#and be really intense about them. did they at least respect this.

[hyukalyptus]

office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 

-

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 

-

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

-

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

-

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 

- 

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 

-

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

-

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 

-

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 

-

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 

-

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 

-

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 

be there in 45 :) 

-

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 

“Like what?” 

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 

“What is it?” You ask softly. 

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.” 

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

-

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 

“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 

“Mommy?” 

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 

And then it happens. 

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I told you I’m good at it.” 

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 

“Please.” 

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?” 

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.” 

[lloydfrontera]

i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation i'm not gonna complain about the adaptation-

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[bandgie]

Behave

prof!heesung x dean!Jake x fem!reader

3.1k words

warnings! mdni18+, DUBCON, 3some, throat fucking, piv, no protection, creampie, manipulation, cum eating (f!), fingering, reader is called 'slut' multiple times, abuse of power themes notes: please don't read if you're not comfortable OR before you read this! I also finally figured out how to do the three picture thingies yay!

All you did was talk back

There wasn’t any shouting, no cursing, no physical violence. Your professor was being a dick, as per usual, and you found it best to let him know how you didn’t appreciate his behavior. Truly, you didn’t think you said anything bad. Nothing that warranted an intense meeting between your professor and the university dean.

Professor Lee Heesung stood with his arms crossed, glasses resting low on his nose as he regarded you with disdain. It took everything in you to keep your eyes from rolling as the dean sat on his desk, disciplining your behavior. 

“I think an apology is much needed to your professor, missy.”

Missy. You swear you see red when you hear those words. Mr. Sim Jae-yun doesn’t even acknowledge how demeaning that is to say. Not when he’s too busy looking at the exposed part of your thighs that bugle from you sitting. He’s beginning to think he should talk to the president to implement a rule that skirts must go past your knees. It doesn’t matter if being in a university doesn’t require a uniform, he’ll make it happen. 

You scoff, crossing your arms in the same manner as Professor Lee. “With all due respect, Mr. Sim, I think not. Everyone in that class hates him. He’s such an ass.”

“Oh, I’m the ass?” Heesung unfolds his arms to point at you accusingly. “You’re the one wearing shorts that only show ass. I don’t need to take any type of ridicule from a slut-in-training.”

Any comeback you had quickly dies in your throat. It’s not as though you’ve never been called names before, but from a professor, that’s a first. You clear your throat and blink, still in slight disbelief. “See?” You look at Jake with desperation. “He’s being a dick right in front of you!”

But the dean doesn’t agree. All he does is sigh, “To be fair, it is really short.”

You groan. “As if any of that matters! I’m not gonna apologize to this asshole. And you can’t make me.” Ignoring their gawks, you huff and turn your head the other way. Maybe it would be better to swallow your pride and give them what they want. It would get them off your back and, hopefully, get everything back to normal. Yet, you catch yourself replaying how Heesung easily called you a whore and how the dean did little to nothing about it. Worst of all, how the tiniest part of you almost liked knowing that they were looking at you in a way that university staff should not.

The men exchange glances - looks you miss that involve smirks and nods. 

“Go ahead and stand up.” It’s Jake who directs you. Rather than turning your whole head, you only peek from the side of your eyes. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll be expelled,” he says factly. Now you fully turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’re already stuttering about how he can’t do that, but he shuts you up with, “If you don’t want to give an apology, the least you can do is stand.”

So you do, hesitantly, but you do. Their gaze drops to your legs and you begin to tug your skirt just a few inches lower. It doesn’t matter how hot these men are, they still pissed you off. You couldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your plush skin. Not unless they deserved it, of course. 

Heesung crosses one arm over his chest while his other hand is at his chin, putting him in a thinking pose. He regards you much differently now. There's not as much disgust than there is interest. He takes a few steps around you, getting a good look at every angle.

You shift from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with his blatant stalking. “I don’t understand how this is going to help.”

Jake stands from his place at the desk and walks closer to you. Granted, he’s not the tallest man, but you find yourself shrinking from his aura. A presence that demands attention, respect. His ringed fingers grab a hold of your chin so you look him in the eyes. “You don’t know how to listen, but I think we can fix that. All you need is some discipline. If you wanna stay enrolled, I suggest you behave for us starting now.”

You’re too stunned to say anything. No words can form even when Heesung places his hand on your lower back. He applies pressure until you arch, the skirt inevitably exposing your panties for him to see. 

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he tuts. “I don’t understand how you expect me to act professional with you when you dress like this.” Heesung uses his other hand to reach down, cupping your clothed mound with no warning. 

The warmth of his hand makes you gasp and Jake takes the opportunity to slip his thumb in your mouth. It’s not supposed to work on you, but it manages to turn your whimpers into mewls instead as you softly suck on it. The pad of his finger presses onto your tongue and you dutifully open your throat so he can shove it deeper. 

Jake can’t help but smile, one side of his lips slightly turned more upwards than the other when he looks at you. All it takes is Heesung to apply more pressure to your cunt to make you suck harder. He can feel his cock hardening in his slacks, the blood leaving his head to rush to his groin instead.

Perhaps he’ll be able to blame his terrible decisions on that fact.

You whine when Heesung pulls away from you, placing his hands on either side of your hips to guide you closer to the dean’s desk. It’s all too quick when you find yourself bent over the wooden table, legs kicked open so your thighs are apart, and your hands bound by Jake’s grip. 

“It truly is a shame we have to do it like this,” he sighs, though it hardly sounds regretful in the slightest. “But we just can’t trust you’ll be good for us, not yet anyway.”

Being restrained makes you twist and turn, trying to escape from the men who have you pinned down. Your stomach squeezes with fear, but you’re starting to think a different, more intense emotion, slithers its way to your core. “W-wait,” you turn your head in an attempt to look at them. “You can’t do this. I’ll get you fired. I’ll tell.”

“Oh no!” Heesung mocks fear in his voice. “Did you hear that, Jake? She’s gotta tattletale on us!” He laughs wholeheartedly, making sure to keep your thighs pried open no matter how much you try and push them together. “Even if you do, who do you think they’ll believe?”

His finger trails up your slit, prodding your entrance before sliding back down to your clothed clit. You jolt so violently that you lurch forward and whine. Heesung and Jake chuckle at your reactions, lifting your skirt over your ass so it’s only your panties in the way. 

“Good, slut,” Heesung coos. “No talking back this time. See? You can behave.”

The only reason you’re not saying anything is because you’re scared that you’ll moan. There’s no way in hell you’d let them know that you’re feeling even the smallest amount of pleasure. No matter how wet your underwear grows, no matter how hard you bite your lower lip, your pride is too strong to succumb to their touch. 

But you want to, so bad you do. Maybe they can already tell that you’re becoming more and more pliant for them since Jake only has to use one hand to bind your wrists. Both of the men have their fingers at your pussy: swirling, pinching, and rubbing your cunt until you instinctively grind back on them.

Jake does the honors of hooking a finger to the side of your underwear, finally revealing the source of arousal. You squeal, wiggling to cover yourself but to no avail. It’s near impossible to hide your soaked pussy, lips fat and wet from how disgustingly good they were making you feel.

“Damn,” Heesung breathes. “Must’ve been hard to pretend to hate it, huh?”

You snarl at him, teeth clenched and eyes ignited. “I hate you.”

Heesung smiles, “Seems like your pussy here doesn’t.” He pushes the tip of his finger on your nub, flicking it back and forth. Heesung laughs when your breath gets caught in your throat and all you can do is let out a high-pitched moan from his touch. “Fuck, it’s so wet.”

Jake focuses his digits near your entrance, dipping just the tips of his fingers in to watch your hole clench in anticipation. “More than wet, it’s sobbing to be filled.” He groans when your cunt tries to swallow his fingers. “I don’t even think you need to finger her. You can just put it straight in.”

Wait. That’s not what you want to happen. Your fight or flight should kick in, you should try to scream or kick, but you don’t. Getting away is the last thing your body wants to do. All its attention is on finishing as fast and as pleasurable as possible. So what if they’re older than you? Have authority over you? They can make you feel good, even if it’s at the cost of your dignity. 

It’s as if Heesung can hear your inner turmoil, and of course, he has to add fuel to the fire. “You heard that, slut? Sounds like you really do like me. Go ahead and tell me how much you want it and I’ll fuck you real nice.” 

Jake, despite being the one to say that fingering you would hardly make a difference, begins to push his digits deeper inside. Two of them slowly, but agonizingly open you up. As much as you hate that they're the ones doing it, your cunt is grateful for having something to finally clench down on. Still, your will is stronger than your desire. “F-fuck no.”

But deep down you know and they know. It’s how your curses turn into mewls. How you’ve begun to rock your hips back and forth to match the pace of Jake’s thrusting fingers. The men can see the pretty, white cream coating his digits. The sight makes Heesung groan, “Can’t you behave? Just look at it. You’re begging for this, slut.” Without being told to, Jake slips his finger from your hole. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, mouth agape as you silently whine. You’re too busy mourning the lack of fingers before you feel them prod your lips. 

Jake reaches around and easily slips his fingers in your mouth. It’s an immediate reaction when your tongue swirls around them, tasting your arousal and gulping it down. 

“Fuck. I hope you suck cock like that.” Jake grunts when he presses the pad of his fingers on your tongue. You bite on them, but it comes off more playful than painful. The taste of yourself is overwhelming and you can’t even notice how they’ve begun to position themselves with one in front of your face with the other staying behind.

A different, slightly smaller pair of hands pin you this time. You finally recognize Jake as being the one in front of you while Heesung rubs against the curve of your ass. He’s bare, you figure, from the waist down with his cock guiding up and down. You whimper and you’re comforted by Jake pushing the hair from your face to reveal your pretty, stained lips.

“You have sucked someone off before, right?” Jake tilts his head and lets his thumb run across your bottom lip. You don’t answer, both too stunned by the inevitable outcome and how Heesung has angled his cock slightly lower so it catches your clit instead. It’s the man behind that answers for you, “Course she has. You seen the mouth on this slut? All that talking she does is just ‘cuz there’s nothing to shut her up.”

When you feel a flush in your face, you know it’s from anger. “Oh, fuck you. The only way you’re able to get laid is by - hngh!” Heesung isn’t slow when he puts it in. His rough entrance cuts you off mid-sentence. You only feel his tip widening you for a second before the rest of his length slides into you. 

Now you understand why Jake stretched you open despite everything. He must know how Heesung is, he must know because of how often they do this. It all begins to fall into place now that you’re bent over, skirt flipped up with a cock in your cunt and one soon to be in your mouth. Your behavior did not warrant a meeting with the dean, let alone one-on-one. This must have been their plan. To abuse their power on a whore of a student like you so that if word ever did get out, it would be easier to write it up as a girl who simply didn’t like her professor. 

Not the most perfect plan, but you hardly care to focus on the cracks when you're being jolted forward and rocked against the desk. Jake takes the opportunity to shove himself inside your moaning mouth. Your tongue goes on the underside of his cock, throat expanding so he can fuck himself deeper while Heesung does the same inside your cunt. 

It’s so that it can be bearable, you tell yourself. Not because you like the feeling of them filing you. 

“Shit, see?” Heesung moans and squeezes your wrists. “She just needs something to shut. her. up.” Each word is enunciated with a thrust. Heesung makes sure the sound of your bodies echo in the office. You squeal around gag around Jake's cock, neck straining from keeping your head lifted. 

Jake grips the hair from the top of your head to start fucking you at a rhythm. His hips rock upwards so his tip touches the back part of the roof of your mouth. “Her throats’ squeezing me like a pussy. Fuck! You caught a good one, Hee.”

Heesung laughs, but it sounds dark. Drool seeps from the corner of your lips from the stimulation. The edge of the table only slightly rubs on your clit when Heesung rocks into you. Just barely touching your nub to make you clench and gush around his cock. You try to get on your tippy toes so you can feel him deeper inside, but Heesung is set on having you nearly flushed against the desk save for Jake’s grip forcing your chest upwards.

“I’d hardly say she’s good,” Heesung argues. “She was giving us such a hard time. Making us play with her pussy just to make sure she was wet enough. Isn’t that right, slut?” 

You muffle against Jake’s dick. Neither of them make a move to properly understand what you said, both caught in the pleasure you’re giving them. Still, Heesung continues. “Ah, now I get it. You were just playing hard to get. Calling me names and acting like you’re above this when all you wanted was to be bent like this.” He’s pumping into you harder, messier. You don't even have the coordination to suck properly on Jake’s cock anymore. Not that he minds, it seems. He uses your mouth like a fleshlight, careful not to hit so deep that your gag reflex forces him out. 

You can wiggle your hands though. A final act of retaliation to let Heesung know that he’s wrong. He sees it, to your surprise, and he laughs at your futile ministrations. “I kind of like it when you keep fighting back. It’ll make everything so much more fun when you cum on the dick you hate.”

You don't want to cum, you don’t even want to think about it. Yet, the taste of your orgasm travels in your stomach. You swear you can feel the head of Heesung’s cock touching it, the tip of Jake’s prodding it from your throat. All you need is that final push, a last magical touch to make you tip over. Strangely, you wish for the feeling of being on the edge to never stop. So this moment of twisted humiliation and pleasure lasts for a lifetime. 

