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burymagdalene · 15 hours ago

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A Closed Mouth Doesn't get Fed - S. Reid x Reader

When reader notices Spencers dark circles and glossy eyes, they store away their pressing need for him in bed. This desire locked away forms into a wet dream that escalates their prior expectations substantially.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (nobody's shocked) 18+ pls pls, always fluffy when they're in love! tags: softdom!spencer ("soft", I need to invent subdom!spencer), he's a bit sassy, established relationship, wet dream, sleepy sex, pining, fingering, praise, teasing, piv sex, creampie, Spencer at your beck and call! wc: 4.3k a/n: Kind of stream of conscious & self serving smut. I always see Spencer's pov of a wet dream & wanted to write about the other side of it! Enjoy!

The plastic straw currently placed between your lips has been chewed into a nearly completely flat state as you sit across from Spencer at dinner. Looking into his more-tired-than-usual eyes, you listen to him drowsily recount some memorable moments from the case he just got back from.

There’s a single dangling light above you two that's pouring out a muted yellow that combined with the ugly grass mat wall beside you is making the dinner after Spencer’s case finishes rushed and antsy. You want to go home, give him a proper welcoming back, but he just looks so tired.

You try to pull your sprite through the straw, but it seems you popped a hole into its side with your incessant nibbling, causing the pull to be drawn out and emit a sound close to sucking in air, you sigh and pull away from it.

“You really did a number on that straw,” Spencer chuckles, “you know, I’m surprised you’re seeking sensory feedback in that manner, usually when you’re anxious you fiddle with the wrapper.” He smiles at you warmly.

You’re actually not anxious at all. Spencer’s voice has this way of subtly getting more used and spent after he’s been gone and awake for a while. A meditative hum in the bottom of this throat he gets with exhaustion that sounds eerily similar to the voice he uses in your ear when he’s praising the way you can take all of him or when he’s realised he has to ask you where he can finish too close to when he’s almost tipping over the edge.

“Hm?” He poses again, squinting at your glossed over eyes.

“Oh! Sorry, no. No, I'm not feeling anxious. It just feels nice. I… can’t finish my drink now though.”

Spencer reaches over and pulls out your ravaged straw, plopping it in his empty water cup and moving his straw to your cup, continuing his story like his minute display of tender attentiveness didn’t curl your toes slightly in your shoes.

You sip your drink until the cups' empty noises are too loud to continue trying to get anything out of it and your oral satisfaction for the night finally comes to a close as you fidget looking at your boyfriend with zero alleviation.

The rest of your night progresses painfully slowly as the inner turmoil of arousal swirling in your belly gets increasingly hard to navigate ignoring.

When you look at how Spencer holds his steering wheel (loosely while the wheel slides itself through his palms on a turn) driving you back while rain thuds steadily at the windshield you want to lean your head out of the window for a wake up call.

When you walk into his apartment that you haven’t seen since he’s left right beside him like it's both of yours you consider, in-depth, the grisly intimate details of domesticity. More specifically, a future shared bed between you two where he’s slowly sliding his dripping cum back into you with his fingers after he pulls out. Baby (making) fever.

It’s a plague of the most impure of heart ideas. You think, if he gave you a penny for your thoughts he would stare at you in eerie silence until you begged for mercy.

You could beg for mercy.

You want to roll your eyes at yourself, you have to wash this day off.

In bed you prop your chin on Spencer’s shoulder and gaze over the case file he’s been studying relentlessly. You feel a bit guilty when you consider closing the file for him to move into a straddle, better yet, when you consider gently rubbing his bulge from overtop his linen pajama pants until he’s whimpering and can't focus on the details anymore.

You’ve never felt so tongue-tied around Spencer than how you do right now. Realistically, you know that if you initiated anything he would either happily agree or kindly decline, not an end of the world situation. Your eyes linger over to his hands and you pull away and lay down sighing.

Internally you suppose that you don’t want to make him feel bad for potentially being too tired or paint yourself as a partner who doesn’t notice and understand your boyfriends cues for looking sleepy and engrossed in his work. You don’t want to be a burden, ultimately.

So you keep your mouth shut and stare silently at the ceiling and toss from side to side while Spencer continues his work by the lamplight.

“What’s up, wiggle worm?” Spencer smiles while keeping his eyes locked on his case.

You can’t help but grin at the bit of attention he’s still giving you. Knowing that even after his long day today Spencer cannot resist his magnetism towards you, noticing your every move.

“Too bored to be tired,” you mumble out with your eyes closed “I feel like I have one more activity in me today…” You’re almost too subtle and cryptic with it that Spencer’s social cues skip over your bait.

Turning his head to you he pets the top of your head and smiles a dopey smile at you, a sight for sore eyes after scanning over his case for too long.

“Do you want me to make you some tea? I might have green, oh, I guess that’s caffeinated–”

“Mm-mm.” you non-reply “I’m just going to try to sleep, keep working.”

Spencer hums and places the hand he was petting you with to your cheek as you lay on your side facing him, his palm working as another layer to the pillow you’re resting on, his thumb (though pinned between your cheek and the pillow) softly caresses you as he shifts the file to his non-dominant hand.

With his touch acting as a personalized bottle of melatonin, you drift off into a light and lucid slumber, strange waves and blotches of color bursting behind your eyelids in place of your typical dreams.

This feels way better than a typical dream.

Whatever pink apparition that’s keeping your brain in a sludged malleable state feels exceptionally good. Despite the cold sweat that's pricking up on the back of your neck making you feel akin to a slab of meat in a pressure cooker, this state is leaving your heart racing.

Even the blanket you have wrapped around you feels better, smells better. Hey, you think to yourself, this smells like Spencer. You press your face into it further, the burning intrusion of Spencer’s detergent, the stale cologne left on his collarbones filling your senses almost overwhelmingly.

Too scared to actually tell Spencer how you wanted him earlier must’ve had your brain illustrate its own ghostly representative of what you wanted from him before bed.

You wrap your legs around the blanket a bit more now. There’s an instinctual roll of your hips that is haywired into your anatomy whenever you feel a similar Spencer-induced haze when you’re awake so you naturally feel implied to go with your muscle memory.

Slow rolls of pleasure throb up your spine like someone is massaging measured passes into your back. Your hips take on a circular motion now, the up and down grinding you had set in place earlier taking too much energy.

You’re not a stranger to sex dreams. You find yourself painstakingly alone from time to time with the line of work Spencer is engaged in. You dream about him every day of the week regardless, so from time to time you get rewarded with a nearly satisfying dream that takes his spot.

However, Spencer is not gone right now. What you’re experiencing currently is a production of your pent up sexual frustration because you were too shy to let out a reserved beg for your boyfriend to fuck you.

The pleasure you’re face to face with at this moment has a larger and more embodied sensation than what you’ve experienced prior. Your hands tremble slightly around the blanket you have been rocking yourself against, and you feel whips of pleasure stemming from your gut that is abnormal to these sex dreams.

