teaching you how the delinquent world works. Sarcastic and playful, he can appear and disappear in any location. He is quick to play jokes on others, he is mad, but unlike the others, he admits it with pride. But despite that he is giving you advice on which path to take during your journey called life, practically acting as your wise guide to the point where you're overly joyous to see him every time.

HIS KISSES ARE ALWAYS surprising and unexpected. One day he will kiss you like there's no tomorrow, fast but smooth because he can't get enough of you, the flavor of your lipstick is long gone when you feel his lips making rough motions, a little biting on your lower lip. His hands can't find a place on your body, but you are still as close as ever. He smiles into every kiss, and you can feel it, you can feel his love.

But there are occasions when he takes his time with you. There is no rush or insatiability, only you and him under the dim lights. Slowly, everything is so slow that it makes you dizzy. He kisses you everywhere starting from your face, and then your lips are doing a slow dance, so captivating that they make you want more of him. Your hands play with his hair and his holding you tight on your waist, giving it a light squeeze once in a while, because this is where you are supposed to be. Every part you are insecure about, he will kiss it. Every beauty mark or scar you don't seem to adore, he will kiss it. He will take all of your insecurities and pain away just by worshiping you — you are a Goddess and should be treated as such. Loving someone, and devoting yourself to them takes time, but for him, time has stopped and only you exist in that moment. Only you are important and he will show how deeply he has fallen for you.

HE IS OBSESSED WITH YOU to the point where there was no way out, and you liked that, seeing someone go out of their way to make sure you were okay. But that didn't mean you didn't give him anything in return. Often your dates were outside, whether in a coffee shop, a mall, or an arcade, and every time he paid, it made you uncomfortable and guilty. There was no need for him to pay for everything, but he insisted that you keep your money. And so you saved every bill and penny to give him the perfect birthday surprise when he gets home.

You planned this for months, knowing exactly what would make him happiest. dolling yourself up, every detail perfect, every thought just for him. The apartment was dark, lit only by the soft glow of candles and the path of rose petals leading to you. You stood there, holding the cake with his favorite flavor, your lips curved into a smile so genuine and full of love that it lit up the room brighter than any candle.

When he opened the front door, his eyes widened in shock, then softened in pure affection. He followed the path slowly, taking in every petal, every flicker of the candles, but mostly he took in you. “Happy birthday, my love!” you whispered, your voice a melody just for him. For a moment, he was speechless. no words could convey the overwhelming emotions flooding through him. Your home was transformed, but you were the true gift. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes — tears of pure joy. He wasn’t Endo Yamato, the prodigy, or the man who carried the world for others. He was just your Yamato, your boyfriend who deserved to be loved so deeply and sincerely.

Without saying a word, he gently set the cake aside and pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you with all the love he had to offer. “You are the best gift in my life.”

ENDO YAMATO TAKES YOU TO A POOL HALL at least a few times a month and you still haven't learned how to play. But it didn't matter to him as long as he spent time with you and now it was your turn, he was leading you with the points, of course. "Come on, sweets. you can do it." Easy to say, but hard to achieve. You bent down and set the cue, the angle was perfect and you just had to hit the white ball using moderate force. Yes, but no. The white ball went in instead of the colored one and you heard your boyfriend laugh.

"Let me help you then.” He came up behind you, his body touching yours as he placed his hands on top of yours, caging you in his strong arms. You swallowed hard too, not that you weren't used to physical contact with him but it just felt different now. "It's simple, doll. You just have to aim well and hold the pole firmly, but not too hard. And then–” and your ball went into the pocket, but only because he controlled your movements. “You score!” he pulled away from you but you could still feel his warmth. "No matter how hard I try I can't…” but that's okay because no matter if you can or not, he is always the winner, but you won his heart. Fair enough, right?

EVEN A SECOND WHERE HE hasn't seen you, heard you or doesn't know where you are will drive him crazy, and at the moment you were neither picking up your phone nor answering his messages and he was expressing emotions he didn't know he had. Your boyfriend had a lot of trust in you, he never had doubts for a second but when you come home drunk, you don't know where you are, your hair is messy, your makeup is smudged and you can barely walk on those heels. He couldn't help thinking of something he shouldn't. You hiccuped as you tried to take them off and even though he was feeling a thousand new emotions of anger he still helped you up and left you lying on the couch. “Yamato~ I missed you!” if you didn't smell like someone else's perfume he would tell you the same thing. Endo poured water for you and there were pills on the side in case you got sick as he sat next to you but not as close as usual.