That doesn’t happen though. Not when Heesung untangles one of his hands to play with the flesh of your pussy. His nimble fingers blindly travel up until they find your clit. It only takes a couple of rubs, a few harsh pinches that make you whine on Jake's dick before you flood his cock. The consistent moans vibrate the cock in your mouth and Jake doesn’t last any longer when he feels them. 

“Oh fuck. I’m cumming. I'm cumming. I’m cumming.” Both of his hands grab ahold of your face as he buries his cock deep. You sputter and gag around him, being force-fed his load that shoots down your throat. It doesn’t help that Heesung keeps fucking into you to reach his high. It makes Jake’s cock bury itself deeper inch by inch. Your eyes water, saliva and cum drip down your chin onto the desk, but Jake is content with milking himself dry in your mouth and then some. 

Finally, Heesung groans. He adjusts his stance so he can fuck harder into you. His fingers rub painfully fast on your clit and you're crying for him to slow down. The overstimulation nearly makes you want to claw your own skin before he finishes. Hot streaks of cum enter your pussy, the entrance of your womb. You pulse around him, and he pulses inside of you. 

Your hips wiggle to get his fingers off your clit, and they listen to adjust on your ass instead. Jake slowly slips his softening cock from your lips, moaning when your head thuds on the table and you gasp for air. He shoves his cock back into his slacks, wiping the sweat from his forehead when he’s done.

Then Heesung slips out of you, pulling one of your cheeks apart to watch his and your cream leak from your gaping pussy. Your hole pushes out the cum and he shoves it back in with his finger. “Mmm,” he hums. “It looks so good like this.”

When Heesung releases you from his grip you don’t dash for the door. You don’t turn around and slap him; the thought doesn't even cross your mind. Your legs turn into jelly, falling on the floor disgracefully. You can’t even imagine how you look, cum dripping down your thighs and chin as you catch your breath. Still, Heesung smiles down at you, though you know it’s far from endearing.

“See, slut? It’s not that hard to listen, now is it.”

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, but I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Hey, can you please do Rio Vidal NSFW Alphabet?

Rio Vidal ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

NSFW alphabet

Masterlist | Agatha alphabet | Wanda alphabet

CW: Switch!Rio, kinky sex, masturbation, oral sex, quickies, knife play, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, pain play, degradation, biting, bondage

Aftercare

Rio’s the sweetest after sex. She treats any sore spots you have while praising what a good job you did, and just name anything you want and she'll have it to you in seconds. Despite all the evil she's capable of, Rio can be so soft with the ones she loves.

Body part

She has a thing for your neck. It's something so vulnerable but it's also proof of life. She loves to feel the thrum of your pulse point under her tongue.

Cum

It drives her wild seeing her cum on your skin, your face especially, it makes something possessive inside of her very happy.

Dirty secret

She doesn't have any. If you've already accepted that she's literally Death, Rio doesn't see the point of keeping anything from you.

Experience

Rio’s had very few serious lovers, but she’s done A LOT with them. There's almost nothing new to her in the realm of sex, at least besides the unique intricacies of your body anyway.

Favorite position

As willing as she is to experiment, you can't go wrong with the basics. Her pinning you to the ground to have her wicked way with you, or just maybe the other way around.

Goofy

Even in bed Rio can make you laugh with that dry, dark sense of humor of hers, but even when she’s joking around she has a seductive quality to her. The mood isn't any less intense.

Hair

She has a dark, triangular bush. Not too messy but not too neat either.

Intimacy

Her black heart practically bleeds romance. It's almost intimidating just how intimate she is, effortlessly capable of being sweet, scary and sexy at the same time.

Jack off

She doesn't really think masturbation is worthwhile. For her, much of the appeal of sex is the connection with someone she loves.

Kinks

Oh, Rio gets freaky. She’s into domming, knife play, edging, overstimulation, denial, degradation, pain play, subbing (occasionally), bondage and so on.

Location

It's not like she cares about social norms, she'd probably fuck you in a church if you asked, but she does appreciate privacy so your place is her go to.

Motivation

You existing basically. Rio’s always a little hot and bothered around you, but especially if you're doing something that you shouldn't, that's a big turn on for her.

No

Anything less than enthusiastic consent.

Oral

Giving and receiving oral are perhaps the two best things about having human-shaped bodies in Rio’s opinion. Giving is her personal favorite, as she loves having total control over your pleasure.

Pace

She proffers to take her time, she does after all have a lot of it and what better way is there to spend it? Besides, it's adorable seeing how quickly you lose patience.

Quickie

If it's all she can get she's not complaining but, again, she'd rather take her time.

Risk

There's no risk too great for Rio. She does respect that your thresholds for acceptable risks are very different though so she's not gonna hold it against you if you’d rather play it safe.

Stamina

Her stamina is out of this world. Rio has the power of the devil and the patience of a saint.

Toys

She hasn't been especially impressed by any of the man-made toys she's seen, she'd much rather use magic to spice up your sex life.

Unfair

Rio’s the biggest tease. The way she toys with your body is downright torturous, and she never loses that smirk or her blend of saccharine praise and degradation while she's at it.

Volume

She's not too loud. She keeps enough composure to talk as she normally would for the most part, and when she does start moaning the sounds are quite low and deep.

Wildcard

She hopes you have a thing for eldritch abominations, because she would love to fuck you in her death-form.

X-ray

She can essentially manifest a dick on command by willing it so, just pick your size.

Yearning

Rio can go a long time without thinking about sex but once she has she becomes so desperately horny, you could cut the tension between you two with a knife.

Zzz

You're not even convinced Rio does sleep. She's always awake when you fall asleep and awake when you wake up. One things for sure though, she isn't leaving your side if she can help it.

[ryescapades]

Hii! Can I have a request for Soshiro Hoshina with fem reader? They're both childhood friends, Soshiro as a kid made a promise that he would marry reader when they both grow up.

As they grew up as adult, both promoted in third division. Reader thinks Soshiro would forget their childhood promises and thinks it just a puppy crush, but Soshiro really mean it and fall for her as well.

sweetheart | hoshina soshiro

genre/warning: fem!reader, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, hint of angst but it's not heavy at all, reader is lowkey a little dense lol, there's like one curse word i think, not sure if i characterised hoshina correctly in this one hm a/n: kinda long fic below! listening to my fav mafiyami playlist while i'm writing this teehee also i'm bad at writing smooching scenes so don't mind me writing the bare minimum

"soshiro, i heard from your father that you want to work in the defense force... is that right?" seven year old you had asked one day when you were lounging at one of the many engawa's in the hoshina's family estate.

"oh, that! yeah, i'm gonna grow up and become an officer in the defense force! the coolest of them all, in fact!" soshiro, your best friend boasted as he threw you a wide grin. you frowned, feeling your imaginative ears drooping slightly, "but is it not scary though? what if you die fightin' the monsters? you're gonna leave me alone that way,"

soshiro's grin dropped, a pensive look marring his round, chubby-cheeked face. his little mind did quite the thinking before he turned to look at you, eyes bright and sparkling. "if so, let's get married."

you had choked on your saliva, thinking your little admiration for him had been exposed somehow. "w-what do you mean get married?!" soshiro only looked at you with a certain look, as if the answer wasn't obvious already. "well if i'm goin' to die anyways, shouldn't we be spendin' all the time we have together? that's the easier way, right?"

the way he said it sounded so simple, like learning the alphabets or understanding the sky is blue. be with him until he dies, that's what you'd understood and it did not sit well with you, so you declared, "then i want to become an officer together with you! if you die, i die!"

at that, soshiro's grin returned. "so it's settled then." you gave him a smile as a response before feigning a pout, "but you better not forget about it when we're old enough though!"

"yes, yes, i won't. i promise i'm goin' to marry ya when we grow up!"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

promises are meant to be broken.

at least, that's what you'd grown to believe now that you're an adult with a respectable yet demanding (and risky) job. promise to hang out with an old friend, only to be cancelled when duty called. promise to try out that one restaurant that was newly opened, only for it to be destroyed in a kaiju attack. promise to change the broken thermostat at your apartment, only to leave it unfixed because you're rarely ever home anyways.

and promise to be married to your childhood best friend when you're older, only for it to be forgotten by said friend.

it's pathetic, really.

why are you the only one falling, the only one whose feelings got more intense as the years went by? sometimes you even struggled with your own emotions, not knowing how to handle yourself around the one who has been in your heart for god knows too long. but knowing that he's there, still close by even to this day, soothed your pain just a little bit.

after being appointed as the third division's vice-captain, you had successfully followed in soshiro's footsteps by being scouted by captain ashiro herself to transfer into the same division, though with your average combat power, you were only at the officer level.

you've been working hard since then, of course. your captain even complimented that if you had asked of her, you could be assigned to the platoon leader position soon enough. not to add soshiro had also occurred the same thing and more, which had you blushing to the tips of your toes.

if anything, being a high-ranked officer in the same division just means being in the vicinity of your crush more often and with how you've been holding on mentally, you don't think you're ready to take on that problem as of yet.

it's not like you and soshiro grew apart. no, gods no. as a matter of fact, you two grew even closer, especially now that you're working in his division. and that's exactly the thing; you can't go a day without thinking about how attractive he looks that day, or how nice his voice is when he talks, how beautifully lethal he becomes while fighting off a kaiju or how good he's been to you the past few years. as if he wasn't when you were still a child.

however, you believe that's only because the two of you have been friends for so long. you know him— or at least you'd like to think that you do. if he holds you in the same regard that you do for him, he'd tell you himself. this is soshiro we're talking about; intuitive, easygoing yet determined soshiro. hence, if he's never brought up about that promise, it's either he all forgot about it or he simply doesn't feel the same for you.

get over this puppy crush first. that way you can fully focus on doing your job if you're ever to become a platoon leader, you think as you finish the last of your training, standing upright to wipe the sweat from your forehead.

you walk over to the shelves, about to put your weapons back in their place when a call of your name startles you. you turn around, eyes wide. "holy shit, soshi- vice captain! don't scare me like that, please. i'm holding dangerous stuff here as you can see," you chastise after seeing your best friend at the door of the training room, gesturing to the weapons in your hands as your heart thuds loudly in your chest, although this time it's not because of the earlier jump scare.

soshiro laughs. "sorry, didn't mean to surprise ya." he says. you roll your eyes playfully before you stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to voice out whatever it is that he's here for but he stays quiet, gazing back at you leisurely with his slanted eyes. you try not to flush under his scrutiny, swiveling back around to eventually put aside your weapons.

"i told ya to call me soshiro when we're alone, right? why the sudden formality?" he starts, voice tinged with a hint of teasing. "well, you are my superior. it's a must to address you properly, no?" you casually brush off. you don't notice the way soshiro's jaw uneasily move at your statement, currently too busy checking the notifications in your phone.

"anyway, are you here to train? i'll pass you the room keys if you are." you say, still not looking at him. when once again he doesn't give an immediate reply, you peer up at him with an eyebrow raised. soshiro then offers you small smile, "walk with me?" he asks instead.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

you somehow find yourself going on a stroll with your vice-captain (who's also your best friend and longtime crush) in the street just outside the tachikawa base. "any particular reason why we're out here when i should be inside taking a much needed shower after my workout?" you jokingly ask, staring at the people walking by and nodding politely towards those who greet you.

soshiro gives you a side glance, smiling. "just needed some fresh air." he simple states, making you throw out a skeptical look. "yeah, nice try. if that's the reason, you could've opened the windows in your office. you got a lot of them," you point out, nudging his shoulder which he returns, and now the two of you are having a mini nudging competition until eventually your giggles die down, "no, seriously though. why are we here, soshiro?"

the foxy eyed male exhales a small puff of air before shrugging, "maybe i've been missing you." your head spins to him, eyes blinking a few times, trying to keep your mind from thinking more of what he probably meant by that before you send a smirk his way. "hah! i knew you couldn't live without me bugging you, hm? what are best friends for, right?" you almost grit your teeth, the words feeling like venom in your mouth.

unbeknownst to you, his responding chuckle is almost reluctant. "yeah, you're right." soshiro utters. "apparently the presence of your annoying ass is crucial for me to keep livin'," he sarcastically says, making you jab at his side. "excuse me, you're annoying!" you laugh.

your eyes lock with his crimson ones, and your breath stutters at the soft, almost fond look he's wearing. "w-well, now that i'm here, surely you can go about your incoming days with no trouble!" you play it off, feeling the slight embarrassment creeping up. the fog seems to lift from soshiro's gaze as he faintly shakes his head, his smile now looking all the more cheeky. "uh-huh, i sure hope so."

"yeah, you better be! but don't come crying to me when something minimal inconveniences you or something. i'm just your friend, after all. not your mom."

"....please stop saying that,"

his slow reply had your steps faltering, taken aback. "d-did i... say something wrong?" you stammer in surprise, not expecting him to suddenly sound so... upset?

you catch sight of soshiro's downturned face, "sorry, whatever it is that i said—" you try to apologize but he instantly cuts you off, "right, you kept talkin' like being my friend is a job."

you freeze in your place, "pardon? no! that's not what i meant when i—"

you're about to snap when he interrupts you again but his next words have you recoiling in shock, "did you forget about our promise?" he asks in a low mutter.

wait, what...?

"excuse me?! i thought you had forgotten about it!" you exclaim, genuinely offended.