You just feel so fucking good.

You feel this good when the brutal summer heat overtakes the capabilities of your AC at your apartment and you lazily grind over Spencer on your couch, both riddled with heat exhaustion. You feel this good when you take a midday nap after work with Spencer and wake up humping your mattress with a breathless laugh. You feel this good when Spencers delicate hands lines up his dick with you and teases your clit with it before fucking you slowly.

This particular lucid sex dream is unlike the rest because funnily enough the blanket you’ve subjected your unhurried grinding on sort of feels like it’s pressing back at you, like it's gained sentience in order to get you off.

The generous veil of sleepy delirium takes up all your senses in such a robust way that the air you’re sucking into your lungs isn’t satisfying you. You gasp in a breath and your eyes crack open a sliver.

You try to blink away the reality you’ve woken up to, trying to savor any last semblance of your raving sticky pleasure before the unmeasurable embarrassment catches up to you.

What you thought was your soft blanket that was supplying you unwavering delirious pleasure, was actually the thigh of your boyfriend, whom you had made a concerted effort to leave alone when you were awake.

One hand is tightly fisting his pajama shirt (a black shirt with FBI written on the pocket) with so much fervor that his midriff is exposed and the slight hairs leading from his happy trail are exposed to where you look down between your bodies.

Frozen in fear and embarrassment you keep your body posed in the same position it was in motion as a mere minute ago, the position so delightful that you let out a whine when halting your movements.

You glance at the undeniable tent in his pants before you brave yourself by looking up at Spencer’s face for the first time since using his left thigh as relief for your pent up sexual urges.

Spencer has his case file closed with one of his thumbs holding his spot and is staring directly down at your face, eyes almost black with the lack of light reaching the front of his face.

The lamp is still on and he hasn’t really moved much since you fell asleep. In fact, his hand that was softly against your cheek is still there, albeit a bit more damp with drool than it was when you fell asleep. It probably hasn’t even been an hour since you said goodnight.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to spiral into anxiety over how to apologize to him when Spencer speaks first.

“I-I didn’t know if I should’ve woken you up… I assumed you would have woken up when you-” His words sound faint and trail off as if your sleepy grinding and grabbing did a number on him and wasn’t an annoyance.

“I’m so sorry.” You rasp out, peeling your hips away from his leg, feeling a sticky resistance between where your cunt and sleep shorts meet.

“Why?” He pinches his eyebrows slightly at you in genuine confusion and the dialogue between you pauses for a moment. You’re scanning his face for any discomfort and just find his regular big beggy doe eyes. Oh.

“You would’ve let me come?” You ask blearily back at his first words to you.

“Wh-...why would I not let you come?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a tired and flustered smile at the way you’re acting like wanting to fuck your boyfriend is a crime charged on multiple separate counts. “What were you dreaming about?”

Spencer is still wearing his doe eyes but his tone switches to a probing tune similar to the greasy way guys have asked you to play 21 questions in the past, but in this case it’s making you pull away the bottom of your shorts stuck to you as you push your thighs together.

“Nothing even,” your voice gets meek with confusion. “Bunch of shapes and colors moving around.” You meet his gentle gaze.

You’ve seemed to have stunned him a bit. Spencer has spent many nights dreaming of your naked figure in less than appropriate ways, the way his skin is prickling at the thought of you returning that experience fizzles his brain.

Surely the case can be looked over intently tomorrow with fresh eyes?

“Uhh,” he clears his throat, “do you want me to touch you?”

Normally this would be his first response but he’s exhausted and his brain is mush from the long day he had. He’s back to his old factory settings from when you first started dating.

“Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it nonstop today, actually.”

Now this does not make sense to Spencer.

“You didn’t mention anything?” He looks down to try to retrace your conversations from the day, scanning to see any missed memos or innuendos he might’ve missed. Nothing?

“No… I mean, you’re so tired! You’re working so hard! I didn’t want to… I dunno.”

Spencer briefly considers looking around the corners of his rooms for prank cameras.

“You were worried about bothering me? Bothering… me? With… you?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

You laugh slightly at his perturbed words and cover your face with your hands. “Didn’t wanna say something and make you feel obligated or anything.”

“You didn’t–” he pauses briefly, his sassy irritability coming up in place of chiding laughter.

Spencer looks down once more at your face, his own hard on, the image of you moments prior grasping onto him, drooling on him while getting off because you’re pent up from being too polite to mount him. His perfect angel, suffering in silence. A closed mouth really doesn’t get fed.

He leans down and starts kissing you sloppily immediately, the only way he knows how really. Can barely harness his desire when he feels his open mouth against yours. You breathe out your nose like you can’t believe you got here finally.

Hands gripping the back of your neck and side of your face, you were not prepared to go from your “I have to keep my hands to myself” mindset to “I can’t even tell where his hands are on me” so quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he’s whimpering into your mouth before you, fully laying all of his weight on you like a big dog that still thinks it's a lap puppy. With his precedent put in place, you follow willingly, a trail of small “ah’s” are moaned back at him.

You haven’t shaken off your sleep fully, the room is so dim and Spencer is so warm that the only real difference between right now and your dream is that Spencers rolling his hard dick against the hem of your pajama shorts.

Trailing the tip of your tongue lightly against the roof of Spencer's mouth he huffs out a shocked whine like you did something unfair and pulls back to look at you with tunnel vision.

“How do you want it?” He pants hard.

“Mmf. However.” You’re a bit sick of mulling over the logistics and just want to skip to feeling the expanse of his back under your fingers.

“You’ve had all this time thinking about it and you can’t tell me how you imagined me taking you?”

He’s pulled back fully now, pushing his linen pants down just enough so that his cock pops above it and he wastes no time taking it into his palm. He’s being needy enough that you’d think he was the one tormented with sex dreams, but you’d never complain about his attachment to you.

It makes your throat dry. The lamp illuminates him in such a picturesque way you’d consider directing a movie scene just like it. Your clit throbs again as a painful reminder of where you are.

“I want it slow.” You sigh out as you watch him palm the very thing you’ve been fantasizing about for the six hours you’ve been together today.

“You want it slow… what?”

“Stop it.” You’re too frazzled by him right now, he knows. Deep down you know you’re going to have to ask properly after dancing around it all day.

Spencer smiles and his jaw drops an inch in pleasure as he starts twisting his fist around the head of his dick now.

Okay! Maybe you can give into his teasing a bit.

“I want it slow, please.”

You feel hot with embarrassment immediately but as soon as it comes it dissipates when Spencer gasps and pulls his hand off himself with a displeased grunt. He takes your jaw into his hands as he lays on top of you to kiss you again, the angle of your jaw is being smeared with whatever precum he got on his palm.

Moving your hand between both of your bodies to get to the top of your shorts was slow and crushing as neither of you wanted to part from the other long enough to expedite its trip down.