“You were with someone else?” you couldn't even understand the question, you couldn't understand what situation you were in right now, and that smile of his was gone. Rubbing hands over your eyes, you stood up from a lying position. "I was with my girl friends. I told you a few days ago.”

You groaned, trying to sit up, but the room spun in all directions, the lights seemed too bright, his voice too loud. "Yamato... I told you," you muttered, fumbling with your words. His usual cheerfulness was replaced by something you hadn't seen before—jealousy, frustration, anger? It didn't feel like him. "I was with my friends... and their cousin drove us home. He was just looking out for us. That's it. Nothing else," you repeated, blinking up at him, trying to steady your thoughts through the alcohol haze.

He wasn't convinced. Crossing his arms, tapping his feet, glancing at your phone—dead and useless. "Convenient, isn't it? You come home smelling like some guy, looking like you’ve been out all night doing God knows what, and your phone is dead. How am I supposed to believe you when all I see is the opposite?"

You winced at the accusation, your heart pounding harder now from more than just the headache. "Yamato, you know me. I wouldn’t—"

"Do I?" he interrupted, voice harsher than ever before. "Because right now, I think I judged you too fast from the start." His words cut deeper than anything you'd ever imagined he could say. He never doubted you, never questioned your loyalty, and now?

Tears blur your vision as exhaustion overwhelms you. "I don't care if you believe me or not right now. Go crash at your place or Takiishi's, clear your head, do whatever. I just... I can't do this now." You tried standing, wobbling slightly as you grabbed the doorknob on the front door, holding yourself steady. “If I'm such a person to you, then why are you still here?”

Endo stared at you, his anger softening into something that looked like regret, but he didn’t need another push. You looked and were sure in what you said, and he started something he couldn't finish. Grabbing his shoes, he stormed out as you slammed the door so hard, that the whole apartment seemed to shake—but nothing compared to the ache in your chest. Crumbled to the floor, sobbing, it was clear: the person you loved most had just hurt you in a way you never imagined

ARGUMENTS WITH ENDO YAMATO are bad, and by that, I mean really bad. You blocked him in every social media app, and his number because you don't want to see or hear him. Even blocked him on Roblox and unfriended him in any game you both played. You just need rest to gain your composure, to focus on your mentality, and not have him suffocating you with his obsessive tendencies. It doesn't get any better when you suddenly receive an email from [email protected] with the title "i miss you, please don't be mad." with a written roman in the text field saying how sorry he is, how he will make sure not to do that anymore and how much he loves you and if you can open the door because he is freezing.

You can't believe this man and how he will do everything to be with you. Your eyes widen as you go to the window of your apartment and see him there, wearing only a top and jeans, for all his outer garments are in your wardrobe, and you are wearing one, despite saying you hate him. But he will withstand the cold, he always withstands absolutely anything, and to be away from you seemed like torture. You felt another vibration from your phone and it was him again, sending you another email. "i know you see me and i'll sit here as long as it takes♡"

He has no idea the way he makes you feel, you still let him in your heart, and in your home after two hours of him sitting on the bench and when you go to open the door for him, he is hugging you tight, he will never let you go, never make you mad again.

THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND WHO DOES TIKTOK TRENDS with you, will it be dancing, putting a finger down, or when his whole face is covered in red prints from your lips and lipstick. Almost everything is done. He liked the new trend, especially the song, and part that was on every edit that came out on the for you page. According to him, it perfectly described your relationship and how not to take a video of you fixing yourself in the bathroom mirror putting on some make-up while he was behind you, phone in hand, and the music playing.

“Back to the kitty, 'cause she's kinda pretty. I couldn't stop lookin’ at her ta-ta-ta…” he panned the camera and you saw his reflection moving the phone to your chest and then to your face after you were done with the lipstick and he smiled in the mirror. “Face.” You didn't pay much attention to him, not when you were doing the same thing when there was trendy couple stuff. Flipping the front camera around and quickly set up the phone on the counter as he then quickly walked behind you again and wrapped his arms around your waist, his tattoos on full display as your hands were on his.

“Me and cat mama rolled into the distant fog,” he was looking straight into the mirror where your eyes met and he just smirked, kissing your neck and then looking down at the camera, gently squeezing your torso before the last line came out from the phone.

“Little did she know I'ma nasty dog.” his hands went up to grab your chin and turn your face to his so he could kiss you. The clip was done and you didn't know how many times the audio would repeat, but he wasn't done at all. He held you tight, and he didn't stop, and you were out of breath but your hands went to his chest and pushed him to get the hint. You both couldn't catch your breath because you just had a little make-out session in the bathroom. He went to turn the phone off before saving the video and looking back at you. “Want to ditch the others and continue in the be–?”