"i hadn't. i have never. not when—" the violet-haired man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, feeling troubled for a while before he speaks again. "not when you've been such a constant in my life, y/n. you're my one and only best friend, and i've been in love with you my whole life..." he trails off, looking away to the side in agitation.

it's quiet. the park where the two of you have arrived at a few minutes ago is silent, save for the gentle whoosh of the breeze blowing, making the leaves rustle gently around you. however, it's loud in your head. you ears feel deafening. million thoughts are running through your head, overwhelming you all at once.

hoshino soshiro... is in love with you? it's not one-sided? what, how, why, since when? have you been missing the signs all these times?

soshiro peers at you, gauging your lack of reaction. he tries to catch your gaze but the sight of your unfocused eyes and red cheeks had him smiling softly. "do i need to kiss ya to prove my feelings?"

it seems impossible but your body heats up even more, finally getting out of your previous stupor. "w-wait, what the hell! y-you can't just drop that so casually, what?! explain yourself! why didn't you tell me that sooner? especially about our promise!" you point a finger accusingly at him.

he stands with his arms behind his back, looking like the cunning fox he's always known to be with the pleased expression now growing on his face. he then takes a few steps towards you, taking your hands in his. "what else is there to say? i love you, sweetheart. and i've never forgotten that promise we made when we were younger. hm, actually... how about we make good on our words and get married right n—"

at this point, your insides are combusting with how fast your blood has been flowing in your body. "okayyy, i love you too but i think that's enough embarrassment for today!" you pull a hand away and push your palm in his direction, wanting to stop his face from getting closer.

soshiro lets out a relieved laugh, dodging away from your hand before slowly putting his forehead against yours. you glance down at his lips distractedly. "actually, you know what? maybe you should kiss me. uh, you know... as proof... or whatever," you whisper, watching the corners of his mouth tilts at the corner. "yeah? ya think so too?" he murmurs.

your little "mhm," is the only reply he needs before he leans in, connecting his mouth with yours. fireworks spark in the depth of your stomach when soshiro cradles your face affectionately, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as the two of you move in sync, wanting to etch the feeling and taste of the other's lips into your minds.

when you finally pull away, none of you make a move to get out of the embrace as he props his head back against yours, inhaling sharply. "fuck, you don't know how long i've been wantin' to do that," he groans as your lashes flutter slightly at the sound of his thick accent. he makes a move to dive in again but you suddenly grab his shoulder, putting a distance between you two.

"alright, as much as i love how this turned out, i really need to take a shower. i stink, soshiro." you grumble, reluctant to ruin the mood which makes him snicker. "okay, okay, fine. let's go back for now. i'll find ya again at dinner. how's that?" he inquires, intertwining his hand with yours as you two make your way back to the base.

"yeah, sure thing. also, does this mean i'm your girlfriend now?"

"oh? and here i thought we already established that we're married?" soshiro questions, his free hand coming up to rub his chin in exaggerated contemplation. "what? no, we didn't. stop being hasty, will you?!" you reprimand lightheartedly.

he sighs dramatically, "that so? well, i guess ya just have to stick with bein' my stinky girlfriend then."

"hey!"

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newrelationship!vernon, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, virgin reader, inexperienced reader, dry humping, fingering, etc.

wc: 3040

a/n: had a thought abt this so i decided to write it. hope u like <3

masterlist

vernon wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

god, he was just so into you, but he didn't know what to do anymore.

you'd been dating for a bit over two months by now, and it had been perfect. you'd spent almost every day together, never spending a dull moment by each other's sides. and god, was be obsessed with you. he felt like a bit of a loser, with how horribly down bad he was for you, but he couldn't help himself, okay? you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. it didn't help that you were also the smartest, funniest, sexiest- okay he'll stop now. he still wasn't sure what exactly he had done to bag you, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune.

that was where his problem laid, actually.

despite two months of perfect love (was it too soon for him to say that?), the two of you had yet to have sex - or do anything remotely sexual in general. he'd had the privilege of holding you in his arms as you slept a few times now, and even the pleasure of feeling your lips against his as you endlessly sighed against his mouth when you'd kiss (something that got him going immediately - the feeling of your pliant form against him and your soft lips chasing after his), but he was yet to hit any other base with you.

the sheer desperation he felt for you made him feel terrible. vernon was nothing if not a respectful man. he wanted nothing more than to make you feel as comfortable as possible, never expressing any type of complaint whenever you pulled away or stopped him if things were getting too far for your liking. like last week.

you'd both been on his couch watching a movie together. it was all fine and dandy until you decided to pull his head towards you, suddenly planting a kiss against his lips. you did this quite often, actually. you seemed to really enjoy kissing vernon, something he would never say no to. like any reasonable person, he met you with equal enthusiasm, swallowing your soft moans while he shared a few groans right back into your mouth.

this went on for about fifteen minutes, making him lightheaded at your proximity. his hands were on your waist while yours played with his hair. he had moved you to sit on his lap about ten minutes ago, now having your weight atop his lap while he willed his boner away. it didn't take long for him to begin to get fidgety, deciding to begin a trail of kisses down your neck. your reaction had his breath catching in his throat. he had never heard such pretty moans in his life. it seemed like you were enjoying it as much as he was, tilting your head to the side to give him more room to kiss and suck at. it all went well, until his hands began to wander a bit.

you immediately placed them back on your waist, not giving any other reaction or indication as to why. about ten minutes later when you had finally grown too tired of making out, you separated from one another. you whispered a shy 'sorry' to him before cuddling back into him as you had been thirty minutes ago. he chose not to question it, simply pulling you even closer to his side.

~

next time it happened it was a bit more embarrassing. you'd woken up together after he had stayed over at your place. you had immediately jumped him, kissing him with intensity he hadn't met before. he wasn't an idiot, so he kissed back, taking anything you were willing to give him. it was filthy, really. just a mess of tongues and even some heavy petting over your clothes.

he was so sure this time you'd want more. that you'd finally at least let him have the unimaginable pleasure of some over-the-clothes action. he would give even with some dry humping. he was incredibly hard, which was already embarrassing on it's own. what made it even more embarrassing, however, was your squeak and the way you backed away the moment you felt his hardness against your leg. there were no words exchanged, just widened eyes starting at one another. the silence was only broken when vernon quickly grumbled out an apology along with a short 'i'll, uh, go take care of it. my bad' before leaving the room and locking himself in your bathroom.

after a less than gratifying session with his fist in your tiny bathroom, he came back to you, ears still burning red and eyes meeting the floor.

"vernon, fuck. i'm sorry, i just wasnt-"

"its fine!", he interrupted (very stupidly, by the way), "you dont have to explain anything. did you, uh, wanna get breakfast or something?"

you smiled back at him, seemingly thankful that he had given you an out, "yeah, sure nonnie."

~

next time had been the last one. the last instance that truly broke vernon. it had also been an accident, but a fortunate one at that.

vernon already had a key to your apartment. sure, you'd only been dating for a short time, but in both of your defenses, you'd been friends for a while before that, so this just seemed like a logical course of action. vernon had the tendency to drop by your apartment unannounced. he hated texting and was usually too lazy to call, so he had grown accustomed to just popping by. thus far, it had never been an issue. sometimes you'd be caught off guard, but for the most part it didnt go past you playfully slapping his chest and telling him to make some type of noise in order to not give you a heart attack; advice he seemingly did not take. not even today.

he was too quiet, even to a fault. he walked in, not making any type of noise and immediately seeking you out. you weren't in the living room, which meant you could only be in your room. he wished he could've checked the kitchen or the restroom first. maybe then you could've had more time to prepare, but that's not what happened. what happened, however, was that vernon unsuspectedly walked into your room only to find you pantless, with your hand up your cunt, groaning in frustration at yourself - something that had him tilting his head in confusion despite the sheer shock.

he couldn't really see anything too compromising due to the oversized shirt you were wearing covering your crotch itself, but he wasn't an idiot, he knew what having your hand down there meant. you were touching yourself. and it wasn't going well. you hadn't noticed him yet. his eyes were still wide, gasp trapped in his throat before unwillingly releasing it the moment you looked up, probably having felt his presence.

you jumped back in place, grabbing a pillow to cover between your legs before you started yelling at him.

"v-vernon?! what the fuck?! what are you doing here?"

he stayed frozen for a few seconds before finally snapping out of his trance, eyes still glued to your nether area despite the pillow playing the role of a barrier between his eyes and your cunt.

"uh, i, fuck. im sorry, i-"

"stop staring at me!", you put your arms over your face, covering yourself while also making yourself as small as possible due to embarrassment. fuck, vernon felt so terrible at making you feel ashamed that he'd caught you in the act. he hadn't meant to, truly!

"wait, no! don't- it's okay! i'm so sorry," against his better judgment, he walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed. you hadnt asked him to leave, and you seemed vulnerable, so he assessed that the best move right now would be to try and comfort you.

you slowly looked up at him, hair a mess and obvious tears on your face. your face was also slightly flushed, indicating that you had been crying out of embarrassment. fuck, that was so adorable.

"you don't have to be embarrassed, it- it's fine. i'm sorry i didnt knock, i shouldve called beforehand like you told me. i know im probably overstepping a boundary here, but we've been dating for a while, i know you dont want to go there with me yet, but theres no need to be embarra-"

'it's not- vernon. i do want to have sex with you.'

"h- huh? you do?"

you did?! had he been reading you wrong this whole time? were you just playing hard to get or something? no, that didn't really sound like you.

you turned to face him, making sure your shirt still hid your naked bottom as you did so, "yes, vernon, i just ... fuck, its so embarrassing. ive just never had sex before ..." you looked anywhere but into his eyes as you said this, clearly ashamed of the revelation.

"i- that's it? you're a virgin? babe, you know i don't care about that, right?"

"it's not just that, nonnie. i ... i've never ...." the second half of your statement was too mumbled for him to understand.

"what was that?"

"dont make me say it again!"

"babe, i didnt hear you, i swear. just tell me, baby, cmon. id never judge you, you know that."

you sighed, now deciding to sit up fully and look straight into his eyes, "ive never had an orgasm."

oh. oh.

"r-really?"

"see! you think its weird! that's why i was so frustrated before you came in. it just- it just doesnt work. i dont know what it is. there's something clearly wrong with me," you were growing more and more exasperated by the minute, "ive never gone past second base with any boyfriend because of this. theyve all thought i was weird or broken or something, i'm just-"

"hey, hey. don't think like that. you're not broken. there's nothing wrong with it. if you dont like sex, that's-"

"but i do, vernon. i want to have sex with you!", you gasped at your own statement as soon as it left your mouth, showing clear embarrassment in your face, but you continued after collecting yourself, "i want to have sex. i just .. i dont know what to do. ive tried everything. there's something wrong with me. im sorry, vernon. i want to be with you so bad, - ive been wanting to go further with you - but i just didnt want to disappoint you like everyone else."

vernon was a bit devastated by your dejected demeanor. had every single ex of yours just given up on you? did they not even try to pull an orgasm out of you? the thought made him sad. then came the thought of you touching yourself night after night only to come out empty handed, with no orgasm nor pleasure to show for your efforts. that thought made him shudder. he thought about how well he could've taken care of you. how well he currently wanted to take care of you.

"baby ... you could never disappoint me. fuck, this whole time i thought you just didnt want to be with me. i- i'm sorry if i ever made you feel pressured. ill do things at whatever pace you want. just ... you're not weird. you're not broken, okay? im sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. im sorry no one ever took their time with you," he was genuinely apologetic over it. he had been thinking with his dick this whole time, not once stopping to consider that you had your reasons; very valid ones at that.

"thank you, vernon. i really appreciate it, really," you replied before pausing, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "you ... do you ... uh .."

"yeah, baby? what is it?"

"do you want to have sex? fuck, im sorry. i know that's such an unsexy way to ask. im sorry ive made this whole situation so uncomfortable. i should've just told you, or maybe just-"

he hummed against your lips as he interrupted your nervous rambling with a kiss, "hmm. baby. don't even worry about it. you didnt ruin anything. and you're the sexiest person alive, i ... i think about you all the time. ill take whatever you give me. anything is more than enough, okay?"

that seemed to make you get a little shy once again, "y-yeah. okay, thank you vernon."

vernon could tell what you wanted. i mean, you had literally told him you wanted to have sex with him. you just seemed to need some help getting there. he decided to save you any further embarrassment (even though in reality, he only found your shy demeanor adorable) and close the gap of your lips again.

he kissed you as softly and sensually as he could, pulling all stops to get you keening against him. within only some moments he was already hovering over you on your bed, your shirt ridden up to show your bare lower half. he began to sneak his hands over your shirt, slow enough to allow you to push him off if you wanted to. which you did. except it was only temporary, taking off your shirt altogether before pulling his lips back to yours, making the kiss grow even more intense.

vernon couldnt help moaning against your mouth the moment you moved his hands to play with your bare breasts, wrapping your legs around his waist and doing your best to incite him into humping against you. he didnt need any convincing, immediately digging his clothed crotch into yours. he fell in love with your soft moans, ones he had never heard before.

"nonnie ..." god, you were going to kill him. he wasnt even in you and he already felt like he was going to explode. but his priority right now was showing you that you weren't broken; that you were perfectly deserving of a mind-blowing orgasm.

"can i show you, baby? can i show you how to touch yourself?" he was completely serious too. he wanted not only to give you pleasure but also show you how to seek it on your own. he pictured you thinking about him when you were alone at night, fingers deep in your cunt as you-

"show me? what do you mean?"