Nevertheless, Spencer can hear every tiny noise and breath of pleasure you let out in situations like these and props himself to the side on one of his hands as the other brazenly pulls your shorts quickly down from the middle of them where the hem was pressing against your clit.

The ferocity of the cold air that meets your folds is your first indicator of how wet you’re going to be for this. How much Spencer is going to be cooing in awe of you in 3...2…

“Jesus Christ.”

Your eyes follow to where he’s looking but it's too dark from where you’re lying to truly take in how wet you look, you just know how you feel. And you feel achingly ready.

“Baby, I just can’t believe how wet you get. For me.”

He’s turning himself on with his own words as you plop your head back down to the pillow to squeeze your eyes shut as if to bat away how good his praise feels. Come to think of it, you don’t really think it’s been mentioned in the many conversations you’ve had about likes and dislikes, yet Spencer wields his words like a heavy axe every time.

You jolt when the pads of his pointer and ring finger rub slightly at your opening, gauging with touch how much wetness he’s going to be inside momentarily. Soon later he trails up to circle your clit and when you moan in response he gives the sight of his fingers against you a toothy grin.

The stretch those same fingers give you have your thighs opening up lazily, up to your sides when they usually strain to shut at the too-pleasureable sensation. Even the cells in your legs and the neurons in your brain are begging for Spencer.

Soft squelching is coming from between your legs and you can’t even be bothered to shy away from it, you know how wet he makes you and he sure as hell does, so playing coy is just not in your capabilities right now. You moan out another loud “mmm” as your eyebrows screw together.

“You sound so pretty.”

You’re not sure if Spencer is referring to the wetness between your legs or your moaning but you drink in his approval of your noises anyway.

“Spence– I really need it.”

“Hm, right. Slow please.”

You oughta slap him. Right now you could be threatening celibacy at his toying, but you can’t even conjure up such a frightening concept. You let out a “hhng” instead.

For the final time, Spencer lays down against you and presses a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, as he rubs his agitated dick against the new wetness you’ve produced at his playing. Satisfyingly coated, he shutters a sigh and sinks into you.

He is looking down between your bodies while he enters you, his cheek moved and pressed against your forehead as you whimper against his neck. You haven’t checked the clock in forever, a liminal space created in the blue of the deep night that engulfs the both of you.

Spencer is surprised that his skin is blushing now when he’s already fully sheathed inside of you (when he’s been fully inside you countless times). He can never truly believe the pleasure the human body can experience, that he can experience with you.

Once his hips have settled neatly against yours, when you’re mumbling out a “God-” Spencer begins to kiss back down your face again to where his mouth makes a home in your neck.

Not wanting to risk any muffled noises that he could be letting out against your skin, you move one of your hands to pull back his head by his hair, rewarding yourself with a more clear articulation of the pretty moans he was enveloping against your skin.

Fist still gripping his head back, Spencer begins to make slow and deep thrusts into you, the exact ones you’ve been craving in the pit of your stomach, you feel dizzy with arousal. Fluttering around him you gasp as you feel more of your slick tremble out of you, making his intrusion continuously slippery.

Spencer’s eyelids are shutting and opening repeatedly, wanting to fully close his eyes to the mind numbing pleasure, but equally wanting to stare at your face while he gives you what your biological need was trembling for in your light sleep.

He gets re-offended.

“Nuh-never hide- oh shit… always tell me when you want this. I will always, hm, give you this. Ne-ver spare my exhaustion, oh please-”

Your hips start meeting his consuming thrusts as you whine at his begs. What were you thinking? How could you ever stand in your own way of this?

Frantically nodding at his request, not trusting your voice, you move your fingers out of his hair to trace your nails against his back like signing your name in approval at his order.

Spencer moves slightly to cover your body with his completely, crowning in your head with his forearms. Little strands of his hair, slightly damp with sweat, tickle your forehead. You move to wrap your legs around his waist, locking in the position by putting one of your feet over the other.

With your legs on his lower back you begin to push him with your legs, guiding his rhythm, as you deepen his thrusts more. You two gasp in tandem.

“Touch me please.” You grit out with a raspy voice. Needing to feel yourself come around Spencer is becoming frighteningly high on the list of your necessities currently. You wiggle your hips against his as an invitation.

“M’ course. Pretty.”

Somehow the most intelligible praises are what get your gut swirling the most. Something about Spencer so lost in pleasure that he can barely talk but still making the effort to compliment you makes you want to make breakfast for him in the morning. Sweet boy.

“Sweet boy.” You’ve learned your lesson on biting your tongue.

He leans down to kiss you just as he starts rubbing your clit in fast movements. You could fall into this limbo of almost-there thrusts and soft caresses for the rest of time. You feel overjoyed with gratitude towards your wet dream, for the cock spreading you open.

Spencer inevitably picks up the pace of his thrusts, the slow rhythm driving him crazy. At the increase of speed you and Spencer find yourself whining out “I love you” at the same time. You’d giggle, maybe, if you were in a normal state. But the state Spencer has fucked you into has made this transaction feel like an omnipotent sign from the universe that you are tethered for life.

His fingers slip around in sloppy circles for a few moments more and you whimper out “coming” in such a strangled way it barely even sounds like it anymore. He gets it instantly though when he feels your walls contract and expand against him, how you whimper and shake your head back and forth like you still can’t believe how good coming feels.

Slowly breathing and speeding up his thrusts even more, he fucks you through your orgasm as he begins his, his cum spreads over himself as he moves it in and out of you. The whines he’s letting out are unrestrained and high pitched while he smooths your cheek with a thumb.

Bordering onto stinging overstimulation now, your thighs wrap around him tightly enough to indicate his slowing down till he’s resting idly in you.

The urge Spencer gets after you two finish to place as many kisses on your exposed skin as possible festers again when he’s trying to distract you from the empty feeling of him pulling out.

“Spence,” you gulp back little saliva, “hah, thank you.”

He shakes his head at you again, goofy smile on his face as he’s already forming the highlight reel of the night in his head, reliving it.

“I’m never going to be too tired for that. I’m in love with you, I’m not too tired for that.”

“Mmkay,” you start petting the wild strands of hair down from his head that you were tugging earlier “consider that lesson learned.” You chirp in finality, eyes closing with a similar exhaustion to Spencers.

“Mm, let me clean you up.”

Even with eyes closed you know his whereabouts, you can hear Spencer’s feet padding against his floors and you can map where he’s going in his apartment depending on how the hardwood dips underneath him.

In such a tired state, the cool cloth against you barely jolts you as it usually does, the slightly rough fabric against your sensitive skin doesn’t work to jar you, completely in bliss with nothing that can shake you.

You can’t sleep fully without feeling the dip of the mattress and Spencer’s body settled between sheets. With his addition to the bed again, case file extremely discarded, you can lay cradled to his side where the sleep you fall into is so deep you don’t dream at all.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #smut #criminal minds

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janeyseymour · 1 day ago

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A Case of You

Summary: You and a certain redhead are deeply, and undeniably in love- although the two of you don't realize it. Cue Barbara and someone unexpected to fix that for you on Fourth of July.

