#and are willing to part with a few shinies

[tooies]

dragongirl who makes a living by letting people hire her to "kidnap" them so they don't have to get married or go to a boring party or whatever

[nikkento-writes]

It was bound to happen eventually. You just didn’t think you’d get caught literally with your pants off, staring at your roommate Toji like a deer in fucking headlights and a vibrator between your legs. 

The silence between you is staggering, except for the buzz of the toy still active in your hand. You’re in such utter shock that it takes you a few seconds to finally turn it off, blood pounding in your ears, completely mortified of getting caught in the act. 

You’re not close to your roommate; in fact, you actively try to avoid him. Part of this is because the two of you come from totally different worlds. He’s nearly a decade older than you, a divorced dad who barely sees his son. His current means of income are betting on horse races and more nefarious tasks he typically performs at night, though you can’t confirm exactly what those nefarious tasks are. Meanwhile, you’re a struggling grad student, forced to share a small apartment with a potential hitman, pimp, and/or yakuza member. Like you said, you’re still not sure, but based on his looks and demeanor, those are your best guesses. 

But it’s not as if you’re complaining. 

While you are a tad bit scared of him, he’s definitely easy on the eyes. Tall, statuesque with those chiseled muscles, that alluring scar across his lips. He leaves you alone just as much as you do for him, so no matter how sketchy he comes across, you have no reason to be wary of him. 

Though, tonight might change that. 

You just finished writing a paper that you’ve been working on for weeks now. Toji is out, as usual, and you need some major stress relief. So, you shut your door closed, not bothering to lock it, strip off your bottoms, and plop yourself onto the bed, reaching for your vibrator inside your drawer. You browse through your spicy audio app and select one of your favorites, knowing it will certainly get you off. Again, you’re negligent when it comes to discretion because you play it out loud, no headphones and at the highest volume. Maybe the tiniest part of you wants to get caught with how careless you’re being. 

That’s proven the second he walks in on you, eyes wide at the lewd sight before him, black t-shirt clinging deliciously to his body, erection growing in his grey sweats. You’ve been at it for a few minutes by now, already one orgasm in, and you’re well aware how wet you are, how shiny and enticing it looks with your legs spread wide, on full display for him. 

The silence is broken when he walks towards you, long strides to get to you quickly. He grabs hold of your knees, spreading you even wider, and you don’t resist. You yield to him, like putty in his hands, ready for whatever he’s willing to give you. He licks his lips, tongue grazing over that fucking scar you like so much. “Finally,” he mutters, bowing down to spread his tongue on your clit, slobbering all over you as if he’s been waiting for this moment, as if you’ve been teasing him all this time. 

Yeah, you definitely wanted to get caught tonight. 

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: improper use of plumping lipgloss, mentions of alcohol, oral sex, it's steddie endgame i promise | crossposted on twitter

it’s no secret, steve likes making out. likes isn’t a strong enough word. he loves making out. loves grabbing hold of someone and pulling them close, loves laying over them on a couch, on a bed, hips just barely moving as he takes them apart with lips and teeth and tongue.

that doesn’t change once he’s had a few drinks either, body tingling with tequila or vodka or something equally strong that has his inhibitions thrown to the wind. he’s always able to find someone willing to dance with him, hips pressed together and arms wrapped around shoulders.

it’s usually girls, pretty things with pretty hair that draw steve in like a punch drunk happy moth to an overzealous flame. they’ll turn their heads with a flirty shy smile and follow him out to the dance floor before pressing up tight against his front.

they’ll curl their fingers into his where they rest low on their hips and keep him close. they’ll drop their heads onto his shoulder and let their breath ghost over the side of his face until he gets the all too obvious hint.

steve likes making out on a dance floor. no, not likes.

loves.

that is until his lips are covered in sticky, sweet lip gloss and he’s pulling away because his tongue is on fire, tingling from something other than alcohol and the thrill of being in a pretty girl’s mouth.

“what is that?” he yells into her ear over the bumping bass.

“sorry,” the girl says sheepishly, “it’s my lipgloss. it plumps my lips.”

she goes back in to kiss steve once more and he isn’t exactly going to deny her. her lips are pretty just like her, plump and shiny and all too inviting, so he kisses her back. the gloss is spicy on the cracks of his lips, on the tip of his tongue when he he pulls her lip in between his teeth. it’s addictive in a way. he wonders if his own lips will plump up from the contact alone.

later, when they say their drawn out goodbyes outside of the club, he’ll ask to borrow the lip gloss since his night isn’t over yet. she’ll pull it out with a grin and apply it so sweetly to her own lips and then to his. her touch is gentle and precise before she puts the tube back in her purse and then connects their lips for a final time.

steve likes to make out. no, not likes.

loves.

so he goes to a bar around the corner, robin hot on his coat tails with some blonde she picked up attached to her side, and he’ll order a vodka soda that he can sip through a straw so he doesn’t destroy his pretty glossed lips. the bar is grungy, but steve almost prefers that, able to blend into smoky shadows and dark corners while he watches the crowd.

while he watches someone in the crowd watch him back.

he has wild curly hair and handcuffs on his belt and steve swears he’s staring at his lips and the way the light is bouncing off of the gloss, but he isn’t too sure. not until there’s wild curly hair and handcuffs on a belt standing right in front of him.

steve has a different confidence with guys. maybe it’s because he has to read them a little differently. maybe its because he gets read by them a little differently, too. but flirting is flirting all the same and steve finds himself biting at his lip and licking away some of the spicy lip gloss with a wince as it burns the inside of his mouth.

curly hair handcuff guy is cuter once they start talking for a while, all animated and vibrant, a bright shiny beacon in a dingy bar. he finds out his name is eddie with a lingering handshake that means something, fingers trailing and tingling like they had a spice to them, too.

they don’t dance, but they do end up out back, sharing a cigarette as drunk people stumble around them. it’s easy enough for eddie to light, flame from the lighter sparking in his big, brown eyes.

“so steve,” he says, flicker of some other kind of spark in his eye, “where to?”

and steve knows how to do this part. he grabs the cigarette out of eddie’s mouth and puffs on it himself, blowing the smoke over his head. “is it too forward to say i don’t think i can last much longer without getting my mouth on you?”

eddie grins and lets his eyes flit down. “no. is it too forward for me to say that i’d let you do anything to me, mouth or otherwise?”

he takes the cigarette back and steve can see his trace left behind on the filter, can see when the hint of gloss hits eddie’s lips if the wrinkle of his eyebrows is anything to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just winks over at steve. he doesn’t say anything, just drags him into a taxi. he doesn’t say anything, just wraps a hand high over steve’s thigh, just pushes steve up against his apartment wall, just fumbles over handcuffs and pushes down his jeans.

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

if he loves making out, then he really fucking craves giving head. he feels like a cartoon animal with hearts popping out of his head as he pulls eddie’s cock out of his briefs. he licks his lips like he’s starving and regrets it when the gloss singes his tongue.

steve looks up from his knees and swipes a finger over his lips, holding it up high for eddie to see. “taste it,” he whispers.

eddie’s eyes widen, but he obediently bends his neck, tongue lolling out so he can lap at steve’s finger. “your lip gloss is spicy,” eddie says flatly as he recoils.

steve nods. “and it’s going on your cock unless you say otherwise.”

which is how steve finds himself turning eddie into a writhing mess. his hands hold onto the backs of eddie’s shaking knees as he works over his cock. his hair stings as eddie tugs on the strands. his eyes water as he sucks him in deeper and deeper into his throat, spicy lipgloss tingly on his tongue and cheeks.

“you are a fucking wonder,” eddie whines, hips humping as he grinds himself further into steve’s mouth. “just fucking made for this, huh?”

steve pulls off and spits on his cock to jack his hand over it as he pulls the head to his lips. he rubs the sensitive tip over his lips just to watch eddie twitch.

“you have no idea.”

he blows a line of cool air over the gloss that’s left there and drinks in the way eddie’s eyes roll back in his head before swallowing him back down, reveling in the spice that hits the back of his throat as he does so.

when eddie comes, he pulls steve off so he can paint his pretty, puffy, plump lips with it, dragging his cock over them to make a mess. it’s not a surprise when steve licks it off, spicy and salty and a special kind of sweet that he thinks is all eddie. he leans up to place a kiss into the thatch of hair over eddie’s cock, smearing behind come and shiny lip gloss.

“you gonna wait for me to come in my pants or can i go fuck you?”

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

and he loves giving eddie head. and he loves fucking eddie. and he loves waking up with a spicy, sticky residue on the side of his cheek after falling asleep with his head on eddie’s chest.

and maybe, just maybe, he’ll love eddie someday, too.

[userlando]

cherry wine — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [6.8k] summary: this is what you got for humouring him. lando was bored during the break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax. warnings: 18+ best friends to lovers, explicit smut, experimental masturbation, sex toys, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader a/n: okay so HEAVILY requested and it was a lot of fun to write this so i hope you find this equally enjoyable to read it!! thank you for all your love lately, it makes my heart sososo happy. as always, don't be a ghost reader, i'd love to hear your thoughts :) ily enjoy

You walked quickly, one foot in front of the other to put some space between you and the restaurant you’d just been spending the past godforsaken hour in. The shoes you were wearing pinched your toes uncomfortably and you willed yourself to hold out for just a few more moments as your phone vibrated in your hand.

I see you, the text read and you looked around the dark street before landing on the McLaren parked by the curb on the other side of the street. It wasn’t hard to miss, given how incredibly flashy and shiny it looked under the street lamp.

You hurried over, like the guy was going to come out of the restaurant and chase you, opening the door and taking a seat with an exaggerated sigh, happy that the night was over and you were in a safe space again. You reached over and slipped your shoes off with a grumble, sitting upright and finally looking over at your best friend behind the wheel.

Lando was giving you a half-amused look, eyebrows raised with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone. His jaw was working incessantly on the piece of gum, and it was annoying you how it seemed to add to the smugness he was radiating. You gritted your teeth and gestured with your hand to the wheel.

“Couldn’t you have picked another car?” You asked, referring to the over the top McLaren you were currently sitting in.

“You say that as if I have more cars to choose from.” Lando turned the key in the ignition. “Besides, you’re the one who hates the Jolly.”

You grimaced because he was right, it was a humours looking thing and though your friend drove for a living, it was the most unsafe you’d felt while sitting in it. The car didn’t even have seatbelts or doors.

“Can we get smoothies on the way home?” You asked, changing the subject and it didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who threw you a sideways glance as he pulled out of the parking spot. “I’m dying for something cold.”

“Sure.” He nodded slowly and you knew what he was waiting for but you weren’t in the mood to indulge him just yet.

The date had been a disaster, as had all the other four previous dates. You’d let him choose the place, not expecting the extravagant restaurant with the overpriced menu but you’d brushed it off because you - quite frankly - refused to have another failed date. The night hadn’t gone better though.

“So, are you gonna make me beg?” Lando broke the drawn out silence, shooting you a half smile. “What was wrong with him this time?”

“He claimed to have forgotten his wallet.” You sucked your teeth in mild irritation. “We only had drinks before he was shamelessly staring at the waitresses arses and making them feel uncomfortable.”

Lando made a sound in his throat that sounded a lot like sympathy and you were grateful for it. He had a habit of poking fun at your disastrous dates and sometimes you allowed it because they were comically bad. But he could also recognise when the time wasn’t right and it definitely wasn’t, this time.

“He sounds like a twat.” He took a turn into your favourite convenience store and shot you a searching glance. “Don’t tell me you paid for him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not, I paid for my part and then hid in the restrooms to call you.”

Not to mention the fact that the man had become so pissed that he wasn’t even there when you’d gotten out of the restrooms, not even bothering to stay around to hear your well rehearsed excuse. They had started to flow so naturally, with how many times you’ve had to use them.

Something about that made you very bitter and also hopeless.

“Good girl.” Lando reached over to pat your thigh. “Don’t let fuckheads like him walk all over you.”

You huffed out a humourless laugh, swatting his hand away and watching him unbuckle his seatbelt before reaching for his wallet between you. Lando paused and glanced up at you.

“The usual?” He asked, rather uselessly because you never picked anything else than mango flavoured smoothies.

But you still humoured him with a nod and watched him climb out and head for the store. You watched him in silence, tearing your eyes away when they started drifting down and scolding yourself for checking your best friend out. What the hell was wrong with you?

You told yourself it was because of the long line of failed dates. Monaco was full of twats and rich snobs who couldn’t see past their noses. It was hard to not take it personally though and you were starting to enter the dangerous territory of self doubt. Maybe you were the one who was too picky, or boring or even too inexperienced to know what to do with men who showed an ounce of interest in you.

Adulthood was truly a rude awakening.

The scuffle of shoes against pavement drew you out of your thoughts and you looked to your side just in time for Lando to open the door and climb inside. He was juggling two cups and a inconspicuous plastic bag so you hurried to grab the cups from him before he ruined the beautiful and expensive interior.

“What’s that?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you, nodding at the plastic bag as you took a sip of your drink.

There was something in Lando’s face that unnerved you a bit, making you frown when he plucked his cup from your hands and thrust the bag into it instead. Whatever was in the bag was a little heavy, but your interest was piqued enough to set the cup in the holder and peer inside.

It took a second for you to realise what you were looking at, feeling your body go up in flames when your eyes finally registered what was sitting in front of you.

“Lando!” You yelped, letting go of the bag like it had burnt you. “Why — What —“ You scrunched your nose as your friend cackled, rather amused by your reaction. “Did you get that from the store?”

He nodded with the straw between his lips, looking all kinds of cheeky and you reached over to slap at his arm.

“I didn’t even know they sold things like these in there.” You looked down at your lap where the bag was resting, frowning a little dubiously at it like it was gonna come alive and bite you.

“They do.” He said, rather unhelpfully. “I won’t be able to look Mr. Lorenzi in the eyes after that but it was worth it.”

You let out a small laugh at the thought before you went quiet, separating the flaps of the bag and reaching inside.

Bullet vibrator, discover a happy you.

The slogan made you snort unattractively, waving the packaging in your hand and hearing it rattle as you gave the curly haired man a bemused stare.

“Why would you buy this?” You asked, letting him grab the offending thing from your hand when he reached for it.

He turned it in his hand, looking all too happy about it that it made something weird swirl in your stomach. You busied yourself with taking a sip of your smoothie, but it tasted like ashes in your mouth all of a sudden.

“It’s for you.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s a neat looking thing. It’s in coral and it’s got… Twenty functions! Fuck me.”

His voice went up in slight wonder and the whole situation felt so bizarre that you couldn’t even find the right words to use.

“Why would you buy that for me?” You asked, a little irked and Lando must’ve sensed the shift of tone in your voice because he glanced up from where he’d been reading from the packaging, eyes a little wide in the darkness.

“You’ve told me about your problem.” He said, slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. “This might help you along a bit.”

“You promised not to throw that in my face!” You squeaked, feeling your face warm up and Lando jumped when you shot your hand out to slap him.

“I’m not!” He loudly protested. “I’m not making fun of you, I’m just saying. This will make you come.”

You slapped your hands to your face, not even caring about the makeup you’d spent hours putting on, and groaned loudly in hopes to make him shut up. It wasn’t like this was the first time you talked openly about sex, but you didn’t really like it when your masturbation habits were the topic. It was odd.

“I’ll never drink again.” You promised but you both knew it was a lie.

It had been a small moment of vulnerability, one that you barely remembered but you could recount the embarrassing parts and that’s what made you feel a little sick to your stomach. You’d come home after a late night of drinking and the both of you had sat face to face on his couch and talked about anything between the heavens and earth. You didn’t even know how it came up in conversation, but Lando wasn’t gonna stop you as you confided in him about your issues.

Okay, so maybe you had a hard time making yourself finish. Maybe you were more inexperienced than the average twenty something year old, but you weren’t ashamed of it. You were well and truly aware that everyone were in different stages of their lives but it still made you a little sad sometimes.

Especially when your dates turned out to be pits.

“Just take it, bug.” Lando slipped the package into the plastic bag and placed it in your lap. He started the engine and you took some comfort in the rumble of it. “Let me know how it goes.”

* * * *

it’s a 2/10

You fired off the text before you could overthink it, letting your phone fall to your stomach as you glanced at the offending phallic shape on your bed. Maybe you weren’t in the right headspace, or maybe it was just wrong for you. But it definitely didn’t feel right and you’d given up after twenty minutes of nothing but frustration.

The vibration of your phone made you jump slightly and you picked it up.

nooooo

did you give it a real try though?

of course I did, you melt

it’s just not working

The next time you saw Lando, was when Max had invited your group of friends for a pub crawl. Max had already ordered a round when you came stumbling in, a little late and warm from having hurried all the way over from your apartment. You went around to greet everyone with kisses and pats to the shoulders before taking a seat in the booth beside Lando.

He draped an arm over the backrest and poked you in the shoulder, prompting you to look up at him.

“I have something for you.” He said and you frowned at the smile on his face, shaking your head when recognition struck you.

You glanced around the table to make sure no one was listening in before leaning into him. Lando’s eyes flitted to your mouth when you got close and you did your best to ignore it and the flicker of heat in your belly.

Christ, you really needed to get laid. There was no way that you were finding your best friend hot. The very same best friend who’d burp in your face after having fizzy drinks and pee with the bathroom door open because he knew the sound of the stream made your skin crawl.

“Not again.” You whispered, a little sternly because you weren’t going to be put through that again.

But you figured that this is what you got for humouring him. Lando was bored during the race break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax.

“This one’s supposed to be better.” He said, like that’d help you change your mind. “It’s a… stimulator.”

“Do I even wanna know what it’s supposed to stimulate?” You asked quietly, like your cheeks weren’t already fifteen degrees hotter.

It was clear that Lando was enjoying this way more than you were, smile too cheeky and happy and his cheeks were flushed. It could’ve been from the alcohol he’d consumed, judging by his breath but you knew that he wasn’t a lightweight.

Lando glanced down at you and your eyes widened at the smirk playing on his lips, placing both your hands over your crotch.

“I think you know.” He whispered, giggling a little when you pushed at him.

That’s how you found yourself staring at the new packaging on your bed, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. You didn’t really know how something called a clit sucker was supposed to get you there and you really didn’t want to know where Lando had gotten it from.

You knew that if he kept this up, you’d end up with a nightstand drawer full of sex toys that did absolute fuckall to do their job. Maybe the few drinks you’d had earlier would help you relax a bit.

So with that in mind, you yanked your pants off and laid back on your bed, legs a little spread and eyes fastened on the ceiling. You tried to ignore the dread filling your stomach as you brought the toy between your legs, holding the button with the pad of your finger until it buzzed to life.

“Shit.” You swore quietly as you directed it between your legs, kind of enjoying the buzzing as you moved it around.

The moment it touched your clit, you jumped and moved your hand away. That hadn’t felt as good as you’d hoped, and you sighed in slight irritation.

It was like the universe was in on some kind of sick joke to make your life a living hell, because your phone vibrated on your nightstand and you glanced over to see Lando’s name on your screen. You ignored it, turning yourself around and laying down on your stomach to give it a second try.

The toy was still buzzing, making a sound that was a little bit distracting but also easy enough to ignore as you went under your panties this time. You knew that you should’ve probably worked yourself up or even invested in lube because you were everything but turned on at the moment. And not to mention how the dry silicone only made it all the more unpleasant.

Your phone vibrated again, another incoming text and you buried your head into your pillow to groan out loud before tossing the toy away. You watched it roll over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a clatter that made you grimace.

you tried it yet? ;)

I’m guessing by the silence that you have

It took a great amount of control to not roll your eyes at the winky face. You also refused to smile at how you could’ve easily imagined his face right now.

you’re taking an awful lot of interest in my sex life, it’s creeping me out

I’m guessing you didn’t….

???

get yourself all the way over there

Jesus. The amount of embarrassment you felt could probably be seen all over your face and you were suddenly grateful that this wasn’t a face to face talk. You sat up and leaned against the headboard with an exhale.

How were you supposed to say no, I didn’t fucking come, without actually typing the words? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

1/10

The reply was immediate, like he’d been sitting with the text conversation open and waiting for your reply.

oh what?! disappointing! we’ll do better next time

You pulled a pillow into your lap and hid a smile in it.

The next time, turned out to be five days later when he’d managed to pull you out of another horrendous date. The date itself had been fine, but the guy was everything but aware of his personal hygiene and it made you grit your teeth every time he smiled and flashed those murky chompers at you from across the table.

Lando laughed until he cried on the way home when you recalled the date, and you had to calm him down before he veered you both off the road. He’d only just gotten his car and you weren’t too keen to see it in a ditch.

“I’m swearing off of men.” You said when he turned into your street, making Lando snort. “What? I am. I’m convinced all the good guys are taken.”

Lando reached a hand out without taking his eyes off the road, pinching you in the side and making you squeak in indignation.

“Thanks for that.” He said sarcastically, referring to himself and his very available relationship status. “And you’re not swearing off of guys, are you mad? You just need to have patience.”

“I’ve already had plenty of patience, thank you. I don’t have any more in me to spare.” You rooted around in your bag for a hair tie, huffing when you found one to tie your hair up and out of the way. “I already put up with your stupid arse.”

“Hey!” He pouted and you smiled in apology. “You love me. And you’ll love me even more when you see what I got—“

He paused to reach into the backseat, and you watched with a slight bemused smile as he dug around until he made a sound of delight, sitting back in his seat. Your eyes zeroed in on the package in his hand, shaking your head before he even said anything.

“Not again.” You said in a whine, pushing the cardboard package away when he went to hand it to you. “We’re not doing this.”

Lando blew out a breath, pushing it more insistently until you relented and grabbed it from his hold. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small box.

“I’ve read that this is a game changer.” He said, looking a little too proud and it made you grin despite yourself. “Look, it’s even shaped like a rose, how cool is that?”

“Mate, you’ve got way too much spare time on your hands.” You giggled when he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine. But you have to promise to let it go if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando opened his mouth to protest, shutting it quickly at your stern look and nodding once. It didn’t look believable in the slightest.

“Okay. Yeah, promise.” He said and you nodded, reaching over the console to press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for saving you yet again.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door, waiting until he’d rolled the window down all way. There was mischief written all over his face and somehow you knew he was gonna say something obnoxious as parting words.

“I expect updates tonight.” He said, wagging his eyebrows and you smiled, turning around before he could see how absolutely flustered you became.

“Don’t hold your breath.” You shouted over your shoulder, walking up to your apartment complex.

Once you were inside, you grabbed a quick shower to wash the night away and poured yourself a sad looking bowl of cereal before getting into bed with your laptop in your hands. It was still early, too early to sleep so you figured a few episodes of a show wouldn’t ruin your sleep too much.

It proved to be too boring for your overactive mind. You’d devoured the cereal and was now laying, sunken down in bed with your mind wandering and attention not at all on what was happening on the screen. You hit the space bar button to pause, eyes drifting to your nightstand where the newest toy sat, innocently but so mocking.

You narrowed your eyes at it, staring for a minute before you reached for it and pushed the laptop off to the side.

“Fucking Lando.” You cursed him quietly, ripping the package open and fishing the innocent looking rose out.

It was pink, on the verge of red and it looked very pretty to be a vibrator. You located the button, holding it down until it came to life and your eyes climbed to your forehead as you pressed on the button again; cycling through the different powers and rhythms.

It felt like clockwork, sinking down into bed and closing your eyes with a deep breath. A frown etched itself on your face when you reached into your sweats and underwear with it, feeling it buzz away until you located your clit and the strength of the vibrations made you gasp.

It wasn’t too much too soon, but kind of perfect and a spark of hope flared in your chest as you thought that, maybe this was it. Maybe you’d found the toy that would bring you high enough and tip you over the edge.

A little moan left your lips as you closed your eyes, letting the toy do its work and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the pleasant feeling. You’d never really gotten the joys of female masturbation when your friends talked about it, but you were starting to.

Your newfound hope didn’t blossom into anything bigger though, because it took about ten minutes before you realised that you wouldn’t be taken much further than you already were. It felt good, but it wasn’t mind blowing. And frustration started to seep into your pores before you angrily yanked your hand out and tossed the toy away after switching it off.

You reached for your phone, teeth gritted because you wouldn’t cry out of frustration. You wouldn’t.

maybe a life of celibacy is healthier for me

The response came in a minute later.

don’t be stupid

was it that bad?

it was… fine. but it wasn’t enough

There was no reply after that, and you chewed your lip. Maybe you’d gone too far with discussing your masturbation and lack of orgasms with Lando. You’d been best friends for so long that the lines were starting to blur. You’d never known any boundaries between the two of you, and that’s how you both liked it. But there was something different about this whole thing. It felt different.

Your phone vibrated once again and you glanced down.

I’ll do more research

The text made you smile despite yourself.

we won’t give up

A week later, you found yourself up in the mountains overlooking Monaco. Lando was sitting beside you, dressed nicely in a suit that he’d definitely ruined by sitting on the grass and you were in a dress that looked pretty but was a little stifling to wear. There had been a gala earlier tonight and Lando had begged you to come with him, even though the both of you despised anything that had to do with overpriced champagne and snooty people.

You’d had a good time despite yourselves, bumping into a few friends from the grid and dancing the night away before it was time to call it a night. Lando hadn’t been ready to go home just yet though, so you’d driven out to your favourite spot in the city.

The lights from the houses and the marina was glittering, the water so mesmerising that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was a beautiful night, not too hot but pleasantly nice.

“I have another date on Wednesday.” You told Lando, breaking the comfortable silence.

The man in question turned his head to look at you, and you saw his eyebrows furrow in mild intrigue.

“Another loser?” He joked, but his tone felt a little too flat and it made something weird turn in your stomach.

Usually he was way more interested and would fire off multiple questions before asking to see pictures. You chalked it up to him being tired from a long evening and hummed, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.

He immediately turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of your skull, like he was on autopilot. It was something he often did, but it still managed to make your heart jump a little.

“He seems nice.” You told him truthfully. “Probably not a relationship type, but he seems like a good time.”

Your hair ruffled when Lando huffed out a humourless laugh and there was something so off about it that it made you pick your head up from his shoulder and look at him in confusion.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little defensive all of a sudden. “I’m trying to think positive.”

“Why don’t you hold off a bit on the dating? Let the guys come to you instead.” He suggested, glancing away from your probing eyes.

You could read him too well and it unnerved Lando beyond belief.

“I’ve tried that, it doesn’t work. I either get someone who doesn’t know what basic hygiene is, or someone who flirts with other people in front of me, a guy who snaps at waiters and not to mention the men who find out I’m friends with the Lando Norris and will go above and beyond to have a chance to meet you.”

“Don’t say that.” He grimaced and you pulled back a bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t say what?”

“My name like it’s something inconvenient for you.” He took in your pinched facial expression and softened his tone a bit. “I’m just saying you deserve way better than what these tossers can offer you.”

You stayed quiet, opting to lay down on your back with a sigh instead. He was right, but you weren’t about to say it out loud.

Lando wouldn’t have that though, laying down on his side and propping his elbow on the grass to stare at you. You tried to hold back the smile threatening to spill, because he was hovering over you and looking adorable that it was impossible to stay annoyed.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, smiling like he knew the answer was in the negative because he was well aware that you could never stay angry with him. “You can’t stay mad at me, I’m too cute.”

You placed your palm against his face and pushed at it, hearing and feeling him laugh against your hand until he reached to grab and yank it away from his face.

He turned your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, the gesture all too intimate for it to be between two best friends and it took everything in your power to not read into his small gesture. You held your breath when he turned your hand over and gazed at it, face contemplative; Lips downturned in thought and brows knitted together.

“Have you used your hands before?” He asked and you smiled in slight confusion, not expecting the odd question.