"wanna teach you how to get there. can i?", he sat up, doing messy work of pulling off his pants and taking off his shirt, leaving himself in just his boxers before pulling you to sit up with him. he then guided you to sit on top of him as he sat against the headboard. your back was against his chest, with his arms now wrapped around you.

"nonnie ..."

"yeah, baby? whats wrong?", he was now allowing his hands to feel you up, loving how you arched against him the moment his fingers landed on your nipples, lightly pinching at them while he kissed your neck.

"im nervous ... im sorry, i know its dumb."

"its not dumb. is this okay? want me to slow down?"

"no! its fine. youre- you're perfect. i promise."

"okay. im gonna start now, then, okay?", he allowed one of his hands to sneak down, landing right where your cunt began, "im just gonna rub it for now, okay, baby? we'll go step by step."

"o-okay."

he rubbed at you, stopping by your clit every so often just to hear you mewl his name. he allowed his other hand to stay on your tits in the meantime, figuring that it was a sensitive spot for you that would also help you get there. you were extremely wet too, which gave him the idea that he was doing well so far. he had full confidence that he could make you cum. the thought of giving you your first orgasm did things to him.

"gonna put a finger in, okay? gon-"

"two! i can take it, nonnie, i swear. i ... i can already feel it."

"yeah? two? okay, baby. anything you want."

he had meant to start slow and build up his rhythm, but he was met with your desperate cunt chasing after his fingers every time he'd slow down. he figured you were ready for something more intense, so he began to give it his all.

"n-nonnie! fuck!" you grew limp against him, unable to control your moans of pleasure for him. you were beginning to tighten around him, which let him know all he needed to know.

"i- nonnie, i feel ... i feel weird. its so ... fuck ... its so good, nonnie! dont stop. fu- fuck! please!" you were getting progressively more desperate, specially as vernon began to play with your clit once more.

"cum, baby. wanna feel you, fuck. want my pretty girl to feel good," he pistoned his fingers in and out of you, making sure to curl them perfectly in order to hit that spot.

"n-nonnie! fuck!"

he let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your orgasm invade you, pulling his fingers out immediately to suck at them in a depraved manner he wasn't even aware he had in him. by the time he was done, your orgasm had worn down, leaving you panting against him.

"that ... shit, vernon."

"i told you. told you you weren't broken. fuck, can't believe none of those assholes never even fingered you properly."

"yeah .. i mean, i also never-"

"shh, baby. none of it was your fault. now you know, right? next time you need it, you know how to do it. or, you know, just call me," you bad turned around by now, still sitting on him but now facing him as he spoke.

"thank you, vernon. im sorry i made you feel like i didnt want you," you pouted at him, "god, i cant believe i missed out on that for so long."

"right? uh, anything else you want me to show you?"

you threw him a flirty smile, sensually running your hands up and down his torso, "i had a few ideas, actually."

his eyes widened, "shit, really?"

"yeah ... there's a few other things i need to learn. teach me?"

he had never been more ready (and horny) for anything else before.

[hemmingsleclerc]

One last time┃charles leclerc

summary: What do singers usually do when they are in a complicated love situation? They write songs, but what happens when you write a love song for your best friend who turns out to be Charles?

ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹

Y/N was backstage, her heart beating hard and irregularly. The crowd outside screamed with excitement, eager to see her. She looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen out of her hair as she tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.

Y/N and Charles had been best friends since they were children. Growing up together in Monaco, they shared dreams, secrets and countless memories. While Y/N once dreamed of becoming a great singer, Charles dreamed of being a Formula 1 driver and they both achieved it, becoming successful people in their respective careers. Despite their busy lives, they always made time for each other no matter what.

Charles had been Y/N's rock during her great and fast rise to fame. He was the one who kept her feets on the ground, reminded her of who she was before the fame, the cameras, and the anxiety. Y/N, in turn, was his person, cheering for him in every victory and comforting him in difficult moments. Fans adored their friendship and often believed there was something more between them. But for Y/N it was a bittersweet reality. She loved Charles deeply, but he only saw her as her best friend or at least that's what she thought.

Recently, Charles was rumored to be dating a new girl, Alex. Y/N was happy for him, really, but every photo of them together felt like a dagger in her heart and a deep part of her was jealous of that girl, ¿What did Alex had that she didn't? Charles used to speak wonderfully about Alex in interviews when he was asked about her, but it was the way he talked about Y/N that made fans believe she was his true and only love. His words were filled with warmth and affection that left the fans wondering if Charles himself realized what he truly felt.

Y/N sighed, putting those thoughts aside. Tonight wasn't about her heartache. It was about her music and her fans. She took a deep breath and took the stage, being greeted with a sea of ​​applause and shouts. She smiled, waved and began her set. The night was intense but she enjoyed every second of it.

As the concert neared its end, Y/N took a moment to speak to the crowd. “The next song is very special to me and it's brand new,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. "It's called 'One Last Time.'" Fans screamed out of excitement, not knowing the meaning of the song and the inspiration behind it.

The music began to play and Y/N closed her eyes, gathering the courage to sing the song without her voice breaking.

''I was a liar, I gave into the fire, I know I shoulda fought it, At least I’m being honest''

The fans quickly took out their phones and turned on their flashlights, making the atmosphere more nostalgic.

''So one last time I need to be the one who takes you home, One more time I promise after that I’ll let you go, Baby I don’t care if you got her in your heart, All I really care is you wake up in my arms, One last time I need to be the one who takes you home''

That night she sang about unrequited love, about wanting one last moment with someone who didn't see her the way she saw him,no matter how much she longed for it.

''And I know, and I know, and I know she gives you everything but boy, I couldn’t give it to ya. And I know, and I know, and I know that you got everything but I got nothing here without you, baby''

When she reached the last verse, tears flowed from her eyes and her voice broke without being able to contain it.

When the song ended, Y/N stood there, tears streaming down her face trying to wipe them away. The silence was deafening and then erupted into a wave of applause mixed with screams from the crowd.

''Thank you LA, I love you, see you next time!'' and with that she left the stage

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ynln

Liked by taylorswift,charles_leclerc and 3,583,852 others

ynln tonight in LA was 🤯💓✨🌙⚡!!!! I love you all in that crazy crowd tonight, got a little emotional over there but anyways 🤣🤣 -see you soon I love u

username IF U CRY I CRY GIRL

username my baby 😭😭😭

username I love u so much yn

Backstage, Y/N wiped away her tears completely, trying to compose herself. She knew the Internet would be full of speculation. While she was on Twitter that same night after making her Instagram post, she saw fans discussing her set. #OneLastTime and #Y/NCRIED trended, with thousands of tweets expressing concern and love for her. Many fans speculated about the meaning of the song and some even guessed the truth: that it was about Charles.

A tweet caught her attention. It was a video clip of her singing her last lines, with tears streaming down her face, with the caption: “Her heart is broken and we all know why. Charles, my boy, pls open your eyes.”

Y/N's breathing hitched as she read the answers. Fans overwhelmingly supported her and expressed their belief that Charles was the one for her. As she put her phone down, a message notification appeared. It was from charles.

''y/n we need to talk. I saw your concert. Call me when you can pls. – C.”

THE DRAMA!!!🫠

[crescenthistory]

Murder's on the Wishlist

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: For the first time, you are forced to spend Christmas at home instead of at Hogwarts. Your usual companion over the holidays and devoted best friend, Barty, comforts you.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: not proofread, very strongly hinted at abusive homes on both parts, neglect, unhealthy family dynamics, lowkey a panic attack, angst, hopeful/comforted but not necessarily happy ending, Intense Best Friends Who Actually Are In Love, a lot of physical affection, murder is mentioned a lot, barty's killer instincts are in high gear, barty being real soft in private, i think it's gender neutral reader

Note: can you tell i like hurt/comfort fics? also i'm much more happy with this portrayal of barty, i think i'm getting somewhere

***

You had been staring at the letter in your hands for what felt like hours, though you were sure only a few minutes had passed. The creases in the parchment were worn thin from where your fingers gripped it tightly, the sharp angles of your mother’s elegant script slicing into your thoughts. 

Dearest,

It’s been decided. You will come home for the Christmas holidays this year. Father insists. 

Mother.

That was it. Short, curt, like an afterthought. As though this decision had already been engraved in stone and she was only letting you know as a formality. The sinking feeling in your chest tightened. Every word felt like a weight pulling you down. You had done everything you could to avoid it, year after year, and it left a curdling taste in your mouth to know you failed at last. There was always some excuse to find for not going home for the holidays, for staying behind at Hogwarts where you could hide out with Barty. It had not been difficult most times, it was not as if it truly made an emotional difference for your family whether you were home or not. Home. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, because the house you were being dragged back to was not your home, never had been.

Hogwarts was not necessarily either, but your friends were. With them, and thus at Hogwarts, you were safe, sheltered. It was only once they realised how content you were there, that your parents’ watchful eyes narrowed and their grip on your neck that they had seemingly forgotten about tightened. 

You’re growing older now, your mother began saying last summer. It’s time we finally making something out of you, Merlin knows you won’t.

The comments did not bite anymore, none of it really bit. At least that is what you told them all, when your little makeshift family in the Slytherin dungeons gathered in one of the dormitories to trash your respective families. It was lighthearted, it helped you all carry the burden – but it was not real, none of your defiance could be real. The only ones who truly stood up to their parents with all the unfiltered rage you all harboured was Barty and Dorcas, and you saw where that landed them. Dorcas living with Marlene, Barty clinging to the castle he claimed to hate. 

With a shaky breath, you crumpled the letter into your fist and shoved it deep into your robe pocket, already moving. You could not do it. Face your parents and their expectations, their cruel words, their harsh neglect. How delicately they tethered the line between neglect and overbearing – somehow hitting you where it hurts most with both. Unwanted and unsuccessful. Forgotten and watched. There was just no way you could go through with it, but as your pace picked up to a borderline sprint down the hallways, you knew there was no way out of it either.

You needed Barty. You needed to see him now, to tell him – to feel something other than this crushing dread eating away at you from the inside.

He picked you out of the crowd that first day in the Slytherin common room, where you were plastered on the wall with fear probably written all over your face and a defensive snarl ready at your lips. He had simply looked you over, smiled and said You seem fun, let’s go. Ever since you were attached at the hip, he taught you the definition of loyalty (though you have since learned that Barty’s loyalty often went much, much further than most’s) and of unconditional love. Whether it was dying acid green streaks in his hair in the boy’s bathroom sink, piercing each other’s ears in your dormitories, laughing in the common room until it was so late he had to steal you a potion to help you not be so tired the next time – it was the two of you.

Most importantly, every single Christmas for the past six years, it has been you two. Requesting some entirely unfit dinner from the house elves, bringing it to a part of the castle you rarely got to go, and doing everything one does not do during the holidays. Creating your own tradition of no traditions, just satisfying every odd thought and instinct – though, as usual, you sometimes had to be Barty’s self control, just as he often was your bravery.

Your ears were ringing by the time you rounded the corner, hand burning around the letter in your pocket. There was no true coherent thought in your mind.

You found him in one of the dimly lit corridors of the dungeons, perched on a windowsill as though he had been waiting for you. He had that wild, chaotic gleam in his eyes, a constant spark that lit up whenever you were around. The only thing that felt right in the world right now.

When he spotted you, his face split into a grin – sharp and playful, yet softened only by the affection he reserved for you. "Treasure!" he called out, jumping off the sill to stroll towards you.

"Barty." Your voice came out thinner than you wanted, and before you could stop yourself, you were moving toward him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. His arms, instinctive and familiar, immediately wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

“Shit, what happened?” he asked, his voice losing that teasing lilt it always carried. “Who do I have to kill this time?” His promise to fix things for you in his own twisted way, usually made you laugh. Now, though, all it did was tighten the lump in your throat. 

As you tried to stabilise your voice to speak, he moved you around the corner into a small alcove in the wall, attempting to give you some privacy.

“My mother,” you finally choked out, voice muffled against his robes. “She– she wants me to come home for Christmas.”

His whole body stiffened, and you felt the shift in his posture against your body. Barty's hand, which had been stroking your hair gently, curled into a fist against the nape of your nape. You could practically hear his jaw clench.

“They’re making you go?” he asked, his voice sharp with annoyance. “You can’t go. You’re supposed to stay with me.”

“I know.” The words tasted bitter. “But I have no choice this time, she made that clear. ‘Father insists’.” You imitated your mother’s voice with teary contempt, making Barty tighten his hold on you, as if he could protect you from the inevitable with sheer proximity.

“Well, fuck him,” Barty growled. “I’m not letting them take you. You’re not going back there.”

“I don’t want to, Barty,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “They’re not giving me a choice.”

“I will. I’ll give you a choice. I’ll do anything, you don’t have to go.” His mouth was so close to your ear, you could feel his lips moving, melting slowly into him at his words.

“I know that’s a lie, but I don’t care if you have to lie,” you said, your voice trembling as you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, your desperation plain. “Just make me feel better, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

Barty’s intense stare softened visibly at your pained expression, his eyes flickering with something darker, more protective, and just as unhinged as you needed him to be. He exhaled slowly, then leaned his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

“It’s not a lie. You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the brush of his thumb against your cheek. “I don’t care what they say. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll burn your fucking house down if I have to.”