WC: ~5.4k

(lemme know if you wanna hear my rendition of the song mentioned in this fic :))

It’s an odd situation that you’ve found yourself in. You’ve been living in Philadelphia for a while now. You somehow manage to scrounge up enough money after years of odd jobs, a few investments, and your day job of teaching at Abbott Elementary to finally be able to afford a house. It’s a beautiful little house- one that you’ve been able to turn into something of a quaint little cottage core house. Your backyard is filled with flowers and emulates what some might say is a house in the movies.

And because you finally have a house that you’re proud of, you invite your folks to the city of brotherly love for Fourth of July. There’s no place like the founding city of the country to be in for the day. From the red and blue dyed beers, to the fireworks that burst over the museum of art (and you’ll have a beautiful view of the display room your house), your new city is one of the best places to be.

Once your coworkers find out that you’ll have the view that they’ve always wanted, it’s decided that you’re going to be hosting the holiday not only for your family, but for your work family as well. So, it might be a little crowded, but… it’ll be fun. That’s what you tell yourself. It’ll be fine.

So here you are, on July 3rd, frantically cleaning your house. Not that it’s messy by any means, but you want to impress. Your house is cozy, and you want to give off the effect that it’s well lived in (and it is) while maintaining the sense that you’re clean and proud of the place that you inhabit. It’s not all that hard. There are pictures dressing the walls, beautiful paintings that you’ve done, little knick knacks that you’ve collected over the years. It all feels homey.

But still, you’re making sure that it’s presentable enough that you won’t get ridiculed and lectured by your mother and your coworkers won’t make fun of your home.

That is, until your cell phone rings. Expecting it to be your mother, letting you know that she and your father have landed, you answer the phone, “Hey Mom.”

“Not your mom,” a voice that you’ve been missing comes through the phone.

Your brow furrows as you pause your scrubbing the toilet as you glance at your phone. “Melissa?”

“Yeah, hun. Just callin’ to see if you needed any help with the party tomorrow,” the redhead tells you. “Any cleaning or want me to bring anything or something?”

You bite your lip. You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but the person that you’re trying to impress besides your mother is Melissa- the woman that you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you started working at Abbott. “Uhm… I’m just cleaning the last few things now,” you tell her honestly. “But I really do appreciate the-”

“What’s ‘the last few things’? Because you’ve told me that you only have a few things to get done before you head home from work, and then I find out that you stayed at the school so long Mr. J handed you his keys to lock up the building for the night.”

You have to let out a laugh at that memory. You sigh softly as you decide to tell her the truth. “I still have to finish cleaning up the living room and the kitchen. But it really isn’t all that-”

“Jeet?” At your silence, the redhead continues. “I’m bringing over drinks and dinner and helping you clean. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Melissa,” you try to protest.

She’s quick to cut your argument off though. “I’ll see you in an hour, hopefully less than that.”

And then you hear the phone line disconnect, and you quietly groan to yourself as you look at your appearance. You’re in your cleaning clothes that are covered with bleach stains, your hair is tied up messily, and makeup hasn’t been applied since probably the last day of school. You look a mess. With a sigh, you head for your bedroom to at least put on your face- you want to look at least somewhat presentable.

The redheaded second grade teacher is knocking at your door less than an hour later.

“Hey,” you smile softly as you open the door. She’s standing there with a case of beer and a bag of what you can only assume is dinner. And somehow, even in just shorts and a tee shirt, she looks as incredible as ever. You find yourself blushing.

“Are you gonna let me in, or should we just have dinner outside?” Melissa quips.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “No, no, come in. P-Please don’t mind the mess.”

“You’re cleaning, I’m ready to clean,” the woman laughs. “It’s all good. Let’s eat though first, yeah?”

Dinner is nice. The two of you chat about what you’ve been up to since school let out for the summer and potential plans for trips that either of you are looking to take.

“I just don’t have all that many friends in the area,” you admit shyly. “So, most of my trips are solo.”

“You do have friends in the area,” Melissa refutes. “You got the Abbott group. You got me.” She nudges you with her elbow.

“I do,” you sigh softly. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“A lot of people are bothers to me,” the redhead laughs. Then she turns serious. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “How kind of you to say.”

“If you ain’t doin’ nothin’, I spend a lot of time down at the shore in July,” Melissa offers casually.

You can’t help but smile. “That- that’d be nice, yeah.”

“Well,” your coworker sighs as she sets down her fork and begins to clean up. “This house won’t clean itself. So what do you want me to help you with?”

“You helped enough by making sure I ate dinner,” you tell her with earnest. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m helping, so just tell me what to do, or I’ll start snooping around for cleaning supplies anyway.”

The two of you clean the kitchen and the living room as music floats through your house from your record player.

“You got quite the selection,” Melissa tells you as she dusts the case that holds all of your music. “It ain’t half bad.”

You blush. Your music taste is all over the place.

“Mind if I pick an album to listen to next?”

“Of course not,” you call from the next room over. “Pick whatever.”

You expect her to pick a rock band, so when Joni Mitchell’s hauntingly beautiful voice begins to dance in the air, you’re a bit shocked.

Still, you let the music take over your heart and your soul, and when “A Case of You” starts, you can’t stop yourself from singing along softly. As you sing the words to yourself, you realize that you would drink a case of Melissa and still be on your feet. There’s something about her that is so intoxicating and yet always leaves you on your feet.

Apparently though, your voice travels more than you were aware of. In the living room, Melissa can hear your gentle melody. Her cleaning pauses as she silently makes her way to where she can hear your voice better.

You’re standing there scrubbing the sink as you quietly echo Joni Mitchell’s vocals. It isn’t until the song is over that you hear a different voice.

“You sing real good,” the redhead compliments quietly.

Instinctively, you jump. You weren’t expecting her to hear you. And then your face flushes as you turn to face her. “I- uh…” You can’t get much out than that. You fumble for words for a few seconds before you just barely whisper out an apology.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Melissa smiles. “I think I like your version more.”

Your jaw practically drops at those words. “Oh, I- uh, thank you. But nobody can sing it like Joni.”

“I think you did it,” the redhead tells you, and you can tell in her voice that she truly means it. “I saw the guitar in your living room too. You play?”

You shrug. “Kind of.” You don’t want to admit that you’ve been playing for quite some time and oversell yourself- better to underestimate than over.

“Well, after we’re finished cleaning, I think I should get to hear it.”

You blush. “Maybe.”

By the time the two of you have the house straightened up to your liking, it’s quite late. If you’re being honest too, with the amount of alcohol that the two of you have consumed tonight, you aren’t necessarily comfortable with sending Melissa on her way.

“So, I believe you owe me a song,” your colleague teases you as she opens up another beer and settles on your couch.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” you laugh as you sit next to her.