“No, I use my feet.”

Lando pinched the thin skin of your wrist in retaliation and you squeaked out a laugh.

“I meant for… Your experiments.” He grimaced at the words and you knew he used that to lessen the embarrassment from your part. It didn’t do much though, not with the way he was staring at you like he was looking into your soul.

You held your breath, staring at his face and you knew that yours was heating up faster than you could blink. But it was hard to look away from the way his pupils were starting to expand, trapping his bottom lip with his teeth in what you knew was a nervous tick.

“I wouldn’t know how.” You told him truthfully after a long stretch of silence. There was no way for you to correctly use your fingers on yourself when a toy couldn't give you an orgasm.

"Do you want me to show you how?" He asked, voice quiet and you could feel your eyes widen before you could stop them.

There was a moment where you thought you'd heard wrong, that your sanity had finally gone out the window but Lando was looking at you like he was waiting for a response and there was some conflict in his eyes that you were sure that your eyes were reflecting.

What did this mean for your friendship? Would this ruin everything? What if he just wanted to satisfy his own fucked up needs and then pretend like nothing happened? Those were questions that you wanted to ask, but it wasn't what came out of your mouth when you opened it.

"Yes."

Lando looked as surprised as you felt, like he hadn't expected you to agree to his insane proposition but it didn’t mean that he felt immense relief. He hadn’t really thought of how he’d react or what to even say if you had turned him down. All he really knew was that this had been playing in his mind ever since that damned night when you’d confessed to him. He couldn’t get the image of him between your legs since then.

He hadn’t expected to feel a surge of jealousy when you started going on your dates, but he’d hated every minute of it. It had only lessened the sting a bit when he realised that they were all essentially going nowhere and that Lando was the one who got to pick you up at the end of the night. Minus the fact that he hated how down you were after the dates. But he had the opportunity to be there and cheer you up whenever you needed it, so he counted that as a win. Anything that involved your smile that he was the reason for, was a win.

They were new feelings, but Lando suspected that they’d been laying dormant since your teenage years. They’d only ever surfaced when you talked to potential boyfriends, but he always managed to squash those feelings before they grew into something ugly and act like nothing was bothering him.

That’s probably why Lando’s hand was shaking a bit when it found a home on your thigh, slowly pushing up the silk of your dress and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face; caught in your stare. He could see how nervous you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth and chest moving with every quick breath you took.

Lando stopped momentarily because maybe you didn’t really want this. You looked almost scared, and that was enough for him to withdraw. What he didn’t expect was for your hand to find a place on the back of his head, messing up his perfectly styled curls and bringing him closer to your face.

It didn’t take much to get him where you wanted, and he found himself so close to your face that he could feel your breath against his lips. Lando was convinced that nothing was as intoxicating as that.

“This is mad.” You whispered, lip touching his as you spoke and Lando struggled to not groan out loud at that one brush.

“Definitely.” He nodded in agreement, watching your lips curl up into an enticing smile that calmed his nerves down. “Do you still want this?”

Your eyes flickered between his, like you were trying to gauge his reaction when you nodded.

“Do you?” You asked and Lando couldn’t dig deep enough to find the words, so he did the next best thing.

The small whimper you let out against his lips rattled something in Lando’s chest, pressing his mouth against yours in a kiss that had your toes curling and your hands grabbing desperately at his hair. The slight sting in his scalp made him open up under your lips, and he swore he must’ve died and gone to heaven when your tongue brushed his. It was like his skin was cracking open and you were touching his exposed nerves, feelings so on edge when you hadn’t even done anything but kiss him.

You were so into the kiss that you almost forgot where you were, thighs tensing a bit when your dress was pushed up and cool air hit your naked thighs. Lando pulled back enough to look at you, giving you an encouraging smile as his hand travelled up your inner thigh.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes open and on him when his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy, but it was worth it to see his mouth hang open when he felt the lace. You were warm against his skin, and he had half a mind to say fuck it and bury himself deep inside your warmth.

But he had to remind himself to slow down, take a breath and focus on you because you may have relaxed a bit; But Lando had known you for so long that he could read your body.

“This feels nice.” He commented, running his fingers over the material and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What colour are they?”

You knew it was his way of breaking the tension and hopefully relieve the anxiety blooming in your chest, and it surprisingly worked when you tilted your head up to give him a kiss that he was eager to respond to.

“Why don’t you find out?” You murmured and Lando’s eyebrow jumped, cheeky and excited as he placed his other arm on the other side of your body to straddle you.

He probably should’ve cared that his fancy dress pants were rubbing against the grass when he knee-walked down your body, but he was too preoccupied with staring at you. Your chest was heaving, and he could almost see the pebbles of your nipples against the satin material of your dress. He wondered if you wore a matching, lacy bra or if you’d opted to go without, eager to find out later.

Lando was a man on a mission, pushing your dress up to your abdomen and kneeling between your legs. He glanced down, heat flaring up in his body when he got a peek at the cherry red lace, hiding so much but so little.

He stroked a finger down between where he presumed your lips were, hearing you take a shuddering breath above at the sensation. You were looking at him, feeling turned on beyond belief and the feeling was so new that you didn’t know what to do with it.

The feeling only intensified when his finger located your clit, caressing the sensitive nub in small circles until your legs were shaking, thighs tensing.

Lando was like hypnotised, taking in every hitch in your breath and every jerk of your body until he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get his mouth on you. He probably should’ve warned you beforehand, but he took a little pride in the surprised squeal you let out when he opened his mouth and slotted it over your pussy, sucking until he tasted your slick through the lace.

“Lando!” Your voice was breathy, scandalised and you put a hand over your eyes when you looked down and saw him staring at you.

He looked… depraved. And it did something funny to your stomach. You'd never seen him like that and you didn't really think you'd ever get to experience it.

You'd thought about it, even allowed yourself a night to fantasise about the way he'd look and what he'd say if you were ever in this position, but those were thoughts you didn't let yourself drift into too often. It was a dangerous thing to imagine having sex with your best friend, yet here you were - experiencing it. Outside, nonetheless.

"Oh, fuck." You stuttered out when he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, the cool air hitting the very slick center.

The unexpected feeling had you squirming, bucking your hips up and huffing out a laugh when Lando glanced up at you, feeling a little embarrassed to be so needy.

"You're so sensitive." He pondered, sounding a little amazed before he stuck his tongue out in a crude fashion and licked up your pussy. "You're gorgeous, bug. Those guys are missing out on something great."

That got an eye roll from you, but it didn't stop the zip of heat from racing up your back at his words. You could feel him flattening his tongue to lick every part of you, like he couldn't get enough of your taste before he got your clit into his mouth and sucked.

He tried not to feel too smug when you moaned, head tilted back and facing the sky, like you were praying to whatever was up there. The stretch of your neck was gorgeous, so spotless that he had the sudden urge to sit up and mark the sensitive skin of it with his mouth and teeth. But he sat put, focusing on eating you out with an eagerness he'd never really felt before.

It didn't take you long to really become vocal, and it honestly surprised Lando because he'd always pegged you for a quiet one. Not that he complained; the sounds you were making had his pants feeling tight.

"It feels—" You trailed off into a stuttered moan that made Lando reach down and squeeze himself through his trousers, moaning into your pussy at the slight relief he felt. "Lando, fuck, I'm gonna..."

You didn't finish your sentence, too lost in the multiple sensations you'd never felt before but Lando could guess what you were trying to communicate. He kept at it, watching your face as it scrunched up and your mouth dropped open, groaning out your climax as it washed over you.

It felt better than you'd imagined, stomach clenching up and toes curling as you shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars behind your eyelids. You weren't sure how long you were out of it, or how your hands had managed to find their way to your best friend's hair. Lando laved his tongue over your center, steering clear of your sensitive clit but he couldn't help but bump against it a few times just to hear your breath hitch.

The third time he did it, you pushed him away with an exhausted grumble, hearing him laugh as he stretched up to kiss below your navel. The pecks were so tender and sweet, a stark contrast to how he'd ate you out like a depraved man just minutes ago, and it filled your belly with so much warmth you didn't know what to do with it.

You made a confused sound in your throat when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your legs, bunching them up in his hands.

"These are mine now." He said casually, cheek deepening into a dimple and you raised your eyebrows.

"No..." You dragged out the word, reaching out your hands to grab the flimsy material from his grip but he was quick to turn away, batting your hands away with small, teasing tuts. "Those are my fancy pair, you twit."

Lando shoved the underwear into the pocket of his trousers, ignoring your protests and silencing them rather quickly by leaning over to kiss you. And shut you up it did, because that was the last thing you expected but it wasn't necessarily unwelcomed.

He opened up his mouth under yours, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself and something about that made your legs tighten up around his body where they'd been previously splayed out.

"I'll buy you more underwear." He promised after pulling away slightly, giving you a smirk that made your head spin. "Only if I'm the only one allowed to see them from now on."

You huffed out a laugh, pushing his face away with your hand. He rolled over and laid down beside you, and you sat up with the help of your shaky arms.

"You're a walking cliché." You said, shaking your head slightly. "But I won't say no to free stuff.”

He reached a hand out to pluck a leaf off your hair, flicking it away before turning his attention to you.

You suddenly became aware of what you’d done, nerves humming just under your skin and your conflicting emotions must’ve shown on your face because Lando scooted closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“We’re okay?” You asked quietly, staring down at your intertwined hands and how his thumb brushed across the back of your hand. The way he always did when your anxiety was acting up.

“Of course we are.” He assured you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your naked shoulder.

You knew that you’d have to have a longer talk about what this meant for the both of you in the future. But you pushed it to the back of your mind for tonight, snuggling up to your best friend’s side and laying your head on his chest.

You did believe him though. No matter what, the both of you would be okay.

[xeeljii]

DOGTOOTH

She could ride my face, I don't want nothin' in return Except for some her time and all her love, that's my concern

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

EDIT! Pt.2 here, but can also be read as stand alone.

Summary: Basically Dogtooth by Tyler the Creator. It is my belief Joost is a munch and I am so sad more people don’t write about it so I was forced to intervene.

Word count: 5.2k

CW: 18+, f! reader, no body descriptions, established relationship, alcohol consumption, cursing, ???, English is not my first language and only proof read by me.

It was a game really, from the moment you get out of the shower wet feet smacking lightly against the floor of your shared flat, you can feel his gaze trained on you. You of course, well acquainted with this test of wills decide to ignore it and walk straight towards the dresser, the towel wrapped around your torso barely covering below your ass and you make a show of stepping on your tip toes to reach for something at the top, more to give him a show than anything else, you are rewarded as you hear a delighted exhale behind you. You and Joost had already gotten used to the push and pull thrill to see who would crack first, who would end up a desperate whimpering mess, begging for it by the end of the night, it was all part of the foreplay. You smile to yourself as you continue getting ready, behind you he sits on the bed watching like a big cat ready to pounce at any second, doing nothing to hide his staring as he plays absentmindedly with his phone changing songs as your personal DJ.

The night outside is warm, barely starting, you really have all the time in the world to get ready and he is not one to rush you. Truth be told he enjoys the ritual of seeing you apply on your make up and try on different outfits until you are satisfied, he finds it endlessly amusing to just stare at you to a point you could call it an obsession. Today your choice is a shiny top and a short skirt, obscenely short perhaps, but just what you like and he is grateful for every inch of skin his eyes can trace on you. As you drop the towel to get dressed you give him a good eyeful of the delicate curves of your body, you can feel the tension in the room rise instantly and playfully wonder if you will even make it outside today. You have been together long enough to were seeing each other naked is common occurrence but it never gets less exhilarating, he has an honest and open face, when you catch his gaze in the mirror you are met with his dilated pupils and his full attention on you like it is natural it makes heat rise to your cheeks and you avert his eyes trying to compose yourself. You walk up to him nonchalant and wordlessly he understands you, pulls the zipper of your skirt up.

“Thanks” you say in a whisper he doesn’t answer but instead pulls your hand towards him delicately and kisses right on the pulse of your wrist, then looks up at you smiling.

“Ready?”

Tonight you had been invited to a club opening, private area reserved, a few friends invited and free booze, just for your presence, well Joost’s really, but you enjoyed every bit of it as if it was yours. He made sure you knew that, what was his his was yours. He didn’t say it as much but he liked taking care of you in every way he could. Though he didn’t really need to explain himself, his absences hurt you deeply and you missed him in ways that felt too vulnerable to express fully, you felt like a kid waiting with your face pressed against the window just for him to come back to you every time, it never got easier but he made sure to make it up to you when he got back. When he was by your side he pampered you almost to a point of asphyxiation but your thrived on it glowing more beautiful under very one of his attentions, a side of him only you knew, it gave you a strange high to have him like that only for you, only ever you.

As you make your way to the club your mind can’t help but wonder off to the first time he took you back to his place, after a night of meeting at a different club where he truly didn't wanna be at he quickly became enchanted by your presence, your easy laughs and entrancing conversations. He didn’t have any bad intentions or any intentions at all really, drunk on the beauty of your face, on the softness of your voice, the smell of your perfume, he had only wanted to drag the night on as much as you would allow him. He had just wanted to have you to himself for a little bit, wondering if you would disappear like an illusion in the morning. Yet you had bloomed more stunning in the middle of his living room as he kept trying to steal laughs from you, absolutely enamored with the sound of your laughter. You had kissed him first, you deny it to this day and say you don’t remember since you were drunk but he knows it and you know it too. Deep in the night as you sat on his lap, on his bed, chests pressed together and hearts beating wildly nothing but heavy air between both of you he gently spoke against your lips words that at the time made you incredibly irritated but now you look back on fondly “I won’t fuck you when you are drunk.” Fuck! What a man! Even painfully hard under you as he was, it made you laugh in disbelief throwing your head back holding onto his shoulders as you felt him kiss sweetly against the expanses of your neck. Such reservations are long gone from your relationship but still you remember how sweet he had made you feel. He had let you hump him to your climax, so well behaved under you, let you use him as you pleased, a moaning mess on top of him, anyone else really would have taken advantage but not him, never him, not to you. It gave you a rush like no other to have a man like that under your thumb, knowing he could but he wouldn’t, already too sweet for you. “You are so strange” You had said between giggles as he laid you to rest on his bed, he just smiled and kissed your forehead. That should have given you a clue to his nature.

You giggle to yourself and he looks down on you amused.

“What?” He asks pulling you closer as you walk through the door, the noise of the music already filling you with energy.

“Nothing” you reply smiling up at him and pulling him closer into a quick kiss.

The club is filled with people, he commands attention when he walks in even if he doesn’t want to, it is the nature of the job he would say, but with you by his side he feels more at ease. The music is good, probably not entirely Joost’s taste but it is yours, so he doesn’t complain at all. You quickly make your way up to the private section and share greetings with everybody already there. You know his friends now, like to think they are yours too and they have always welcomed you so warmly. They never miss a chance tell you how happy you make Joost, you hope it is true. Soon both of you get lost on conversation and jokes with everyone around. He lets you do your thing, just happy to see you enjoy yourself, dancing wildly and downing on sweet liquor like it is water, without a care in the world you look the most beautiful but he honestly has no eyes for anyone else. He likes this more than anything, just seeing you happy it could give him the energy for 100 tours for 1000 performances if he only remembers your smiling face then it is all worth it, if you are at the end of the line then anything is worth it. He drinks as much as you but you are not nearly as good as he is at holding your liquor. He notices your half lidded eyes and unfocused pupils and starts feeding you water.

“Joost~” you want to complain in a sing song tone but he just kisses your hairline and pulls you closer.

“Just slow down, liefde” Taking care of you comes so easy so naturally, he doesn’t even make an effort it is just in his blood it seems.

You continue to dance against him and he moves behind you happy to have you in his arms inhaling your soft scent. He is already 10 steps ahead thinking about when he would get to take you home, to have you on his bed, to undress you and… any more imagining would be troublesome so he just downs his drink and keeps dancing to your rhythm.

The hours pass by quickly when you have fun you feel the boom of the bass deep in your body, the music guides you and you follow shamelessly grinding your ass against Joost’s crotch, his big hands holding tight at your hips letting you move as you please but keeping you close to his chest like his life depends on it. You can feel his warm breath on your neck, deep and slow, he seems so calm, if only you could see inside his brain the thoughts of you already glowing on his unmade bed, bouncing on his lap, his mouth on your heat, your image all over his brain. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back, like this it feels like you are only one person, even in the sea of people with the music loud it is just the two of you in this world. You crane your neck to the side to catch a glimpse of him, he looks beautiful, hair slightly tussled sweaty against his forehead, his face impossibly handsome illuminated by the sparse light, he catches your eye and a smile blooms from his lips all the way to his eyes, you feel your chest constrict he is all yours it feels too much and not nearly enough at all.

“Joost” the single word escapes your lips breathy and worked up already, his eyes darken, he knows you too well, you can feel his heart instantly start to race on the back of your ribcage, yours joins too, a beautiful chaotic symphony.

“Wanna go home?” You can only weakly nod as he takes your hand and pulls you towards the back door, barely bothering to say goodbye to everyone else.

As you wait for the car outside he keeps you tucked under his arm, without needing words he knows you are cold. The clothes look gorgeous on you as always but not good for this time of the night, however that is what he is here for. He caresses your arms up and down to warm you up, the car pulls up and he lets you in, closes the door behind then climbs inside from the other side. The drive is painfully slow, you want him now, you just need him on you, to feel the weight of his body, the rhythm of his thrusts, to breath on his air, nothing but him. You are drunk on Joost, you reach over and place a hand on his thigh feeling the muscle beneath it, desperate for some contact you try to move higher but he stops you gentle hand on yours, he looks at you and smiles pleased.

“Be patient” He chastises without bite, as if he is any better, as if he hasn’t been painfully hard since you started dancing on him, as if the way your mouth turns into a pout doesn’t excite him to a scary degree.

He is deeply obsessed with you and never bothers pretending he isn't, not even from the moment you met. Joost thinks you have to know even if he doesn't say it, his eyes constantly glued on you, his hands finding you in the middle of the night to pull you closer, always attached at the hip when you are at home, he can’t help it and it is not like he wants to either. He thinks back on all the nights he has had and you have had him and he can go eternally like this and live a happy man, just you and nothing else. It is perhaps an unhealthy thought, not entirely rational but with your body pressed so close to him it is hard to really think clearly or at all. His hand caresses at the small of your back soothing circles that just do more to get you worked up, you push closer to him, tits pressed against his chest, still so stubborn to keep playing the game but he doesn’t feel like letting you win tonight. He pulls you closer easily with a single hand your legs almost straddling his lap, he caresses your face with his tattooed hand and pushes the hair from your beautiful face before going to whisper in your ear.

“Be good, I’ll give you everything you want” He says and you almost purr at him, the alcohol you kept downing through the night working its magic, your competitive spirit all but melts away as you nod, lip bitten red between your teeth. You don’t know it yet but he won this time, already, actually ever since you left home earlier, all part of his calculated plan.

As the ride comes to a halt he jumps out the door, thanks the driver and pulls you to your wobbly feet, you feel like floating almost, on his arms impossibly light, and delicate like he can break you but he won’t. You want to get up to your place as fast as possible, yet he seems set on riling you up, he keeps stringing you along, getting you more and more impatient, you try to race the stairs as he keeps pulling you by the hips and pressing kisses to your mouth all the way up, making the process slower than it ever has to be. When you finally reach the door you desperately go for his pockets looking for the key, he doesn't help you and just looks delighted as you try to navigate the lock in your inebriated state.

When you finally get him inside you try to pull him to the bedroom ready ride him like it is the last time you will have him under you but he surprises you again when he pushes you gently against the entrance door. You whine into his mouth impatient as ever, but in ways it is his own fault since he has always been the one to spoil you rotten. You are so desperate for his touch, so intoxicated on your lust you let him roam his hands over your body, barely able to kiss back. He traces the curves he knows so well by heart, the delicious arch of your back into your ass kneading at the fat there that all but melts under his greedy fingers, pulling you closer to his hips, you can feel him hard against your thigh, his fingertips softly lingering under the hem of your skirt, deliciously close to your core, then he pulls his hands up your sides grabbing at your hips as he parts your legs softly with his foot, making room for himself. Instantly you are pushing your core against his thigh, he smiles an almost predatory glint on his eyes that you could have noticed had you not been so desperate to get off on his clothed leg, worse than a dog you think, almost embarrassed but the you right now couldn’t care about such things.

His strong but gentle grip on your hips guides you to apply more pressure, his mouth keeps you occupied drowning any protest you might have about taking it to the bedroom. You are too drunk on him to question anything and just let him suck on your tongue and kiss your lips sore as he pleases, you wonder if he can feel how wet you are, the thong you are wearing barely doing you any favors. The rough texture of his jeans against the tender skin of your cunt is too much you can almost cum at the sensation alone. He lets you grind yourself into a frenzy on his thigh fondly remembering that first night he had you on his bed. He feels your stuttering hips, he has you where he wants you, so he stops.

He grabs your wrists and pushes them against the wall right above your head, you look up at him through glossy eyes, bewildered, almost enraged that he has the nerve to stop. He pulls away his thigh leaving your heat, cold biting at the wet skin between your legs, hanging by a thread almost at your peak but denying you.

“What…” you trail off as he pecks your lips and smiles sweetly at you, you jostle in his grip a little but easily give up against his strength. He is never forceful, never meaning to intimidate or hurt you but you could see he had a plan, now that you had already walked right into the wolf’s mouth no point in struggling.

He kisses along your jaw and slowly starts working on your neck feeling the wild rhythm of your pulse under his lips, you moan and your hips buck upwards trying to find anything to grind on. It is now or never he thinks dramatically. “Baby…” he groans against the sensitive skin under your ear, you whimper in acknowledgment, the only way you can communicate in your current state.

“Baby, I want you to ride my face”. He says as he kisses sloppily along your collarbones, at your sternum then licks a line up your neck. You are breathless, you feel like you died, your brain struggling to process his words, working hard to make sense of what he is asking.

“Yes baby?” He sounds almost pleading you look at him now, eyes wide open, a deer caught in the headlights. His request feel so unexpected and at the same time not at all, he had asked before and in truth he had been wanting you like that completely wild on his mouth since he had first seen you, but you felt reservation somehow, shy even after all the filth you had done with him, to him and had let him do to you, somehow this one got you. Not that you didn’t want it but you felt somehow selfish. He was already so good, so sweet and gentle, pampering you all the time, he just wanted to give and give and you felt bad taking so much it felt like something only for your sake and it somehow gave you a pause. He never wants to push you but now, so lost in pleasure, he just has to ask again, fight for his side.

“Joost… you…” You can barely form a sentence, he truly kisses you stupid not a single coherent thought in that pretty little head of yours.

“I really need you to ride my face princess, please” His big blue eyes beaming back at you, pleading. It is really impossible for you to say no to him on every day life and even harder now.

“O-okay, yeah, whatever you want” He is back on you in a second, your brain is completely fried there are no real thoughts, it is just his smell , his taste, the weight of his hands on your body, the warmth of his skin the softness of his lips, you have never wanted anyone this bad.

He grabs your hand and guides you to the bedroom makes quick work of his clothes only staying on his black boxers with his name, you used to tease him for it now it feels so deeply him it just feels endearing. Then he goes for your clothes, you have been together so long it seems he knows better than you how to undress you, deft hands so unlike his clumsy nature. You stand in the middle of the room on slightly wobbly feet as he kneels pulling your underwear down with uncharacteristic delicacy considering his earlier pleads, you wanna laugh at him, how whipped he is, how badly he wants you, how his biggest fantasy is your pleasure but you can’t, everything feels so real, so serious you can barely stand on your own two feet. As if reading your mind he grabs hold of your thighs to help you balance yourself, still on his knees in front of you he looks up kisses reverently at the skin of your thigh kneading his hands upwards. He is so tall even on his knees his face only a few inches from your heat, you feel his breath to your core, it ignites you, you feel yourself dripping and he hasn’t even started.

“Ready princess?” You nod not trusting your mouth that feels too heavy for words, he nods back and kisses sweetly at the heat between your legs before standing up to his full height again.

Towering over you but never feeling intimidating, however the hunger in his eyes makes you shiver in anticipation, a look you have never seen from him, not like this. He grabs hold of your hands and leads you to the bed pulling you down with him. You stumble without any grace on his embrace, tangled limbs and little giggles escape both of you before he moves upwards in the bed resting his head against the pillows. He looks divine, the light of the moon making him even more handsome it makes your chest hurt.

You are straddling your legs right at his chest, his hands in the back of your thighs pulling you closer to where he wants you, he needs you. “Come here schatje” you look at him but there is still a knot in your stomach, still shy, still scared of being selfish, but he wants you so badly he needs you so much, it feels unfair to deny him, to deny yourself the sweet pleasure of his warm tongue that you are so familiar with. You move upwards slowly on weak knees taking a last look at his face his hands on your ass now kneading softly.

“Relax, I won’t bite, promise” You snort releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“Yes I would hope so, you know better than that” He kisses the tender skin at the inside of your knee.

“I’m a well trained dog” He makes a show of winking at you, you erupt in laughter it calms your nerves instantly.

“What… what do you want me to… what should I do?” You ask not knowing where to put your hands.

“Use me to get off” He can feel the hesitation on your entire body all muscles tense like expecting the fall. He helps you and lifts his head up closer to your core, licks his lips in anticipation, you can feel his breath against your dripping heat, he can smell your scent addicting in a way he knows you would find mortifying if he ever told you, so he keeps it to himself.

He licks a long strip up your pussy, still holding your legs in place by the sides of his head like you will run away, he pulls an easy moan out of you, already knows your body so well, he licks insistently against your clit, feels you relax put more of your delicious weight on him. With the reward of his efforts he gets encouraged wrapping his lips around your hard bud suckling softly, he hears you mewl on top of him already turning to putty under his attention. He pulls away as little as possible just to spur you on, he can still feel your reservations.

“Get out of your head, I won’t break”. His voice is commanding but still gentle you want give him everything he wants, do everything he says.

You nod and try moving against his face slowly, gently as much as you can even when you start feeling yourself losing your mind. You look below wanting to make sure he is okay and then you see it, his eyes closed and eyebrows knit, the face of pleasure you know so well. He is getting off on this as much as you are, you test your theory as you push yourself closer to him and he moans back deliciously against your folds feeling the reverberation from his groans against your core emboldens you. He uses his strong grip on your ass and hips to start moving you back and forth against his face, the pretty tip of his nose catching on your clit making you mewl in pleasure until you get used to it, now without any shame left you start grinding yourself back and forth on his tongue as it goes deep into your cunt the wetness so addicting he keeps licking like he wants to stay between your legs forever and maybe he wants exactly that. Too soon you feel waves of pleasure building.

“Joost” you are chanting his name over and over without a care in the world who hears, your throat will be sore tomorrow. Your hands find your perked nipples adding to the stimulation and pull slightly like he would, his own hands occupied helping you move to reach your orgasm. “Ah fuck” you whimper again you can almost feel him smile against your cunt, he can die right now right here between your legs happily, a life well lived and all that. He keeps moving your hips greedily as if he was chasing his own orgasm perhaps you are so connected your pleasure is his pleasure and truly in this position with the heat and wetness connecting you, you don’t know where you end and he begins.

“I’m close” your hands reach to the locks of his beautiful golden hair between your legs.

“Come baby, come on my face” he barely manages to mumble against you core.