A small, humourless laugh escaped your throat, the thought of him actually doing it not entirely far-fetched. “Barty…”

“I’m serious.” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his expression wild but laced with something raw and sincere. Your arms were around his waist, holding onto the small of his back for dear life. “You’re mine, Treasure. They don’t get to take you away from me, not now. Not ever.”

Your heart stuttered, his words sinking into you like a soothing balm over the dread. He had always been this way – intense, borderline obsessive when it came to you. But it wasn’t suffocating; it was the only thing that made you feel safe. Maybe that was the dangerous part, because you believed him. 

“Oh, how I wish it were that simple Barty,” you murmured, sinking back into his arms, needing to be enveloped by him entirely, to drown out everything else. “We’ve talked about running away for years, but we both know we cannot. My life would be ruined, I would have no options for a stable, viable future, no money for the first time, nothing to fall back on, no–”

Barty cooed shushing sounds in your ear, swinging you back and forth as he brought you down from the intense spiral you were ranting your way into.

“You would have me,” he whispered into your ear and you shivered into him from the immense emotion washing over you.

“And, at this point, would it not be worth it?” Barty continued, voice edged with frustration, his mind already whirring with reckless plans. “We’ve got an entire castle at our disposal. You could hide here. They wouldn’t find you. We’ll make it work. Or,” his voice dropped even lower, more dangerous, “I’ll make sure they can’t make you leave.”

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you met his gaze. His fierce protectiveness was written across every line of his face. His lips quirked into a half-smile, as though he could see the spark of hope in your eyes, no matter how small it was. You knew it couldn’t be, of course, but he pretended – maybe even believed – so beautifully.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” you admitted softly. “Not for them.”

“You aren’t.” His voice was firm, a promise. “You belong here with me. And I swear, Treasure, I’ll make sure of that. Even if I have to drag your family into the Forbidden Forest and–”

“Barty.” You laughed, genuinely this time, though it came out shaky. “You can’t just solve everything by threatening murder.”

“Why not?” he shot back, his grin widening, though his eyes remained serious. “It works, doesn’t it? It makes you feel better, doesn’t it?” For the last part his hand travelled to grip your shoulders a bit, as if he needed to make sure that he was helping you feel better, even if only slightly.

You nodded teary-eyed, having no real words for the boy and how much he eased your fears and pains. Instead, you let out a long sigh, leaning into him again, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear calmed you more than anything else had today. “I wish we could just… stay here forever,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“You wanna spend the rest of your life at Hogwarts, Treasure?” Barty quipped, earning a small pinch in his back that he yelped at.

“You know what I mean, Barty,” you whispered into his shirt, and though you couldn’t see it, his eyes softened at that, holding you a bit more tenderly.

“Then we will,” Barty murmured into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead in a rare, soft gesture. “We’ll make this place ours, any place you want. Fuck the rest of them.”

You felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. His touch was possessive, but comforting. Like he could shield you from everything, even yourself.

“Promise me something,” you whispered.

“Anything.”

“Promise you won’t forget me while I’m gone.” There was a slight teasing tone to your voice, showing Barty that you were more at ease.

Still, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his brow dramatically furrowed as if the thought itself was absurd. “Forget you?” He almost scoffed, his tone incredulous. “I think about you every second I’m not with you, Treasure. Don’t you know that by now?”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch grounding you despite his theatrics as he stared into your eyes with that intensity that always made your heart race. “You’re not just someone I forget. You’re the only thing that matters.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, your eyes stinging again, but this time it was softer, warmer than the cold dread that had been suffocating you. His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. There had never been any move to label the care that existed between you – Rosier called you a couple once and no one corrected him, and since then that had been the status quo. There had been no conversation, just unwavering loyalty and support that you could not for the life of you explain. To you, there was everyone else and then there was Barty.

“I hate this,” you admitted, voice small as you fisted his shirt into your hands. “I hate the thought of leaving you. We always said fuck Christmas, but still – I don’t want you to be alone during it.”

“I won’t be alone,” Barty began, deadly serious in that way that told you he was anything but, “I’ll have a thousand house elves to torment and pictures of you to keep me company. If I’m lucky, Slughorn’s staying over the holidays like he did in fourth year.”

“Oh well, in that case, I might as well go fuck myself for all I matter,” you joked, tilting your head and rolling your eyes – but not moving even an inch away from him.

“You won’t be gone forever,” Barty said, voice lower and more genuine. His fingers were tracing patterns on the back of your neck, and you leaned into his touch. “And when you come back, we’ll make up for all the lost time. Hell, I’ll make sure we never have to spend another Christmas apart again. We’ll do something so ridiculous every year, we won’t even remember the one we spent apart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at that, imagining the kind of chaos the two of you could wreak at Hogwarts when you got back. Barty was always brimming with chaos to unleash, and somehow, you knew he meant every word. He always did.

“Are you dedicating all your future Christmases to me, Junior” You quirked a teasing brow, finally sporting a small smile. Barty could have kissed you right then just to thank your lips for showing him your joy.

“I’m dedicating everything to you, Treasure, if it would make you happy.” He smiled at you, that lopsided grin of his that made your heart twist in ways you couldn’t explain. 

For the first time since you opened that letter, you felt something other than fear. You felt hope.

“I reckon it would,” you whisper, leaning in for a hug, this time out of gratitude instead of desperation. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek in a rare moment of affection. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For always making me feel better. Even if you have to lie.”

Barty grinned at that, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wild spark. “I have never meant anything more than what I say to you, love. But when you ask, I’d lie. I’d do a hell of a lot more, if you’d let me. You already know that.”

You smiled back, feeling the tension finally begin to drain from your body. With him, you could survive anything. A horrible, draining week with your parents will eventually be just that – a week – when you’re back in Barty’s arms. 

“You always make it sound so simple,” you mused, the warmth of his body soothing, but the thought of leaving him still gnawing at your insides. “Like it’s all going to be okay just because you say so.”

“It will be.” His voice had that same self-assured, almost manic edge to it, but underneath it was something steady. Unshakeable. “You know why?”

“Why?” you asked, a soft challenge in your tone, though a part of you already knew his answer.

“Because we’ll make it okay. You and me, Treasure. We always do.” His fingers trailed along your jaw, lingering there, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still here with him, for now. “You think I’m going to let them take you away without a fight? I’ll give them hell. They can have your time this once, your body, but they can’t touch this.” His hand pressed against your chest, just above your heart, his eyes dark and serious now. “They’ll never touch this. Not us.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the intensity of his words pulse through you. Without thinking you repeated his last words not us, which teased a soft smile from him.With Barty, there was always a battle, always some unseen war being waged. And right now, the war was over you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. They felt fragile in the air between you, but Barty didn’t flinch. “I just don’t want to go back there so soon. It’s suffocating. They’re suffocating.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes flickering with understanding. He didn’t push you to explain further, he never had to. He knew enough, and the things left unsaid were just as clear to him as the things you told him. He hated your family almost as much as you did, and in some twisted way, you knew he was angry not just for you, but for himself too. “Your family’s shit. But you’re not them. You don’t belong with them. You belong here, with me. And if I could, I’d rip you out of that hellhole and never let them see you again. I will as soon as possible.”

“Barty…” You closed your eyes, grounded by his hand still lingering on your chest. His words were sharp, but they smoothed you over in ways you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll come back,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of your temple, almost a kiss. “I’ll wait for you. And when you do, we’ll make sure it’s the last fucking time you have to deal with them. I’ll do whatever it takes. I swear it.”

There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice. His intensity, that relentless drive he had to bend the world to his will, made you believe him. In a way, it always did. His promises weren’t just comforting; they were declarations, vows. He wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he meant it. And you knew Barty well enough to know that when he promised something, it was never just words.

You breathed him in and took a half-step back, silently declaring yourself convinced and comforted all at once.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get you a real Christmas present this year, since we’re forced to be civilised,” you said, and he snorted.

“Nothing can ever civilise us. Not even your mother.”

“Probably not,” you smiled, taking his hand to lead him out of the corner he secured for you, ready to face the world. “But we can make it a game and have fun pretending.”

“If so, what do regular citizens get their person?” Barty mused, and you tried to smile through your heart skipping a few beats.

“Gonna have to guess socks.”

“Socks, that’s a good one.” He barked out a laugh at his own joke. “I’m gonna get you so many boring socks Treasure, just you wait.”

You bumped into him as a response, and when you looked up he was already looking at you with a huge grin, clearly pleased with this turn of the conversation.

“Oh, it is on, Junior.”

[velocesainz]

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

[constantmourning]

On The Run

[Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Mihawk tells you the exact opposite of what you want to hear, leaving you to do the only thing you know how: run. Fortunately for you, he finds you.

WARNINGS: 18+! MINORS DNI! Oral (fem and male receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, harassment (not from Mihawk), p in v, not beta read, nothing too crazy (let me know if I forgot something though!! I will fix it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: My first time writing mihawk, please be kind to me sdfbsdf. I constantly get carried away oof. Nothing is explicitly stated about reader's abilities but it is hinted at that reader is Very Stealthy. Do with that what you will :) Anyway, Buggy may have me by the [REDACTED], but Mihawk got me by the throat right now. Let's get into it!

You sat at the bar, eyes rolled in the back of your head as a man tried to talk to you. You sipped your water and stared ahead as he spoke to you. You were drowning him out rather nicely, you thought. You nodded along to whatever he was saying, hoping he'd eventually get too drunk to function and leave you alone.

"So," the man's hand hit your thigh, a sharp slap sound echoing around the nearby vicinity. Your head snapped towards him. "What do you say we leave-"

"No!" You didn't even let him finish. Your hand grabbed his wrist and you shoved him back. He did not like that reaction.

"You bitch!" His voice rose, catching the attention of everyone nearby. "You've been flirting with me-"

"By smiling at you? One time?" You matched his energy. "I'm gonna ask you nicely only one time, which you don't even fucking deserve, to leave me alone."

"Do not fucking interrupt me!" He yelled, standing from the bar. You almost flinched back. He was drunk, but he was still functioning, a little too well actually. "No respect, just like most women-"

"Shut the fuck up!" You snapped back at him. "Drink your beer and shut up!"

Within in an instant his hand was raised, "Stupid cu-"

His hand was snatched back, causing his entire body to fall back. Your eyes snapped to the pale hand holding his wrist and they followed who the hand belonged to and you saw Mihawk.  Your blood boiled a little more. Mihawk's eyes were on the man, not even paying you any attention. Yet.

The drunk looked back and his eyes widened. He tried to snatch away from Mihawk but it was futile. You stood up and turned away. You walked off from the scene and felt your breath hitch. It had been a week since you had seen or spoken with Mihawk. Which wasn't that long, really, but the foot you left off on was not a good one. You heard the guy hit the ground but you ignored it and kept walking.

"You're going to run from me again?" Mihawk was behind you rather quickly.

Your nose scrunched and you tensed. You kept walking. And so did he. He kept a couple steps behind you. The only thing playing in your head now was your last conversation with the swordsman, and how horribly sad it had left you.

You approached Mihawk with intense anxiety. You were fidgeting and trying to focus on what was on your mind and all of the possible outcomes of addressing those things. Mihawk, without looking up from whatever it was he was busy doing, asked what was wrong.

You froze. "Um, actually, this is kinda important." Mihawk nodded, still not looking at you. "It requires your full attention." You bit your lip, pulling at it.

Mihawk sighed and looked up at you. "Go ahead."

"Look," you inhaled deeply and closed your eyes. You exhaled loudly and opened them back up. Mihawk stared at you, causing your stomach to jump into your throat. "Mihawk, I don't want this to ruin our, uh, whatever we got going on. I think we are great partners! But I can't not say this."

Mihawk's brow arched and he pushed the papers in front of him away. He was intrigued to say the least.

"I like you. A lot. And I don't want these feelings or thoughts to get in the way of our working together thing-" Mihawk watched you closely. Silently. The way his eyes bored into yours caused you to pause. "Please say something."

"We would never work."

Your heart stopped. You were sure of it. You felt like you had been knocked down and kicked. Repeatedly. "What?"

"This is strictly business." His expression was unchanging.

"It doesn't have to be." You tried to keep tears from forming. Mihawk stared. Your stomach knotted. "Okay. Maybe it does." You took a step back from Mihawk. He was still silent. You turned and hurried out of the room.

"Where are you-"

"I need to think."

You hadn't meant to get so emotional. Sadness filled you though. Tears began to fall as you swiftly left. He wouldn't have to worry about your feelings or it not working out. You wouldn't have to either.

You continued to walk, Mihawk did not stop following you. Your fists balled and you stopped turning towards Mihawk, who stopped right in front of you. "Come to rub salt in my wound?"

"No." Mihawk's words were blunt. "You've been gone a week-"

"I've just been thinking." Mihawk inhaled sharply. Maybe you did have a problem with interrupting… "What made you come after me? It has been a week after all."

"I started looking for you the night you left. You seem to be impossibly hard to get a hold of."

"Oh." You were baffled. "Why?" You grew defensive again. "Because you couldn't stand-" Mihawk rolled his eyes. "Did you just- Mihawk! I'm being serious. You were so- so fucking inconsiderate of my feelings! It took a lot of courage for me to even tell you that and you just shot me all the way down!"