“I’d never forget that voice,” the redhead smiles innocently. “C’mon, just one song?”

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic eye roll, you reach for the guitar that you keep in the corner of the room. You tune it up quickly, chuckling when you see the impressed look that Melissa wears on her face when you don’t actually need a tuner.

You strum the guitar a few times to ensure that it’s tuned to your liking before beginning to play.

Of course, you play your own rendition of “A Case of You” to prove to Melissa that you simply can’t do the song justice the way that Joni Mitchell does. Your approach doesn’t work. By the time you’re finished fingerpicking the last few notes, green eyes are wide and in shock.

“What?” you ask weakly. “I told you I only kind of play.”

“That’s a lot more than ‘kind of’,” the second grade teacher says. “You should be teaching Music, not fourth grade.”

You shake your head. “If I had to do it for a living, I’d hate it. But as a hobby, I do love it.”

“Play another for me,” Melissa requests as she leans back and takes another sip of her drink.

Somehow, the two of you end up going through another two drinks as you give the redhead her own personalized concert. Those sparkling green eyes stay mesmerized with your charming voice as you tell her the stories behind why you learned a few select songs, how you wrote a few, and the way that your melodies are nothing but soothing.

“You should be out in LA writing music,” Melissa tells you. “You’re… incredible.”

Your already red and warm cheeks from the alcohol only become more flushed at her kind words. You can only set the instrument down in response.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you chuckle as you sip your beverage.

The redhead sighs softly. “I guess I should head out for the night.”

“Stay,” you tell her quickly- probably a bit too quickly. “You’ve had more than enough to drink, it’s late, and I don’t want you out there driving.”

The smirk that tugs at Melissa’s lips, along with that mischievous glint in her eyes gets you to look at her curiously.

“Somehow I knew that when I brought drinks over that would be your response, so I packed a bag,” the redhead reveals. “Let me just go grab my stuff from my car."

You can’t help but throw back your head with laughter. “Of course you thought that.”

“Was I wrong?” your coworker teases.

The two of you end up sharing a bed that night, and when your alarm goes off the next morning, despite the fact that it’s July, you find yourself cold. You turn over, only to discover that the redhead isn’t next to you.

But you can hear soft humming coming from downstairs, along with the record player. She’s downstairs. And then once you’ve woken up a bit more, you can smell the coffee and breakfast being made. You make your way downstairs and can’t stop yourself from practically drinking in the sight of Melissa Schemmenti cooking you breakfast.

She must hear your footsteps, because she turns on her heel and smiles at you. “Hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.”

“I’ll never pass up a Schemmenti meal,” you tease. “You know that.”

It’s only a few minutes before the two of you are sitting at the kitchen table with plates in front of you.

“You know you cuddle in your sleep?” Melissa asks.

You turn a violent shade of red. “S-sorry.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. It was nice.”

Your heart flutters. You never thought that the rough and tough Melissa Schemmenti would be one for cuddling, but here she is.

Breakfast is nice and warm, and you can’t help the blush in your cheeks as the two of you clean in a comfortable silence. More than once, the two of you accidentally brush hands together or her hand finds the small of your back to guide you out of her way.

The both of you get ready for this party, and by the time you’re making your way down the steps to change the record, your doorbell is ringing.

It’s your parents- of course they show up first. It’s not that you aren’t happy to see them, but you wish the house was a bit more full so that you wouldn’t get the third degree as soon as you see your mother.

“Is it Barb?” Melissa’s voice floats down the steps before she comes into sight. When she turns the corner, she sees your parents still standing on the front step. “Oh.”

“Who are you?” your mother eyes your coworker warily.

“Melissa,” the redhead states. “Just a coworker of Y/N’s.”

Your mother hums quietly before inviting herself in. Her eyes glance around your place with a slight frown. “This isn’t much.”

“It isn’t,” you mumble. “But I very much like where I live and how I live.”

“When you said you could afford to buy a house, I was expecting more.”

“Jane, lay off,” your father cuts in. “Y/N, your house is very… you. I like it.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to that. So you simply smile at your father as a silent ‘thank you’ and direct the conversation elsewhere, praying that your coworkers show soon. “Did you want anything to drink? I have wine in the fridge, or I just have to set out the ice for the coo- shoot.”

“What is it?” Melissa asks, brows furrowed with concern.

“I forgot to buy ice yesterday.”

“Oh,” the redhead rolls her eyes as her arm wraps around your waist. “I can just run to the corner store real quick and grab some.”

Your eyes soften significantly as Melissa Schemmenti saves the day. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, hun.” She grabs her purse from the kitchen table and heads out with a soft hum, only to pop back in. “You need anything else? Or… do you guys want anything?” she directs that last part at your parents.

All three of you shake your heads, so she smiles that Philly smile of hers and heads out. You momentarily forget that your parents are present, and you can’t help the shy smile and blush that creeps into your cheeks as you watch her figure leave.

“Your little friend is very pretty,” your mother states once the door is shut.

You turn to her sharply. “Oh?”

“She’s very pretty,” your mom says again.

“Oh, good. I thought it was just me,” you mutter.

“No,” your father cuts in this time. “It’s a fact. You should probably get a move on if you want to do something about that. A girl that pretty won’t be single for long.”

“I was planning on pining from afar for anywhere from two to ten years and seeing where that got me. Probably nowhere, but I won’t know until I try,” you quip cheekily. “

"Your mother and I both saw the way she looks at you- she definitely has a thing for you too,” your father tells you. “Just… think on it. Yeah?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, and sigh. “Just… don’t go doing your meddling, please?”

“I won’t,” your dad raises his hands in mock surrender. Your mother, on the other hand though, stays quietly.

Melissa makes her way into the house again not twenty minutes later, a smile dancing on her lips. “The ice is in the cooler, along with the drinks.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her warmly. You then note that she has three drinks in her hand: a beer for her and your father, and a seltzer for you. She passes them out silently before cracking hers open and taking a sip.

She then leans in and wraps an arm around your waist again before mumbling into your ear, “If my mother said that to me about a house this beautiful, I would’ve lit the trash can on fire.”

The giggle that erupts from your soul is hard to contain. Thankfully, you don’t have a chance to say anything else because your doorbell rings. And when the two of you go to open the door, you’re more than pleased to see the entirety of the Abbott clan. Anything to get your mother’s attention off of you.

As it turns out, your mother and Barbara seem to get along swimmingly. What surprises you is how much your mother likes Janine and Ava as well. Your father quite enjoys Mr. Johnson’s tales, is able to talk sports with Gregory, and even falls for Jacob’s awkward charm. And Melissa is able to meander through your backyard with you as you ensure that nothing gets too out of hand.

When you’re chatting with your father and Mr. Johnson, your mother glances over at you. Melissa has an arm slung around your shoulder, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

“Tell me,” your mother implores Barbara. “Melissa.”

“What about her, dear?”

“Her and my daughter.”