With those words he pushes you over the edge, you lose yourself to pleasure just as he wanted, you ride his face vigorously forgetting he has to breath and at that moment he forgets it too, only preoccupied with making your orgasm last as long as possible, insatiably licking at your clit. Your grip on his locks keeps him in place as your finish all over his face he feels your pussy clench around nothing once again pushing his tongue deep into you not wanting this moment to end while your clit grinds heavily against his nose. You are screaming at the top of your lungs your orgasm making your thighs shake but his strong arms keep you in place. He keeps sucking on your clit possessively even when you try to pull away, he is doing this for his own pleasure at this point, you let him and hold onto the bed frame as a lifeline, when he has collected every drop of your release he licks another long stripe up your pussy more soothing than anything making your shiver in delight. Finally satisfied he pulls away slightly to catch his breath, peppering kisses on the inside of your thighs, hands still holding onto you. His face is so red, he is so pretty like this he looks fucked out, so blissful like he was on the receiving end. His face is wet and shinny a mixture of your arousal and his spit you look down and stay there locked eyes, you wanna remember this forever.

“I love you so much” He says beaming up at you, you could almost feel guilty if he didn’t look so damn proud of himself, the same face he has on after a good show.

“I love you too.” You start trying to move but your legs are jelly and you hold back onto the bed frame. “Fuck, that was too good” You laugh looking at him, he laughs heartily always happy to get his ego stroked.

“Let me” He maneuvers you easily and flips you over, now you are resting on the pillows as he cuddles to your side rubbing against your neck, leaving small bites and kisses, he is so wet and sticky it could be gross, it should be gross, only if it wasn't the hottest thing that has ever happened to you.

You turn to kiss him lock his lips with yours, taste yourself on his tongue, he deepens the kiss, the dog, that is exactly what he wanted, you smile against his lips. He leaves you breathless kissed stupid again, you feel him jostle a little and see him throw his boxers somewhere on the floor, then he pulls you closer to his chest. You feel his heart beat under your ear, you are so tired, you feel boneless could fall asleep any second heavy lidded eyes and yet you still want him, you always do.

“Do you wanna-” he stops you, kissing at the top of your head.

“No need” He pulls the comforter over both of you.

You look up at him, eyebrow crooked and he just has an easy smile on his lips as he reaches for the nightstand drawer where he keeps some cigarettes exactly for times like this. He looks down at you as he lights the one between his lips, you look at him amazed, you can't belive it, he came, he came because of you, completely untouched, fully at your mercy. A shot of adrenaline makes you raise from his chest hold yourself on your elbows to look at him properly, trying to come up with something to say opening and closing your mouth not quite processing what just happened. Unable to come up with anything coherent enough you give up and just come closer to him once again pulling the cigarette off his lip and letting him blow his smoke into your mouth, you take it, like everything he gives you. You kiss him again, hungry, possessive and proud, like you could bite him raw and it still wouldn’t be enough. You realize something Joost has know for a while now, you can never be close enough it is terrifying and horribly exciting at the same time. He pulls your face closer deepens the kiss tangles his fingers in your hair and then rests his forehead against yours, just breathing you in. You are in an indescribable ecstasy all you can do is throw your head back and laugh, he follows as he smokes, laughs with you then chases your lips, kisses your smile.

“You taste really fucking good.” He says against your hair as he pulls you back to his chest still chuckling, sleep starts dragging you soon enough as he finishes his cigarette.

Obsession as a description for what he feels for you might be coming short these day, maybe devotion could be closer…

���── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ AN: It is my first time posting anything like this again sorry for any mistakes idk what im doing I just really needed to get this out of my system <3 

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Oh lord the mafia price and pregnant one!!! Maybe one where she tries to go back to work after they move in? Or literally anything else🙏🏻

This got a bit long haha, but enjoy!

(Part 1 here and part 2 here)

You are not in a relationship.

You'd told John, that night after he'd found you in the restaurant, that you were more than happy to have him involved with the baby but that you didn't need him or anyone else. You could do it all on your own, if you needed to.

And he'd agreed with you. Or, at least, he'd told you he agreed. You start to notice, though, that things tended to go his way in the end, so subtly, you barely noticed at first.

The first time you'd taken him to a prenatal appointment, at the free clinic near your apartment, he'd sat with a muscle jumping in his jaw for the entire, very long, wait.

A week later he'd picked you up unexpectedly after a breakfast shift and, under the pretence of going for lunch, driven you to shiny high-rise office building.

"No harm in getting a second opinion, love," he'd assured you as he ushered you into the elevator and pushed the button for "Dr Gail Brady, OB/GYN."

You'd gone along with that one, on the basis that it was better for the baby, and you'd reluctantly let John pay, not even wanting to think what an hour of time with Dr Brady would cost.

There are some things you won't compromise on, of course, but he finds ways around those too. You'd refused to let him move you out of your apartment, for one. He hadn't fought you on it but you weren't stupid—you'd noticed a constant flow of men parked across the street as you came and went and you were sure John had put them there to keep an eye on you. And you had given in and let him change your locks, in the end.

Your latest "discussion" had been about your job. Or rather, your jobs. John had almost had a conniption when he'd found out tht your job at the diner was only part-time—the rest of the time, you waitress at a different, more high-end restaurant across town.

"I need to save as much as I can now, before the baby comes," you'd insisted.

"You don't need either of 'em, never mind two," John had told you, raking his hands through his hair, at which point you'd given up on the conversation. It became a point of contention, one you both tiptoed around, neither one of you willing to admit defeat.

So when your alarm goes off, at stupid o'clock in the morning, the answering groan doesn't come from your lips but from behind you.

And, okay, maybe someone who isnt your boyfriend shouldn't spend so many nights in your bed, but you have to allow yourself some indulgences.

John automatically pulls you back into his chest before you can attempt to get up, practically rolling on top of you, though he's careful not to put much of his weight on you.

"John, I have to get to work, I'm on breakfasts," you complain but he just grumbles into your neck.

"Call in sick."

"I can't," you try to tell him, but by then his hands have drifted down your, toying with the string of your sleep shorts.

"Got a spare 10 minutes then?" he asks and you feel him then, starting to grind into your back, and you give in with a moan just as his hand dips below your waistband.

You're late to work that day and you scowl at John in the car (he never lets you take the train anymore), but he just keeps a hand on your thigh, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

And, over the next few weeks, if you notice a sudden new influx of customers, who always ask to sit in your section, are polite, and tip very generously, well that's just good timing. The new uptick in your income means you can quit your extra gig after a while and even cut down your hours in your main job.

Of course, John is adamant he has no idea who any of these people are, no clue where your new, generous benefactors have come from.

These days, he just turns off your alarm every morning with a glint in his eye, as he tells you he has better ways for you to use your time.

[bkd-b3ans]

You try to repair a watch, Boothill is being annoying as usual, you end up discovering his neurolink perfectly mimics human emotions.

-> Ship: Boothill X Mechanic!Reader (or just tech savvy idk the term really)

-> Rating: Safe for All

-> TL;DR: Boothill visits you after closing hours, nearly ruins a 5 million watch repair commission, stares for a bit too long while you work and overheats for a bit, ends up learning you live above your own workshop and you learn he gets flustered easy.

-> Extra notes: No idea where I will go with these, I just love writing stuff. Next one is going to be more about touching / feeling, but until then, you too can experience casual chatter. I do not proof read, whatever is written is in accordance to Ellios script, go meow at him. Take this "2nd" part as pure world-building.

-> Word count: 2k~ ish

-> First part: here

Thank you for reading and bearing with my awful English. If you have any prompts I would be more than happy to hear them.

"Pardner? Yoohooo~" Boothill was waving his arm like a manic from the front of the counter, trying to catch your attention, but you were too engrossed in your work, tinkering away with some expensive watch you were paid to fix, the tiny gears and springs neatly organized in your table in tiny boxes with labels, while you were hunched over the table, looking through a magnifying glass and listening to music, tongue almost sticking out like some cartoon character while you were trying to place the gear in its place carefully using some precise tweezers.

For all you cared, your shop was closed for the day, so why would anyone in their right mind, or that knows how to read a sign, would even bother you? Of course you didn't take into account a Galaxy Ranger that had a passion for annoying you at random times.

"Psst, hey, over 'ere..." he sighed, "Fudge this". Impatient as ever, Boothill just helped himself with one of the expensive motor oil cans in the counter and stepped around it, taking off his hat and placing it on your head.

The whole motion made you jump out of your skin, dropping the tweezers together with the very important, one of a kind gear, that you could barely notice while it was on your table, let alone on your floor, rolling off into the void like all of the pens you've lost throughout the years.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING WORK OF MY AEONS-" you took off the hat annoyed, hand still shaking from the scare and heart running laps in your chest. Shoving the hat into Boothills chest, you couldn't help but be angry at the man, sighing.

"Damn sugar-cube, didn't know ye were this jumpy. Ye should be more aware of yer surroundings you know?"

"What the hell does that mean. MY SHOP IS CLOSED BOOTHILL, CAN'T YOU READ??"

"Well, not your language no, it's all a bunch of jumbles and lines"

You looked confused for a moment before realizing that neither of you were from the same planet. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, trying to get rid of your furrow.

"Just, shut up and help me look for that gear. AND PUT THE DAMN CAN DOWN"

He raised his arms in defeat, putting down the can of motor oil and looking around your workbench while you were painfully looking for the gear with your magnifying glasses.

"Lotta' shiny pieces you have on the table. Are these really more important than your good old buddy, Boothill?"

"Unless you're willing to give me 5 million, then yes"

Boothill choked

"5 million?? For some beautiful watch?"

"What can I say, some people have more than they know what to do with. Now stop yapping and get on your knees, I can't see shit."

"Is that an invitation, darling?"

"... BOOTHILL!"

"Aye aye, don't get your feathers ruffled like this darling, just sit there and be pretty"

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

You couldn't help but be annoyed still, slumped in your chair, fiddling with your pen, while Boothill was looking around. How long has it been already, maybe a few minutes? Hours? Days??? Your work couldn't wait that much, and each ticking second felt agonizing. You were so close too, getting interrupted was the last thing you needed right now. You always had plans, a schedule, deadlines, you couldn't afford the unpredictability that is Boothill sometimes.

You almost got too lost in your thoughts before you heard a sudden thud, metal against wood, and a proud exclamation.

"Here it is sugar-cube, your pretty little thing... Cogwheel whatever. Now can you stop looking like someone spat in your food or do I need to repair this watch myself to make you happy?"

You could swear sometimes he was like a dog, a big doberman. For as scary as he could look sometimes, you couldn't help but be unable to push him away. All you could do was just let out an amused scoff, taking the gear piece in the palm of your hand, and gently placing it in it's box.

"No, no, you've done enough damage already. Why are you here even?"

"Just wanted to pay my best buddy a visit? What, a man can't do that no more?"

"No fixing your body? No maintenance work? Really nothing? Just a visit? Odd, thought you were a busy man"

"Oh I sure am sugar-cube, but sometimes even I need to sit down and relax."

"... In my workshop"

"In yer workshop, yes."

You sighed

"Fine, fine, stay for as long as you need, but don't touch anything that is in this-" you motion around your workbench "general area"

He tipped his hat in acknowledgment

"Aye aye, I'll stay put, fudge me, you can be very serious sometimes."

"5 million"

"Right yes, that's understandable."

You went back to work, trying to finish placing the last pieces inside that damned watch, headphones back on your ears. Boothill was simply slumped on the couch you kept around the waiting area, that barely saw any use to begin with. He was just looking around, bored out of his mind, the silence really starting to get to him. On occasion he's throw you glances, looking like a kicked puppy only to be met by your back either way. Yet he couldn't help but notice the few tics you had, tapping your foot, humming to yourself from time to time, arranging your hair by shaking your head around, and just how damn beautiful you looked in that dim warm light.

By no means we're you prettied up and groomed, after all, working with machinery all day will just lead to one always being covered by oil or sutt, clothes messy, the tools around your belt loud and heavy, but to him, it was part of the charm. The passion you had for what you did, the care you treated everything with, even his own body when it needed repairs. Sure, you two may butt heads more often than goats, but you were the reason he kept making his trips back to your workshop for any needs. He trusted you, felt comfort in your presence.

He could feel his insides start to heat up, his mind trailing off. Sure, he couldn't blush for the love of him, after all blood stopped flowing through his body long, long ago, but his body still reacted from time to time to strong emotions, and now it was no different. It felt, uncomfortable almost, a strange emptiness in his metal gut. Maybe it was the bullets he snacked in like some chips, or maybe it was more than that. He just simply pulled his hat over his eyes to focus and calm down.

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

Finally, after so many hours, you were finally done, the watch ticking gleefully, almost as if happy with it's new look. You sighed in relief, finally placing down your headphones and slumping in your chair, pulling your glasses up.

"Finally... I swear they are trying to drive me insane with all these new 'trinkets' that have way too many small pieces for their own good. How you holding up, Boots?"

"Fine as ever sugar, bored out of my mind, but rested"

"Yeah, I can see that, you've already made a dent in my couch"

"Hey, I helped ya find that gear for free, can't I get some more respect"

"And who's fault was it that I dropped it?" You said, raising your eyebrow.

"Aye aye, sorry 'bout that."

There was a moment of pause

"Say, partner, you've messed around inside my body for a while now. Do you know if there's any functions that might mimic proper human emotions?"

"Human emotions? Hmmm"

You thought for a moment, trying to remember if you've seen any kind of code that might do that.

"I don't think I've seen anything like that, but I've also never like, actually paid attention. There may be some functions that mimic that, after all, you might need them to think and work properly. Why?"

"Ah, nothing important, was just wondering."

"I can always check if you want. Of course, for a price"

He couldn't help but scoff, amused "You were never free eh?"

"Someone has to eat"

"Sure, sure. I mean why not, might as well get this mystery solved, since I'm here and have nothing better to do."

"Then come with me"

You both went inside your garage, Boothill already used to all the steps, laying down on the weird table chair as he put it while you connected the cables to the back of his neck, opening the hologram screens.

"Let's see..." you rubbed your chin, pacing around while moving around screens, trying to find anything remotely similar to what Boothill mentioned, but it was rather hard. Every line kept changing dictating different functions every moment.

"Hmm...."

"Anything the matter?"

"No, I just realized why I might have never seen that kind of function. Your neurolink is adapting to everything you do, so it's changing constantly. I think the only way to spot anything us to trigger whatever made you so curious about your 'emotions'"

"Trigger em? And how the fork do you plan on doing that?"

You thought for a moment, moving next to Boothill, dragging the screens along with you. You didn't really give a warning as you poked his chest with a screwdriver, noticing some changes.

"What in the beautiful sky are you doing?"

"There it is" you just pointed at the screen at the suddenly changing lines.

"Your body reacts to your mental state. Right now you are confused"

"I sure as warm lake I am, you're poking me around with a screwdriver."

"What else would have you wanted me to do? Touch you with my own hands?"

He was about to say something, but you grabbed one of the screens, squinting at it.

"Getting flustered, Boots?" You could almost feel your own smug smile forming on your face.

"Flustered? Please, you'd think I'd get 'flustered' from just a check-up?"

"Bashful... Interesting"

"Hey! Stop saying things and answer me, sweetheart"

"And annoyed. Yeah, you do seem to have those functions, and they're damn advanced to mimic human emotions. Guess you aren't just metal after all. You still have the ability to feel. It's interesting how this changes..."

You got too focused on the lines of code, not paying attention to how you started leaning against the table, your hand extremely close to Boothills, fingers almost touching. Sure, you were just staring at the lines changing, but Boothill was staring at your hand, annoyed almost that he couldn't just grab it, only to be confused over why he was annoyed. You just chuckled to yourself and pushed the screen away, unplugging the cables.

"Well, mystery solved, your neurolink functions exactly like a brain and it sends the proper signals, so your body will be affected by your emotions."

"Great-" he rolled his eyes, standing up and scratching the back of his head "You need a new table, this one is forking uncomfortable."

"I don't take feedback"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say darling." he just hopped off the table, adjusting his hat.

"H-"

"1k credits"

"Damn, let me finish at least. Fine, you know the drill"

"Nah, I'll let it slide this time. Getting to check your internals can be fun sometimes" you patted his back

"I'll go home, unless you want to guard my shop, you should leave too."

"You don't just live in your workshop??"

"...what...?"

"You know, like, I've always only seen you here, where is your home even."

"Oh... Oh! I guess you can say that? My home is upstairs, I bought the whole building when I opened so everything on the ground floor is the shop, upstairs is my place."

"Ok that makes sense... Can I-"

"No"

"Fine fine, I'll go my merry way then. I'll see you next time partner, and thank you for the free check-up"

"Don't get too used to them"

He nodded, tipping his hat and leaving.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 2)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3122

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

“When you said you got me a t-shirt,” you sigh, once again adjusting the hem of the jersey Mor provided you. Notshirt; jersey. The bottom of the Velaris Bats uniform has been trimmed—startlingly low. Or is it cut too high; you wonder with a swallowed curse. The damned thing nearly shows off your entire midriff. “I thought you meant, like, a normal fucking shirt and not whatever this is.”

Mor scoffs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she weaves her way through the throng of people towards your seats. Her long strides in her black heels hard to keep up with. “That is a Mor Original, and I only made it cuter,” she huffs indigently, like your discomfort is the sole inspiration behind her “designs.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve allowed Mor to pick out your outfit, but it’s definitely going to be your last, you try to remind yourself. The handful of times you’ve thought this exact thing before is laughable, and you’ve never once remembered. She’ll continue to cut the hems of shirts and alter skirts into even shorter skirts until the end of time, probably.

She’s been the crafty type since you first met her. Anything that she could add personality to was subject for a good old shot of “Mor’s Touch:” clothing, home décor, even the cocktails she mixes—which often go from something as simple as a Dirty Shirley and turning it into a cherry-passionfruit with a hint of lime drink, mixed with tonic instead of Sprite and garnished with a frilly umbrella stuck through three Maraschino cherries because “one is simply not enough.”

You agree, and you’d never admit to your eccentric roommate that it’s the most delicious drink you’ve ever had. Goes down like lemonade and has you going from a corner-stander to someone in the center of the dancefloor in two drinks flat.

You wish you had one right about now to get you through the night.

Your mind wanders to Gwyn back at the dorms, wondering what she’s going to be getting up to tonight. You don’t need to wonder, you know how your red-headed roommate prefers to spend her nights, curled up on the couch beneath a thick blanket, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels within reach, and her laptop in her lap, creating fantasy worlds for her characters to live in some day.

A surge of pride for your roommate fills your energy tank. Sometimes people truly do find exactly what they were made for in life, and Gwyn was born to write. You’ve only read a few snippets she’s been willing to share, but you can’t fathom forming sentences the way she does, creating worlds and characters from her mind alone, seeing a vision in your mind so clear that it would be a crime not to share it with the world.

You’re not sure you’ve ever loved something that much, but Sports Medicine is pretty damn close. Psychology, is not.

You shiver as the cold of the arena hits the sliver of skin that’s exposed itself once again while you were taking a sip of your drink. Goosebumps pebble in response, coursing over the entirety of your body within seconds, causing you to shiver.

You should’ve fought Mor harder about bringing your jacket, but at least she left you sleeves, her shirt has been cut into a tank that hardly reaches the bottom of her ribs, and there’s a deep cut down the collar, creating a perfect ‘V’ that shows off her incredible tits.

You’d know, you’ve seen them before.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You two look so good,” a girl gushes, steps into you and Mor’s path, halting you from your first steps down the stairs to your seats. She’s chipper, a camera poised in her hands, the thick strap around her neck. He shiny, chestnut hair is braided into two tails, draped across her shoulders.

Behind her thin-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she peruses you and your roommate up and down, admiring your outfits.

“I told you,” Mor murmurs, elbowing you in the side before raising her voice to answer. “Thank you so much! I spent all day on these, and this one doesn’t appreciate my hard work at all. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear a compliment instead of ‘Mor, don’t you think this is a little too much?’” You scrunch your nose at Mor’s terrible impression of you. Too nasally, too annoying.

The photographer laughs like it’s her full-time job, and you scowl.

Way to throw me right under that speeding bus, Mor.

“Do you mind if I take your picture for the team’s social media account? You two would make a great first slide in a carousel for school spirit,” she gets this faraway look in her eyes as if she’s picturing it now. “The interaction you’d get us,” she sighs dreamily. “I might even get promoted.”

You groan internally when Mor perks up even further. “I think I love you,” she blurts, pupils heart-shaped. “Do you want to sit with us? We have an extra ticket.” She’s bought one for Gwyn, hoping she would join in on this sporty girl’s night, but your other roommate had been adamant about her dislike of the sport, and had gotten a pass while you were dressed up like a doll and dragged out of the dorm.

The girl’s laugh is like a windchime, soothing and melodic. “I wish I could, but duty calls,” she waves her camera around in answer. “Maybe I’ll catch you at one of the after parties, though. Here, you can give me your Instagram and I’ll DM you after tagging you in the photos.”

She and Mor exchange socials and names. Feyre. It’s unique and suits her well.

After adding your own Instagram on her phone, you hand the phone back, posing with Mor. Of course, knowing your roommate as you do, it’s not just one picture that Feyre takes. They’re both beaming, and one picture turns into ten. Ten poses, nine sips of your drink because you don’t know what the hell else to do. Eight frantic smiles, seven internal sighs, and six side-eyes from passerby, trying to find their seats. Five giggles from friends, four embarrassed blushes, three warnings that you are so done with this, two people ignoring you, and one announcement overhead signaling the start of the game in a few minutes.

“So nice to meet you, Feyre,” Mor calls as you begin guiding her away. You have no clue where you’re going, but any movement closer to any empty seat is better than the photoshoot you just had in the middle of the walkway. With a parting smile at the photographer, Mor continues, like she’s all for standing there all night instead of supporting her cousin on the ice. “Message me!”

“Clingy, much?” You grunt at the poke to the arm that gets you.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m going to replace you,” she scoffs with a brush of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. You swear, the guys sitting in the front row swoon. “Besides, you can never have too many friends. It’s not possible.”

You’re pretty sure it is possible to have too many friends, but you keep that thought to yourself. You suppose you have one more spot in your life for a friend, but if the pictures turn out terrible and are blasted on the Bat’s Instagram, that spot might disappear. You’re already feeling mortified enough from the public display of taking photos.

“Yeah, yeah,” is what you decide to go with. “Now, where are our seats?”

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mutter wearily, squinting to see what’s happening on the ice. You might not know anything about hockey, but you know malicious intent when you see it. It’s in the way that the Penguin’s player leans closer to the Bat’s center, nudging his shoulder as he speaks, his slimy grin growing with each jab.

The game’s been fun so far, much to your surprise. The crowd surrounding you is all for the team, chanting songs that you need to learn immediately because they’re so much fun. The music that blasts around the stadium during every break is on-point, not too old of songs and not too overplayed like at the one football game you’d been dragged to last year (also by Mor, but not because of a family member on the team, because of an entirely different member.)

“Is that my cousin?” She asks, brown eyes sharp as she examines the players. Their fronts are to you, no seeing the names painted across the back of their jerseys. You refrain from mentioning how Mor should at least know her own cousin’s number—since their written on the sleeves—but you keep that thought to yourself when her red painted nails tighten around the box of popcorn, crushing the flimsy cardboard. The strain of the muscle in her jaw matches the boy on the ice’s, you notice with a fleeing glance at your roommate.

Tension coils your gut. You find your fingers wrapping around the edge of the seat you’re perched in, gripping the bleachers so tightly that you swear you feel the cool metal warming and warping.

You’re not the only two who have noticed the shift in the moods of the players on the ice, parts of the crowd are beginning to rise from their seats, cheering growing from a low rumble to a thunder of screams, caws, and jeering.

The puck is barely a millimeter from the referee’s hand before sticks are thrown to the ice, gloves following as the two players slowly begin to circle each other. It looks like something out of an animal documentary: two predators about to snap at each other’s throats in a fight for the territory.

The anticipation of them going blow for blow lights a fire deep within your belly, your core perking up for attention.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t get getting turned on by the idea of two boys about to knock each other’s teeth out. Should be thinking about your best friend’s cousin like this at all.

Shooting a guilty glance at your roommate, you breathe a soft sigh of relief that’s swallowed by the shouts of the crowd when you see that Mor hasn’t picked up on your sudden shift in mood—both mentally and physically.

All the players on the ice slide back to make room for the brawl that’s about to break out and a sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, almost overpowering the arousal as you wonder why no one is attempting to stop them.

There isn’t time to voice your concern, isn’t time to do anything except bolt to your feet with a gasp so harsh it sears your lungs when the Penguin’s player is the first to swing. Your heart is lodged in your throat, your breathing holding in your throat as you watch in anticipation. He lashes out with a curled fist so fast that by the time you blink, it’s over.

His hit doesn’t land.

There’s no time to feel the relief trying to rush through your veins because the Bat’s center is retaliating, throwing himself forward after swiftly dodging the attack. He grabs the other boy by the collar of his ice blue uniform and hauls him into his closed fist.

His opponents helmet goes flying off with the snap of his head backwards. He stumbles, but manages to stay upright, snagging a handful of the Bat’s jersey to try and steady himself.

You look to the benches flanking the ice, wondering why no one is joining the fray. It’s now that you realize it’s not that they don’t want to help their teammate who is quickly ducking away from another fist, it’s because they can’t.

There’s a boy standing nonchalantly, hazel eyes pinned on the scene before him. He looks eager almost, leaning so casually against his stick, chin propped on the edge of it like he’s watching the newest action movie from the best spot in the house.

Even the goalie seems to be unconcerned, taking the few moments he has to take a swig of water and adjust his helmet, squatting low and shooting side to side in his box, as if trying to keep limber for when the game resumes.

One of the refs is attempting to hold back a burly boy who seems much too large to be skating at all. His helmet has also been shucked off, revealing long, shoulder length wet hair that clings to his face and neck like a bee on honey. His gloves are abandoned on the ice too, and his stick has skidded to a stop upon hitting the sideboards nearby. You can’t make out the words he’s shouting, but with the feral grin you make out, you know they’re fighting words. With each bark he seems to be inching closer, like the full-grown man in the stripes trying to hold him back is nothing more than a soft breeze, and his is a twister barreling right through.

When he shakes his head, you catch sight of a bloodthirsty grin that has a shiver sliding up your spine. He’s enjoying this?

“Mor,” your worry tries to escape, only for the words to stick in your throat as more noises join the fight, loud as gunshots. Both the Bat’s and the Penguin’s players are rapping their hockey sticks against the boards separating their benches from the ice, war cries falling from their lips.

They’re all enjoying this.

“That is my cousin,” Mor screeches, her perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she tries finally makes out the number on the back of the jersey that’s gripped so tightly in the offending players grip that you’re pretty sure the stitches are popping with the force. “Kick his fucking ass, Rhys!”

Casting a frantic look to your roommate, you realize that not even she seems to be fazed by the fact that her cousin is in the middle of a fight that could very seriously end badly, especially with the knives on the bottoms of their feet.

But, if everyone’s rooting for their player to win this battle, you can too.

As gruesome as the scene before you is, you wish you had a better seat, somewhere with a better viewpoint than all the way on the other side of the ice. You can’t to be able to hear the threats they’re growling at each other, your attention completely enraptured now that you’ve shoved your worry to the wayside.

With his newfound hold, the Penguin’s player strikes again, and this time, his hit slams across Rhys’ jaw. His head snaps to the side with the nasty hook and his helmet slips to the ice, the sound eaten up by the goading of the crowd.

They swing around, unsteady on their skates as each of the boys tries to topple the other over. You catch a glance at his face. It’s hard to see, and his shaggy black hair is splayed across his face like a spiderweb, keeping you from making out his features. You catch the blood dribbling down his chin, the anger etched in the clench of his jaw as he grits his teeth, managing to twist himself into a position where he has the upper hand on the Penguin’s player: a headlock.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Rhys pound his fist into the other boy’s face once, twice, three times before his opponent’s feet fall out from under him. Rhys releases his hold, allowing the boy to slip lamely to the ice.