"I wouldn't say all the way-"

You wanted to rip your hair out. You let out a loud groan and turned away from Mihawk again. You began to walk a little faster than earlier and headed towards your room. Your breath hitched and you grew angry. Mihawk began to walk again as well, still on your tail. You wanted to scream.

"Go away." You hissed, venom absolutely dripping from your voice. When the footsteps did not stop or go in another direction you spun around again. "I'm fine. I'm safe. You know this now, you can leave. I'm not going back with you!"

"I didn't come here just to collect you. Or see if you are okay." Mihawk watched you, his stare becoming more intense. "We need to talk."

"Talk about how much you think we would never work?"  You snapped at him and crossed your arms.

"Where are you staying?"

"In a room here." You motioned around you. "I was going there until you stopped me."

"Don't stop on my behalf." Mihawk motioned for you to walk. "I think it'd be best if we spoke in private."

With narrowed eyes you watched him. You groaned, turned around, and motioned for him to follow you. The walk to your room was silent. Silent and awkward. The few people you did pass were confused by the greatest swordsman trailing behind you. They looked at your exasperated expression and then to the man following you. Their eyes were wide and you ignored them.

You made it to your room and unlocked the door. You walked in, threw your arm out for Mihawk to come in too, and you closed the door. You locked it, out of habit, and you noticed Mihawk raise a brow at you.

“Shut up.” You murmured.

“I didn’t say anything.” Mihawk seemed taken aback by your attitude.

“Yet.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. You leaned against the door. “What did you want to say? So that we can get it over with and you’re able to go on your way?”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Mihawk took a step closer to you. You were about to protest. “I never said I wasn’t here to collect you. I said that wasn’t the only thing I was here for.” Your eyes widened. Mihawk continued, “I’ve had time to think as well, since you were gone for a week. I care for you-”

You wanted so badly to interrupt, but you decided it would be best to bite your tongue and listen. But that didn’t stop your brain from worrying about what he was about to say. If it was anything along the lines of ‘but we are still strictly business’ he was going to have to drag you back kicking and screaming.

“-and, maybe this doesn’t have to be strictly business.”

Mihawk’s words caught you so off guard you could not respond. You swallowed hard and looked at him with wide eyes. You were some small, wild animal staring at its predator. Your heart thumped into your ribcage. You were baffled.

“Hm?” Mihawk took another step closer, “This is your response?”

“Uh,” You rubbed the back of your neck before dropping your hand back to your side, “yes?” You pressed your back flat against the door. “Honestly? I didn’t think I’d get this far…” The smile that pulled at Mihawk’s lips caused your heart to flutter. “What?”

“For someone so calculated, you are reckless with your actions.”

“What?!” You gasped. “What does that mean?”

“You confessed your feelings, ran when you thought I did not reciprocate them, and now you’re saying you don’t know what to do knowing I feel the same.”

Your palms hit the door as you realized you could not possibly back up anymore. You wanted to run again. Unlock the door and sprint away. But, you decide it'd be best to actually calculate your next action. Since that is what you did after all, according to your all knowing friend Mihawk. You inhaled slowly through your nose and nodded.

"Okay… I'm not running now. Is that all you wanted to say? We can go back-" You stopped when Mihawk stepped closer to you. Your brows furrowed and your breath hitched when you realized just how close he was. "What?" Your voice was a whisper.

"Do you want to head back?" The way he asked it caught you off guard.

"I mean-" You were frozen, thinking about literally everything you two could be doing instead of going back, "What else is there to do?"

That smirk… His smirk caused your stomach to flip and you were sure your knees buckled. He took one final step towards you, and his face was inches from yours. "If you can't think of anything we can leave."

Your brain turned off, almost instantly. You began to move without thinking. You cupped Mihawk's face, pulled him to you and kissed him, harshly. Before Mihawk could kiss back you were pulling away. That was until he grabbed your hips and pulled you back to him. His head dipped down and his lips met yours again. The both of you were ravenous, kissing each other with reckless abandon.

You were pressed against the door, your arms snaking around Mihawk's neck. He pushed one of his legs in-between both of yours and pushed you up. You gasped and Mihawk slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned as Mihawk gripped your ass. Your hips rolled into his and he groaned.

You smiled and Mihawk pulled away from you. You frowned at him. "Are you sure you are okay with this?"

You cocked your head, "Are you having second thoughts? Mihawk… I want this- you. I need you."

"Perfect," Mihawk easily grabbed you and wrapped your legs around his waist, "because I've wanted to absolutely ruin you this past week." He easily lifted you and carried you to the bed. You were tossed onto the bed and Mihawk looked down at you. "You will never want to be with any other man once I'm done with you."

You believed him. If he gave you just half of the attention he gave his work you were sure you would never want to be with anyone else afterwards. You were more excited than ever.

You ended up on your knees, staring up at Mihawk. You looked at him through your lashes as your hands grabbed his belt. You undid it slowly and waited for his okay to go any further. One of his hands locked on to your hair and he gave a gentle tug. You pulled at the waistband of his pants and they dropped. You were quick to move to his cock. Your hand wrapped around it and you brought your lips to the head.

"You are perfect," Mihawk sighed out. His fingers laced through your hair.

You took all of him in your mouth. As he hit the back of your throat you let out a small groan and Mihawk grunted. He tensed, your hair getting caught in his balled fist. Mihawk's hips jutted forward, pushing his cock down your throat. You gagged on him. Mihawk spoke praises as you sucked his dick.

"So good," he moaned, his voice raspy, "taking me so well."

Tears pricked your eyes and you looked up at Mihawk. He was staring down at you with those intense eyes. Your mouth slid off of his cock and your hand began pumping it.

"Touch yourself." Mihawk gasped out. Your brow cocked. "With your free hand, touch yourself."

You nodded. You slid your hand inside of your panties and slipped Mihawk's dick back into your mouth. Your fingers ghosted over your clit and pushed past your folds. You were already soaked. You pushed two fingers in and moaned as his cock hit the back of your throat again. Mihawk's hips bucked, ever so slightly, and you gagged again.

Touching yourself while also sucking Mihawk off was truly making your brain short circuit. You thought of nothing but making the both of you feel good.

"Ugh,” Mihawk's jaw clenched, "I'm gonna cum."

You did not slow down. You kept going, trying to reach your own orgasm. Your hips rolled into your hand and you let out a moan, causing Mihawk to go right into overdrive. His brain may have short circuited as well. Words were not forming, for once, as he came in your mouth.

You were quick to swallow down the cum, and pulled back, but his hand stayed in your hair. "Good girl," His chest heaved, "you took me so well." The praise sent you over the edge. You let out a cry and came undone by your own touch.

"Mihawk," you cried out, your jaw went slack. "Fuck!" You shook. Mihawk watched you, his hand giving your hair a gentle tug.

You looked up at him as your body went limp. You sighed as he removed his hand from your hair. He pulled you up and placed you on the bed. You gave him a confused look but you did not argue. Mihawk began to pepper kisses down your chest and towards your stomach. His fingers pushed past your folds and your hips instinctively rolled. Mihawk smiled against your skin. His name fell from your lips, soft and sweet.

Mihawk's teeth grazed your inner thigh and you whined for him. Begging for him to fuck you with his mouth. Mihawk did not deny you. He licked a stripe up your pussy and his tongue hit your clit. It was your turn to tangle your hands in his hair. You lied there, crying and begging for him. Your hips bucked up and Mihawk let out a low growl, his hands finding your hips and holding them down. Every time your hips rolled, Mihawk's grip grew tighter. You were sure you were going to be bruised in the morning.

Your back arched and your fingers tangled a little tighter in his hair. Mihawk’s tongue swirled around your clit and you quickly came undone. Your eyes screwed shut and you let out a sharp cry. Mihawk slowed down but was quick to lick you clean. His grip loosened on you once your body relaxed and fell back onto the bed.

Mihawk pulled away from you and you lied there for a second, collecting yourself. You were far from done though. Mihawk positioned himself over you and looked at you closely. Your half lidded eyes met his and you furrowed your brows. “What?” Your voice was almost hoarse.

“Are you good to continue?” Mihawk’s head tilted to the side. Your head bobbed and Mihawk smirked. He grabbed one of your legs and easily spread them apart. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your forehead to his. He let out a quiet laugh. “Tired already?”

“No,” you sighed out, “okay maybe. I’ve been ‘on the run’ for a week, and also haven’t had an experience like this one, in… Well, ever.” You confessed to him, “No man has ever treated me like this. And I don’t think any other man ever will.”

“Ah,” Mihawk smirked, “smart girl.”

“Whatever,” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile, “just fuck me.”

You did not need to ask twice. Mihawk positioned himself at your entrance and you wrapped your legs locked around his hips. He pushed himself inside of you and you moaned, eyes closing. Mihawk’s tongue clicked and you opened your eyes to look at him. “I want to see your pretty eyes as I ruin you.” His hips pressed into yours.

Your grip on him suddenly grew tighter. You pressed your forehead to his and he picked up his pace. As he pulled out, your hips followed him. One of his hands was placed at the bend of your knee and the other kept him held up above you. Your legs tensed around him and you cried, begging for him to go faster, deeper, and harder.

“Do you deserve it?” The question caught you off guard. A quiet ‘what’ escaped you. “You were gone for a week-” His hips thrusted into you at a slower pace than you would have liked but at least he wasn’t stopping, “How can I know you won’t leave again?”

“Please,” You begged, clenching around him, “fuck! I’m so sorry,” You were a mess, “I won’t- I won’t leave again. I promise!”

Mihawk’s face dropped to your neck and he began to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. You could feel him smile against you as his pace finally picked up. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. Along with the sounds of your whines and Mihawk’s grunts. He wasn’t that loud… You weren’t too shocked by that though.

Your cries grew louder, higher pitched as his hips thrusted into yours. Your nails ran up and down his back, clawing him as you pleaded for him to let you cum, you were so close. You felt yourself crumbling again.

You started saying his name, quietly, until it was loud and the only thing your brain could process. Your toes curled, your eyes rolled in the back of your head, and your stomach was on fire. Your nails were doing more damage than you wanted to. Mihawk did not slow down, his pace quickened. He was absolutely losing his mind. He was close too.

“Where?” His voice was gruff as he lifted up from your neck.

Your legs loosened around him. “Stomach,” was the first thing you could say. Mihawk pulled out and pumped himself a couple times, before coming on your stomach. You leaned back on the bed and watched Mihawk. He rolled to the side, lying beside you. Your eyes followed his movements and you waited for him to say something. Anything.

Nothing.

“Well,” You moved to sit up, “I’m gonna clean up.” Mihawk followed you. You heard him behind you as you stood up and wandered to your bathroom. You smiled to yourself. “This shower is actually really nice,” you motioned towards it, “If you wanted to, uh, clean up yourself.”

Mihawk cocked a brow at you. You pouted. “You make it sound like I need to shower.”

“Oh!” Your jaw went slack, “no! I wanted to shower, but you can join me is what I’m trying to say.” You turned away from Mihawk, face burning from your awkward encounter.

“We just had sex,” Mihawk came up behind you, “you can ask me that outright.”

“Noted,” You turned the shower on, “Can I ask you another question? I’ll be more straightforward.” You looked at Mihawk over your shoulder. He nodded. “Did you really miss me while I was gone?” You were genuinely curious, you did not want to sound like a smart ass at all. You needed to know.

“Yes.” Mihawk answered honestly.

You turned to him once you got the shower on. “Well, I hope you like hot showers, because my ass is not taking a cold one.” You smiled at him. He huffed. “Come on, we have all night to discuss what I did, and all the trouble I narrowly escaped while running away from you!”

You had a feeling you’d be doing a lot more than talking for the rest of that night, though.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Pas de deux

Sam didn’t consider herself to be a liar. After all, you didn’t need to lie if nobody asked you about stuff. At least that was how she had justified keeping her family’s wealth from Danny and Tucker, and also why she hadn’t told them upfront about her playing Doom.

It was also why she’d never told them she did ballet. 

To be clear, she wasn’t embarrassed about it. Ballet was fucking hardcore, and anyone that had anything to say about it could try pointe shoes. She just didn’t think they’d be interested. So, really, there was no point in bringing it up.

Ballet had been the only respectable hobby her parents had tried to interest her in that had stuck. However, Sam had agreed to do ballet only if she didn’t have to be in a class. Hence a private instructor. Camille was a former professional ballerina and was a very good teacher who seemed to enjoy having only one student. She liked Sam’s dedication and determination to get things right. The one thing Sam knew Camille disliked about the arrangement was that Sam having no partners to practice with meant she couldn’t do pas de deux or lifts.

And as any self-respecting former ballerina, Camille had trouble accepting such a badly-rounded set of skills. And she was a very dedicated woman when it was about her students success. It was a trait that had helped many of her students get into prestigious ballet schools and that now left Sam a few states over at a ballet convention about to dance for the first time around other people since she was six.

Sam was feeling so calm about it too.

The man in front clapped twice to get their attention "Hello to all, my name is Juraj." He said before gesturing to the room. "Everyone find a spot, we’ll be starting with a barre work.’

As Sam walked up to one of the barre in the back of the room, she started feeling more and more out of place. What if she sucked compared to these people? She’d never really had the chance to compare her skills so she had no idea if she was actually any good. And that was without mentioning that she didn’t know how to do any lifts, which was embarrassing for someone who’d been doing this for over a decade. 