“Oh,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles as she sips on her wine. “Those two have been pining for each other for years. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before they finally pull their heads out of their asses and get together.”

Your mother sighs a breath of relief. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice.”

“Oh, you aren’t, Jane,” Barb laughs. “Don’t tell either of them, but we have a bet on how long it’ll take them to finally start dating. I said by the end of July. Everyone else still thinks they’ll be dancing around it come the beginning of the school year.”

“While I don’t approve of a lot of the choices my daughter has made,” your mother sighs. “Including moving away from us, I do want her to be happy. Do you think she’ll be happy with Melissa?”

“That daughter of yours is never happier than when she’s with Melissa,” Barbara states simply. “And just so you’re aware: your daughter has done a whole lot of good while she’s been out here with us. We are very proud of her, and you should be too. I know she sometimes feels that she isn’t good enough for you.”

Your mother bites her lip, a bit ashamed at how she knows she’s made you feel- both today and in the past. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll mend that.”

“As you should.”

“But for now… my husband promised he wouldn’t meddle in her love life, but I made no such promise. Should we win that bet for you?”

The kindergarten teacher is clearly intrigued as she raises a brow. “And how do you propose we would do that?”

Their plan, as it turns out, is not the most intricate. It’s to simply get the two of you hammered while your mother quietly feeds you comments about how you’re already practically in a relationship with the redhead. Meanwhile, Barbara will plant that same seed in Melissa’s head before daring her to just make a move- Melissa is never one to turn down a dare while intoxicated; that’s how she ended up doing cartwheels on South Street one night after a particularly wild night at Oscar’s.

“You know she spent the night last night?” Barbara asks your mother. “Came over to help clean and ended up just staying.”

Your mother’s perfectly sculpted brow lifts. “I just assumed she was the first one here.”

“Nope,” your mother smirks. “I was supposed to pick her up so all of us Abbott people could come together.”

“Interesting… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some snooping to do.” With that, your mother rises from her seat and enters your house. Immediately, her eyes turn to the steps where your room and main bathroom are. She ascends up the steps. Melissa’s things, at least that’s what she assumes, are still scattered around in the bathroom. And… bingo: two toothbrushes. Then her eyes wander into the bedroom. Your mother knows that you don’t typically make the bed, but she is surprised to see that both sides of the bed are disheveled- bodies had clearly been on both sides.

Meanwhile, outside, Barbara makes her way over to you and Melissa.

“Where’d my mom go?” you ask.

“Bathroom,” Barb tells you gently. Her eyes don’t miss the fact that the redhead’s arm is still around you. “You two seem to be having a nice time.”

Green eyes glare at her work best friend, but you just smile and lean into Melissa. That glare washes right off of her face.

“It’s nice,” you smile. God, that smile of yours has the second grade teacher wrapped around your finger. “I’m almost done my drink though.”

That’s all the kindergarten teacher needs to hear to begin her side of the plan. “Let me get you both drinks.”

“Oh, I can get them for us,” Melissa tells your coworker. Her hand slips away from your back, and it’s odd that you feel the slightest bit cold without her holding you.

The kindergarten teacher watches the way that your eyes linger on Melissa’s figure. And when she’s bringing back the drinks, you simply attach yourself to her hip again.

“Cheers,” Barb smiles as she lifts her glass in the air. The three of you clink, and then drink. She makes a mental note to pace herself while raising her glass in your direction often. Melissa and you never turn down a toasted drink.

When Barbara sees your mother make her way back out, she moseys over. “What did you find?”

“Those two are so in a relationship, even if they aren’t admitting it. They shared a bed and everything!”

“Well, I’ve already initiated them getting drunk,” Barb informs your mom.

“Perfect,” your mother grins. Her eyes glance in the direction that you and your coworker are in. “Those two are idiots if they don’t think they’re in love. Well, time to go start.”

When you see your mother walking in your direction, you simply tap your can with Melissa’s before downing a good portion of it. The redhead follows your actions, although her eyes do widen when she sees how much and how quickly you’re drinking.

“My dear,” your mother starts. “Can I have a word with you?”

With a soft sigh, you nod and allow her to pull you in another direction.

“What, Mom?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” your mother instructs strictly. Then she softens significantly, and you feel like you’re a young child again. She used to look at you with so much love. “I just… wanted to apologize.”

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The things I’ve said about your career choices and the likes,” your mother sighs sheepishly. “I- I am very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You frankly aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that, so you just give a sad smile. “Thank you for saying that, Mom.”

“I know that you probably don’t believe me, but I am very proud of you. You’re shaping the future generations, and you’ve been able to make it out here on your own. You seem to have a lovely work life, and… you’re a hell of a lot happier here than you were back home.”

“I am,” you admit. “I love it here, Ma.”

“That’s all I could ever want in this life for you- happiness,” your mom smiles as she squeezes your hand. “My sunshine deserves sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I think I know how you could be happier though.”

“I’m not moving back-”

“I’m not asking you to move back home,” your mother rolls her eyes. “I’m asking you to pull your head out of your ass and get with that little friend of yours already.”

“I thought I told you and Dad not to meddle in my life love,” you smirk.

Your mother replicates your facial expression- one of mischief. “I never agreed to that, dear. But I mean, come on. It’s quite clear to me that you have feelings for her.”

“So what if I do?”

“It’s also quite obvious to me that she reciprocates those feelings for you,” your mother states. “I mean, the two of you act as though you’re already together as it is.”

“We do not,” you blush.

“She stayed at your house last night, the two of you shared a bed, her toothbrush is right next to yours in the holder.”

“Friends stay over at each other’s houses sometimes,” you counter.

“She’s been hanging off of you all day,” your mother points out. “She calls you hun.”

“She calls every one ‘hun’.”

“Her eyes never leave you, and your eyes never leave her. Just admit that you’re in love with her. And she’s in love with you.”

“She is not,” you roll your eyes.

“All I’m saying is: the two of you act like you’re in a relationship already. Just… think about your happiness for your ol’ Ma. I do want grandkids at some point, you know.”

Barbara grabs her work wife by the arm. “Cheers!”

The redhead only throws back her head to laugh before taking a long swig.

“So when are you gonna just tell that girl that you’re in love with her?” the kindergarten teacher probes.

“Never,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I plan on pining from afar for… forever. There ain’t no way someone like that would ever want me.”

“I see the way she looks at you, Melissa,” Barbara reminds her friend. “She loves you, and the two of you act like you’re in a relationship as it is.”

“No we don’t.” The pointed look from her coworker has the redhead blushing. “Okay, maybe we do. But there’s a difference between acting like it, and actually being in a relationship.”

“I think you should go for it,” Barb says. “Tonight.”

“What?” Green eyes go wide.

“Why not? Nothing is more romantic than fireworks. And, the two of you are drunk, and if it doesn’t feel right you can always blame it on the booze.”

The second grade teacher bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Just… think about it.”