“Atta boy, Rhysie,” Mor shouts, once again shoveling popcorn into her mouth with a grin so bright it could melt the ice in the rink before you. She turns to you, golden brown of her eyes glowing with excitement. “Our parents would be so proud.”

She turns back to the scene before you can voice your confusion on that statement, tucking away the information that if you win a fight in hockey, it’s a great accomplishment.

You watch Rhys as he’s escorted by referees who guide him towards the penalty box. He’s examining his knuckles, not caring that he’s abandoning his equipment as he goes, grimacing as the adrenaline begins to fade. He pokes at them, frowning at whatever he feels.

You pray they’re not broken.

The rest of the players seem to be getting back to the game, like one of their teammates isn’t being casted away on an island across the ice. Okay, so it’s just another bench and he’s not that far from them, but you’re shocked that this is the end of the fight, both players carted into separate timeout boxes away from their teams.

Rhys plops down on the bench, pulling a water bottle from a hidden holder, washing the blood from his knuckles before examining them for a second time. You watch him flex his fingers, twist his wrist this way and that. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him, even with the game picking back up and Mor shouting cheers when the Bat’s manage to steal the puck right from the drop, carting it down the ice with a speed that rivals a racecar.

He must be satisfied with his examination because Rhys is throwing his head back, and it’s almost as if he’s squirting the water from the bottle directly onto you with the way that the apex of your thigh’s wet at the sight of him. He sips the water, holding the bottle a few inches from his face, and you watch the water cascade down his chin and over his throat, bobbing with each swallow. It mixes with the blood from his split lip and slides into the collar of his gear.

You swallow harshly, suddenly parched.

When he’s had his fill of the drink, he moves the bottle further back, using the spray to wash his hair away from his face, and your breathing shallows. It’s as if the hand he’s using to squeeze the life out of the bottle is constricting around your throat, because suddenly, you recognize the sharp of that jaw, the curve of those eyebrows and the straight of his nose. All his angular features come together in the perfect picture of hotness, knocking the breath fully from your chest when he straightens his chin, looking out onto the ice to watch his teammates score the last goal of the second period.

He's the boy from this morning: the overachiever, the one who called you darling.

Mor’s cousin.

Rhysand Cunningham.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125

[monstersandmaw]

Male kelpie (dad-bod, single father, biker) x plus size f. reader - Part One (sfw)

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

CW: there is a very brief moment where a character (not Oats!) insults the reader for her size and uses some fat-phobic language towards and about her, unaware that she can hear him. If you’re sensitive to that, it is brief, but you can skip from “…you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.” to the paragraph beginning, “After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror…”. Also, if you squint, there’s a passing moment that could possibly be interpreted as the reader having some potential issues with food, but it’s not intended to be a big deal and it’s only for about two sentences. Still putting it in here too, just in case. 

Wordcount: 7562

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you managed to croak back at him before returning your attention, however reluctantly, to present options for your brother while the older man, Hank, hobbled out around the corner of the wooden counter to chat amicably with the man. You couldn’t hear what was said as the two chatted in lower voices, but it was evident that they were good friends. While they talked, however, you couldn’t help noticing that he stole occasional sidelong glances in your direction, and you felt your face warm pleasantly.

‘Oats’ was certainly an unusual nickname, but then again, almost everyone who rode with your brother also had their own nicknames for one reason or another. As you browsed, you wondered what Oats had done to earn that one. He certainly looked like a snack to you, but you vowed not to let your attraction to the stranger show. Awkward situations (or worse, silences) tended to arise when you let that happen.

He had a tanned, outdoorsy complexion, and longish, black hair that was tied back in a low ponytail that brushed below the collar of his black leather jacket. It looked like it had a tendency to flop into his face when not restrained by that out-of-place pink bow. He filled out the jacket very well, and clearly had a soft paunch, and his thighs looked frankly delectable in those thick, indigo jeans. You prayed you wouldn’t have to see him fully from the back if he turned around, to witness the way he filled out the seat of his jeans too.

Fuck. Concentrate.

Bike gifts for brother, not delicious-looking stranger you’re never going to see again.

“Well, I shouldnae hang about, I suppose.”

Oats’ voice cut through your musings in front of chain degreasers and you jumped a little. Glancing back over at him, you offered him a smile when he too turned to look at you one last time, and a slow, charming smile crept onto his handsome face.

“See you,” he said with a dip of his head. Before he strode from the shop though, he let his eyes roam once more down the length of you and he bit his lower lip, almost regretfully, then turned away abruptly.

Oh yes. He absolutely did fill out the ass of those jeans beautifully.

Quite honestly, you weren’t totally sure what you ended up getting your brother for his birthday. You took whatever it was to the counter in a daze, your mind replaying over and over the way he’d looked at you.

“Must say,” Hank said conspiratorially as he fished your change from the antique cash register and slid it across the polished, wooden counter towards you. “I’ve never seen Oats quite so taken with someone, miss.” He chuckled, his kind, whisky-brown eyes glinting. “You take care now.”

Swallowing, you nodded and left the shop, hoping perhaps to find Oats waiting for you outside on the street, leaning against his motorcycle, but life was not a movie, and wherever he was, he was not lingering in the hopes of seeing you. In fact, the street was completely deserted, so you crossed, clambered into your little hatchback, and drove home with the feeling that you’d let a pivotal moment in your life pass you by.

Your sour mood persisted like a raincloud for the whole week, but by the time you were driving over to your brother’s on Saturday for his birthday ride, you were trying to pull yourself out of it. You had your own helmet with you, secured in the back of the car, and beside it was (now wrapped) the present you’d got him. In fact, it was a chain care kit, and, although you hadn’t noticed at the time, Hank had thrown in a free keychain that said ‘In my defence, I was left unsupervised’ which was very on-brand for your brother. You had planned to go back and thank him for the freebie as soon as you could, but your brother’s birthday ride had been planned for that Saturday, and work had been hell that week, so you’d not had the chance.

Predictably, Alex wasn’t in the house when you rang the doorbell, so you followed the sound of metallic clinking and laughter, and went round the side to find him tinkering with his mad little Honda Grom in the garage, while his two best mates — Eggs and Sparky — were lounging around and either making unhelpful suggestions or lewd comments.

“Yo!” Sparky grinned when he saw you, sitting up straighter and almost falling off the mechanic’s tool chest he was leaning his weight against. At Sparky’s exclamation, your brother sat up and banged his head on the handlebars of the short little Grom with a curse.

“Hey,” you mumbled in Sparky’s general direction. “Happy birthday, Alex.”

Alex scrambled upright and came over to hug you, probably smearing grease and dirt all over your armoured jacket, but since it was black anyway, you didn’t mind too much. Alex was about as opposite to you as it was possible to get — straight up and down like a beanpole, and tall. You took after your mother, inheriting all her thick curves and soft edges. Soft heart too.

“Thought this might come in handy,” you mumbled when Alex released you and you held out the brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Full Moon Motorcycles.

His eyes lit up when he saw the logo, and he tore into it like a chipmunk after a peanut, grinning in delight when he’d dismembered it, and in particular he showed off the keychain to his mates. Eggs snatched it and tried to claim it for himself, but Alex was having none of it, and the three of them scrapped and goofed around while you sat down on an old, metal stool in the corner and waited for the other two of your small party to show up, with a cool, curdling kind of dread in the pit of your stomach when you heard one name in particular. Nooner.

Within an hour though, you were all out on the road.

You took the pillion seat behind Alex, and warded his mates off at red lights when they came for his killswitch to immobilise him. A while later though, Alex zoomed off down the open road that would take you all out of town and towards the somewhat famous biker cafe, ‘Elusive Neutral’, that sat nestled amongst the fragrant heather of the rolling hills surrounding the old market town.

The sky was a gorgeous, autumnal blue and the weather was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, and as your brother’s Yamaha flew along the winding A-road that was every biker’s dream, you cracked a smile and gently tipped your head back. As much as it had scared you when you’d first ridden behind your mother all those years ago, you did love the feeling of being out on a bike. Not that you were actually brave enough to want to try and learn yourself though. Something always held you back, made you wary and unsure, and then you inevitably felt down about that too. God, you wished you had Alex’s wild confidence.

Nothing good ever seemed to last for you though, and when Alex’s R1 had purred into the car park behind Eggs and Sparky, and you’d hopped off to let him reverse more easily into a space, you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.

“…if he didn’t have his fat sister with him, we could have fucking ripped it up along those twisties.” That, of course, had come from Nooner, named for the fact that he rarely stuck to two wheels and always pulled wheelies, or ‘nones’, whenever he got the chance. Out of all of your brother’s friends, he was the one you liked the least, for… obvious reasons.

“Talk about killing the vibes, huh?” Eggs replied, trying to suck up to him, as ever. “More like ‘crushing’!”

The reason Eggs had earned his nickname was that he’d lost a bet and shaved his head when they’d all been about sixteen, and he’d looked like a boiled egg til it grew back. You wished you had the sass to remind him of that every time his spine seemed to crumble in favour of earning a half-hearted snicker out of Nooner.

When Alex joined you, he caught the crestfallen expression on your face and frowned, but you shook your head and walked away from them, heading for the cafe alone.

“Can’t wait to shove some cake in her fat gob already,” Nooner added as an aside to Eggs, and your vision blurred as tears welled along your lashes. Why did people have to be so cruel? To trample all over someone else just to feel a little taller themselves?

You vaguely heard what sounded like Sparky’s voice countering the comment, but you didn't stick around either way. If you mentioned it to your brother again, he’d just say it was banter with the guys and not to take it to heart. Easy for someone who's never been on the end of that kind of comment to shrug it off, after all.

You ducked straight for the toilets when you got inside the airy, modern cafe, not even bothering to look around or find a table first.

After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror to see that you hadn’t turned your eyeliner into a panda cosplay, you headed out again and made for the little bar that doubled as a counter for people who were there solo to sit and eat instead of taking up a whole table to themselves. None of your brother’s friends joined you, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that they’d settled themselves around a table in the far corner and already had a number for a server to bring their food order over. They hadn’t even waited for you.

“Fuck them,” you hissed through gritted teeth, taking a seat at the bar instead. The stools were made of old tractor seats, and they were surprisingly comfortable, and as you leaned your forearms on the countertop, the young woman behind the counter came over to you with a smile that made you feel a little better.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

You ordered a hot drink, and then took out your phone while you waited for her to make it for you.

For half an hour or so, you sat scrolling through social media and sipping your drink and telling yourself this was your brother’s day and not yours. He did come over a couple of times, but you declined to sit with his friends, and because he’d never had any real reason to doubt you before, he took you at your word when you told him you were happy enough where you were. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said, and he believed you.

Patting you on the shoulder, he left you for the third time, and you looked down into the dregs of your drink with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

Outside, the sound of more bikes arriving made your ears perk up, and you wondered idly what they rode. Elusive Neutral had once been an old cattle barn, but it had been completely redone and the walls on two sides had been replaced with vast picture windows that showed the sweeping expanse of moorland beyond, and a small sliver of the car park at one end. Craning your neck, you saw a group of maybe five or six bikers draw up, some on hipster looking cafe racers and others on racy sports bikes. There was even a Ducati Panigale among them, and behind them followed an old, battered, blue pickup truck.

The door opened a little while later, and you glanced over, eyes drawn instinctively by the movement.

Above the general chatter and merry chinking of china in the room, the energy of the new group of bikers rose like a cloud of dizzy mayflies; buzzing and excited and full of joy. You watched them all with interest from your perch at the counter.

The first through the door was an absolute Amazon of a woman, with her long black hair restrained in a thick braid, and shoulders the width of a barn door. She was lean and tall, and in her biker gear she looked… incredible. Her face was strikingly handsome, but until she glanced down at the woman walking beside her, her features were hard and glowering and unspeakably stern. She held the door open for one of the others to follow her inside, but when she locked eyes again with the brunette by her side, her whole expression melted into unguarded adoration. Your gut twisted briefly with jealousy.

It wouldn’t matter to you who looked at you like that, if only someone would.

You looked away, and by the time you glanced back at the bikers, the whole group had filed in from outside. There was a guy with golden-brown skin and beautiful dark brown eyes who had his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a pale, skinny guy in black jeans and a moth-eaten, black jumper, with his long hair tied back in a bun, and behind them came a strikingly attractive guy in a manual wheelchair, flanked by a very short biker with slightly anaemic looking skin. You wondered fleetingly if the guy in the wheelchair had ridden a motorbike there, and if so how, before you realised he was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, with long, flowing red hair and dark green eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made for laughing, and for kissing.

Jesus, was it an unwritten rule of being a biker that you had to be unfairly attractive? Even Hank, who you recognised with a start of surprise coming in behind the guy with red hair, wasn’t unattractive, in a bulky, older man kind of way.

The guy walking with him though… he truly made your stomach swoop.

It was Oats.

You looked away before he could spot you, sitting alone at the bar like some pathetic creature waiting for cocktail hour to begin. It was lunchtime on a sunny, autumnal Saturday though, and there you were sitting alone because you didn’t fancy sitting with your brother’s loser mates.

God, the way Oats had looked in his tough-looking leather jacket, with his eyes crinkled mid-laugh at something the guy in the wheelchair had shot back at them over his shoulder… You bit your lip and stared into the bottom of your cold, empty mug like it would divine some kind of solution to your situation for you.

The new group didn’t seem to notice you while they filed up to the counter, jostling and joking, and when they drifted off to another corner of the cafe, you turned back to your phone, trying desperately to resist the almost overwhelming urge to keep turning over your shoulder to watch them.

Before too long however, you startled at a soft tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to find Oats himself stepping back to a polite distance and smiling down at you like he’d found a treasure in an unexpected place.

“Hey there,” he said in that rolling, Scottish accent that did unspeakably indecent things to your insides. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but you were at Full Moon last week, right?”

Mute for a moment, you nodded, and mustered up a slightly dazed smile for him.

“You… here alone?” he asked, eyeing the currently-empty seats to your left and right. In fact, someone had only just gathered up their belongings and left.

“Kind of?” you croaked, letting your eyes slide over to the table where your brother and his friends were hunched over one of their phones, snickering at something. “It’s… It’s my brother’s birthday today. I… tagged along as pillion, but… you know… I’m kind of a spare part really.”

At that, Oats’ dark eyebrows knitted into a scowl and he looked across the room at them before returning his attention to you. Then, his unearthly, almost prismatic, silver-green eyes took in your empty cup and he grinned. “Can I get y’a top up?”

Your instinct was to refuse, but you bit your lip. This didn’t feel real. A cute, handsome, courteous guy was actually taking an interest in you.

“Sure. Thank you.” And the smile that spread itself across your face telegraphed your delight in a way that was impossible to disguise with any kind of suave grace.

Oats, however, seemed equally delighted, and nodded. The barista came back over and he leaned his weight on the counter to talk to her. He seemed to have that enviably easy manner with everybody, and he even charmed a free slice of cake out of her too with what felt like no effort at all.

“Chocolate? Or something else?” he asked you.

“Pardon?”

“Cake.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” you said, but he frowned.

“You sure? I’m gonna have a bit of their chocolate cake. It’s so good, it’s practically a sin.”

“I…” you faltered.

He didn’t pressure you though and shrugged easily, turning back to the barista. “Gimme two forks with that, love. Just in case.”

“No problem,” she beamed back while she bustled about, and Oats eyed the empty bar stool next to yours.

“May I?”

You swallowed your nerves and nodded. “Please.” And then, because apparently a demon of confidence had temporarily possessed you, you eyed his slightly helmet-flattened forelock and said, “No pink hair clips today?”

He guffawed loudly enough that your brother actually glanced over and frowned when he saw you talking with a stranger.

Oats snorted and shook his head. “No, not today. My daughter is still up in Scotland with her mother.” He fixed you with a more serious look and said, “She and I divorced, before you get the wrong idea about me flirting like this with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment caught you so off-guard that you just froze for a moment, but when the heat of a blush filled your face, you looked away and he chuckled.

“I’m not normally so forward, but I’ve been kicking myself for not talking to you when I first saw you in Full Moon. Hank was telling me just this morning what a muppet I’d made of myself for walking away like that.”

You looked behind you at the group of his friends and then turned back to him. “Won’t they think you’re being rude, ignoring them like this?”

He shook his head and smiled. “They’re probably all taking bets on how quickly you’ll shoot me down.”

“What? I’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

At that, his face split into a huge, handsome grin and he shook his head just a little. “Lucky me,” he said. “You ride?” he added, eyeing your jacket that was obviously a motorcycle jacket.

You shrugged. “Pillion. I’ve never ridden myself, but my brother lets me come out with him sometimes.”

Oats nodded, and then, as the barista set down his coffee, your top-up, and the plate of decadent chocolate cake with two forks, he said, “I’m Euan, by the way, but everyone calls me Oats.”

You introduced yourself, and then said, “Oats?”

He snorted and nodded. “Not the worst nickname, for sure.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

Oats nodded and shunted the plate towards you first before leaning his elbow on the bar and watching you while he spoke. “I think it’s because I’m a dad, but I’m always prepared for most situations, and when it comes to my Natalie, she’s always hungry. I’ve usually got about a thousand granola bars stashed away about my person —” he said, cutting himself off to pat conspicuously at his jacket pockets. Pulling a slightly dog-eared crunchy bar from his breast pocket, he wielded it like a magic wand at you and said, “Case in point.”

“Hence, Oats,” you said, eyeing the healthy brand name on the packet.

“Exactly. Like I said, it could be worse. See the tall lass over there with the dangerous scowl?”

You didn't need to turn around to know which of his friends he was talking about, but you did anyway. “Yeah.”

“We call her Pixie.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, stowing the granola bar back into his pocket and taking a huge scoop of the chocolate cake with his own fork.

“What do you ride then?” you asked.

“Triumph Bonneville T120,” he said with almost exactly the same intonation and fondness as he’d just said ‘because I’m a dad’, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Can’t be doing with all these glitzy sports bikes and the like,” he added with a laugh, setting his fork down and blinking slowly. His lashes, you noticed, were thick and dark and enticingly long.

Laughing, you smiled. “Don’t say that too loudly — my brother rides an R1.”

“Nice,” Oats grinned back. “But nothing could entice me away from my girl.”

“I’m surprised you’re here, flirting with me then,” you said. Evidently that confidence demon was still lurking.

Again, Oats laughed, though it was more of a low whicker this time, and it rolled right through you and lit you up all over. God, how long had it been since someone had laughed like that for you?

“There are… exceptions,” he said in a rumbling murmur. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, and you did.

You spent the next hour at least talking in an easy back and forth with him while he charmed a few more refills from the barista and a lot of answers out of you, before one of his friends sidled up shyly and waited for a lull in your conversation.

“Sorry to butt in,” the small, unbelievably beautiful woman said. She was the one who’d been on the receiving end of the adoring look from the Amazon, ‘Pixie’. She had chocolate-brown hair falling in thick ringlets around a gorgeous face, and, you were pleased to note, she had wide hips and a softness to her that a lot of the biker chicks you’d seen online didn’t have.

“Coco,” Oats beamed. “Meet my new friend.” He introduced you by name, and Coco smiled at you, holding out her hand.

When your palms connected, you felt a warmth rush through you and you felt like your heart skipped a beat. The feeling like you could tip forwards and drown in her endless, dark brown eyes almost unseated you, but she let go of you and stepped back with a pretty smile on her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Pleasure to meet you. Just wanted to tell Oats that we’re thinking of heading off soon. Ariel has a photoshoot he wants to get to in an hour or so, and Demon’s keen to get going as well.”

Oats nodded, and you tried not to let your stomach drop down to your boots at the thought of all this coming to such an abrupt end.

Coco turned her head sharply to look at you just as the feeling hit, and she smiled faintly. “You could always stay here though, Oats,” she added with a pretty smile. “We’re only going back to Full Moon, and Demon clearly has no intention of lingering there…” She shot a meaningful glance back at their table. Demon, the guy with dark hair and tanned skin, was seated with the guy he’d entered with now draped in his lap, his skinny legs dangling as he sprawled languidly back against the guy’s muscular chest. Demon whispered something into his ear before he clearly bit the shell of his boyfriend’s ear, which made him sit abruptly upright and flush a vibrant pink.

Oats laughed again and shook his head. “Fuck me,” he chuckled privately. “Never thought I’d see the day. You guys go on. I’m… I’m very much content here.”

“I can see that,” Coco smirked, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, you turned to Oats with a hot flush of your own in your face and said, “Don’t stay if you don’t want to… I’m sure my brother will be leaving soon anyway…”

Just as you said that, and before Oats could reply, Alex reappeared at your side and jutted his chin in Oats’ direction. “You good?” he chirped at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “This is Oats. I met him at Full Moon Motorcycles when I was buying your birthday present.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, holding out his hand for Oats to shake. “Good to meet you, man. You tell her what to get for me? If you did, it was a good choice.”

“No,” Oats said carefully, his grey-green eyes sliding back to your face even while he shook your brother’s hand amicably. “No, whatever she got you, it was all her.”

“Oh, cool,” Alex said. “Listen, sis, we’re gonna hit the road in a while. Nooner and Eggs want to hit the twisties for a bit, but I can’t really do that with a backpack, so Sparky said he’d give you a ride home, if that’s ok.”

You swallowed. “Um…”

“I can give her a lift,” Oats replied after a swift glance in your direction. “She’s already got her own lid, and there’s room on the Bobber’s double seat for both of us.”

“I don’t know, man,” Alex said with a wary frown.

“Your choice,” Oats shrugged easily, looking at you and holding his hands up just a little.

For a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure, but the idea of wrapping your arms around Oats’ thick middle and sitting astride his gorgeous bike kind of decided it for you. Besides, it was a long time since you’d done anything truly just for yourself; simply because you wanted to. You nodded at your brother. “It’s fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure?”

Nodding to reassure him, you smiled again and Alex backed up a pace. “Cool. Text me later, ok?” he said as he retreated towards his friends, clearly trying to hide his excitement at not having a passenger for the great, twisting section of A-road they were heading for.

“Will do. Have fun, and don’t crash!” you called after him. “Or get a speeding ticket!”

He waved a hand over one shoulder without looking back, and you laughed and returned your attention to Oats. “Brothers.”

“Bikers,” he replied. “You try telling that to any of that lot though —” he gestured towards his own group of friends who were now filtering out of the door. “You ready to head out too or do you want to stay?”

You did want to stay, but the seat wasn’t that comfortable anymore, and you wanted to move around a bit. “No, I’m good to go,” you said and prepared to slide off the stool, but Oats stepped down first and held out his hand to you. You didn't need helping down, and his playful little smirk told you he knew as much, so you rode out the last of that demonic possession and let your fingers slide across his palm and he steadied you off the stool.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Pleasure.”

You picked up your helmet from where you’d stowed it on the floor at your feet and straightened to find him waving casually across the room to the good-looking guy with the ethereally pretty boyfriend. Before he stepped away from you and made towards the door though, you cleared your throat and said, “Oats?”

“Mn?” Looking down at you, his entire attention honed in on you, like you were the centre of the universe, and you swallowed back a sudden welling of emotion.

“Listen… Thank you… for… coming over to me today. Like I said, it’s my brother’s birthday, and he was here with his friends, and he only included me so I didn’t feel completely left out, but…” Accursed tears washed over your eyes for a moment but you blinked them away furiously and ploughed on regardless. “I’m really glad I came along today anyway,” you finished rather pathetically.

His full, beautiful lips curled into a gentle smile and he blinked softly and exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was low and his words private, as though you weren’t standing in a busy cafe surrounded by people and the cheerful clatter of coffee cups and laughter. “I’m really glad I did too. I wasn’t going to, you know? I was going to stay at home and edit a boatload of raw photographs for a client, but Demon convinced me to come out. I guess I owe him.”

“‘Demon’? For… For the speed?” you asked, wondering how he came by his nickname.

“For the horns,” Oats replied in deadpan humour. “Have a look if he’s still there when we go outside. You ready?”

You followed him out of the cafe with a nod, and just as you took a deep, indulgent breath of fresh, heathland air, Oats’ group of friends filed out past you on their bikes. The one named Demon was in the lead, and the nickname made immediate sense. Sitting astride a blood-red Panigale, with his boyfriend clinging on behind him like a limpet, the guy had pale, curving horns fixed to the crown of his helmet.

“Yeah, that tracks,” you said, and Oats waggled his dark eyebrows.

The Amazon had a Yamaha R1 like your brother’s, but hers had a pearl-white wrap that made it look almost spectral, and riding out in front of her was Coco on a yellow and black Honda Hornet.

The telltale red plait told you that the guy in the wheelchair was on a modified Kawasaki, with unusual struts at the back that looked like they would come down when he stopped to stabilise him instead of having to take his legs off the foot pegs, where they were currently Velcro-ed in place. Watching the whole group file out was Hank, standing beside a battered old pickup. In the bed of the truck, you could just see that the red-headed biker’s wheelchair secured in place.

Hank waved the last of them off, then glanced over at Oats. The older man lifted his nose just a little, as if he too was enjoying the fresh, moorland wind that whipped across the car park, and he nodded once at Oats, and then at you to your surprise, before clambering stiffly up into his pickup and closing the door. It shut with a raucous yelp of rusty hinges.

You stood there and watched Oats’ friends all file out, all waving at Oats as they passed, before they set off down the road in a roar of revving engines to leave a lonely looking Bonneville waiting patiently near the stone wall of the car park nearby.

“Yours, I presume?” you said, nodding at it.

“Yup.”

“She’s a beauty,” you mumbled, self-consciousness prickling at the sides of your neck for the silly comment.

Oats beamed though, his sea-foam eyes lighting up as the crinkles around his eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks creased under the force of his obvious pleasure. “Thank you. She’s my pride and joy. You ready? Oh, wait, you should put your address into my phone before we get going,” he laughed.

You nodded, taking the offered phone from him. Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you took it, and a tiny thrill passed through you that you did your best to quash. With your address plugged in and a route home waiting to be followed, you handed it back to him and looked up into his handsome, rugged face as he smiled.

“Cheers. Let’s go,” he said, and you trailed along beside him over to his bike, heartbeat thudding in your ears with your nerves.

He swung a leg over and turned the key, then pushed the bike upright and nudged the side-stand in with his left foot before flicking the switch and bringing the bike to life. She growled beautifully, the low, thundering rumble of her engine sounding far more visceral and primal than your brother’s sports bike did. Perhaps it was the design of the lower-slung Bonneville, with its visible parts that made you think of a Steampunk aesthetic, but you instantly preferred it. Plus, the double seat looked way more cushioned — and less precarious — than the one you’d perched on to get to the cafe that morning.

Oats got himself comfy while you slid your helmet on, then he looked over his shoulder at you and nodded, so you took that as your cue and got settled on the pillion seat behind him. The footpegs were already down. The pulsing purr of the machine beneath you was almost enough to distract you from the fact that you were entrusting your life to a relative stranger, whom you’d never seen ride before, and as you climbed on and rested your hands politely on his shoulders, you felt a shiver travel through your whole nervous system.

“Do whatever’s comfortable for you, obviously,” Oats said over the noise of his bike, “But if you want to hold my waist — if you can actually get your arms around my middle, that is,” he chuckled self-effacingly, “— feel free. Totally up to you.”

“Thanks,” you yelled back, and, because apparently that pesky demon of confidence was still kicking around, you hugged his torso.

It was wonderful.