“Yes.” you didn't have to think so much, you were categorical and so was he. Noroshi can have fun themselves fighting people left and right while your boyfriend will show you a different type of fun.

BEING HIS GIRLFRIEND MEANT THAT you are used to hanging out with Takiishi Chika a lot too. You were at the mall, purchase after purchase but you two didn't hold any bags, Endo held everything, and even when you wanted to get something he insisted that a princess like you should hold nothing but a pretty smile on her face. The redhead didn't even look back, he didn't care but you did. “Chika, stop." for some reason he listened to you, maybe it was because you had known each other since childhood and had a great influence on him. It might not matter that much to him, but thanks to him, you met Endo and more or less he had to be nice to him.

You went to get some bags from Endo, giving them to Takiishi who hadn't reached his hand out at all. At first, the two of you made eye contact, your eyes more insistent than his as he looked away, losing this fight as he took the bags from your hands and you smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Chika.” Turning to your boyfriend who was stunned at how you got none other than Takiishi Chika to carry his own shopping bags. He blushed and laughed a little at this heroic deed of yours. He didn't know how you even did it, how you had such a huge influence over the two of them, especially him. One of his hands was now free and you grabbed it as you started to walk forward. “What a woman you are. Please, teach me your ways.”

HIM HAVING TATTOOS MEANS ONLY ONE THING and that is you can turn him into a coloring book. Sitting on his lap, his arms outstretched and you were creating art – pink, purple, blue, whatever markers and eye shadows were on his buffy arms. You were very focused on making his scorpion tattoo shine, literally because you put pink glitter on it and drew a cute little face. "My nose itches." looking up at the ceiling, wiggling his nose as you carefully made a ribbon on the scorpion's tail, "You have to wait, baby." Of course, he had to wait for the good things, and art is a slow and painstaking process in which the artist shows and expresses their emotions in the paintings. He let out a soft sigh, knowing he had no choice but to endure it if he wanted to keep you happy. His body was a canvas that you could look at all day, it was so intoxicating, he had chosen interesting designs, and how he arranged them ... just beautiful.

“Isn’t it the palette you just bought?” The compass tattoo on his right hand now gleamed with bright colors, and the flames were reddish and fiery, as they reflected your burning love for him. “Yes. Now let me focus, please.” You smiled as you turned the star on his middle finger into a vibrant one with cute eyes, straight out of Super Mario. For the grand finale, you applied some eye shadow to the infinity symbol tattoo on his neck, turning it into a delicate pink bow. "Go look at yourself in the mirror!" you quickly got up from his lap, gently taking his hand with yours so as not to smudge anything.

"It's like a unicorn threw up on me," he grinned, running a finger over his colorful scorpion. He turned slightly to the side to see his back, the Frank tattoo he had with Takiishi was colored in pretty blue hues. "Cute." He gave you a quick peck. Maybe he should let you do this more often—it definitely made you happy.

ENDO YAMATO LOVED TO ANNOY YOU as much as he loved to make you happy. No matter where or when he nagged at you every second you ignored him – maybe because you wanted to take a nap on this lovely afternoon after a stressful and busy day. To have some peace and quiet, but no, someone decided to give you light pokes on the butt, making you let out a heavy sigh. You were almost close to drifting off into the world of dreams, you were so snuggly wrapped up in the blanket, cuddling with the stuffed toy, until someone named Endo Yamato decided it was a good idea to wake you up. "Stop it. Either go to sleep or go annoy Chika." But the touches didn't stop even when you turned on your other side, you mumbled something, it sounded a little like you were screaming into your pillow. You stood up angrily and threw the stuffed toy and pillow at him. "Leave me alone!"

"It will never happen, not even in your dreams." it was your last drop of patience, the last string you could pull as you pushed him off the bed with all your might and he fell on the ground with a loud thud, "Stay down in Hell." Wrapping yourself in the blanket again, and though your pillow was on the ground with him, his was still on the bed, and by the time you placed it under your head, Endo, with all his weight and insolence, lay on top of you. You started banging your hand on the mattress like a time-out because you couldn't breathe. He rose as you gasped and quickly flipped him over, straddling him with your legs as he held your wrists. “Yamato, I will kill you in every possible way.” "Don't, I'm going to like it." that nasty lovely smile on his dumb-looking handsome face, you just wanted to wipe it off and when you realized the position you were in, your nerves just couldn't take it. How can he annoy you and want extra attention only when you are sleepy? You immediately stood up but his arms pulled you down laying on his chest and his heart was beating like crazy because he had fallen madly for you…or in this case, you fell for him. Your breathing started to calm, your eyes closing, his fingers playing with your hair making you relax as much as possible "I love you, you know…" he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and leaving a kiss on your forehead. "I know."