This was definitively a mistake, and she should never ever let Camille convince her to do anything ever.

Just as she was considering making a run for it, a girl walked by her and broke her out of her thoughts. 

The girl was a bit taller than Sam, and very muscular. She had short black hair and seemed to walk with a unique grace, even amongst ballerinas. They made eye contact and Sam froze a bit under the intense stare. However, she quickly shook herself and looked around, but it seemed like the two of them were the only ones by themselves, as people had already separated into groups. Sam looked back to the girl and felt a sense of kinship, if only because she also clearly knew no one here. 

So, Sam offered the girl a small smile. After a second, when the girl only blinked in response, she started feeling foolish.

But then, the girl’s lips stretched up and mirrored Sam’s expression perfectly. Sam looked at her curiously, tilting her head, and the girl’s face shifted to match hers, her head matching Sam’s tilt. 

Unbidden, a giggle escaped Sam at the sight. The girl halted her copying to study the sound. 

Sam raised a hand to stifle the laughter before she spoke up.

"I’m Sam," she said. "It’s nice to meet you."

The girl’s eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Nice," she finally repeated.

Sam smiled again. 

Maybe this would be more fun than she’d thought.

[lady-iskra]

Are Katara stans more likely to become Zutara?

To be fair: I also saw Kataangers, other- or non-shippers who care at least a little about Katara and did complain about the nerfing of her character. But still…maybe it is because of the communities I visit, but it appears to me that most Katara stans are more likely to become Zutara.

The reason I prefer this ship is that I’ve become a Katara stan first. I love every side of her, the loud one precisely, when she stands up for her ideals. And, as for Zutara: There is a deep understanding of each other’s needs along with mutual respect and a special bond those two share with no one else in the Gaang. They are equals—Zuko respects, accepts and loves Katara as a whole, and the same goes the other way around (canon-platonically or headcanon/ship-baiting-romantically doesn’t matter).

So, here’s what I don’t understand: if someone ships, I would assume they care about both characters and how they fit with each other. Yet, I’ve seen many Kataangers care only about Aang: What Aang wants. What his intensions are. That he is just flawed when he kisses Katara without consent…never how Katara feels about his actions, never how she is presented at the end of the OG, in the comics and in Korra.

Regarding The Southern Raiders in this case: I truly believe that Aang just wants to help, as many Kataangers argue in defense of his behavior. The teachings of the monks helped him during his dark times, plus, he is just a kid. He panicked, bc he thought Katara would follow the same dark path, and didn’t know how to express his worries. However, this is also my point against Kataang: He is just a kid. He still has so much to learn before even thinking about a serious relationship; especially with Katara whom he still sees through rose-tinted glasses—including that forgiveness to receive closure is not the right path for everyone.

If you mention this to some Kataangers, even very carefully, they immediately become defensive, saying that it’s just about making Zutara look better and demonizing Aang. And don’t get me started on the kiss by the end. 🙄 I’ve never read anything from them beyond “Katara is clearly happy.” But what makes you think she is happy? No explanation. People who agree with me, showing that they care about Katara, are mostly Zutara- or non-shippers.

Me, on the other hand: I can easily say that Katara has every right to hold a grudge against Zuko after The Crossroads of Destiny, bc he wronged her the most. Totally understandable that he had to go the extra mile with her to receive her forgiveness. I won’t sugar coat his actions to make him or Zutara look better, so much for their complaints—that isn’t necessary anyway. The difference: Zuko stood up for his mistakes, helps Katara to find her closure without asking for forgiveness, even if that is what he hopes. Let’s not forget how she opens up to him, even during this process; more than she did to anyone else.

Aang’s mistakes weren’t that huge, and it would take a scene of maybe a minute or two to truly show the regret of his actions towards Katara.

I believe that if you care about a character like Katara with such huge beliefs and intensions to create a better world, you wouldn’t be okay with reducing her to nothing more than an attachment whose world revolves around her boyfriend/husband—or her sweetie *ugh*. Yet, some Aang-stans seem not to care about this side of Katara and really consider her happy when her life is nothing more than pampering her partner.

[inuyashaluver]

hey there! just wanted to say hello and i hope you're doing well. i'm the same person who asked earlier if the requests were open, u would make me very happy if you could take mine.

i have an idea, perhaps s(mut)omething with alessia...

after losing the final in the wwc (or any match they have lost, which so far is several 😫😫), lessi and reader can't stop arguing and blaming each other. the tension becomes so intense that unexpectedly, they stop fighting and start kissing. the next day, both act as if nothing happened, but this turns out to be even more annoying as they continue making unpleasant comments towards each other, ruining the team dynamic. however, the rest of the girls on the team have no idea of the true reason behind all this and they strive to make them talk and resolve their conflict.

blame game - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which you and alessia have a complicated relationship, only becoming more complicated during a heated screaming match after a loss

warnings: cheeky little arguments, angsty, swearing, fake football stats!! little long

a/n: hiya, lovely! thank you for the request, hope you enjoyyy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and alessia had an..interesting relationship in the beginning to say the least. you hated each other but also had an immense amount of love and respect for each other? it’s complicated and you both can’t explain it.

you and alessia coincidentally always ended up at the same clubs but you never really talked.

you got signed to arsenal first and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when she got signed right after.

perfect alessia, with her perfect face, her perfect football skills, her perfect scoring. everything. alessia was perfect and it drove you fucking insane.

in alessia’s case, you made her blood boil. the perfect defender she couldn’t get past in training, you with your perfect muscles that flexed in all the right ways, you with your perfect face. you were perfect and she couldn’t stand you.

the issue was that you literally were never apart, no matter what, at arsenal, national team, you were always together. but what you and alessia didn’t realise was that your hatred was masked with true affection.

when alessia did end up at arsenal, she was different. she was lighter, a little more tolerable than usual and it was intriguing, but you chose to hate (admire) her from a distance. you had all the same friends, hung out in the same crowd and people found it interesting how the two of you weren’t best friends.

—

overtime, both of you began to view each other in a different light.

alessia was clumsy and everyone knew it, even you. so one day, she was walking along with victoria to training while you walked behind with lotte. alessia was laughing brightly and it honestly gave you a funny feeling in your stomach.

victoria pushes her and the blonde stumbles, about to fall to her ass but you caught her instantly. you held her by the waist and helped her to stand upright, you could feel her body tense in your hold.

she turns to face you and is surprised you were the one who actually caught her, “thanks” she says quietly, you give her a curt nod and clear your throat, moving past her and leaving three curious eyes watching as you leave to talk to beth.

it was one of the first instances where you had alessia pink cheeked and stuttering.

—

you were all in the change room getting prepared for an upcoming game with arsenal. you hear alessia grumbling from two cubbies over about something. you’d ask her what’s wrong but lotte beat her to it.

“i forgot my shin pads” alessia whines, her head thrown back in frustration. “and you don’t have any spare?” lotte laughs, alessia throws her a glare and flips her off, going through her bag in hopes of finding them. lotte goes to her cubby to lace up her boots after teasing alessia.

you knew you and alessia wore the same type of shin pads, so when you were putting yours in your socks, you remembered the spare you had in your bag.

you wordlessly take them out and walk over to lotte, putting them in her hands and subtly nodding to alessia. lotte and the england girls knew you had a really weird relationship, you liked each other but didn’t, it was confusing not only for the two of you but everyone around you.

lotte looks at you in slight surprise but nods at you, a silent agreement that they wouldn’t be from you. but as soon as you returned to your cubby and lotte gave alessia the shin pads, alessia glanced at you almost immediately.

“thank you, lotte!” alessia smiles, they were a specific type of shin pads that only you and alessia wore, who else would it be?

you kept your head down the whole time and continued getting ready, missing the looks alessia had been giving you from the other side of the room.

during half time, arsenal was up 2-0 and you were both playing extremely well. you walk over breathless towards the other girls who were getting water, when you went to look for yours, alessia held it out to you experimentally, you look at her in slight shock, you felt your hands get clammy from the pretty blonde doing something so simple.

“thank you” you breathe out, “you’re playing well” alessia blurts out, her cheeks were flushed, she must be exhausted from the match. “thanks, you as well” you give her a tight lipped smile, she looks down in embarrassment and you analyse her. she looked beautiful. snap out of it, you thought.

—

it was the UEFA women’s nation’s league matches and you and alessia were both playing for england. so far you’d been winning all matches until it got to the forth match against belgium.

today was an off day for you, alessia has been clouding your mind more than usual. she kept doing little acts of service for you and it was making you insane.

belgium had scored first and it was increasing the pressure for the whole team. you were defending your ass off, stopping every opportunity you could. alessia had managed to even it out and when you gathered to celebrate, you gave her a little nod with a clap on the back.

her cheeks were pink and yours were too. everything was fine until they got the second goal. the player you were marking confused you and you ran right instead of left. you sprint to get back on your player but she shot from a distance and it just slipped past mary’s fingers.

you curse under your breath, receiving a glare from mary that you expected and you held your hand up to her in apology. she yells some words of encouragement to you and you try to focus, but a certain blonde looked at you in disappointment and it made your head all fuzzy. alessia was a distraction.

when the half time whistle went, you stormed off, angry at yourself. “what the fuck was that?” alessia storms in after you, grabbing your arm to turn you around and you do, but you rip your arm from her her grasp and look at her angrily.

“russo, stop, i fucking know!” you exclaim, glaring at her and moving to sit in your cubby with the angriest expression she’s ever seen you have in her life.

“it’s just not like you, it was sloppy-” alessia mumbles and you unfortunately heard it. you get up and move over to her, standing chest to chest and looking at each other dead in the eye. jaws clenched, eyes angry, body heat radiating in waves.

“listen here, star girl, i made a fucking mistake, we’re not all perfect like you and never make mistakes so i’m begging you, russo, shut the fuck up” you grit out, your breath fanning her lips had alessia going insane. if she moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

the other girls start to walk in and you separate, immediately getting pulled by mary and getting scolded like no tomorrow. you were never sloppy and everyone knew that.

you shake it off and the match continues, beth had managed to even out the score and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

you all work hard to get that third goal to win but it’s just not happening. you defend with everything you have, stopping numerous chances from the other team. unfortunately, lucy had made a mistake this time and belgium got another goal.

when the final whistle blew, you fell to the ground, you were furious. 3-2 was the score and it tantalised you when you glanced at the big screen. you weren’t a bad sportsman so you congratulate everyone.

when you and your team did your handshakes, you and alessia avoided each other like the plague. the team stays out while you walk to the change room, you just didn’t want to be out there right now. alessia was hot on your trail.

once you plop down in your cubby, alessia stands in front of you with her arms crossed.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks simply, you look up at her and laugh in disbelief. “go ahead, russo, take out all your anger on me” your laughter turned into a scowl.

“well first off, why were you so sloppy, don’t you care?” alessia rambles, she didn’t mean any of it and you both knew that. she was angry and so were you.

“what about you, huh? couldn’t get another goal, aren’t you supposed to be scoring left, right and centre, star girl?” you taunt, looking up to see her reaction and surely enough, her jaw was clenched.

“yeah, maybe, but what about that third goal, huh? why didn’t you help lucy? it was partly your fault” she scoffs, “i was nowhere near her!” you exclaimed, standing up and crossing your own arms over your chest to glare at her.

“you’re better than that, (y/n), come on what’s bothering you?” she questions, taking a little step closer towards you, “nothing is bothering me” you grumble and she shakes her head instantly,

“i’ve known you for fucking 15 years so cut the bullshit, what’s wrong with you?” she tries again, “you’re what’s wrong with me, you’re driving me fucking insane!” you exclaim, she stares at you in shock.

her breath hitches as she sees your cheeks going slightly pink, she doesn’t know how she has the confidence but she grabs your face in both of her hands and smashes her lips on yours.

you freeze for a moment but kiss her back, you pull her closer by her waist and you both hum into each other's mouth. she leans into you and prompts you to press you against her.

your mouths are moving completely synchronised before you both add your tongues. she whines into your mouth when your teeth gently graze her bottom lip before she rips herself from you.

you look at her surprised, both of you breathing heavily as she moves away from you. her face is full of confusion, everything is so overwhelming at this moment. she looks at you conflicted for a second and runs out the door, leaving you there slightly hurt standing there alone. “less-” you call out to her but she was already gone.

you looked like a kicked puppy when everyone entered the change rooms but everyone thought you were just disappointed with the result, and you were, but you were more disappointed that the girl you liked clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

—

alessia couldn’t look at you. she felt awful. everything was just piling on top of her and it was all too much. she knew she liked you, she always has and now that you potentially liked her? she was driving herself mad with all the lingering thoughts. so much that sunshine, happy alessia has taken a page out of your book and was a little grumpy at training this morning.

you both looked furious and it wasn’t hard for everyone to put two and two together. you wouldn’t stand near each other, you’d attempt to look at her and she’d completely ignore you.

she made an effort to steer clear of you and it made you feel sick. you barely had any sleep, replaying the kiss over and over in your head. as well as replaying alessia walking out on you like you were nothing.

you were placed on opposite teams for training, and of course, you had to mark alessia. everyone noticed your hesitation with marking the girl, you wouldn’t tackle like you usually do. you let her get away with easy stuff so much that leah had to pull you aside and ask what was wrong. after about 5 minutes of you assuring her that you were okay, she let you go but kept a close eye the entire time.

and during the time of her watching, she noticed the way you’d nervously look at alessia. she also noticed the way alessia genuinely could not look at you.

after a few more missed tackles, everyone’s telling you to shake it off and you just can’t. “fuck, i know! i’m sorry” you groan after alessia scored around you. that’s when leah had it.