Slowly snaking your arms around his middle, you felt your chest press against his back and you caught the way he inhaled slowly and tried not to wonder what it meant. It felt so good to hold him that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a hug. It was to keep you in place while a gorgeous stranger drove you home on his equally gorgeous bike. With a final thumbs-up to check you were happy, to which you replied with a nod of your head and tried not to clack your helmet against his, he pulled away and your heart leapt for the sheer joy of it.

Where the R1 was built for sleek speed and bursts of power, the Bonneville was build to be enjoyed, and oh gosh, did you enjoy every curve.

And not just the curves in the road, either.

Oats was soft, but he was solid, and the urge to rest one hand on his thick thigh was almost overwhelming, until he took the corners at just the right pace to be exhilarating without you having to worry about your safety, and you clung on instead and laughed behind the safety of your visor.

It was all over way too soon, and as the Bonneville chugged into your road like a steam train and halted outside your poky, terraced house with its quaint little kitchen garden out the front in the postage-stamp of space between the pavement and the house, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Please don’t let this be it, you thought desperately.

You went through the motions of getting carefully off the bike without staggering or falling, and again, Oats held out his hand to help steady you. You gripped his fingers gratefully and when you gave an extra little squeeze to his hand at the end, you could have sworn he answered with one of his own and a throaty chuckle.

He dismounted too, which surprised you, and you wondered if you were going to have to ask him inside. As much as you wanted that in principle, you desperately didn’t want it to happen today because the house was a mess: laundry was still hanging up all over the place, and you’d cooked a curry the previous night and it was definitely still lingering in the air.

Oats took off his helmet but left his bike idling, which went a little way to reassuring you, and when you looked more closely at his expression, you thought you saw a hint of something familiar lingering in the corners of his eyes. Was he nervous?

Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the thick, 5 o’clock shadow that looked like it lingered pretty constantly no matter the time of day, Oats took a deep breath, held it, and then smiled at you. “Fuck,” he exhaled, and laughed. “I’m… very rusty at all this.” He held his helmet in both hands before him, toying with the strap.

“If I gave you my number, would you maybe like to meet up again?” you asked, taking pity on the man.

“Very much,” he said softly. “Like I said, Natalie is with her mum for the holidays, and apart from a wedding I’m covering next week, this is a pretty slow time of year for me. I’m free… mostly whenever.”

The reminder that he had a daughter with someone else did make you wonder what you were letting yourself in for. Children weren’t really something you had any expense of, since neither you nor your brother had shown any parental inclinations yet, and you weren’t particularly close to your cousins who had small kids.

“Ok, let me give you my number and we can figure something out.”

That done, he slid his phone back into his pocket and zipped it up, biting gently at his lower lip for a moment. “I know it’s bold,” he said, “But may I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped and soared. Breathless, you looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”

His tiny, gentle, lopsided smile heralded the kiss’ approach, and he took your jaw delicately in one, leather-gloved hand as he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft but insistent against yours, and you answered with a little moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, pulling you closer with a low growl so that you were pressed flush against him for a moment before he stepped back and exhaled roughly. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating inches above the ground.

You watched him re-mount his bike and adjust himself a little once he was settled, then he revved it playfully for you, and rode away after a final look back at you. He flipped his visor down as he pulled away, and you watched the bike and its rider disappear down the road.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough… 

__

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[crimsonbubble]

I saw your post about the demon hwa and deer reader and was wondering if you’d elaborate on it more👀?

Sweet Shadows

cw. fluff/nsfw, gn deer hybrid!reader, shadow demon!hwa, very brief mention of death, thigh riding, soft dom hwa w/ a bit of a mean streak, slight scent kink (?), dry humping, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[in reference to this!!] TYSM FOR ASKING BC THIS IDEA HAS BEEN EATING AT ME FOR TOO LONG, mayhaps I went a little crazy with this (1.3k words 🧍🧍)

i love the idea of scary being x cute being

shadow demon!hwa who enjoys watching the life bleed from someone’s eyes. who finds it amusing when people beg for their lives as if they didn’t call this upon themselves.

shadow demon!hwa whose entire schtick is dark. yet his garden is absolutely flourishing with lush green grass and vivid flowers, which are meticulously taken care of.

shadow demon!hwa who returns home one day to find his lavender bushes is in slight disarray. of course, he would notice if anything other than him had touched his beloved garden.

shadow demon!hwa who delicately fixes his garden and hopes it’s just a one time thing. until it happens again the very next day, then the next, and the next. he’s nearly ripping his hair out trying to figure out who or what is playing around his garden.

usually, you’d be gone by the time seonghwa leaves the house, but the grass near his thriving lavender bushes is so soft and the soothing scent from the pretty flowers lulls you into a deeper sleep than you had originally intended.

shadow demon!hwa who spots you napping between the bunches of flowers and nearly draws his claws out. he’d crouch down by you, trying to think of the best way to wake you up without scaring you. but that doesn’t happen as you smell a new presence.

shadow demon!hwa who forces himself to not coo at your drowsy state. but before he could get a word in edge-wise, your eyes widened comically as you shuffled away from him, muttering out a flutter of apologies.

shadow demon!hwa who can’t help but find his demeanour softening as he watches your ears twitch. he talks so softly to you as if to not suddenly spook you.

shadow demon!hwa who spent the next two hours trying to coax you out of his lavender bushes with slow movements and soft words. once he gained enough of your trust, he’d hold a hand out to you, offering to help you stand and he’s trying not to laugh when you as you shakily put your hand in his.

shadow demon!hwa who tries to get you into the house but you start pulling against him; so he lets you sit on the steps leading to the back door while he goes in to prepare some tea. he even leaves the door open to see if he can tempt you in and boy, oh boy, did it tempt you.

shadow demon!hwa who comes back out after putting water to boil and finds you very intently scanning his display cases. he’ll lean against the doorway and watch you tip-toe to see what’s on the higher shelves and shamelessly stare at the way your tail swishes when you find something interesting.

shadow demon!hwa who pats the space on his couch and adores how you quietly take a seat beside him. he’ll hand you the mug of tea and simply say, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, just enjoy the tea with me.”

shadow demon!hwa who loves your curiosity and tells you stories about every item you looked at on his shelves.

shadow demon!hwa who has to force himself to look away from you every few seconds so he doesn’t kiss you breathlessly.

shadow demon!hwa who literally spends god knows how long talking with you because he loves how attentive you are (he loves seeing you mindlessly nod your head and look at him with big, shiny eyes).

shadow demon!hwa who jokingly offers for you to sleep in his back garden rather than his spare bedroom. he laughs and rubs your ears before taking your hand and leading you to his guest room. he’ll even lend you some old clothes, he’s willing to part with for you to sleep in.

shadow demon!hwa who makes sure to have you shower before you get into bed. he goes into his garden and grabs a few lavender bunches to put into a small vase to put on your nightstand.

shadow demon!hwa who makes up in the middle of the night to your form curled up against his back and shaking. he finds out you had a nightmare and immediately pulls you into him. he finds it adorable when you snuggle your head into his chest but he doesn’t say anything and opts to wrap himself around you and cover you with his blanket.

shadow demon!hwa who has you falling back asleep within a few minutes to petting between your ears. though it was hard to register the fact that you woke up with your head against his chest and his arms wrapped around your hips.

shadow demon!hwa who grumbles for you to go back to sleep because it’s too early and then proceeds to tighten his grip around you. laying awake against his chest while one of his hands mindlessly travels down to your tail.

shadow demon!hwa who strokes the soft fur and smiles softly when it twitches against his palm. but what he does not account for is how sensitive the skin around your tail is; his fingers will occasionally rub against your lower back, making you pray that he doesn’t hear how hard your heart is beating or how your hips are constantly shifting to alleviate the pressure between your thighs.

shadow demon!hwa who unfortunately has already picked up on it. somehow within the night, his thigh had gotten trapped between yours; just seems as though you haven’t realized it yet. he could feel everything; the way your hips trembled against his thigh, the way you bit your lip to stay quiet, and the way you buried yourself in his chest to muffle any noises that came out of you.

shadow demon!hwa who is trying not to lose himself in your scent; it’s morning dew with hints of florals and it’s driving him mad. it takes every fibre in Seonghwa’s being to not push against your thigh that has now pressed itself against his crotch.

shadow demon!hwa who shifts you closer to him with a shallow breath and says “let me hear you, sweet thing.” as he guides your hips on his thigh again.

shadow demon!hwa who ruts against your leg as you let out the sweetest moans that he’s ever heard. just laying in his bed, wrapped in his arms, and humping against his leg.

shadow demon!hwa who lets go of all the praise that he’s been dying to shower you in. “keep going, pretty, make yourself feel good on me.” “don’t hide from me now, bambi. eyes on me, baby.”

shadow demon!hwa who finally gets to kiss you breathless, all because you looked up at him with those big, shiny eyes and clung to him so tightly.

shadow demon!hwa who nearly came at just the sound of his name falling from your lips.

shadow demon!hwa who moves you to straddle him, his hips bucking uncontrollably as you grind and swivel your hips on him.

shadow demon!hwa whose hands are glued to your thighs and hips as he ruts his aching cock against you.

shadow demon!hwa who coos at you when you whine and paw at his chest, growing more desperate for real contact with each thrust of his hips.

shadow demon!hwa who taunts you gently, laughing as he pulls your hips down to grind against your heat. “oh, yeah? you like it when i do that, baby?”

shadow demon!hwa who moans into your neck as he cums

shadow demon!hwa whose grip is bruising your hips as he bounces you on his lap.

shadow demon!hwa whose cock twitches when your body stills as you come undone. “you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me.”

[valsdelulucorner]

Imagine the brothers were mermaids

Ok but like, imagine instead of you going down to the devildom and meeting the brothers as demons, they were mermaids in the human world.

You were in a horrendous storm that completely destroyed your ship and killed all of your crewmates. You washed up on a deserted island and soon realized there were a few heads watching you from the water. After you calm down, Lucifer introduces himself and his 5 brothers, explaining that they saw you floating in the water face up and decided to save you. He then introduced you to his younger brothers, putting mammon in charge of taking care of you when your near the beach

There was a cove on the other side of the island that you were prohibited to go into, besides the only visible access to it was underwater, even then its blocked off by a large boulder. After hearing cries and begs from the cove, you looked around the top of the cove and found a small hole in the side of the rock, seeing another mermaid inside, Belphie.

After meeting him and making the pacts with the brothers, you manage to let him out by moving the large boulder infront of the enternece by using the powers of the pacts, and you know what happened when you let belphie out💀

Things happen after that, there was alot of tears and words but everything turned out well after the incident. Lucifer gave you a spell so you could breath after that though, hes not willing to have you suffocate and die after what happened with belphie

They all started to warm up to you after a while like in the actual story, growing a attachment to the pretty/handsome human they saved on the island. They may not be able to go onto land with you but after setting belphie free, you guys were able to set up a proper home that you all can share in the cove.

The cove is quite large with shallow pools littered around the area so the brothers can comfortably lay down without drying out but still allow them to be close to you. The dry parts of the cove is where they helped you make shelter by carrying in different resources for you to make a bed and stay warm at night. they are fascinated when you manage to find another way into the cove from land, fascinated by fire once your able to bring in dry wood

Once they start to grow more fond of you, you start to find more dead fish and shiny shells near your bed, not realising they are trying to court you more obviously. You still don't know why the others give each other the evil eyes for the day after you find a really shiny shell on your make shift pillow

. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer had deep red scales and a tail with a mix of red and black scales. His nails are sharp and his hands were covered in scales, running up his arms and ending at his elbow. He had red gills on his neck and in between his ribs. His fins were sharp-ish and the end of his tail was a nice pattern of red and black scales. The whites of his eyes were black while his pupils were red, slit irises. His tounge was a deep red aswell, teeth razor sharp like sharks. He took a shirt from a shipwreck and wraps it around his waist, tailoring it abit to make it actually a waist wrap and not just a shirt. Lucifer calls you his love

Mammon had vibrant yellow scales with his tail being a beautiful mix of yellow and white. His nails are less sharper then lucifer but still sharp, beautiful yellow scales littering his hands and ending at his forearm. He had dirty white gills around his neck while his gills on his chest were directly over each of his ribs. His fins are more flowy along the sides of his tail, his larger fin at the bottom of his tail being a beautiful mix of yellow, cream and white. The whites of his eyes were a bright yellow while his pupils were blue, thicker irises but still slits. His tounge is a nice shade of cream and his teeth are more like vampire teeth but with his bottom teeth having fangs aswell. He is covered in bangles and treasure, he pierced his own ears and tounge so he could use some of the jewelry. Mammon calls you his treasure

Leviathan has deep blue scales with his tail being a fade of purple blue at his hips to dark blue at the end of his tail. His nails aren't the sharpest out of the brothers but are can still be used as weapons, deep blue scales covering his hands and ending at just below his elbow. He has some scales littering his neck that complement his blue coloured gills, uneven gills along the underside of his ribs. He has a sea snake type tail, his fins being a nice, deep, translucent blue colour. The whites of his eyes are a nice light blue colour while his pupils are a orangey colour, the slits of his eyes being diamond shaped. His tounge is a purply blue colour, his tounge and teeth snake like. He found a ruri-chan bracelet after it fell off the side of a cruise ship and that bracelet has been on his wrist since, he's been on the hunt for anything else ruri-chan after that. Levi calls you his charm {ruri-chan ref}

Satan has some vibrant green scales with his tail being a mix of green and sea green scales. His nails are the sharpest of all the brothers while his hands are covered in green scales, running up his arm and ending at his bicep. He has deep green gills resting near the back of his neck, his gills being more near his back but still on his ribs. His fins are the sharpest out of his brothers and are a beatiful green colour, the fins at the bottom of his tail a mix of sea green and green. The whites of his eyes are a dark green while his pupil is a nice green, the irises of his eyes are spikey but still vaguely resemble slits. His tounge is spikey and deep green, his teeth alot sharper then Lucifer's, his teeth are made for shredding. He wears some silver jewelry on the tip of his fins to be able to lure fish in for dinner, he wears it more as a hunting tactic then a fashion statement. Satan calls you his darling

Asmo has the most gorgeous pink scales with his tail being a mix of cherry pink and raspberry pink. His nails are the dullest of the brothers but they are still lethal, his hands are littered with pretty pink scales that end at his wrists. His gills are a bright pink colour that are closer to the front of his jaw, the gills on his chest resting right under his ribs. His fins are very flowy and are such a beautiful shade of pink, the fins at the end of his tale is a beautiful cherry pink fading into a deep raspberry pink. The whites of his eyes are a shade of apricot pink while his pupils are a nice orangy pink colour, his irises in the shape of hearts. His tounge is a raspberry pink and his teeth are really dull. He is like mammon with the fact that he loves to wear beautiful jewelry he finds on shipwrecks, they make his beauty stand out. Asmo calls you precious

Beel has some vibrant orange scales with his tail being a mix of sunset orange and mandarin orange. His nails are quite sharp but are quite short, beautiful mandarin scales covering his hands and end at his shoulders. His gills are a nice orange that are right above his collar bone, his other gills resting right under his pectorals, on his ribs. His fins are abit rough but are a nice sunset orange colour, his fins at the end of his tail a mix of mandarin and sunset orange. The whites of his eyes are a deep orange colour and his pupils are a beautiful purple, his irises in the shape of little suns. His tounge is a deep orange colour while his teeth are lion like, his teeth are MADE for eating meat. He got a piece of rope he found off of a shipwreck and made a necklace for himself, having made a tail bangle for belphie so they match. Beel calls you his guppy

Belphie has some beautiful purple scales with his tail being a mix of Lavander purple and deep purple. His nails are second to asmos in being dull but can still cause alot of damage, soft purple scales littering his hands which end at his shoulders. His lavender gills are also placed right above his collar bone, his gills placed right under his pectorals aswell, matching beel. His fins are nice and flowy, the fins at the end of his tail a lovely mix of lavender and deep purple. The whites of his eyes are a deep purple which match well with his purple pupils, his irises shaped like little moons. His tounge is a mix of deep purple with the tip being lavander, his teeth being quite sharp but quite unnoticeable at first glance. He loves the little thing beel made for his tail, he never takes it off. Belphie calls you squishy

. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

woo, its mermay! Im sorry if their designs aren't described well or fit your own head cannon but i will try and make some visual designs for them! I will probably come back and edit this so it can make more scene

The top part is so ass but im planning on doing actuall head cannons for mermay, so please dont loose hope on me just yet

What should I do next?

[greyskyflowers]

Since I very much enjoy the idea of Edwin being permanently a little fucked up after his 2nd trip to hell and everything with Esther, I have made a few posts about that if you're interested ~ I think a potential part of that would be to consider if Charles, and Crystal, ever battle feelings of guilt about being the reason they all ended up in Port Townsend.

Like, I wonder if when they finally got everything calmed down and are back home, if the night nurse absent-mindedly says something about the possession of Esther being the thing that got her department involved and Charles just gets this horrible sinking in his gut.

And then he starts thinking about everything and how it might have looked to Edwin.

How he and Crystal pushed Edwin to go to Port Townsend, and how often they all ended up with Crystal and Edwin facing each other to argue and Charles physically on Crystal's side.

Possessing Esther even though Edwin had always told him to never do that and how confident he had been that nothing was going to happen and Edwin was just being Edwin.

How his response to Edwin coming back leashed and clearly upset about the cat king was to give him shit and push over and over on the topic.

Letting Edwin get taken to hell again, even though Charles had been right there.

Esther.

Niko.

Also, when they learn Crystal willing let David in and how potentially upsetting that could be to Edwin? Even if Charles didn't know a lot about hell, and I don't think he did, demons must be something that kind of trip Edwin up a little, right? Maybe those cases make him go a little quieter, more likely to stick close to Charles, etc.

They got Niko out of Port Townsend, and they ended up in a better position with the Lost and Found department by the end of everything, but still.

Everytime Edwin now flinches away from the light because he's got a headache, or he's so exhausted after a case that Charles basically has to carry him back, or an iron burn takes much longer to heal then it ever has... the guilt makes Charles feel like he's going to get sick.

Maybe Edwin also checks out a little more then he did previously, eyes going a little hazy and clearly not seeing or hearing them. He doesn't talk and he'll just sit there, sometimes for days. Charles has to coax him onto the couch for a little more comfort, getting him to lay down even though it really doesn't do anything, Edwin always going easily to wherever Charles nudges him. He doesn't know exactly where Edwin goes during those zone outs but he can guess and it's nothing good.

🌙🌙🌙

This no way meant to say anything bad about any of the characters and if you take it that way then you didn't pay attention. Charles is usually really good with people and really good with Edwin, but I think he got so distracted by Crystal that things just got messy. And once things started spiraling, it just kept going.

Edwin is absolutely not blameless in all this either and I love Crystal but the beginning of the relationships between all of them was a hot mess.

We've all at some point, been brushed aside for something shiny and new. It's a terrible feeling. Add in the fact that Charles is basically Edwin's only person and his world got very small and lonely, very quickly.

[youthguk]

Follow the White Rabbit | jjk (m)

pairing: idol! jungkook x idol! reader

genre: smut, idols au.

words: 8.2k

summary: Jungkook never involves with other idols, valuing his reputation above everything else. That's until he learns about you. But when his attempt to get closer to you falls short because of false rumors, you're determined to make it up to him.

author’s note: all characters are 18+(!); this is a stand alone story. however, i do have some ideas for more parts, so let me know if anyone would be interested in more parts ♡

“Every adventure requires a first step.”

Jungkook was known for his pristine reputation amongst other idols. And that came with certain drawbacks. 

Being an idol meant being watched. Always. He had to learn it the hard way. But he learned his lesson long ago and now no one would ever catch Jungkook’s pretty shiny eyes darting even with the slightest interest in other groups' direction, especially girl groups. He was sick of that and decided to protect his peace by playing by the rules of the idol industry and fans, scrutinizing his every move, and craving to know more about his personal life. 

Jungkook distanced himself from everything that could disturb his peace. Surely, he is showing up to events, music shows, and year-end award shows with his group, eyes only on members and fans. He is here to do his job, and enjoy performance; he is here for music, not for drama. Jungkook is now called “heartless” and “brat” by his peers; every time some newly debuted idols approach him backstage — he politely bows back to them, not willing to maintain a conversation. Jeon Jungkook is pretty content with his reputation, they may call him “arrogant” or even “spoiled maknea”, he is not here to be liked. 

He is not here to make any new friends, he doesn’t need them, it's as simple as that. Jungkook doesn’t remember when was the last time that he even bothered to check the new groups. Well, of course, that was until the popularity of your group “Bunnies” became so big that it was just impossible for him to escape from you. 

“Hyung, what’s the deal with…what was their name…Bunnies?” Finally, Jungkook gives in and decides to refer to Namjoon who, unlike him, always keeps up with new trends and faces in their industry. “Obnoxious name for a group, by the way,” he adds. 

“Are you asking because of ____ ?” Namjoon teases his favorite maknae. 

“What? No…Who’s that?” Jungkook regrets asking as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. He is, insensibly to himself, crossing the line that he drew himself. Of course, he doesn’t care who you are, he was just curious about your group for a moment. 

“Oh, well, she’s the leader of Bunnies,” Jungkook doesn’t know you (and has no desire to get acquainted with you) and yet he can’t help but pity you. Leader of Bunnies. That must be hard for you. He chuckles at his thoughts which don’t go unnoticed by his own leader, “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, hyung, but the name is ridiculous,” he shrugs and when met with a disapproving stare from his leader, Jungkook compliantly adds, “But hey, good for them, right? They even caught my attention. Well, it was impossible to not notice, I mean, their song was playing in every damn convenience store that I entered this past few months.”

“You should check the credits to the song.”

Jungkook doesn’t ask why and simply follows Namjoon’s suggestion. His eyes wander on his screen, gaze drawn to the same name repeated both in “Lyrics by” and “Composed by”. 

“That’s the leader…You were talking about her, ____, right?” And when Namjoon nods, Jungkook’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion. “Why did you think I was interested because of her in particular?”

Namjoon heavily sighs, stretching his arms wearily, “Of course, our Jungkookie is all grown-up now and no one deserves his attention,” he playfully pats Jungkook’s head, knowing very well how annoying their golden maknae finds that. “She just mentioned you in one of their interviews and now it went viral, just like everything that Bunnies do.”

Yet again Jungkook cringes at the mention of your group’s name and, for some obscure reason, takes a mental note to check out that interview. 

_________

You were the oldest in your group and the most experienced one. When agreeing to debut in Bunnies you were promised by the company that you will simply be able to do what you already love the most — writing and composing songs while being able to perform. You never liked the public attention and criticism that comes with the territory, but as your producers and PR agents assured you, all that unwanted public attention will go past you. After all, you were the oldest and not the center of the group. Which was supposed to guarantee you a somewhat calm and untroubled career (as much as it was possible in this case, of course). 

“Welcome Bunnies!” The host of a variety show addresses your group excitedly. Nowadays, it was pure luck for any TV program to get your group to visit them, you were booked and busy. Literally. You don’t remember with what exact mindset you were getting yourself into this and what were you expecting from your group, but this level of success was unexpected, even for your company. 

Thanks to your introverted nature, your beloved members, who in a span of just a few months were all like little sisters to you, took most of the talking responsibility on themselves, leaving you only serious and tricky questions for discussion. 

“So, who would you call your celebrity crush or even ideal type?” The interviewer asks and all the eyes of your members fall on you, pleading for help. 

“Wow, no one has ever asked us that before!” You chuckle as the audience conformably bursts into laughter and you try to stall some more time before you come up with an appropriate and least provoking answer. “Well, I’d say it’s Jeon Jungkook sunbaenim, right?” You turn to your members, looking for support. But you know you already gave the wrong answer when you decided to respond with honesty. “He’s very talented and achieved so much, I always looked up to him, and still after our debut, there’s so much to learn from him.” You blurt it all at once out, not sure why you even went with so many details on your long-term crush on one of the most untouchable idols. You heavily exhale in relief, expecting a change of topic. 

“So, you would date him?” The interviewer decides to not give you an easy time. Surprise. 

“Well, your question was on ideal type,” you flash the audience with your elegant smile which they return with applause and you finally feel free when the next question has nothing to do with crushes and dating. 

That day you come back to your shared dorm with members, tiredly plopping on your favorite couch. 

“How bad was that, be honest,” you almost threaten Rinjea with your discerning stare. 

“It was just fine, stop it, unnie,” you are pretty sure you’ve heard that for the 10th time but it still doesn’t feel like the truth. “Plus, Jungkook is like the most unbothered and arrogant person, he probably will never even hear about this interview.” She brushes you off, again, but this time it works and you loosen up a little. 

The worst that can happen is being made fun of by your friends and that was the last thing on your mind. You scoff to yourself, were you really worried about Jeon Jungkook watching your interview? 

As time goes by, the worries vanish into thin air. Even though your secret crush is not so secret anymore, the general public discusses that with tenderness on how bold you were to confess that. 

Besides, there were no chances of you randomly bumping into Jungkook as BTS stopped performing on music shows. The only place for you to meet him is the upcoming year-end award shows, but by the time you start attending them with your group, your little awkward moment in the interview is long forgotten by you. 

However, the whole “being teased by your peers” thing happens anyway as on one of your very rare days off you find time to finally catch up with your only friend in this industry (besides your members, of course), Harin, who was not only a member of a group that debuted a year before you and a great artist but also a part-time personal provider of gossips on K-pop industry for you. 

“No, but why on earth you mentioned Jeon Jungkook out of all people!” She exclaims and you almost jump in your seat looking around you. It’s a Sunday morning; the cafe that you both decided to meet at is almost empty but you still feel unnerved mentioning any names. 

“Why not? I always liked him,” as you say that you are reminded by the disbelief on Harin’s face that you’ve never actually mentioned that to her before. “And nothing controversial about appreciating other musicians’ talent.”

“Talent my ass,” Harin scoffs, shaking her head. “You really know nothing about him, ____? ”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course, our little naive ____,” she lets out a long sigh of pity, leaving you absolutely puzzled at this whole situation. “Let’s put it that way, he’s known for his promiscuous ways, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate yourself, drawing your brows together, growing angry with your friend. You never idealized your favorite artists, but this sounded more like some cheap gossip, and you couldn’t stand that. “If anything, I’ve heard the opposite about him and his members.”

“Well, that’s all a facade,” she folds her arms across her chest sensing the lack of trust. “And if I told you that I experienced that first-hand, you wouldn’t believe that either?” She snorts. 

“You’ve slept with Jungkook?” Something between a high-pitched squeal and a whisper leaves your mouth. You could’ve never imagined this conversation would lead to this. And you hate the little prickle of jealousy and disappointment from this unwanted discovery. 

“Hah, he wishes,” your friend scoffs, pure amusement lingering on her face now that you are more invested in this conversation. “He tried to get into my pants, but I totally turned him down. I mean it’s like an indicator of no self-worth if you get involved with dudes like him.” You process Harin’s words wide-eyed, all of that still sounds as if about someone else, but you can’t naively deny that. “I guess they’re just like everyone else, using their status to get to girls and then run their mouths about them, ruining poor naive girls’ reputations.”

And that was your last straw. You knew you didn’t have the right to judge other people’s personal life but if Harin’s words were true, that was terribly disappointing for you. 

“I can’t believe that… that’s atrocious,” this conversation leaves a bitter taste of disappointment on your tongue that you’re not sure will be able to get rid of any time soon. “And I’ve never even heard about it!”

“You’re lucky you know me and can count on me warning you about douchebags like him.”

_________

Jungkook doesn’t remember when exactly he started falling into that rabbit hole. First, he watched the infamous interview, chuckling to himself smugly. Next, he listened to your group’s debut mini-album, replaying with special attentiveness songs in which you participated in the creation process. 