Snuggling into him, but how much more as you were already a part of him, forever and always. "But you'll still be sleeping on the couch." he only hummed in response, slowly drifting to sleep but he knew your love was better than any dream because you were his entire world, the one that made him, the hopeless boy, experience something real.

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @17020 @stunie @kazuhaiku @meidiary @nyxypoo @mydream-synopsis @slerixx

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safination · 9 months ago

Text

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says. “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology. (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means. “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair. His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

. . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light. You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛��̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.” You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

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sweatyracoon · 3 months ago

Text

Put on a Show

Summary: Stripper!Seungmin trope.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral(f), pet names(pup/puppy), softdom!Seungmin, inexperienced reader!, strippers, grinding, mxm(if your squint), sexiness

Your friends birthday was today, and instead of being a normal birthday girl, she insisted on taking you and all of her friends on a surprise trip. And the shocker was, only she knew the location.

You weren’t a very open person. You were an extreme introvert, so going out with seven other girls wasn’t your cup of tea. However, you couldn’t say no to Janice. She had always been there for you, and you wanted to do the same. She told you to wear something sexy, and the only thing you had was an oversized sweater that reached past your thighs.

When Janice came to pick you up, she saw your outfit.

“Girl… what are you wearing?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing what was behind those words.

“I’m a nerdy book girl. What makes you think I own anything sexy?”

“Take off your jeans. The sweater and a thong will do,”

Now, here you were, at a strip club, wearing an oversized sweater with panties. You walked at the end of the group, out of your element. Following them to a table, you sat, feeling awkward while they all talked adamantly about Bree’s ex. Wait. Which one is Bree?

You hadn’t been following the conversation, and Janice saw how nervous you were. She sat next to you, grabbing your hand.

“Don’t worry, I don’t like Bree, either,” she joked, making you scoff playfully at her. She always knew how to make you feel better, even if it was for a short while.

“The shows starting!” You heard one of the girls whisper as the lights dimmed slightly, the spotlight directed towards the two stages in front of you.

Janice chose a table directly in between the two stages, giving them a clear view of both worlds.

“Don’t be shy, y/n. They are paid to show off their bodies. It’s consensual,” she explained like you didn’t already know.

You still felt yourself shift uneasily. This wasn’t your type of scene, so you naturally wanted to turn away, even if there was no one on the stage yet.

The into to a slow song started, the color of the lights shifting to the darker side as multiple men appeared from behind the curtains. Most of them were barely wearing anything, half naked from the start. Your face immediately cringed, your eyes darting from each man to the ceiling and back, trying to look at each one. They were all different, but all the same at the same time. None of them looked to be around your age, which made you feel queasy.

Despite your internal objections, the girls at your table were all basically barking and foaming at the mouth, throwing bills at them when they got close. Your eye caught something in your peripheral, making you turn. And when you saw him, your heart dropped.

A man…no, a boy, walked down the aisle to the main stage, fully clothed. Perhaps bit too much for some of the woman’s taste, but for you, he was pure eye candy.

He was wearing black skinny jeans with tears at the knees, and a black tank top with a mess sleeve layered on top, tucked in and all held together with a thin leather belt. His neck was laced with jewelry, and his hair was unkempt, shaggy and pointing in every direction. His face pale but soft, his lips plush and his eyes hard, but beautiful.

He was so tall, but his walk was graceful. He looked reserved and dissatisfied as he looked around his current audience. It was almost like he was tired of being there, but it was all a facade. It was apart of the themed charm of the day.

Your attention was solely focused on this boy, and Janice noticed it too. You watched as he finally stopped, almost directly in front of you, and starts dancing to the song that sped up. His body rolled smoothly, making your mind wander to places it had never been before, making you squirm, now for another reason.

His hands caressed his body, groping himself in all the right places, earning a satisfying reaction from his audience. His hips thrusted at the perfect time with the song, his knees twisting slightly, making your breath hitch. The most enjoyable thing for you, though, would had to have been his facial expressions.