No sooner is the redhead back at your side, holding you by the hip again. And while she seems like everything is wonderful and there is nothing but pleasant thoughts going on in her head, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Her mind is swirling with what it would be like to kiss you, to be in a relationship with you.

Maybe, Melissa thinks to herself.

Well, that maybe turns into an Absolutely I will, when Barbara dares her a few hours later to do something about the mutual pining that is going on between the two of you.

“I dare you to kiss her while the fireworks are going on,” the kindergarten teacher smirks, pretty intoxicated herself.

“I will,” the redhead chuckles, never one to turn down a dare.

By the time the fireworks start going off, everyone is either on a blanket that they had brought or in a chair that lived at your house. Of course, you’re the last to search a seat due to your expert hosting skills, and you find yourself coming up with nothing.

“Come here,” Melissa rolls her eyes. As if you would find anywhere else to be but near the redhead. You stand beside her, ready to take in the spectacle that is about to light up the sky. And in a daring move, the second grade teacher easily tugs you into her lap. She her arms around your midsection and rests her chin on your back.

Your mother nudges Barbara with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “You think it’s gonna happen?”

“I dared Melissa to,” the kindergarten teacher mutters back. “So, yeah.”

“Perfect.”

As the first fireworks go off, you can feel the excitement practically radiating off of Melissa. It’s adorable when you turn and see how awestruck she is by the lights in the sky. Your coworkers are entirely entranced by the display, and when it’s clear that the finale is about to take place, you expect to see those green eyes focused on the dark night above you. But instead, the redhead is looking directly at you.

“Lis,” you chuckle, and you try to turn her head so she can look up at the last of the fireworks. She doesn’t seem to care about the spectacle. No, her eyes are trained on you. “You’re gonna miss the finale.”

“I don’t care,” the redhead breathes.

“But they’re beautiful,” you whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Melissa tells you quietly. And then her lips meet yours. And… the fireworks in the sky are no comparison to the fireworks in your heart.

Everyone that had gathered at your house is mesmerized by the display in the sky- all except your mother and Barbara. Silently, they high five before turning their eyes back to the finale of the fireworks.

Once the fireworks are over, it isn’t long before your friends and family begin to file out of your house.

“Don’t think that we aren’t talking about that kiss that I saw,” your mother whispers to you as she hugs you goodbye. Immediately, your cheeks flush red. But you can’t say anything, because she’s off of you, and giving Melissa a hug goodbye.

Barbara, on the other hand, doesn’t give any inclination that she knows what had taken place just a few short minutes ago. She heads out with a hug and a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for your wonderful hospitality.

And then you and the redhead are alone. And before you know it, her lips are back on yours.

Fast forward to the end of Summer, and Melissa has been your girlfriend since the Fourth. It’s been a wonderful summer spent down at the beach with her, and all too soon you’re walking back into the halls of Abbott.

Barbara doesn’t say anything when she sees the two of you walk in together or the way that Melissa instinctively prepares your morning beverage for you. No. She chooses to wait until the last of your Abbott family has made their way into the staff lounge.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher claps her hands together with a bright grin on her face. “Where’s my money?”

“Your money?” your girlfriend raises a brow.

“My money,” Barbara states with a smile.

“For what?” Jacob asks.

“The bet.”

“No one won,” Ava rolls her eyes. “Not yet at least. I still got my bet going.”

“That’s where you would be wrong,” the kindergarten teacher reveals. “Y/N and Melissa got together on Fourth of July.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“You heard what I said, baby.”

“H-how?”

“While everyone else was watching the fireworks, I saw what I needed to see. So, just confirm it so I can win my three-hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars?” Melissa asks incredulously. At her best friend’s nod, the redhead just continues to flounder for words.

“I ain’t payin’ until one of them confirms.”

You sheepishly smile as you raise the two of your hands from under the table, intertwined.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @schmentisgf

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #lisa ann walter #barbara howard #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction

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milkteabinniechan · 2 days ago

Text

♡Tunnel Vision - Minho

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: bad boy! Minho x student! reader

summary: You can't stand the boy that sits behind you in class. He's rude, arrogant and a huge Playboy. and now you're paired with him for your newest poetry assignment.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, Playboy Minho, heavy kissing, groping.

It's not that you hated your new poetry course. Just one specific person in your new poetry class. Minho would show up late or sometimes not at all. And when he did bother to show up, he would sit at the desk behind yours. He would lean into your ear and ask you what he missed.

His breath would be warm against your neck and the first time he whispered, you actually felt butterflies. You were nice and smiled. You would turn your head and tell him in hushed tones what he had missed. He'd notice the slight flush in your cheeks and it would make him smirk because he knew. He knew that your head was pounding because of him.

But then one day after the class had ended a girl had pushed her way through a crowd of students to get to him. She yelled and cried because he never called her again. She told him he was an asshole and his response was “what's your name again?”

So now when Minho strolls into class late and takes his seat behind you, you keep your head forward. You suffocate the butterflies in your stomach and square your shoulders. You refuse to be another notch on that man's belt. You refuse to let him make you feel so warm and wet and so-

“I think I'll partner you with Minho this week.”

Your eyes flash to the front of the class where the teacher is looking directly at you. “No, no I can't. I…” you plead but the teacher just shakes his head and hands you the newest template for the poetry course this week.

Minho's dorm room was exactly as you expected. Messy, unkempt, a real boy's place. As the two of you stepped inside he off the cuff mentioned he had a roommate but the two of you should be undisturbed for the night.

“Who's your roommate?” You ask as you pull a few textbooks out of your bag. Your voice was flat and ultimately uninterested but you needed to make some kind of small talk to cut through this tension of being in Minho's living room. Minho rummaged through his fridge and pulled out a few beers before making his way back to you on the couch. “You don't know him.” He said quickly. He slid the second beer across his coffee table to you. You rolled your eyes and pushed it to the edge of the table and pulled out the template from class. “Let's get started, okay? The sooner we get this going, the sooner we can be done and never speak to each other again.”

Minho smirked, his slender fingers tapping against the neck of his beer bottle. “Aw, what's the matter? You don't like me?” He leaned in closer. “Nope.” You snapped back. This response made Minho laugh. A loud, full laugh that promised that he didn't believe you. He was cocky and he was sure that every girl wanted him. His eyes lingered on you as you continued to read over the template. “So, what bullshit do we have to write about now?” Minho asked while taking another swig of his beer. You sighed heavily in response. “Love. The subject is just love. It says to write about any kind of love, however it speaks to you.”

Minho let out a huff. “Between a beautiful woman's legs, that's the only love I need.” He remarks. “You're disgusting.” You retort. You slide a template over to where he sits, “just write something, pervert.” Minho's face scrunches up for a moment, “aren't we supposed to be working on this together, partner?”