It’s been two weeks now, and his “for you” page was flooding with you. It was almost unbearable, and Jungkook would gladly get mad at someone if he wasn’t the one to blame. Well, your songs were good, to say the least. And in every performance, his gaze was automatically searching for you. There was something about you that was exceptionally enthralling to Jungkook; maybe it was how poised you always were, carrying yourself with elegance, while your younger members were always wild and loud. They could afford to be reckless and careless, as you were taking a lot of responsibilities on yourself. 

Jungkook was suddenly intrigued by you, wondering what type of person you actually were, as you never gave in any details about yourself except for your love for music and performing. He couldn’t explain it, but he had this confidence that you two would easily get along. 

“I bet our Jungkookie knows all Bunnies’ songs by heart now,” Jimin teases him while taking a break from practicing, noticing the song that is currently on repeat in Jungkook’s headphones. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to ease exhaustion from hours and hours of practice for the upcoming big performance that they’re preparing for the award show. As he immerses into the song in his headphones (which is by pure coincidence written by you), he suddenly lights up with a genius, almost cute, idea (in his opinion). What if he approaches you tomorrow backstage and says hi? It wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? He hasn’t done that since… he can’t even remember, but surely he could try to get to know you and thank you for your kind words and even profess his own new-found love for your music. He is so intrigued by that idea and thrilled with the anticipation of your reaction, that he feels a sudden rush of energy. 

Oh, he can’t wait to see. 

_________

To Jungkook’s frustration, his plan utterly fails during the first day of the award ceremony; for some reason, you are always out of his sight and when he can finally approach you — your members are right by your side. The same pattern follows the next day, and the day after that. 

Jungkook starts growing impatient with you, even though he knows it’s out of your control — you are a leader, after all, and you can’t let your group be on their own. And you are absolutely oblivious to the fact that Jungkook wants to have a tete-a-tete moment with you. At some point, he even wonders if there’s a chance that you’re deliberately avoiding him, as he can’t catch even a fleeting glance from you. Maybe you’re just shy and careful, he calms himself, and in that case, he must meet you in person and reassure you that everything is fine.

It seems that luck was in his favor this time, as your group members were asked to leave the ceremony early for the reasons unknown to him, leaving you all alone. Jungkook can only pray that all his secretive peeking at you wasn’t captured by any fan cams. And when the ceremony is coming to an end, he notices how you start leaving earlier, not waiting for the usual curtain call where everyone gets on stage and says final goodbyes to the audience. 

Maybe you were anxious about big crowds, especially now, when you were all by yourself. Oh, how Jungkook wishes he would have been able to keep you company. While you walk through the seats, Jungkook manages to steal a glance at you without the usual precautions, as everyone’s attention is on you now anyway. 

You look beautiful, as always, he thinks to himself. Something devilish in that white short dress that you are confidently rocking tonight. He could watch you and the way you elegantly carry yourself all day, attentively studying your enchanting features. Oh, how Jungkook wishes he could stare at you freely but as soon as you walk behind the stage, he forces himself to shift his attention back to the stage, nervously shaking his leg. 

After you, a couple of other idols are following your example, rushing backstage before the official closing of the ceremony and Jungkook deems that’s a perfect opportunity. He throws something about promising to return soon behind him, to his members, and races backstage. His heart frantically hammering against his chest left him wondering when was the last time that he felt so free and alive. 

_________

You enter the waiting room of your group, but as the girls had to leave earlier, you are left in solitude which you, quite frankly, don’t mind. It’s the last event of this year that you had to attend. December was insanely filled with work; you would have never imagined that this one day could have been your life. You still can’t grasp if debuting was the right decision; it was hard being a trainee and life was getting only harder and harder now. Well, this is just life and work that you chose for yourself. 

While you were caught in your thoughts, the sound of opening a door goes almost unnoticed by you. But then it is followed immediately by some coughing, almost begging for your attention. You frown at the sudden intrusion and turn around. 

There he was. Jeon Jungkook himself awkwardly standing in your group’s waiting room, nervously pulling at the back of his neck. What the hell? You have never seen him this up close, and god was he the most beautiful human being that you’ve ever seen? Easily. You can’t take your eyes off him, mesmerized by the way his in-life beauty makes you think that photos don’t do him justice by failing to capture his true beauty. 

“Hello…I guess?” he’s searching for your eyes but instead, you grant him a respectful bow, which makes him chuckle with a clear disappointed undertone to it. “No need for that, please.”

At first, when his nervousness took over him, you were caught off guard — that wasn’t aligning with all the rumors that you heard about him. Maybe this was his way to charm you? How many girls has he tricked with that slick image of shyness?

You froze at your place, perplexed by his words. Well, what is he here for then? “Sorry, Jungkook sunbaenim.” 

“Just call me Jungkook,” he heavily sighs, eyes wandering around the room. 

“You can take a seat… Jungkook,” you tentatively motion to him; the awkward silence fills the room. 

You try to suppress all your emotions. You can only hope that your stiffness comes across to him as tranquility. It took a lot of self-control, after all, it was still Jeon Jungkook in front of you. It will take some time for you to fully drift his image in your head to the one that adheres to the disappointing reality.

Jungkook scoffs, a little bit irritated with your covert indifference to him. “You weren’t this shy dropping my name in interviews,” he casually states matter-of-factly. 

Your eyes widen at his sudden passive aggression. Whatever he was expecting from you, you disappointed him. But if anything, you believe that you are the one who has a right to be angry at him after discovering frustrating details about his personal life. 

“And I truly meant that,” you habitually slightly bow your head which irritates him a little bit. Yet you still don’t understand what he’s so upset about. 

“Doesn’t seem like that,” he is still standing by the door, now confidently leaning on it. “More like just another attention-seeker, using our group’s name to promote yourself.” 

His cruel and baseless accusation strikes you painfully. 

“I’m sorry but you have no right to blame me like that,” you pause for a second, trying to catch your breath as you hear your voice cracking from despair, “and I don’t understand why you are being so mean.” 

You see Jungkook’s tensed features soften slightly, a look of concern flourishing on his face from your shaky voice. “Fine, sorry, don’t know what’s gotten into me,” his voice now calming and soothing which resembles more his angelic singing voice that you adore so much. “I was very excited to see you in person, couldn’t wait for the right moment… so I decided to not wait any longer.”

His sudden confession and change of tone leave you utterly perplexed, why would Jeon Jungkook want to meet you? If anything, it should’ve been the other way around. “Me?” You point at yourself, still baffled by his words. “Why would you…”

“I somehow became a big fan, I guess,” you quirk an eyebrow at his “somehow” in dismay, but don’t interrupt. “You are a great artist, your songs…can’t stop listening to them,” he blurts it all out at once, a shade of nervousness back in his voice.

You look at him shocked, how is he telling you all these nice words that you dreamed of telling him? The world seems unreal now. 

“I don’t know what to say…I just…thank you very much,” you bow again despite his previous plea. “And I can’t believe that you are saying this because what I said during that interview, I truly meant that. You are one of the reasons why I decided to pursue singing.” 

Professing your gratitude to Jungkook and BTS was one of your dreams and you couldn’t miss this opportunity. However, the familiar tension and awkwardness were back between you two. 

It’s clear to you now how Jungkook was trying to get rid of that, but you were too resistant to talk casually with him. Not only because of respect: whether he liked it or not, he still was your senior and it was not easy to just treat him as your equal. But as much as you tried, Harin’s words about him were getting to your head. If everything Harin’s said was true, then he definitely wasn’t the best person to get close to. You would never want to do anything that could somehow damage your group’s reputation. It wouldn’t be fair to girls. 

Of course, you don’t even assume that he would be interested in you in that way, but that wasn’t particularly your concern. You knew yourself, and you knew very well that if he tried to make a move on you, you simply couldn’t resist him. And that was scaring you the most. So the least you can do is to stop whatever he’s trying to initiate before it’s too late. 

“_____, please, I really appreciate your words but I was hoping we could drop all these formalities,” his lips are lightly curled in a smile and your heart skips a beat at that sight. 

You cast a glance at his lightened up face, his doe eyes sparkling with sincerity. Your heart aches, how could Jungkook standing in front of you be the same person who Harin warned you about? After all, maybe he is genuine with you now and has no ulterior motives.

“If it’s because of the setting,” he points around, “then we could meet in more casual circumstances,” your eyes widen in shock, anticipating his next words. “We can hang out when both of our schedules match,” he suggests innocently and you feel your heart shrinking. Harin was right. 

“You can’t be serious,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I can’t believe that.”

Jungkook looks at you worriedly, taking a step closer to you. “I don’t understand, what’s wrong?”

You chuckle at his deceiving concern, whatever role he’s playing now, he’s too good, you almost feel ashamed for accusing him of having bad intentions, but you have to set aside your naivety and face the truth. “I can’t believe I am a fan of someone like you.”

“What’s wrong, I don’t understand. You said on national TV that you liked me, and now you act like me suggesting to get to know each other is a crime,” he raises his voice, and you can clearly hear that he’s hurt. 

“And you thought it was an open invitation?” You cross your hands. Only a month ago you would give anything for a little conversation with Jungkook, and now, you were arguing with him, fully enraged. “Besides, that was before I learned about your true nature.”

“Oh…that’s interesting,” Jungkook teasingly claims, making himself comfortable while plopping on the only couch in your dressing room. “Tell me more about it,” to your surprise, he became uplifted for no particular reason, his full attention dedicated to you only. 

“I know that you…” you’re startled by his attentive gaze, eyeing you up and down. And how are you supposed to formulate why exactly you’re upset with him? “I know you unabashedly use your status to get to…to use girls and then spread misinformation that ruins their reputation,” you pause to catch a breath. “You’re insane if you think I would ever get involved with someone like you.”

To your astonishment, he starts laughing leaving you dumbfounded. Jungkook leans his head back, not able to contain the laughter. “This one is definitely entertaining.”

“What do you mean ‘this one’?”

“The nonsense that you just told me, was quite amusing. Haven’t heard that type of thing in a long time,” he reproaches you while tilting his head to the side. 

“Nothing funny about treating other people so disgracefully,” you still stand your ground. “I’ve heard it from a reliable source,” you sound ridiculous to yourself but you don’t think it would be wise to say Harin’s name. What if he is actually dangerous?  

“As a fan you surely have little faith in me” he chuckles bitterly. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbles to himself, the disappointment and pain in his voice almost breaking you. He tightens his lips together, jaw clenched. You know confronting him was the right thing to do. But why does it still hurt so badly? 

“If that was your intention all along, then yes. This was a mistake. ”

————

The bitter aftertaste of meeting Jungkook doesn’t leave you even after a week. You’re torn inside, feeling both guilty for causing him pain and angry for deceiving you and other millions of fans that he’s a nice person. Of course, he didn't owe anyone anything but it still made you cry yourself to sleep for several nights. You were constantly rewinding your conversation with him before sleep, trying to hold on to every little detail in your memory.

Harin turned out to be right — not that you doubted your friend’s words for a second — but still, Jungkook’s genuine disappointment with you felt more personal than just a guy being turned down from getting laid. And it was driving you insane, making you question your decision more and more. A torturing feeling that there was some missing part to this whole story that you couldn’t get hold of.

You desperately needed to discuss it with someone; your members never found out about what happened that day, and you weren’t ready to reveal his true nature to more people. 

Fortunately, during New Year’s week off, your schedule matched with Harin’s and you decided to invite her to your dorm, making it easier to discuss everything without filtering your conversations. 

“How were your holidays, tell me all about it,” you ask, as you both sit on the floor in your room, a bunch of food and snacks presented in front of you that you barely managed to save from your younger members’ eyes. 

“Well…” Harin starts grinning happily, making you excited for the upcoming story. “Guess who actually got to kiss someone special on Midnight.”

Your eyes widen, finally, some good news to talk about! 

“Girl, good for you!” You nudge your friend teasingly. “But with whom?” 

“Seojun from XTQ1,” she squeals from excitement and you try to seem delighted to match her energy. That name doesn’t ring a bell, and you’re not sure if you have ever heard about that group either. 

“I mean, who would have thought, right?” She continues to introduce you to her love story and you were truly happy for Harin.“Only a week before that I embarrassingly tried to hit on the one and only Jeon Jungkook,” Harin chuckles as if not believing that she actually did that. 

Her little remark doesn’t catch you immediately. And when the meaning of her words finally hits you, your heart sinks to your stomach. “Wait, what?” You almost whisper, eyes reverted on your friend. 

“But everything happens for a reason, see? Seojun is such a nice guy, I’m so lucky,” Harin is quick to appease you. 

“No-no, what you said about Jungkook,” you look at her carefully, scared to hear the truth. “You said he was trying to get to hit on you. What happened to that story?”

“Oh, about that…”Harin’sbody tensed immediately at your question. You see her contemplating in her head, as she presses her lips together. “Sorry, I don’t know why I decided to blatantly lie…” She finally gives in and you're left petrified. This is exactly what’s been troubling you since meeting Jungkook in person. “I guess, my ego got bruised by his rejection so badly that I wanted to put him in a bad light,” a nervous laugh escapes her mouth.

“Harin! But how could you?” You almost scream, looking at your friend bug-eyed. “It’s not just bad-mouthing, you made it sound like it was the absolute truth…it could have caused a lot of trouble if you said that to someone else!”

“I mean, I still wasn’t that careless, right?” She forces a laugh while met with disbelief plastered on your face. “I ranted to you out of all people, because I knew you are not the one to gossip around and you are only friends with me,” she says proudly as if that makes this whole situation better. “My delusional nonsense is always safe with you,” still no hint of remorse in her voice.

Somehow, Harin finds this situation awfully funny and it only makes you even more furious. How could she be so reckless with her words? 

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so angry with me,” your friend pleads, growing impatient with the sudden mood change of your conversation that was threatening to ruin your sleepover. “No one would even believe me, everyone knows these dudes are crazy careful, and wouldn’t approach anyone even at gunpoint to not cause even a little rumor.”

Her words cut you, a wave of guilt and shame taking over you. There’s a prick of betrayal as you realize how easily you trusted your only friend in this industry. And it scares you how naturally she lied to you and how facilely you’ve let that lie take over you and hurt Jungkook’s feelings. Now his reaction was making sense to you. And it breaks your heart to know that it was your reaction to his genuine attempt to get to know you. 

________

Jungkook was no stranger to ridiculous rumors and false accusations; both he and his group members have faced that since their careers started taking off. But then you, the person who he was approaching with nothing but sincerity, blamed him for things that he never did, and his heart broke a little. Your disappointment and frustration with him were his last straw. Again, he didn’t know exactly what he was expecting from that meeting with you. Maybe just a nice conversation that could have led to a good friendship and then, maybe, to something more. 

His personal life was almost non-existent at this point. Not only for the sake of maintaining this whole clean and noble reputation. Jungkook was not very fond of one-night stands and was a hopeless romantic, waiting for his one true love. Maybe it was childish but no one could keep him from believing in that. But his relationships could never withstand the crashing waves of his insanely busy schedule and lifestyle. Not something that he could hold against his ex-girlfriends, no matter how many times anyone claimed with their whole chest to be understanding and assuring him that they knew what they were getting into, no one could be prepared for this. He understands that. 

It’s a little bit embarrassing for him to admit to himself that he might have had some hopes for you. He felt like you two could have clicked and understood each other like no one else. Maybe he just fell victim to some idea of you and now he was just feeling the same disappointment as you’ve felt when discovering the stupid rumors about him? 

What’s even worse, Jungkook got reminded, once again, that people liked talking behind his back for no reason, villainizing him at any given chance. After a week, he forced himself to go back to listening to your music. It was still reminding him about sorrowful wasted chances, but he learned to brush it off. After all, it was neither his nor your fault. You didn’t know him personally and weren’t obliged to blindly trust him. 

Just when Jungkook feels like the wound doesn’t hurt him anymore, he receives a strange notice from his manager which invokes a sudden fluttering in his stomach. 

“Her company suggested for you two to film a short collab video with their dance,” his manager stated leaving Jungkook in pure shock. “It was ridiculous how bold they were to even propose this, but then we thought it might be beneficial for everyone. Of course, you don’t need this but Bunnies are super trendy in Korea right now, so it won’t hurt you and your group in general for sure.”

“No, I’m not interested,” Jungkook is quick to answer. He knows this must be your company’s idea, desperately trying to monetize on our innocent statement regarding your ‘crush’ on him. He will spare you with his presence. 

“Right,” his manager nods understandingly. “I actually declined the offer the first time, but the second time their group’s leader, ____, got on the phone herself, convincing me to give her a chance,” the manager shakes his head, remembering your desperate attempt. 

Jungkook freezes at the last words, not believing. And trying his best to not give away his sudden rush of excitement, he’s quick to add. “I think you are right, it won’t hurt me,” and he actually means it. Whatever is the reason behind your unexpected desire to meet with him, it surely can’t make things worse at this point. “Schedule a meeting at my practice room.”

_________

You fidget on your seat while waiting for Jungkook in the practice room at Hybe’s building. Getting here made a lot of fuss, and your managers did a lot of work to get you permission to enter the building as a guest. You were almost sorry to them adding all that stress to their already heavy workload. But you didn’t see any other way for you to apologize to Jungkook. You were determined to do that in person and this excuse of filming a video seemed handy right now. Maybe he will bring an operator or a manager, it would still give you a chance to stay alone with him for some time. 

The sound of the door being closed brings you out of your thoughts and you flinch at your seat. Jungkook was standing still at the door, reminding you of your first unfortunate encounter with him. It’s fine, you think to yourself. You will do your best to apologize to him. 

You get up from your seat, nervously standing. “Hi,” you raise your hand to wave at him. “Thank you for not turning down this meeting.”

You see him scoff, lips pressed together. He’s hesitant. “I’m just slightly intrigued. Why would you want to meet up with someone like me, again?” He quirked an eyebrow at you. 

“Jungkook, I’m very sorry,” you plead, pulling the palms of your hands together. “I shouldn’t have said such stupid things to you. If I could, I’d take that back.” 

You didn’t want to mention Harin as it still was your own choice to not only believe those rumors but also accuse Jungkook of them while meeting him for the very first time. But as you watch him fold his arms across his wide chest, you start contemplating. Maybe it was still worth mentioning…

“It doesn’t make things any better but, just so you know, I’ve heard that from a very close friend, I just couldn’t imagine that she would straight up lie to me,” you blurted hoping to see any change in him. 

But he only sneers at you, nibbling at his lower lip. “Well, maybe it was all true, then what?” 

You are startled by his question but still, make a step towards him. “I know none of that is true, I’m sorry,” you try to emphasize each of your words. 

“What if some of it was true?” Jungkook makes several steps forward, reducing the distance between you two drastically.

“What do you mean? I know it’s not,” puzzled with his determination to prove you wrong, you search for his eyes. His gaze now has darkened, doe eyes filled with blazing anticipation. 

“What if I told you that your stupid and untrustworthy friend was right about one thing?” He steps forward again, your bodies suddenly at a dangerously short distance from each other. 

You sigh feeling the overflowing warmth of his body. What was he doing now? Is this some wicked way of trying to scare you off? You try to retreat, taking a step back but you almost tumble on the sofa behind you but Jungkook quickly catches you, grabbing your forearms. 

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, hating that it must be so obvious to him how nervous you’re. And well, almost falling on the couch (that you were very well aware of) is probably not making you look confident either. 

“Are you scared now?” He smirks, hands still on your arms even though you’re not planning to fall anymore 

“Stop asking so many questions,” you snap at him to your own surprise. “I came to apologize but now you decide to live up to my stupid accusation? This is ridiculous.” 

“Oh, look how brave you are now,” he dramatically sighs in amusement. “But I said there was one truth to your claims. Can you guess it?” He leans down to you, making it impossible for you to escape his warmth. 

“No,” you say blinking up at him, head not thinking straight anymore. “I have no idea what you’re insinuating,” you say honestly. Of course, there’s a stupid hope growing inside of you that he’s interested in you but you try to not let it get to your head. Jeon Jungkook is interested in you? It even sounds ridiculous. 

“You were right. I wanted to get to know you because I liked you,” the sharpness of his gaze cuts through the electricity filling the room. You raise your eyebrows, unable to look away from him. “Does that scare you?” His honey-laced voice is like music to your ears, how could you resist?

“No,” you are startled by the firmness in your own voice. He's taken aback by your response just as much as you are, searching for a hint of doubt in your eyes. And you know that there’s none when you feel his thumb caressing your arm; a simple gesture to which you feel your stomach tightening. 

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow at you, but you know he doesn’t need an answer anymore. “Is that because now you know that it all was only for you?” He leans closer to your face, his warm breath brushing your skin making you crave more. “That I only got my eyes on you?” He looks at you one more time, a smug grin plastered on his enthralling lips. 

You nod, biting on your lower lip, having no idea where this whole situation is leading to. “Yes.” 

Jungkook’s lips finally meet the skin of your jaw, and you let out a sigh from this long-awaited closeness. His hands fall on your hips while his lips leave a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck. You lean your head back trying to give him more space at which he chuckles satisfied. “Good girl,” his whisper hits your neck and you feel warmth flooding your body. Your hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer as you desperately need more of him. 

Jungkook doesn’t need to be asked twice and he buries his face in your neck, leaving wet kisses making you close your eyes in pleasure. 

“Jungkook, please,” you whimper, needing to finally feel him on your lips. “Kiss me,” you beg him.

Your eyes shut open when you’re hit with coldness after his lips leave your neck. But then you are met with Jungkook’s eyes, looking at you in anticipation. You can see he’s needy just like you, licking his lower lip. 

“Come here,” he rasps and you finally feel his breath hitting your lips while his fingers dig deeper into your hips. 

You never even dared to imagine what it would be like to kiss Jungkook, but when his lips meet yours you feel an unknown sensational feeling filling every inch of your body. How is he so good? You let out a quiet moan as his soft tongue pokes out, desperately entering your mouth. 

Kissing Jungkook felt natural, so perfect, you weren’t sure you could ever get enough of that. He was taking his time exploring you, attentive to every response of your body to his actions. 

You brush your hand through his silky hair, pulling him even closer to you, needing to dive deeper into the kiss. Jungkook groans into your mouth, feeling your confident touches on him. His hands start traveling up from your hips, discovering every curve of your body. You arch your back towards his touches, hands on his chest. 

Your body tenses as you feel him beckoning you to the couch behind you, still not breaking the kiss. You are both nervous and thrilled at this. Are you really doing this with Jungkook at his workplace? You must be out of your mind, for sure. But it was hard to be your usual restrained self around Jungkook. 

When he carefully places you on the sofa, you almost whimper in despair as he breaks the kiss to stand up. But then you see him teasingly smile at you as he reaches for your shorts, sliding them down your legs, every touch of his hands with your body sends shivers down your spine. You start feeling an unbearable pulsation between your legs when Jungkook, hovering above you, studies every part of your body that’s exposed to him now. His hungry gaze traveled up and down, teeth biting down on his lips. 

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, determined to get rid of it as well. But you put your hand over his, stopping him. You’re frustrated with that as much as he is, but it’s probably the last remnant of consciousness kicking in now. 

“Next time?” He arches an eyebrow at you. Is there gonna be  next time? But you just nod, questions later. 

Jungkook seems content with the deal as his hand immediately trails down, leaving his attempt to take off your shirt. Finally, he dives back to you, your lips meeting again, in a more passionate and needy kiss, mouths melting together. When Jungkook places himself between your legs, you feel the weight of his body perfectly pressed against yours. 

“I want to feel you, Jungkook,” he catches the moan escaping your lips. You frown, angry at the clothes separating you from feeling the warmth of his skin fully. But not here, next time, you remind yourself. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, baby,” he grants you a mischievous smile. And then his hand slides down, reaching your wetness. Jungkook’s gaze fixed on you, enjoying how your eyelids flutter closed. 

You feel Jungkook’s body shudder as he dips his fingers inside of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, groaning. “So wet, and it’s all for me, baby?” 

“Yes, for you, Jungkook,” you whine as he goes back to your neck, leaving there wet kisses as he continues to slide his fingers inside you all the way in and back out a few times, taking his time with his long strokes. You hear his raspy growl as he’s getting used to how tight and soft your pussy is.

You arch your back, rolling your hips towards him, trying to meet him and get deeper and deeper. Jungkook moves his fingers up, rubbing your clit. 

“Jungkook, I can’t,” you let out a whimper, wanting more of him, spreading your legs wider for him. 

“Oh, baby, but you can, you are perfectly made for this,” his low voice makes you shiver around his fingers. Jungkook doesn’t intend to slow down, as his fingers continue to pump you in a deep and steady pace, coming out only to swirl around your clit. 

“I want to feel you, please,” you pant lustfully. Since when you were so brave?  

You don’t expect Jungkook to obey your words immediately, but this time he doesn’t make you suffer any longer. You watch as he rises up, reaching for the backpack right next to the sofa, fumbling in the pocket. He starts to grow impatient as he can’t seemingly find what he’s looking for, which also kills you. And then he finally pulls out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth. You watch him in awe, turned on by his eagerness. 

He lowers his sweatpants and you heavily sigh as he pulls out his big and hard cock. Your heart pounders against your chest as you watch him roll the condom on. Jungkook breathes hard, and you feel his body finally back on yours. He pushes aside your panties, rubbing his tip against you and you throw your head back, not sure how you’ll be able to wait any longer for him. Your pussy throbbing as he reaches for your lips again in a kiss, only to break it again a moment later, to watch your face when he places his cock between your legs. 

He slowly enters you, watching how you let out a moan. He’s thrusting his hips steadily, and you stretch around him. Jungkook sinks deeper into you, twisting his arm around your waist. You feel your nipples harden against the fabric of your bra and curse to yourself again for not taking it off earlier. 

Jungkook frowns as he buries himself deeper and deeper into you. “Fuck, ____,” he mumbles to your ears and you spread your legs wider, letting him pull out his full length and thrust back in, stretching you. 

You gasp at the feeling of his cock filling you, rolling your hips towards him each time, craving for more and more. “Jungkook, it’s so good,” you lick his neck, trailing it with kisses while your body shivers under him. 

Jungkook starts fastening his pace and you close your eyes shut, sliding your hands down his thighs, gripping his ass, and pressing him even closer to you as he thrusts harder and rougher now. 

You feel his hand behind your back, cupping your ass to nestle in his dick deeper, you hear him panting as he quickens his thrusts, and lewd noises shamelessly filling the practice room. His cock nudges you deep inside and you cry out, pussy clenching around Jungkook as you break loose. 

“Oh, God, Jungkook!” You throw your head back, pulling Jungkook into a deep, passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you faster. 

Jungkook watches how you drown in pleasure, your body trembling under him. He pushes in and out one more time and you see how he shuts his eyes, groaning in your mouth as he stops, body shuddering. He relaxes on top of you, as you trail your hands up and down his back, both of you heavy breathing. 

You lay like that for some time more, both of you adamant to let go of each other. Why would you ever want to leave his arms when it felt so right, so perfect to be cuddled with each other? 

Jungkook places small kisses on your face and you let out jolly giggles and then reality hits you. You froze, eyes glaring at him horrified. “ What if someone heard us? Fuck, I totally forgot about that!”

You pushed him from yourself, forcing him to stand up. Jungkook watches you hurriedly put on your shorts, brushing your hair while looking at the mirror, hoping to make yourself presentable again. He drawly pulls back his sweatpants. “Come on, it’s a practice room. It has some soundproof thing to it, don’t worry.”

“Gosh, Jungkook, we didn’t even bother to put on some music,” you sigh desperately, grabbing your head, thinking back to everything that happened. 

“Well, we obviously had more important things to worry about, right?” Jungkook smirks, approaching from behind, giving you a back hug, hands firmly on your waist. 