His straight mouth at the beginning was now open, his jaw opened as he was breathing hard. From what, you didn’t know. All you knew though, was that it was so hot. His hard eyes were now softened slightly as he looks around the room, but also focused on his movements. His messy hair now recked.

You noticed someone slightly younger than him come towards him, someone you didn’t notice before. They seemed to be the youngest employees here, you thought.

The boy had slanted eyes, and from where you were sitting, it almost looked like they were closed. You had to admit that he was also very attractive.

When the younger boy reached the stripper you had been watching, they met each other’s eyes before nodding, the younger boy stepping in front of the older, the song suddenly changing. The older grabbed the younger waist, grinding into his ass while they both made a blissed out expression. His head lolled back as the younger boy grinned, grinding harder into him before the older reached lower than his waist, groping his-

Woah.

You didn’t realize your jaw was open until you felt a Hand underneath your chin. Janice was smirking at you when you caught her gaze. You didn’t want to look away from the boys, but you did. Your body couldn’t handle anymore.

“Still regret coming with me?” She teased, making your red face hotter. “I know it’s my birthday and all, but I think my gift will be buying you a one on one room with him. What do you think?” She whispered to you, seeing your eyes widen comically.

“What? No! I’m not doing that. I’m the shy nerd book girl, remember? Besides, I’m not going to take your gift money for something like that,”

Next thing you knew, you were sitting in a private room waiting for the selected stripper. Your friend was choosing between the two boys you were so intently watching. You were hoping she would pick the mesh topped boy, but you also thought the fox-looking boy was attractive. Still, you were scared because you had no experience in literally anything. Not even kissing.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard the sound of the door knob twisting. You held your breath as you waiting to see the identity of the person coming from behind it, not releasing it when you saw your choice.

“Hey there, cutie,” he said, and you nearly melted from his angelic voice. It was something you wanted to listen to for the rest of the night, and that might just be what happens if you don’t make a fool of yourself.

“Hi,” your voice came out strained and nervous, making you mentally scold yourself.

“You okay?” He asks with a smirk, walking to where you’re sitting. “You look nervous.”

You grin stupidly at the comment, confirming his accusation. “Sorry, I’m not really…supposed to be here,” you said, looking anywhere but him. But all you wanted was to look at him. But his eyes…they observed every bit of you, making you feel vulnerable.

“What do you mean, pup?” He bends down to your level, his height difference making you feel something pool in your stomach.

“I’m supposed to be reading a book in my bed. Actually, I’d be asleep by now, if it weren’t for-“ before you could finish, his hand rested on your thigh, making you flush.

“A birthday? Yeah, the birthday girl came up to me and told me a whole bunch of things…specifically about you, pup,” He smiled, rubbing circles into the plush of your legs.

Every time he used that pet name, you felt a wetness between your thighs, sticking your panties to your core. “Oh dear god! What things?” Now you were alert and jerked slightly, making him rub circles counterclockwise.

“Nothing important. Just that this was your first time in a place like this. She thought you weren’t into it, but then she saw you looking at me. I was so honored that a pretty girl like you was watching me instead of the others,” his head tilted, leaning in slightly as he continued. “So she asked if I would be willing to give you a private show.”

By now you were unable to speak, shocked and horny as hell.

“So, I’ll start this slow. Since it’s your first time,” he squeezed your thigh twice before standing up, his figure looming over you. You pushed your legs together, hoping to quell the heat that had formed in between them.

“What do you want, pup?” He whispered, staring into your wide eyes, his whole demeanor changing so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Away was the sweet puppy look, now a hungry boy willing to please you any way you wanted.

“I…what’s your name?” You stutter, looking down after realizing he was probably expecting you to say something sexy. You scoffed at yourself before feeling him pull your gaze to his by your chin.

“My stage name is Puppym…but my name is Seungmin,” he answered, not letting you go. “And you?”

“Y/n,” you breathed, unable to escape from him any longer.

“What a beautiful name. I’ll take this slow, y/n. Let me know if you want me to stop,” He said, moving his hands to his belt, but before taking them off, he asked, “Can I touch you?” He grinned after seeings you nod immediately.

He threw his belt in the corner after taking it off, letting his pants drift down slightly. No skin showed, but the promise of it was exciting enough for you. You watched as he pushed his hands through his hair before coming to where you were sitting, straddling your lap with his legs. His hips started grinding without actually even touching you. All you could was watch as he danced suggestively, all intention pointed at you.

You felt how hot you were inside as your mind started thinking about what was underneath his sexy clothing, but was quickly redirected when he grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest.