“right, less, (y/n/n) follow me” she says sternly, you take a deep breath and follow her, alessia follows from a far distance.

leah takes you both to the training room and makes you sit next to each other in front of her. “i’m not dealing with both of you acting like children, you’re sitting in here and sorting it out” she huffs, “don’t you dare try to come out until it’s fully resolved” you both nod at her and she nods back, leaving the two of you to talk while she closes the door behind her.

it was painfully silent as you both sat in the change room, your scowl was evident. as much as you loved the girl next to you, she left without any explanation yesterday and it hurt.

alessia adjusts her position as she sits, accidentally knocking your knee with hers. her touch burned your skin, her cheeks went bright pink. “sorry” she mumbles, moving a little further from you.

“you’re grumpy” you point out, the blonde breathes out a laugh and glances at you quickly, “mhm, i’ve been around you too much” she jokes, the corners of your lips lifted up slightly.

“listen, less, we can just forget about everything and go back to hating each other, i don’t care” you exhale, you do care and that’s the problem. alessia tenses at your words, you never call her anything other than ‘russo’, only using ‘alessia’ if it was really necessary.

“i don’t hate you” she says softly, fiddling with her hands in her lap, she’s avoiding eye contact and it’s killing you. you look over at her with raised eyebrows, “huh?” you say almost dumbly, feeling stupid about this whole situation already.

“i don’t hate you, (y/n), not at all” she breathes out, her voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear it.

“why did you run from me yesterday?” you ask cautiously, moving on the bench slightly closer to her. she clears her throat nervously, eyes still trained on her lap,

“i just-” she chokes out, looking up at the ceiling for a brief second before looking back down. “i got overwhelmed, with the game, with the kiss, with you” she swallows, she leans forward and puts her head in her hands.

you look at her worried, placing a gentle hand on her back that had her insides burning. “i’m sorry” you quip and she looks at you quickly, “no, don’t be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s me” she rambles, grabbing your hand that was resting in your leg.

“(y/n), i’m so sorry i walked out on you yesterday” she says earnestly, she watches as your gaze softens, she’s never seen you like this.

“it’s okay-” you run your hand over her back and she interrupts you quickly, “no, it’s not okay, i was rude, and i’m really sorry” she frowns at you, you smile at her reassuringly,

“lessi, it’s okay, really, i do wanna say sorry for how i spoke to you yesterday, i was rude and i didn’t mean any of it, i was just pissed with the loss” you ramble, alessia smiles and nods at you, “it’s okay” she shrugs, her bright smile makes your cheek twinge pink.

“so, is everything normal?” you mock leah’s accent and alessia laughs, this is a new side of you that she’s never seen before and she can’t get enough of it. looks like the big, grumpy defender has met her match.

“of course” she smiles, you’re still holding hands and both of you were unwilling to let go. “alright, and i’m assuming the kiss is behind us?” you question, alessia furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you.

“no, let’s talk about it” she says sheepishly, you look at her with raised eyebrows. “o-okay” you stutter, you move your body to face her more and she copies you, both of you are now facing each other with one hand holding each other.

“were you okay with it?” you cautioned, alessia beams at you before nodding, “yeah, it was nice” she grins, “were you okay with it?” she mocks teasingly, you smile and nod at her, “it was nice” you tease, making the blonde giggle.

“do you want to do it again?” alessia suggests, making your eyes widen. “who knew you were this forward, russo” you gasp exaggeratedly, she laughs at you. “hm, it’s new” she shrugs, you smile back at her and glance between her eyes and her lips.

you close the gap and kiss her sweetly, it’s much more gentle than yesterday’s kiss, this one was a confirmation of feelings, assurance. it made you both giddy and excited.

you pull away from her and she chases your lips, kissing you for a bit longer before pulling away and giving you a satisfied smile.

“i’m in love with you” you blurt out, surprising yourself completely, this girl had you wrapped around her finger.

you both look at each other in shock before she breaks out into a bright grin, “i’m in love with you too” she looks at you with so much affection, you could feel yourself melting in a puddle.

you both smile at each other before you pull her forward for another kiss. she smiles into you and you tug her into your lap, she straddles you and kisses you sweetly.

you hum into her and pull her closer. you pull away from her slightly, “you’re perfect” you say against her lips, she pecks your lips with a gentle smile, “you’re perfect” she parrots, moving to kiss you again.

you both walk out of the room with shy smiles and kiss swollen lips. she wraps her hand around your arm and holds you close to her. you’re both smiling so brightly that it had leah completely satisfied. she knew you both needed a little push.

a complete shift, both of you can’t keep your hands off each other, stealing glances, giggling and whispering, the whole team was shocked.

“i thought you two hated each other?” ella teases, “we do” you mock, pulling alessia to your chest and kissing her cheeks repeatedly, ella screams and covers her eyes while you and alessia grin brightly.

alessia looks at you with so much love, kissing your lips sweetly before chasing ella. that’s when a smug leah slings her arm over your shoulder.

“just saying, i knew you liked her all along” leah sings out, you laugh and nod, “alright, lee” you smile. alessia from a distance waves at you enthusiastically and you wink at her, waving back. she smiles brightly and goofs off with ella.

—

you both ended up moving in together, alessia had fully taken you out of your shell. you both made each other so happy, everyone could see how much you loved each other.

it took a while for everyone to get used to you being all lovey dovey with each other but once they see how you act and behave together, it’s incredibly endearing.

you both shine brightly with each other and it shows, you’re quite thankful for that loss to belgium, not that you’d ever tell that to anyone. well..alessia knows. alessia knows everything.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you! ily millsy

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

alessiarusso99: my grumpy girl

view all comments

yourname: my happy girl

leahwilliamsonn: she doesn’t look grumpy at all, mate

↳ alessiarusso99: yeah, because i’m there

↳ yourname: so true

↳ leahwilliamsonn: what the fuck did you do to her?

↳ alessiarusso99: gave her a little kiss and she’s happy chappy

↳ yourname: very happy chappy

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 3

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~1.4k words

Read Part 1 and Part 2

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, tension!!, office crushes, office romance, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

My Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thank you all for reading! I’m having so much fun writing this. MC is so shy, and Jeonghan is so direct! My favorite dynamic!! Also, Jiyeon and Daein are completely fictional/not based on any idols! Jiyeon is kind of a stock mean-girl character, sorry! I’m looking forward to writing steamier interactions between Jeonghan and MC soon! <3

Taglist: @yeoberryx (lmk if you want to be added to my taglist!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Y/N-shi.” One of the producers in the room said your name, bringing you out of your daydreaming.

You were in a scheduling meeting to arrange staff for several of the members’ upcoming overseas commitments. You were hopeful that you’d get to travel, though you doubted it. You weren’t exactly experienced, but you did have the fluent-in-English thing going for you. You’d mentioned that you could get by with pretty decent French and Italian, too. So, of course, you were imagining a... business trip with Jeonghan...

“Yes!” you said quickly.

“How do you feel about traveling?”

“Traveling where?”

“Paris.”

“I feel good about it!” You answered politely—and super eagerly, eliciting some chuckles from the room.

“She’s so cute,” Daein said. You and Daein had gotten to know each other better, and when she wasn’t around Jiyeon she was much nicer to you. Still, you felt embarrassed for being overly eager.

“We wanted someone who could speak English and French well,” the producer added, “It’s Fashion Week.”

“Who’s attending this year?” someone asked.

“Mingyu-shi, Jun-shi, Joshua-shi,” another producer at the other end of the room looked through her list, “and Jeonghan-shi.”

You felt your face start to flush immediately.

“Mingyu-shi, Joshua-shi, and Jeonghan-shi will be booked on the same flight,” someone said, your heart pounding harder each time his name was mentioned, “Jun-shi will fly separately, directly from China.”

As the staff continued to fill you in on details... where you’d meet, what time you needed to be there, what to expect from CARATs gathered at the airport...

“The talent will have their own security,” another staff member assured you, “There’ll be a separate security check for us—to get to the gate faster. Most of the fans are perfectly respectful, but don’t hesitate to alert security if anything rings alarms or makes you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” you replied politely. “I’ll do my best.”

It had only taken a couple of months working with SEVENTEEN to really hit home that being famous was actually quite difficult. Everywhere they went, their fans seemed to be waiting. Even shoot locations that you knew weren’t made public—a few of them would show up no matter what. The members seemed to handle it graciously. At least, more graciously than you would have been in their position. Some of the fans were pretty intense, and didn’t seem to respect the members’ privacy. But it was a very small number. You’d only seen or heard any of the members get slightly annoyed at most, and only a handful of times.

But if Mingyu was on your flight, you knew the airport was going to be chaotic. He was very popular. And you understood why. He was extremely tall, gorgeous, not to mention very personable. He was easy to talk to, even though you were slightly intimidated at first. He enjoyed speaking English with you, which was nice.

“Y/N-shi,” the head coordinator was assigning details to each member, “you’ll be with Jeonghan-shi.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be on his team of staff—each member will have their manager with them, two other staff for extra footage or vlog shooting, and their own security. You’ll be with Jeonghan-ah’s crew. Understood?”

“Yes!”

...What the hell? Was this really happening? Had you performed some saintly act in a past life? Why were you being bestowed with this kind of luck!?

“Great, we’ll send a car to pick you up at 4:00 AM that Thursday,” the coordinator in charge continued, “be sure you have your passport and at least two cocktail dresses—you’ll be attending the Yves Saint Laurent opening event on Friday, plus the runway show and afterparty on Saturday, so you’ll need appropriate attire. We can offer you a stipend to rent something when you get there if you don’t have anything.”

“Thank you!” and you bowed deeply. The other staff in the room chuckled.

“We’re counting on you,” the coordinator smiled at you.

-

The weeks seemed to drag on. You were so anxious and excited about the trip to Paris that you could hardly concentrate on anything else. You carried out your tasks with your usual efficiency, but your colleagues could tell you were just excited about getting to go to Fashion Week.

“I can’t understand why someone with such poor taste is going on this trip,” Jiyeon sneered as you were packing up equipment in the practice room. The members were gathering their things, sweaty from filming a dance practice video. Some of them were off in various corners doing other TikTok challenges. You were amazed at how quickly they could pick up choreography. You’d worked in entertainment for a long time, but it never stopped amazing you how fast good dancers were at that kind of thing. You hardly took notice of Jiyeon’s tone; you were so busy fantasizing about getting to spend so much time with Jeonghan.

“Hey!” she raised her voice just enough to get your attention, but not so much that it registered with the other staff or the members. You turned to her, trying to focus on whatever it is she needed to say, but still unable to contain your giddiness.

“Ugh,” she said, giving you a disgusted look, “don’t let Jeonghan-shi see you being so weird about this.”

“I don’t think she’s being weird.”

There he was, standing right behind Jiyeon. How had he gotten over here? Were you seriously so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even seen him walk over to where you and Jiyeon were packing up?

Jiyeon looked like she was about to pass out, and you froze on the spot. Jeonghan was looking right at you, as always. His gaze never wavered when he was looking at you. You always loved it, even though it flustered you, but right now you were so ecstatic that he’d overheard her that it felt like you were floating above the ground.

“Ah! Jeonghan-shi!” Jiyeon put on her best smile, laughing off his remark. “Y/N-shi is always a little weird, we were just joking! Right, Y/N-shi?” You noted that it was the first time she’d bothered using honorifics with you. You didn’t really care, since honorifics weren’t really a thing at the companies you’d worked for in the past, and just not a huge deal in the U.S. at all. But you knew that her dropping them was technically a slight toward you.

“Right,” you said, putting on your best polite smile. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Jiyeon was rude, but she wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Also, maybe you were being too weird about this trip. It was purely business... you were probably getting a little carried away. You couldn’t help but look down, worried now that you would creep him out.

“I’d never want to work with someone who wasn’t at least as weird as nuna,” Jeonghan said straightforwardly.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Ah, that’s Jeonghan-shi for you!” Jiyeon let out a strained laugh and went back to helping move the equipment, being sure to send you a pointed glare on her way toward the door.

You were left standing there with Jeonghan. You paused, and then bowed toward him.

“Thank you for saying that,” you said in the most formal voice possible. You were so flustered; you didn’t know what to say.

“What are you doing after this?” he asked. His voice was low and direct. 

“What?”

“Are you free right now?”

“...What?”

“I thought your Korean was supposed to be good, nuna.”

You stared at him. He was smiling softly. His gaze was gentle, but there was something mischievous in it. You felt as if your brain had force quit on you.

“Sorry, I... I don’t...” you were lost for words.

“Well, if you’re free after this, Joshua, Dino, and I are going to get some dinner,” he said, running a hand through his long hair. You imagined what it would feel like to run your own hand through it. While peeking up to look at his hair up close—a thing you rarely did, even though you’d had plenty of opportunities by now—your eyes met for a second, and for some reason you steeled yourself and held his gaze.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” You said it without thinking, but the smile on his face nearly knocked you out.

“Good.”