You look at both of your reflections in the mirror and almost gasp. Who would have thought that you would end up like this? 

You have no time to rack your brain on that any longer as you hear loud raps on the door. You look back at both of you, to make sure you both look decent. Well, your hair is a mess, your cheeks are blazing red, and Jungkook is not any better. 

You stare in panic at Jungkook but he just smiles, calmly opening the door and letting in the intruder. Well, at least, it seems like the door was locked, you think to yourself as your blood runs cold realizing that you didn’t even worry about shutting the door before getting on the couch with Jungkook. 

“Are you done with the dancing video?” A man enters the room and you recognize his voice. You talked with him on the phone, begging him to let you come here. 

“Yes!” You scream, surprising both Jungkook and his manager. “I believe we are done,” you say calmly, lowering your voice. 

“Are you sure you've finished?” Jungkook looks at you innocently, and you feel your cheeks burning red again. “I’m sure we can still make better takes, don’t you think so, ____ ?” 

Oh, right. The dancing video, the reason why you came here in the first place. You almost forgot about your excuse. You breathe out in relief but then met with Jungkook’s hazed eyes and a cocky grin, you realize his question isn’t so innocent after all. 

“Yeah, you’re right. We can definitely do some more takes.”

____________ 

any feedback is highly appreciated, please let me know your thoughts <;3 

[seeingivy]

king of my heart

satoru gojo x f!reader 

maybe satoru gojo, the man you were arranged to marry by your very annoying parents, was the one you were waiting for all along

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: arranged marriage trope, megumi + tsumiki kiddos, annoying parents, mentions of drinking + prom/highschool LOL

an: taylor swift satoru gojo propoganda returns. 

- 

You hold the vase of tulips in your hands, your palms sweating against the glass secured in his hands. You sincerely hope your anxiousness doesn’t make you drop the flowers before you can hand them to Mrs. Gojo. That would be a disaster. 

Your parents are behind you, locking up your car and fussing over your outfit. Your mother had picked out a pale, baby blue dress for you, a modest cut but flattering your best features (according to her) - your hips, shoulders, collarbones. She’d given you a sparkling silver necklace to match, to draw attention to you. You silently wonder when she became such a conniver, hand picking your best traits to put on display for the Gojo family. 

Your father’s mimicking her motions, taming down your stray hairs. You had braided the front pieces of your hairs just behind your ears and curled the rest of your loose hair to perfection. Your mothers request, of course. He’s less anal than her about the entire affair, but you don’t miss his nervous twitching as you walk up to the door. 

The only person you can stand is your little brother, Saiki, who's been rolling his eyes since we started driving here. He thinks the entire proceeding is archaic, which it is, and has vehemently been making his disapproval known. He would keep it going, but there was talk of grounding on the table, which silenced him all together. 

The four of you gather on the steps of the Gojo's mansion. You prepare yourself, mentally running through the steps your mother had drilled into you since you started meeting potential suitors a few months ago. Polite nod to the husband, hand the flowers and press a kiss to the wife, a shy smile to the suitor. 

The three of them are crowded at the door, Satoru Gojo towering over the two of them. You’d heard of him before, your mother mentioning that their family was one of the most esteemed business owners in our entire social circle. She had never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, which killed her every night (you’re sure of it), until now. A mutual friend had mentioned the Gojo family was looking for their daughter in law to “perfect their set” and your mother was all too willing to offer you up on a silver platter. 

You do as your told. You knew you would have to anyway and struggling was useless. Plus, you’d sworn off love as of late anyways. This is what you were primed for - that shiny medical degree, your private pediatric practice - they’re all sparkly little gimmicks meant for this. A selling point. 

The door opens and you start. First, a polite nod to Mr. Gojo, who gives you a chill with his stare. His eyes are void of warmth, the cerulean blues staring back into your eyes. His hands are cold when you press them together to shake, the same cold gaze being exchanged with your parents over the back of your shoulder. 

Second, flowers and a sweet kiss to Mrs. Gojo. She dotes over the tulips, in a polite way, before dismissing them away to the servants you didn’t notice standing against the wall. You thank the servant for taking the vase, giving a warm smile before pressing a kiss to Mrs. Gojo’s cheek. Ice cold. 

Third, a shy smile to the suitor. Whatever the fuck that means. You meet his gaze, half obscured by the sunglasses he was wearing indoors. He’s dressed in a buttoned up white shirt, the sleeves rolled past his forearms. The slacks are pressed to perfection, his shoes shined so well you could use them as a mirror. You give him a smile, which he halfheartedly returns. It seems he’s more interested in talking to Saiki than you. 

The seven of you walk down the length of the hall, the table set up with white lilies and silver tablemats. Mrs. Gojo turns to Satoru, insisting that he take you and Saiki on a tour. Satoru nods, begrudgingly, before gesturing to you and Saiki to follow him up the stairs. 

When you reach the top of the stairs, Satoru turns to a painting on the left, a painted portrait of his family when he was way younger. They all have solemn looks on their face, Satoru’s hinting on the borderline of irritation and boredom. Before Satoru can start his riveting spiel, Saiki interrupts him. 

“Are you really going to make us do a real tour? Do you have video games or something till we have to go back?” 

You dig your hand into his shoulder, bending down to his height and squeezing slightly. 

“Saiki. Be nice.” 

“Mom’s not nearby, you know?” 

“She has superhuman, x-ray vision, Saiki. I bet she can see you from here.” 

The two of you laugh and you ruffle his hair before you stand up again. You pat down the pleats of your dress, drying your palms against the fabric, as you turn back to Satoru. 

“We don’t actually have to do a tour if you don’t want to. I have Mario Kart in my room.” 

You and Saiki shoot him glimmering smiles, following him down the length of the hallway. He opens his bedroom door for you, the room the exact opposite of the perfectly proper, museum like decor downside. 

His walls are navy blue and littered in posters and pictures. You can see his diploma hung up on the wall, right next to a poster for the Spongebob movie. 

“I’m shocked they even let you do this.” 

“They didn’t, Y/N. I just did it anyway.” 

You nod at his words, turning your neck back to the walls. Saiki and Satoru sit on the floor, legs crossed, playing the game as you take a moment at each section, observing all the pictures. He has what seems like twenty or thirty pictures of his friends - sleeping in class, sitting by a lake, studying in a library. You don’t miss the multiple pictures of the girl with dark hair, a scar pressed against her nose. Especially the one of him kissing her cheek. 

The other picture that stands out is a picture of Satoru himself, from when he was younger. The picture was clearly taken from above, an exasperated look pressed on little Satoru’s face. You can’t help but think he looks sad, lonely in the picture and commit it to memory. Your parents were more irritating than most, but Saiki got you through. 

You settle down onto the floor next to them, Saiki handing his controller as you start to play. 

“One more round and we should head back.” 

You nod, playing the game, the pictures rattling around in your head. 

- 

The dinner is horrible, obviously. You were seated in between Satoru and his father, with Saiki exiled all the way at the end of the table. You shoot him glances every few seconds, trying your best not to smile at his very clear distaste for it all. 

You can sense the dynamics fitting into your mind, observing every little thing to better understand what you were getting into. After all, the Gojo’s were going to be your family in a few months, whether you liked it or not. 

Satoru has a clear distaste for his parents. His father, more than his mother. You can just tell by the way they look at each other. You think back to the picture, the one of him when he was younger, and can’t help but wonder if his father took it. 

After dinner, your parents and Satoru’s convince force the two of you to take a walk along the garden, alone. You nod, preparing yourself for what was coming. A moonlit walk, pleasantries, and a ring secured on your finger by the end of the walk. 

The two of you walk in silence, a respectable distance between the two of you. You can smell his cologne as you walk next to him, the breeze in the air making the hair on your arms stand up. 

You press your hands across your arms, entering the gazebo with Satoru. The two of you take a seat on the bench in the middle, keeping a respectable distance. 

“Y/N.” 

“Can I say something first?” 

He nods, leaning over the bench to meet your eyes. The only light in the gazebo is from the tiny, sparking fairy lights around the interior, the moon shining through the openings on the side. You can’t help but wonder if things were different, that this might have been the happiest moment of your life. 

“I would like to be married by name. I figure you have a girlfriend, that girl from the pictures in your room with the scar on her nose, and that’s fine. I’d just like to keep it up for images to satisfy both of our parents, since I figure yours are as relentless as mine.” 

The two of you sit in silence, the words hanging in the air. You focus on the lilies growing by the edge of the opening, wilting in the air of the night. 

“You’d be okay with that?” 

“I was never expecting us to fall in love. We just have to do what we’re asked, keep our own lives outside of it.” 

He nods, the silence returning. You can see the gears moving in his head, considering your offer. After a few minutes, he removes a dark green box from his pocket, sliding it over to your side of the bench. You open the box to find a sparkling, modest cut diamond secured around a gold band. 

You take it into your hand, taking out the diamond ring and placing it on your ring finger. You stick your hand out, staring at the sparkling ring on your finger. 

He shoots you a genuine smile, shaking his hand in yours. Deal. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem, Satoru.”

He secures his hand in your own as the two of you walk back down the path. Your parents are all too delighted, everyone pressing warm kisses to your cheek as they take your hand in their own. 

The business deal is set. Your parents deal with each other and yours with Satoru. You can feel Saiki’s hand shaking in yours, trying to hide his upsetness at you. You reach down to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at him as the four of you head back home. 

You and Satoru are married by the end of the month. 

- 

“I have a secret.” 

You’re currently standing in Satoru’s driveway, your driveway now, with your boxes lined up on the sidewalk. Your parents had insisted that you move in with him, now that you were married. You had to oblige. 

All in all, your marriage with Satoru was pleasant. You guys went out to dinner every night, exchanging pleasantries over an expensive meal Satoru bought you. The two of you often shared jokes, trying to ease the tension. He updated you on his relationship with the girl, Utahime was her name, and you talked to him about work. You find out that his relationship is anything but stable, the two of them fighting like it was breathing. He likes to hear about your coworkers, the patients you saw that day, how you like the workplace. 

It felt more like hanging out with a friend, but there was always an invisible, silent wall between the two of you. You were married. You had to have kids together. Grow old together. He doesn’t talk about it. Neither do you. You’ll breach that when you get there.  

“What’s your secret, Satoru?” 

“I have kids.” 

“If there’s a zoo animal inside that house, I’ll run you over with my car.” 

Satoru loves to prank you. You get irritated with him very easily, which you’re aware goads him on even more, but you can’t help it. He’s an idiot. 

But this time, he places his hands on your shoulder, squeezing twice. His sunglasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt, his usually obscured eyes peering into yours. No sign of a joke in them. You gesture to the steps on the porch, the two of you sitting down against them. 

“You’re a manwhore? You got a girl pregnant and then had to raise it by yourself?”

“Obviously. The woes of a single father.” 

You laugh, leaning your neck back. The sunlight is sprinkling onto your skin through the leaves, the beams kissing your skin. It’s a nice feeling, the breeze tickling the wisps of your hair. You can feel Satoru staring at you through the corner of your eyes and you turn your head to the side to look at him. 

“Their dad passed away. I took them in after, just because I didn’t want them to be alone. Their names are Megumi and Tsumiki, they’re five and eight. I really hope you like kids, they’re really well-behaved.” 

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You’re kidding right? Did you just ask me if I like kids?” 

“Well yeah, you’re going to be living with them, I was just wondering.”

“Do you ever listen to me when I talk? Do you even know what I do for a job?” 

“Um…”

You burst out laughing, the tears rolling through your eyes. 

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. I’m a pediatrician. Like a baby doctor. Like I full on go to work everyday and see children all day.” 

He pushes you over, grumbling about how you were still laughing at him, about how it was an honest mistake to make. When your tears subside, he reaches his hand out to you, pulling you up to enter the room. The two of you shuffle the boxes to the edge of the door and pad into the foyer. Satoru grabs your hand, pulling you in to meet Tsumiki and Megumi. 

Tsumiki extends her hand, introducing herself politely to you. You bend down, reaching in your pocket for the lollipops you always had in hand, and don’t miss the glowing smile when you hand it to her. You turn to your side to look at Satoru, whose rolling his eyes at you. 

At the sight of Megumi, you can tell he doesn’t look quite right. His face is flushed pink, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. He can barely keep his head up, eyes wavering at the sight of you. You reach down, pressing your hand against his forehead. 

“Satoru. He’s sick.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Satoru, I’m a doctor. Do you have anything on hand?” 

At the sound of your words, Satoru enters into a full blown panic, grabbing basically any medicine and blanket he had in the nearby vicinity. You examine him, asking his sister how long he had been feeling this way, laying him down on his back and administering the medications Satoru had brought you. 

When things settle down, with Megumi’s eyes fluttering open and Tsumiki running her hands through his hair,  you join Satoru in the kitchen behind them. He’s nervously watching the two of them from the back, his eyes still pinched in worry. 

You link your arm through his own, preparing the parent pep talk you give your patients every day. 

“It’s okay, Satoru. Kids get sick all the time.” 

He nods, his eyes still fixed on Megumi. 

“It was a good thing I was here, really. He’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

Megumi speaks up from the couch, his grumpy voice permeating the air. 

“Satoru would have killed me if you weren’t here” 

You turn your head to face Satoru, expecting to find annoyance pressed on his face. Instead, he’s broken out into a full smile, shaking your hands in his and thanking you profusely. 

“That’s a good sign?” 

“Kid always loves to give me attitude. If he’s well enough to make a dig at me, he’s perfectly fine.”  

“Can’t blame the kid. I would do it too.” 

“First, I get an malevolent kid and then a malevolent wife? No breaks for Satoru Gojo.” 

“Woe is you.” 

You roll your eyes, joining Megumi back at his side to take his vital signs again. The two of you share a knowing look, ignoring Satoru’s joking pouts and comments in the back. 

You can’t help but smile at the two of them, their soft hands clasped in each other as they fall asleep on the couch after a few minutes. After a few minutes, you and Satoru carry them back to their beds, giving each other a high five before heading to your own rooms. 

Maybe it won’t be so bad. 

- 

Satoru comes home late one Friday, well past Tsumiki and Megumi’s bed times. You had to shower and tuck both of them into bed by yourself, which was irritating. 

Satoru reserved Friday nights for Utahime, the two of them going on a secret date somewhere in the city. You had met her once, establishing that you had no intentions of doing anything with her boyfriend, which she was all but understanding of. 

You figure that she must love him so much that she’s willing to look past it. You get it, you’d do the same if you were her. 

If you were in love. In general. Not in love with Satoru, obviously. 

He trails in, ten minutes past midnight to find you sprawled against the couch. You’re wrapped in three blankets, your head poking out of your little cocoon. 

“You know what sucks? You got some tonight and I got to tuck two kids into bed.” 

He trails to the kitchen counter, no stupid remark in response. You get up from your tiny fort, padding into the kitchen where Satoru is standing. He’s eating a box of macaroons, pushing the last one towards you to eat. 

The two of you are leaning over the counter, the silence palpable. 

“You okay, Toru? Where’s my usual back talk?” 

“Mhm. Kind of broke up with Utahime. Don’t feel like it today.” 

You push yourself onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The two of you are the same level now, facing opposite directions. You lean your head against his shoulder, linking your hand with his and pressing twice. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Want to talk about it?” 

“She just got upset that I got married, that's all. Didn’t really understand that it was something I had to do. Said I was doing a little bit too much for her to make up for it and she met someone else.” 

You nod, the two of you sitting in silence. You stay that way for a while, your head against his shoulder, your hand in his. You’re rubbing small circles into the side of his hand, your fingers tingling at the contact. 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?”

“I understand.” 

“You do?” 

“When I got my heart broken, all I could think about was how I wanted it to be him so bad. He meant everything to me and I’d do anything to be the one next to him.” 

“Heartbroken? You never told me that.” 

“Yeah. It was a few years ago. He didn’t feel the same about me as I did about him.I]” 

“Did you date anyone after?” 

“I waited for someone, the person who was meant for me. I kind of gave up as time went on, swearing off of it all together. It’s partially why I struck the deal I did with you. If I was going to be forced to marry someone, he could at least be someone nice, a friend I could keep.” 

He sits quietly, pondering your words. He’s leaned his head against yours, the two of you sitting quietly. The only sound is your breaths, inhaling and exhaling in sync. 

“You think I’m nice?” 

“I’m not soothing your ego.” 

“Rude. I’m wounded Y/N.” 

You poke the side of his cheek, rolling your eyes at him. You move closer into his embrace, now tangled in his arms. You can hear him whispering against your hair, his lips against your forehead. 

“Did it hurt? When he left?” 

“Yeah. But, someone told me something and it’s always stuck with me since then. I guess I was trying really hard to make it work, but things like this always sort themselves on their own.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The right people were always going to stay. If Utahime and Getou were the right people, they’d still be here, Satoru.” 

The two of you stay that way for a while, pressed against each other. Tsumiki and Megumi trail in at the sound of Satoru’s voice, pressing themselves against your legs. 

You all sleep together in Satoru’s bed that night. You ignore the stinging in your chest at the thought of Satoru hurting. 

 - 

You can feel your phone buzzing on the counter, as you tuck the last bit of flowers into Tsumiki’s hair. 

toru: hurry up 

toru: this kid is gonna shit his pants and i think im scaring him

you: omfg don’t tell me you gave the poor kid a pep talk 

toru: kind of. told him id throttle him if tsumiki doesn’t come back from the dance with a smile on her face. 

you: satoru gojo, i will hurt you. leave the poor baby alone. 

Tsumiki turns around, her pale pink dress falling to her sides. You hear Satoru’s footsteps down the hallway, glaring at him as he joins you two at the door of the bathroom. 

“Don’t tell me you left him alone at the dinner table.” 

“Megumi is there. He’s staring him down real good.” 

You and Tsumiki glare at Satoru and you turn back to Tsumiki to give her the final touches. You press your shiny pink lip gloss in her little hands, settling her hair down as you stand up. You and Satoru move out of the hallway, about to find your way back to the room, but Tsumiki stops you in your wake. 

Her hand is pressed against yours, pulling you down. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, Miss Miki. What’s up?” 

“Do you think I’m pretty, Y/N?” 

“What? Of course, I do Tsumiki. You look lovely. I’m sure Ethan will love it.” 

She gives you a shy smile, her eyes wavering on uneasiness. 

“You’re very pretty, Tsumiki. I love your dress and your eyes are all sparkly the way you like. Just have fun out there okay? If you’re not having fun with Ethan, you can always have fun with your friends instead.” 

She nods, pressing her body against your frame. You squeeze her tight in your frame, Satoru eyeing the two of you on the ground. 

“Thanks for always being here, Y/N. I love you.” 

Tsumiki lets you go, running off into the kitchen where Ethan is very shyly handing her the little corsage he bought her for the dance. You turn to Satoru, the two of you watching him in the kitchen. 

“She loves me.” 

“Are you dense? You do know Tsumiki and Megumi both love you right?” 

“I don’t know, I wasn’t entirely sure of it. I figured they might, but I never thought they’d actually say it to me.” 

You pull out your camera, snapping pictures of Tsumiki and Ethan as they press their little flowers to each other’s clothes. Ethan’s parents are waiting in the driveway. They’re driving them to the dance and you and Satoru will be picking them up. 

You follow them into the driveway, waving goodbyes as the car makes its way down the road. 

“Did you like school dances, Y/N?” 

“I never really went, Satoru. No one ever asked me.” 

“What? Not even Prom?” 

You shake your head, facing away from him as you pull out the dinner the two of you were going to eat. Ice cream. Satoru’s idea, obviously. 

“Why didn’t you go?” 

“It’s kind of stupid, Satoru.” 

“Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“You’re keeping secrets? From your husband? Who is he?” 

You laugh, playfully pushing him. He gives you a smile, locking his fingers with yours. 

“Cmon, tell daddy. I won’t make fun.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m filing for divorce.” 

“As if.” 

You look down at your hands, his pale, nimble fingers interlocked with yours. 

“It’s just stupid. I wanted to go really badly, have my whole special moment. A guy who asks me to the dance, brings me a corsage, matches the color of my dress, and we dance while drinking cheap beer out of solo cups. But no one wanted to do it with me.” 

He turns his head to the side, staring down at you. 

“Forget it. You’re dumbass was probably Prom King for all I know. You wouldn’t get it.” 

You lean against the counter, digging your spoon right into the center of the tub of ice cream, rather angrily, reliving the stupid, pitiful feeling of your teen years. 

“I was Prom King.” 

“Of course.” 

“Hey. I’m sorry you didn’t get your moment, Y/N.” 

“I’m glad Tsumiki has someone to do it with. You know, make her feel special, like she’s only girl in the room and all that.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, reaching for your spoon to eat some of the ice cream with you. You swat his hand away, which he pouts at. 

“It was still a good day. Tsumiki said she loves me.” 

“I thought you were kidding about that. Did you really not know that we love you?” 

“We?” 

“Y/N. You know I love you right?” 

You shrug your shoulders, staring at his blue eyes. He cups your face in his hands, squishing your face. 

“As smart as you are, you’re really stupid sometimes you know that? How could I not love my wife?” 

“You’re stupid.” 

 - 

You pick up your phone, shooting a text underneath your desk.

you: satoru.

lanky ass mf: yes, oh beloved wife of mine?

you: sleep in the sewage, you gutter rat.

you: I forgot my white coat and my badge at home, can you pLS PLS PLS DROP IT OFF AT THE OFFICE I NEED IT

lanky ass mf: first you call me a gutter rat and then ask me for a favor?

lanky ass mf: no I love you? no light of my life, king of my heart, body, and soul?

you: I will skin you where you stand. PLS JUST BRING WHAT I ASKED

lanky ass mf: ask nicely and i’ll drop it off on the way to work.

you: oh beloved, dear old husband of mine. everyday, my love for you grows exponentially. if you could please spare me some kindness out of your cold, pitiful heart of yours and bring me my white coat in my badge, it would be much appreciated sweet thing

lanky ass mf: i’ll ignore the insult that you threw in there and bring it over in ten, oh lovely wife of mine.

you: ty satoru :DDD

lanky ass mf: ur welcome, sexy :’)

you: wanted: y/n l/n wanted for the vicious, gruesome murder of satoru gojo.

“lanky ass mf disliked your message”

You set down your phone, burying your head in your hands. The practice had been busier as of late, a viral bug passing around all of your patients. And on top of that, you had left your white coat and your badge - which you needed to round - at home. You can feel the tension headache setting in your forehead, bringing your fingers to your temple to soothe it down.

Tsumiki had a field trip today. Satoru dropped her off bright and early but she forgot her permission slip at home. You had to rush over to the school, nearly running onto the school bus to get Tsumiki’s slip in on time.

As promised, Satoru prances in twenty minutes later, your whitecoat and badge in his right hand and a bouquet of tulips in his left hand.

Asshole. You had framed a photo of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki from your birthday and placed it on your desk. The three of them planned a surprise dinner for your birthday and you loved the pictures so much you just had to frame one for your office.

The problem was that ever since then, all your coworkers could talk about is how handsome your husband was. WIth his white hair, sparkling blue eyes - all they could go on about was how beautiful he looked and how cute your kids were. Multiple of them had asked you how he was in bed, which you ignored. Obviously.

You had mentioned it to Satoru in passing, which you’re sure prompted the tulips in his hand. And you know that egomaniac was about to have a field day.

He comes to your side, not missing the shining smiles on your coworkers faces, as he places the tulips in front of you. He beckons you to stand up, holding your white coat open for you to pull your arms in.

You give him a glare as you pull it on and Satoru clips your badge to the pocket.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo.”

“I love you, sweet pea.”

You can hear your coworkers cooing quietly behind you, walking up to dote on Satoru for bringing you flowers. You can feel him drinking up the attention, giving everyone charming smiles as he secures his arm around your waist.

“Imagine if I told them all you had a girlfriend when you married me.” you whisper in his ear.

He frowns, prodding his fingers into your forehead.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Satoru places the flowers at the head of your desk, dropping a glass box filled with the noodles you had last night for dinner. He leans over the counter, whispering at you as you fill out the charts for the day.

“Take a break for lunch later and eat this. I’m tired of you coming home hangry and taking it out on me.”

You take the box from him, rolling your eyes before shooting him a smile.

“Thank you, Toru. I appreciate it.”

He smiles at your words, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead before running out of the office. Asshole.

You look down at the tupperware, a sticky note pressed on top.

eat up silly wife - satoru <3

You take the post-it off, pressing it against the frame holding the picture.

- 

“Why did your parents want to meet us again?” 

You and Satoru are currently standing on the porch of his parents house, dressed up for the occasion. Satoru’s wearing a buttoned up white shirt, rolled up to his forearms again. He’s wearing a light green tie, intending to match the green, silk dress you had decided to wear. 

He asked you to look your best, because he was going to ask his parents for something really important. He said bringing you would be his best bet, so that they feel more inclined to say yes at the perfect sight of the two of you. 

“I thought your parents were in Bali. Did they come back early?” 

“Yeah. They hated the animals so they came back.” 

“The what?” 

Satoru reaches forward, ringing the doorbell. The door is opened immediately, the servants answering the door. You wave hello to them all, making your way to the garden where Satoru was leading you. 

His hand is clasped in yours, firmly, as he leads you to the back gazebo. He takes you to the direct center, where the two of you had first made your deal, and turns to face you. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

“My parents aren’t here.” 

“I gathered that.” 

“Don’t talk back.” 

He reaches towards the back of the gazebo, pulling out a plastic box. In the box, there’s a matching corsage and boutonniere, pink flowers surrounded by baby’s breath. You take the box in your hand, meeting his gaze. 

“You never got to have your moment. Figured I’d give it to you now.” 

You smile, opening the plastic box. Satoru takes the corsage out first, securing it against your wrist. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles as he does so. You avoid the blood rushing to your cheeks as you take the rest of the flowers out of the box. 

You pin the boutonniere against his shirt, smiling at him. You’re unsure when Tsumiki and Megumi joined you, but the flash of Tsumiki’s camera catches you off guard. You give the two of them a smile and they run off hand in hand, leaving the two of you alone again. 

“Like it?” 

“Love it. They’re very pretty, Satoru. Thank you.” 

He reaches back, pulling out a little juke box. He presses play, Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud playing out of the speaker. 

“Did you really pick this song?” 

“You wanted your moment. That includes dancing to a cheesy, Ed Sheeran song.” 

“You could have left that part out.” 

He grabs your hands, placing them around his neck as he secures his own around your waist. 

“Nope. Giving you the most authentic, real moment I can.” 

The two of you sway, laughing into each other's neck as the song goes on. The song transitions, Taylor Swift’s Sweet Nothing blasting out of the little speaker. You press yourself against his chest, the two of you hugging as you dance in the moonlight. 

“I’ve got one more thing for you.” 

He reaches out, pulling out a little plastic tiara for you. He secures it on top of your head, pressing your hair down. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“You’re Prom Queen!” 

You press yourself against him again, your cheeks burning against his chest. 

“You’re stupid, Satoru.” 

“You love it.” 

You do love it. The tiara, the dancing, him. You love him. 

The two of you return to swaying, your faces a few feet away from each others. You stare into his glimmering eyes, smiling at him. He returns your smile, rolling his eyes at your cheesiness. 

“You don’t have a crown.” 

“Yeah. Figured if I got to be Prom King and you didn’t during high school, then you get to be Prom Queen right now and I don’t. Even it out.” 

“Boo.” 

“It’s okay. I know I’m the king of your heart anyways.” 

You feel your chest clench, his words sinking into your chest. 

“You are.” 

“What?” 

“The king of my heart. Body and soul, all that cheesy stuff you say.” 

“Don’t lead me on. That’s cruel, even for you little lady.” 