You gasped, making him smirk, his legs brushing against yours. He slowly drifted your hand downwards. You could feel the phantom of muscles underneath the double layer, making you shiver, trying your best to imagine muscles on his petite figure. Finally, your hand rested on his waist, where he left it, moving his hand from yours.

“You okay, pup?” He teased, seeing you practically drooling over his minimal movements. He liked seeing how worked up you were. Such an innocent girl, him being the one to show her his world.

You let out a little, “mhm,” making him laugh. He stopped, moving back a little.

“Wanna see more?” He asked, grabbing at the hem of his mesh sleeves. You nodded, your eyes starting to gloss over. “Speak up, puppy.”

“Y-yes please, Minnie,” You said, surprising him. No one had ever called him that, but he loved the way it sounded coming from your lips. He watched as your hands grabbed at the sweater on your legs. It helped him see further up it.

He nodded, pulling it off in one quick motion. You pr breath hitches when you see his arms, the muscle lining his forearms made your mouth water. His collar bones protruded from his taught skin, the jewelry shimmering in the dim lighting of the private room. His tight tank top outlined his torso perfectly, letting you see the shadow of his abs that reached all the way down below his jeans. You swallowed.

He came back towards your again, now crouching down to sit on his knees in front of you. He placed his hands on your calves respectively, brushing against them so softly. A ghosts touch.

He , painfully slow, brought them up to your knees before grasping them from behind, pulling them apart quickly making you gasp.

He loved how you were reacting to him. Even though he wanted to fuck you into this cushion, it was against the rules to go that far. He knew that he needed to get your number after this so he could see you again. He had never been so into a private show as much as he was with this one. Never been attracted to one of his ‘fans’. He wanted you so bad. But he couldn’t go that far. But he would please you as much as he could before you had to leave.

His face leaned in closer to your core, stopping only to tease you with pepper kisses along the inside of your thighs. He even sucked a few marks into them before his fingers reached the end of the sweater, tugging at it in a silent question. lol you could do was nod, your breathing heavy and hot, cute whimpers leaving every once and a while.

He tapped your hip, making you lift them so he could push your sweater up. He squeezed your thighs twice, pushing them apart to view your pussy through your underwear. He moaned at the sight, your soggy cloth attached to you. He pressed a hard kiss to your covered folds, making your head fall back.

“Shh, puppy. Gotta keep quiet,” he said, placing another kiss against you. You squirmed, whimpering at his words.

He brought his fingers to feel the fabric, pushing them aside for a better view. He groaned, seeing the glistening slick that was spread against your folds. Licking a line up your pussy, your thighs instinctively came together, but he didn’t allow them to. He needed space if he wanted to please you properly, no matter how bad he wanted you to suffocate him with your cunt.

He sucked on your clit as he pushed a finger into you, making you moan. He tapped your leg with his other hand in warning, and you bit into your hand as he continued. He pumped into you a bit longer before adding another finger, slowly picking up his pace. Then, he curled them, hitting that spot within you that made you clench around him. Your sounds and his wet lapping was filling his senses, making his groan again. The vibrations to your clit are what made you snap, your orgasm rushing over you suddenly, your stomach clenching as you released, Seungmin there, ready to devour your essence.

After he pulled away, what you saw is something you would never forget. His beautiful face covered with your juices, a playful smile displayed, and blown irises in his cute eyes. “You okay?” He asked, rubbing circles into your thighs again.

“Yeah…” you answered, still trying to breathe properly again. You were hickory to find your bearings, lowering your sweater while Seungmin wiped his face clean. “Do you do that often?”

He looked back at you in surprise before answering.

“No. That was my first time eating someone out,” he said, making your heart stop. He continued. “We aren’t supposed to do that with customers. Just a dance and then leave, but…I don’t know. You’re adorable, and…Oh! Speaking of which, can I get your number?”

You just sat there for a moment, probably looking like an idiot, but your mind wasn’t working. You couldn’t even see the doubt that crept onto Seungmin features. Before you could take to long, however, you pulled out your phone suddenly, handing it to Seungmin.

“Give me yours, and I’ll message you? I know you’re working right now and everything, but once you get off, you’ll see my text,” You said with a smile, excited.

He did what you asked, dressing himself again before standing in front of your small frame. “I’m glad you came tonight,” He grinned, giving you a quick peck on the lips, grinning at your dumbfounded expression. “You’re so cute, y/n,” was the last thing he said before leaving.

When you returned to your friend, she asked you how it went.

“I’m so glad I came tonight,”

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