You stop swaying, bringing your hands down to his. 

“I’m being serious. You’re special to me. I was waiting for someone all my life, who made me feel special. That person is you.” 

He’s staring into your eyes, the shock spreading across his face. 

“You don’t have to feel the same way as me. It’s okay.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You’re caught off guard, his hands pulling you closer. 

“Toru.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Do you love me?” 

“You’re impossible. I just kissed you.”

“I don’t know. I was a little confused, I guess.” 

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my sweet, sweet girl.” 

You can feel yourself blushing at his words, trying to fight the doubt settling in your mind. 

“Utahime?” 

“I thought about what you said. And I realized that the only person who stays by my side is you - through an arranged marriage, two kids I sprung on you, and a literal girlfriend. The right person was you, just took me a second to realize.” 

The two of you stand in silence, the lights flickering above you. 

“Satoru?” 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

“Can you kiss me again?” 

He’s all too happy to oblige. He lifts you up, slotting his mouth against yours again. You can feel his hands shaking against your face, his lips desperately pressed around yours. 

“Calm down. I’m right here.” 

“Cut me some slack. I’ve been waiting to kiss my wife for months now.” 

You feel Tsumiki and Megumi return to your side, the two of them sporting cheeky grins at the two of you. Megumi presses something into the small of you hand and you feel for it in your fingers realizing what it was. 

A ring. 

“Toru.” 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

He’s cradling your face and you can’t help but feel like this was going to be the happiest moment of your life. Your face in his hands, your kids hugging you against your legs, smiling at each other. 

You hold the ring out, balancing it between your fingers. 

“Marry me?” 

You slip the ring onto his finger, the two of you walking out of the garden hand in hand like you did the first time. 

- 

part two based on enchanted linked here

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

[lordprettyflackotara]

sharp fangs || sam & colby || part two

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. sam and colby are vamps hehe🧛🏼‍♀️. TW: SMUT WITH PLOT. this fic contains blood, brief gore, murder but like it’s justified tbh. mainly you just have two vampire bfs obsessed with you lol. made this shit extra long. ps: part three will not take as long i promise. enjoy my beloved readers. MWAH <3

Sam and Colby absolutely adored you. You were the apple of their eye, the air that made them feel like they could breathe again. They couldn’t get enough of you, making a conscious effort to spend every moment they could with you. When you were away they’d clean your apartment. (Or snoop through your things.) When you went to sleep at night they’d take shifts watching over you while the other went out to hunt.

You were so darling while you slept, the contentment and peace on your face the sight of a lifetime to them. In all of their long years they had didn’t think they’d allow themselves to get attached to another human. After the first two hundred years they saw all of their companions die, leaving them alone with just one another. All of their past lovers met the same inevitable demise, death becoming an old friend of theirs.

The routine was beginning to become old, the two deciding interacting with humans was pointless. Humans were so fragile, so unfortunately disposable. Whoever they chose to get attached to could get hit by a bus and die, or catch a simple cold and it’d end the same. They shared the same fears with you, which they tried to repel by watching over you so heavily. You liked it in an odd way, having your two best friends become angels watching over you. Both Sam and Colby only shared two fears. They feared the day you’d unexpectedly die from a tragic occurrence. Turning you into one of them was out of the question, your soul deserving better than eternal damnation.

The only thing they feared more, was when you truly saw them for what they were. They knew everything about them was appealing to you. Their looks, their voice, even down to their scent. They believed you truly cared for them, but they weren’t convinced you actually comprehended how terrifying they could be. How savage and ruthless they could become. They feared once you realized this, a look of genuine horror spread across your face, you’d wish them away. Forever.

Often times they tried to ignore this fear. After all, right now you were standing in between them, asking them questions about being a vampire. Your fingers were intertwined with Sam’s, Colby’s arm lazily hanging over your shoulders. “Coffins?” You asked. Colby chuckled, an ice cold winter breeze flying past the three of you. “Did we bring coffins when we moved in?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, hoping the boys didn’t notice your visible shivering. They did.

It wasn’t unusual for the three of you to go out for a snack late at night, the empty streets allowing Sam and Colby to be visible without disguises or questions. “Alright alright. How about garlic? I may be Italian, you never know,” You asked. Sam had given you his jacket a few minutes ago, your lips still turning more white by the second. How had they not thought this through better? As the blonde looked down at your eyes, the soft doe kind that made their frozen hearts flutter, he remembered. Right, that’s why.

“Human food doesn’t bother us. You can make as much garlic bread to your hearts content,” Sam replied, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. Small snowflakes had entangled themselves in your hair, Sam’s lips forming a frown. You were willing to make yourself this cold and potentially sick for a twinkie? The three of you finally approached the tiny store, Colby handing you a wad of cash. “Jesus Christ, a twinkie does not cost more than a hundred dollars Colbs,” You gasped, looking at the wad of crisp and shiny hundred dollar bills. “I read about inflation all the time. Just get a few snacks so you won’t have to nearly freeze to death for a twinkie,” He insisted.

You smiled softly, placing a kiss on Colby’s cheek. “Alright i’ll be back,” You say, before dipping into the grocery store. Sam and Colby preferred to stand outside, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. “We didn’t have twinkies in our time right?” Colby asked. Sam let out a chuckle. “Dude we were actively there for the salem witch trials. We absolutely did not have twinkies,” He answered. Colby teasingly elbowed him, the two leaning against the brick wall outside of the store.

“Just double checking. Couldn’t recall if we were around to try those hyped up little rolls,” Colby told him. It was odd when they thought about it, how long they had roamed the earth. It was always just the two of them during life and then resurrection. They couldn’t help but feel like you were the final piece to the puzzle, the third to the trio. Yet they feared how long they’d actually have with you. Especially when you opted to eat twinkies a majority of the time instead of actual food. (Colby had agreed to learn how to cook just to get you to eat better.)

Sam’s ears twitched for a split second, the sound of footsteps flooding them. He looked around, both him and Colby as still as statues. “You hear that?” He asked the brunette. Colby nodded, equally as on alert. The weather was undoubtedly freezing. No economic crisis was occurring, there would be no reason for a regular human to be roaming the streets this late at night. “I’ll go check it out. Stay with her and i’ll meet you guys back at the apartment,” Colby huffed, dashing off into the night. The ringing of the bell attached to the store door rang, your happy face emerging into sight. You had already broken into one of your twinkies, taking a big bite. You went to hand Sam the wad of cash, before searching for Colby.

“Where’s Colby?” You asked, wiping the white cream off of your bottom lip. Sam’s mind briefly went to filth, before resuming to the matter at hand. He didn’t want to worry you, but he also didn’t want to lie. Since they had met you they had agreed to not lie, the truth something you’d have to handle if you wanted them around. “He’s off investigating something he heard. He’ll meet us back at the apartment,” Sam explained. You laced your fingers with Sam’s, allowing the blonde to walk you across the street. “You think it’s another one of your kind?” You asked, taking another bite of your twinkie.

Sam purposefully kept you on the side away from the road, ensuring no car would hit you if it came brawling your way. Especially with the icy roads, Sam knew human drivers would be unpredictable. (Big shocker: he wasn’t a fan of automobiles when they came out.) “I doubt it. This is our territory now. Our scent is everywhere,” Sam reassured you. You shoved the empty wrapper in your pocket, leaning on Sam for support as he walked you home. His body was cold and statue like, yet you found comfort the more you touched him.

The three of you didn’t want to make things confusing after you all met. After all, the sex was just supposed to be a one time thing. A peace offering in the boys minds. That’s what it was supposed to be. Yet the memory constantly lingering in the forefront of all of yours minds. There was a not so subtle craving that you all wanted it to happen again, the timing just not seemingly right. Sam and Colby didn’t believe in rushing things, even if you didn’t have all the time in the world as they did. Snow crushed underneath your sets of footsteps, Sam’s hearing acutely on alert for intruders.

Yet he couldn’t find it within himself to hear anything over the soothing sound of your heartbeat. It was music to his ears, the sound gratifying to him. It was so soothing in fact, it was distracting. This distraction created the perfect element of surprise for a man in a ski mask to emerge from the alleyway shadows, grabbing you. “Sam!” You screeched, thrashing against the criminals grasp. Sam was forced to let go of your hand, knowing he’d accidentally tear it off if he held onto you and played tug of war against the criminal. Sam could hear it now, the disgusting blood flowing through the lowlifes veins. He had been so blinded by how ethereal your presence was and now he was paying the price.

The flash of a blade sent Sam into an angry frenzy, baring his fangs at the attacker. “Sam! Help me! Colby!” You screamed, your voice echoing off of the alleyway walls. In the blink of an eye Colby was on the attacker, biting into the side of his neck. The grasp on you was released, your body falling to the ground. You quickly turned around, moving backwards on the icy sidewalk. Colby wasn’t feeding onto your attacker, his gaze was much more intense than that. Much more unhinged. He yanked his head backwards, tearing his throat apart. You barely had time to blink before Sam was on the other side of the attacker, copying Colby’s actions.

Clumps of flesh hit the ground, streams of blood flowing everywhere that you looked. Your attacker was long dead, your heart thumping so loud you thought it may burst out of your chest. You continued to back away, your back hitting a street lamp as you watched Sam and Colby. Any mortality they had, any sense of pride or self control had been washed away by the biggest wave. Neither of them were hungry, the taste of the attackers blood sickening. They received no satisfaction from feeding on him, their animalistic craving ordering them to tear the threat apart.

So they did, the man’s neck now a pile of unidentifiable blood and flesh. You swallowed, staring at your best friends. The ones who did your laundry and watched sitcoms shows with you. The ones who looked over you every single moment of the day, even when you didn’t want them to. The same ones who had once fucked you merciless, your life never having been the same afterwards. Blood coated both of their hands, the same crimson paint dripping down their chins and necks. Sam’s maroon sweater was now soaked, Colby’s leather jacket stained with splatters.

Sam dropped the attacker first, his eyes darting around in search of you. You were a pitiful sight, one Sam wished he didn’t have to see. You were on the ground, your back hugging the closest streetlight. Your hands were buried into handfuls of snow, your fingers turning red from the cold. Your eyes were widen, your gaze refusing to stray from him and Colby. Sam swallowed, the rancid taste of the attackers blood still coating his tongue. He walked in front of you, crouching down to your eye level. “I’m so, so sorry,” He whispered. You looked terrified, surely of them. Sam was very sure, his eyes soaking in what he figured to be the last time he’d see you.

Colby quickly joined his side, the corpse abandoned behind them. You had never seen so much blood before, the color seemingly everywhere you looked. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Colby cooed. He brought his hand up to your cheek, lovingly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. The blood was staining your skin, the feeling unnatural and making you slightly uneasy. Yet, when you looked at the two killers in front of you, you felt nothing but pure awe. Sam was trying to find the words to say to you, expecting the worst. Colby didn’t seem to have the same thoughts as him, which only made the situation ten times worse.

“I-I-I-” You began stuttering, unable to form a coherent sentence. How could you do it? How could you ever thank them? They saved your life. The faint sound of sirens interrupted the conversation, the boys heads turning to the left at the same time. “Sorry princess the conversation is going to have to wait. Let’s get you home,” Colby said, scooping you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, the stench of blood flooding your nostrils as you nuzzled against his shirt.

\/

The boys had gotten you inside safely, setting you down on the couch gently. “Do you need anything? Water? Food?” Colby asked. There were only a handful of things a human could need, surely there were maybe five max. In his mind at least. Sam’s mind was soaring in the other direction, his mouth running dry. You shook your head no, meeting their gaze. “Thank you,” You said. Sam blinked a few times, trying to ensure he heard you correctly. “We’d do anything for you,” Colby answered, crouching in front of you. The blonde braced himself, sure this was the end.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do my best to protect you. I know what you’re doing to do and I just have to say that I-” Sam began, your widened eyes stopped him. Fuck, you really had no idea the power you had over them. The three forbidden words were on the tip of his tongue, the ones that would only make this harder. You quickly rose to your feet, cupping his face into your hands. Gratitude had washed over you, your body demanding to give them a reward. You couldn’t deny that although unsettling, the sight of them covered in your attackers remains made your heart skip a beat.

“I wanna thank both of you, for saving my life,” You say, looking up into Sam’s red orbs. A thousand thoughts ran through the blondes head, many of them thinking they had broke your sanity or something along those lines. “Are you not scared?” Colby asked, approaching you from behind and resting his hands around your waist. You shook your head no. “You both won’t hurt me,” You answered. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t know that. You saw what we did. We ripped his throat apart. Tore him to shreds,” Sam huffed, “What exactly makes you so confident we wouldn’t do that to you?”

His words were hurtful, even if they did hit the hammer on the nail. “You did that to protect me. I know you. I know you both. You won’t hurt me,” You answered again, more confident this time. Colby exchanged a look with Sam, the gears in his brain finally turning the same way his were. “I think what Sam is trying to say is that what you just saw was a lot to process. It is for us, which means it has to mean even more to a human-” He began, your sharp eyes turning around to meet his. Your eyes were shooting daggers, a look Colby knew to not threaten. “Enough with the whole ‘weak human’ bullshit. I may not be immortal but I have a brain you know,” You snapped.

Yeah, Sam had came to the conclusion that they broke you.

“And what does your brain tell you about what you just saw? About the two blood soaked demons that are standing in your living room?” Sam questioned. Your facial expression softened, your eyes resuming their doe like fashion. “They’re telling me that you’re both vampires. Vampires with habits and tendencies I anticipated. Ones that don’t scare me,” You answered. Why didn’t they understand? Could they understand?

Your words seemed so sincere, both boys back on you. It was Colby in front of you this time, Sam’s chest pressing against your back. “We are so sorry you had to see that,” Colby told you. He grabbed your chin, guiding you to look up at him. They could hear your heart skip a beat, the blood smudging against your soft skin. “It’s okay. If it makes you guys feel better, you both look awfully hot covered in blood like this,” You say, biting your bottom lip. Sam pressed himself against your ass, his hands traveling up to your breast.

“Really, is that so?” Colby hummed, smirking down at you. He centered his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down teasingly. “In that case, let us show you how sorry we really are,” Sam murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. You groaned, his large hands kneading at your breast. “Open your mouth princess,” Colby muttered. You did so, flattening out your tongue on display. The brunette could feel himself getting hard, watching you eagerly suck his thumb as he put it into your mouth. The taste of blood coated your tongue, your pupils dilating as you looked into Colby’s eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” Colby praised. He removed his thumb from your eager mouth, replacing it with his lips. His taste made you feel drunk, your body becoming putty in between the boys as Sam tweaked your nipples. He chuckled darkly into your neck as they hardened under his ice cold fingertips. “Always so eager,” Sam murmured, sucking hickies onto your neck. He could feel your veins, hearing the blood flow through your delicate body. Colby’s tongue slid into your mouth, the brunette careful to not nip you with his fangs. Your desperation only made them harder, your sinful noises only becoming louder.

“Fuck, i’ve missed this,” Colby panted, pulling away from your lips. A thin string of saliva hung between both of your lips, your lips now swollen. “We’ve missed this,” Sam corrected, working on his third hickey. Colby dropped to his knees, eager to please you. “Let me taste you, fucking please, just wanna make tonight up to you,” Colby pleaded, his desperation washing over him. You could feel Sam’s hips roll against yours teasingly, ripping a groan out of your throat. “Answer him baby,” Sam encouraged, the smell of your arousal flooding his nose. You licked your lips, your balance unsteady.

Sam’s large hands kept you in place, his assault on your throat relentless. “Please, do whatever you want to me,” You whined, raking your fingers through Colby’s hair. The brunette quickly pulled down your skirt and stockings, accidentally tearing them in the process. “We’ll buy you new ones,” He muttered, bringing your panties down to your ankles. Your slick was drenched for them, Colby’s eyes blown with lust as he admired your cunt. This is all he could think about since the last time he saw you like this, so wet and desperate.

“Go on baby, use Colby’s tongue the way you need,” Sam said encouragingly. You pulled him towards you by his hair, his eager tongue lapping up your juices. Your knees almost buckled, Sam quick to keep you in place. The blonde was having a hard time restraining himself, your blood calling to him. Your smell was always so delightful and it only became more so when you were a moaning mess. “Sammy,” You whined, using your spare hand to grab his wrist. Colby’s lips sucked at your clit, making it harder to form coherent sentences.

“Yes baby?”

“Drink from me,” You panted, grinding against Colby’s face. Sam blinked, unable to deny or question your request. Your blood was sweeter than any others he had tasted, his body always yearning to have another taste of you. He slowly sank his sharp fangs into you, the piercing pain subsiding into a blinding euphoria. “Oh my God,” You whined, clawing at Colby’s hair. His large hands were keeping your thighs pried open, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Sam drank from your neck like a starving man. “Thats it princess, keep using me. Make yourself cum on my tongue,” Colby ordered, the sight of you crumbling enough to make him want to cream his pants.

Sam managed to pull himself off of you, panting as he did so. Your blood was so intoxicating, so addicting. It’s like you were made for them. He lapped at your neck, cleaning your wound as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Fuck fuck fuck,” You whimpered. Sam slithered one of his hands around your waist to keep you upright, using the other to guide your head to turn. He brought his lips to yours, swallowing each noise you made with his mouth. You could taste your own blood, the metallic taste sending you over the edge. You pulled at Colby’s roots are you came, your vision clouded with stars.

Colby emerged from between your thighs, bruises of where his hands had held your thighs apart already forming. Sam picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You smashed your lips against his, the boys bringing you to your bedroom. Your back hit your plush mattress, the boys switching positions. Colby stood in between your legs, undoing his belt. “You sure you can handle me princess? I won’t go easy on you like Sam,” He smirked, causing Sam to roll his eyes. You nodded eagerly, reaching behind you to undo Sam’s belt.

“I’m not just a human Colbs. I can handle whatever you throw at me,” You say, as cocky as you can muster. The boys exchanged mischievous looks, their cocks throbbing with excitement. You laid your head back, quickly helping Sam take off his pants. You could feel your core throbbing with desire, Colby making himself right at home in between your legs. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, soaking in the feeling. You stuck your tongue for Sam, eagerly awaiting his cock. The mere sight of it was making your mouth water.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to fuck you,” Colby confessed, pushing himself inside of you. You moaned, your noises being muffled by Sam’s cock as he placed it inside of your mouth. The vibrations sent a chill down his spine, your name falling off of his lips. “Fucking hell, you’ve got to try her mouth,” Sam groaned, pushing himself down your throat deeper. Colby grinned as he bottomed out, your walls milking his cock.

“Trust me I remember, everything about her is a slice of heaven,” He replied, gripping your waist harshly. He began to move slowly, slithering one of his hands down to your clit. Your thighs trembled at the extra stimulation, Colby’s thrust speeding up rapidly. Both boys seemed to be in a state of heat, their hips moving faster than you could keep up. “You’re so pretty like this,” Sam praised, watching the shape of his cock go up and down your throat. Colby bit his bottom lip, his sinful noises threatening to spill out at a rapid rate.

“You’re taking me so well. Like you were made for me,” Colby grunted. He drew faster circles around your clit, your waterline flooding with tears as Sam’s cock abused the back of your throat. They were merciless, hell bent on making you cum whilst chasing their own highs. “Made for us,” Sam corrected, his orgasm coming quickly. He pulled himself out of your throat, watching as you stuck your tongue out, desperately trying to lick the underside of his cock. He jerked his shaft above you, depositing his seed directly into your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, my fucking God,” Sam panted, watching you eagerly swallow his cum. Your mouth was free to moan now, your mascara smudged and tears peaking at the corner of your eyes. “Just like that, please, feels so good Colbs,” You babbled. Colby grabbed both of your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He felt impossibly deeper, his cock abusing your g spot as it pleased. “You’re fucking milking me princess, it’s like you want me to cum inside of you,” Colby moaned, his thrust relentless.

Sam snickered as he lowered himself near your ear. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? To be bred by him? By both of us? Such a dirty girl, wanting to be bred by demons,” Sam snickered, licking the side of your neck. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, your body beginning to tremble. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” You warned. One of your hands found Sam’s squeezing it tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you. He now felt what Colby felt before, the butterflies swarming around his stomach at the romantic gesture.

Colby’s hips stuttered, his thrust coming to a halt as he came inside of you. He slowly pulled out of you, collapsing on the other side of the bed. The rooms sounds consisted of your rapid breathing and heartbeat, for Sam and Colby at least. Colby stroked your hair as you calmed down, Sam’s hand never straying from yours.

“Hey guys?” You hummed. Sam could’ve jumped on his feet right then and there. Anything you needed. Anything you wanted. He’d eagerly walk to the ends of the earth to get it for you. “Yeah?” He replied, awaiting your orders. You giggled, looking over at him.

“Wanna have a round two?”

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Saying You Hate Them

As a disclaimer, I'm going to say that these are reactions to you saying it and meaning it, not just being silly or dramatic. However, I'm also kind of assuming in most cases that this is NOT you saying "I am terminating our relationship entirely and this hate thing is a permanent situation."

The rest of the characters are below the cut.

Lucifer

"Very well. You're entitled to your opinion."

Depending on the situation, he might just shrug it off. It isn't like he hasn't dealt with his fair share of unfair whining from people who are upset with him. It would probably take a pretty emotionally charged situation for him to actually take you seriously.

In that case, he probably wouldn't quite know what would be best to do. He'd give you your space, but generally speaking, his demeanor wouldn't be significantly different. If things remain tense for more than a few days, he'll probably attempt to do the mature thing and sit down with you for a conversation to talk through your differences.

Mammon

"Pfft! No ya don't!"

Stage 1. Denial. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. You're just blowing off some steam. You'll get over it in a minute or two.

Stage 2. Anger. It's been a minute or two. You aren't backing down. Well, whatever! He isn't gonna sit around and let some whiny human talk shit about him! So he's going to maturely stomp to his room and maturely slam the door and maturely turn up some music obnoxiously loud.

Stage 3. Bargaining. Brooding has done whatever good it might have done, so he'll start to think of ways to change your mind about hating him. He's really an awesome guy, so it shouldn't be that hard. Obviously, the best way to let someone know you care is by spending money on them. So he'll go out on the town with a credit card and max it out on objects that are very pretty and shiny but really aren't your taste. (The fact that Mammon's taste is not the same as everyone else's taste mystifies him.)

Stage 4. Depression. The shopping trip having earned him nothing but abuse from Lucifer, he'll spend some time cooped up in his room and mope and sulk but definitely not cry, because how pathetic do you think he is? He ain't cryin' over one puny human!

Stage 5. Acceptance? Wait just a minute. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. He should stop sulking and go talk to you. Definitely not to beg you to forgive him or anything, but maybe if you squinted, it might look like that. Please don't hate him. Please?

Leviathan

"...I guess I should have known."

This is one of the choices that leads you straight to a bad ending. Ignoring him is one thing. Teasing him is another thing. Snapping at him when you're annoyed hurts, but he can justify it. But if you tell Levi you hate him, it will take a monumental amount of effort to undo that damage.

He'll probably assume you've always hated him, and that your friendliness was all an act. He won't be willing to take you at your word if you if you try and tell him that you didn't mean it, because how is he supposed to know that you aren't lying this time?

Satan

If he's (relatively) calm:

"You don't actually mean that. You sound like a child."

His reaction is a little bit like Lucifer's in this case; he'll leave you alone for awhile and not try to keep up the conversation. He won't really believe you actually hate him either. But he is a lot more insecure than Lucifer, so there's a part of him that nags at him... What if they actually hate you? He'll probably be irritable and difficult to approach when those thoughts are especially prevalent. Unfortunately, this is the sort of situation where Satan is immobilized by conflicting thoughts on what's going on, so it will probably be up to you to start a conversation and talk about whatever happened.

If he's very angry:

"Get out of here if you don't want to get hurt."

Whether that's a threat or a warning can be up to interpretation. I imagine that, as the Avatar of Wrath, there's a part of him that feeds on hate, so if Satan was a different sort of character, he'd say something like 'You fool! You're only increasing my power level!' But Satan being Satan, he'll spend some time in whatever room you've left him in and trash it before he calms down, feels extremely ashamed, sulks and/or broods for awhile at a complete loss for how to fix things without rolling over and looking completely pathetic, and, quite possibly, works himself up into another burst of rage from sheer frustration.

Ultimately, he'll probably be more comfortable talking things out through texts than in person (or starting the conversation with a text, then speaking face to face).

Asmodeus

"Hahaha... What...?"

He won't believe you for a second! Partly because, silly, of course you don't hate him, but also because his worldview does not allow for the possibility that someone he cares about might hate him. If he even considers the possibility that you might possibly, hypothetically mean it, he's in for an entire, earth-shattering identity crisis.

If you don't apologize pretty quickly or at least amend the statement to something he can accept, Asmo will head up to his room and hole up in there for awhile, obsessively tracking his social media accounts and pampering himself in the bathroom. You're lying, though. Look at this face! It's impossible to truly hate a face as beautiful as his.

Beelzebub

"Oh... Sorry..."

First he'll look like a deer in the headlights, and then he'll look like a kicked puppy. If he understands what led you to say this, he'll try and fix it, but if he doesn't, he will... (Select an answer below.)

A) Play video games with Levi. B) Go clubbing with Asmo. C) Eat. D) Learn to break dance.

If you guessed C) Eat, then you've been paying attention during your Obey Me! lessons.

And honestly. Honestly! Why would you say something like that? Maybe he's not your favorite brother, but we all know it's simply not possible to actually hate Beel. We all know you're full of it. So knock it off.

Belphie

"...Beel, did you hear something?"

Yep, Belphie is going to pull out all the pettiness he can scrounge up. He believes that the best defense is a good offense, and he's a pro. He'll act haughty and unbothered, ignoring you and looking entirely unbothered between sulking sessions under the covers.

Pettiness aside, you have, knowingly or otherwise, tapped into a source of deep anxiety in your relationship with Belphie. He has not forgotten the whole...incident that took place when you freed him from the attic. He knows that, reasonably, you probably should hate him, and it's amazing to him that you don't seem like you do.

Once tempers have cooled, it might be worthwhile to talk over what happened back then, just the two of you. It was pushed aside too quickly, and you both probably have things you wish you'd said.

Diavolo

"It seems I've upset you. Please know that I never meant to offend you."

He'll see that you're angry with him and give you your space, but he won't be as torn up about this as some of the others. Why? He simply won't believe you.

He has seen your soul, and it is not the soul of a hater.

Barbatos

"Oh?"

Yeah, get in line. Considering the amount of time travel shenanigans this guy has probably pulled, I have no doubt he has amassed more than his fair share of enemies. More than that, he already knows this is just you blowing off steam. Like Diavolo and Lucifer, this is just water off a duck's back.

Although, depending on how irritated he's feeling at the time of the incident, he may or may not wear a smirk as he gives his noncommittal response. Barbatos might be the man with the multiverse in the palm of his hand, but he is not above being petty. Watch your back for a few days.

Solomon

"Ah... It seems I've hit a nerve! I think I'll give you some time to cool down."

He'll back off and leave you to manage your anger in peace. Then he'll settle in to focus on some project or another that requires his undivided attention. He doesn't want to deal with all the unpleasantness that your words stirred up. Honestly, didn't he get past this sort of thing a few centuries ago? What's a little spat between friends? You don't actually hate him; not after all he's done for you. He can't possibly be feeling insecure...?

Nope, all he's feeling is itchy because of the toxic gas that's starting to pour out of his cauldron. He should open a window.

The Angels

I can't even do Simeon and Luke, because they'd both just be so confused and sad that I'm not sure where I'd go with it besides scolding you for being a bully. You don't just say "I hate you" to angels who are either extremely sweet and attractive or actual children.