“You're a big boy, you can handle it.” You scold, your hand gripping tightly to your pencil. “Just write.” Minho sighs loudly as his body slumps deeper into the couch. An hour goes by without either of you saying a word to one another. Just the sounds of pencils scraping and pages turning fills the air around you. “This is stupid.” Minho complains, finally breaking the silence. The sound of a pencil hitting the coffee table breaks you out of your writing trance and you shoot a glaring look at him. “If you hate this so much, why did you sign up for this class?” You quip back.

Minho's eyes flash an intensity that matches yours. An angry, exacerbated look that contracts with his normal cool and calm demeanor. Has he never had someone challenge him before? Has he never had a girl stand up to him instead of immediately falling to her knees? You hold your stance and the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Then Minho grabs your half-written poem in an instant before you can even process what he is doing. He stands up from the couch and holds it ceremoniously. “Let's see what Miss Goody-Goody wrote about love, eh?” You fumble up from the couch and take a confident dive at Minho to try to get the paper back but miss as he pulls the paper away at the last minute. “Give that back!” You demand. But Minho holds the paper just out of reach, laughing proudly as he does. You look back at the coffee table to find his paper sitting there unprotected and take your chance, snatching it quickly into your hands. Minho's eyes widen as he realizes where this little chess game has led the two of you and his cheeks begin to burn a bright, hot red. His voice drops to a low, intimidating octane, “give it here. I'm serious.” His hand splayed out in front of you.

You let out a triumphant laugh and stick up your nose at him. “No way!” Minho smirk turns to a serious expression and he takes a few steps towards you, causing you to take a few steps back. Soon you are frantically trying to figure out your next move. You quickly fake left before turning to the right and easing your way around Minho and down the hall to an open door welcoming you inside. You hastily run into the room and shut the door behind you, hearing the pounding sound of Minho's palms flat against the other side of the door. “This isn't funny anymore! Come out of there!” He shouts from the hallway.

You clear your throat ready to read the poem out loud. Minho groans loudly before giving the door one last defeated thud. Your eyes scan the page and you find yourself frozen by something you did not expect.

A carnation bright

Unfold for me

This is everything and nothing

I put a ribbon and signed the envelope

Postage stamp

In the garden you wait

Surrounded by a soil that drains

Who waters you?

Where is the watering can that fills your petals, sweet Carnation?

I pluck you so carefully

Lie you down on the softest pillow

You've ever felt

You clutch the page in your hands, a slight tremble causing the paper to crinkle under your fingertips. Your eyes pour over every line again and again. The words are erased and written again, scribbled over and corrected. But the words he chose, the words he decided were the right ones to express himself, they stayed etched in pencil led with a secretive beauty. You slowly make your way to the bedroom door and turn the door knob. You find Minho sitting in the hallway across from the door. He glares up at you, his face painted red in embarrassment. “Don't say anything. I know it's bad.” He whispers, his voice shaking slightly.

You step out into the hallway and kneel in front of where Minho sits. “It's not bad, Minho. It's actually…good.” You confess. You watch Minho's head lift up as he searches your face for any hint of a lie. Then he lifts up your paper, “you didn't write anything.” He smirks.

Then it was your face that burned red. You had written a few pathetic lines of poetry before erasing everything in frustration. “I hate what I wrote. I hate everything I write.” you murmur. This causes Minho's smile to grow and spread across his face. But this smile was different, not a mocking, cocky smile but a smile that seemed to understand exactly what you meant. “That just means you're good at what you do. Come here, I'll show you.” He said and then stood up taking your hand in his and pulling you back into the bedroom. The bedroom that was, in fact, his bedroom. In the far corner of the room stood a tall, broad bookshelf so full that it almost looked like it would bend and break if just one more book was added. Minho searched the shelf for just a moment before pulling out three books. He then turned on his heels to face you. “These authors didn't even get published until their late 40s. Can you believe that? Now everyone reads them!” His eyes lit up with the kind of fascination designated for a child on Christmas morning. He placed the books in your hands and begged you to read them. You looked down at the books in your hands and furrowed your brow. This was not the boy you were expecting. Why did he have to act like such an asshole all the time? Why did he have to act so uninterested and bored all of the time?

You look up from the books and stare at Minho for a moment. “Why are you so afraid of people seeing this side of you?”

Minho jolts from your blunt question. His eyes lock with yours and for a moment his mouth hangs open in silence. Then he steps closer to you. “Because this side is too real, too raw. If they are the real me then they can hurt the real me. And I can't risk that.”

Something snaps in you at his response. You didn't know if it was his honesty or the fact that you had been feeling the exact same way but something outside of yourself brought your lips to his. His lips were surprisingly tender. His hands made their way up to your jawline and nestled there as the two of you worked in tandem. Your nose brushed against one another as his mouth opened in invitation. Your tongue scraped softly against his teeth, giving way to his teeth biting and holding onto your bottom lip. A soft and vulnerable noise escaped you at that moment. And a flash of all the women who have ever been in this room entered your mind, causing you to break the kiss. You stumble back and press your hand over your mouth. “I can't. I'm sorry.” You turn towards the bedroom door and make your way down the hallway to leave. You frantically and admittedly quite clumsily grab your book bag and jacket before making a b-line to the front door.

Minho never tried to stop you, never called your name out and begged you to stay. You walked back to your dorm room and threw yourself onto the bed. You bury your face in your pillow until all light leaves and only darkness remains. He wasn't just a fuckboy, player, or asshole. He was actually someone who you could fall in love with. And that thought was scarier than anything else.

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kaiyunsim · 3 days ago

Text

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

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hivemuthur · 3 days ago

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You have invited me in you inbox, and here I am, like a starved goblin. I can't get enough of Dom Viktor. The way he has you wrapped around his fingers without even touching you, dominating both your body and mind with the way he looks at you and his words. By the time he finally touches you, it's not long before you come undone. He's soft and caring for your comfort, which only makes it more erotic.

Hello, love, sorry for the long wait! I took the opportunity and went into classic dom/sub mode, hope you don't mind :v

Lay My Hands on Heaven

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! with Dom!Viktor TW: bondage, subspace/domspace without being mentioned + aftercare brought to you by @rennethen

word count: 2,1K

author's note: Title from NIN song. And yes, this is also mostly smut, but Viktor is a good dom :v I guess my last time victory of writing something under 1K was a fluke :')

—

The rope gets hung over your neck and draped down your chest as you kneel obediently on the mattress and Viktor takes a moment to think. He props his chin on his hand and gives you a long, calculating stare. Then, his fingers trace your collarbone as he cris-crosses it between your breasts and moves to the back. Your breath hitches once he ties the first knot.

“Too tight?” You can’t see him, but you know he smirks. His hand rubs your back between the shoulder blades before he moves back to the front to continue. He brushes his thumb on your lower lip and murmurs, “So pretty like this,” and something jolts inside you as your lids flutter shut.

After a moment of nothing, you open your eyes to meet Viktor’s drilling into you, his expression unamused. Your eyebrows shot up and he says again, “I have asked you a question, haven’t I? Is it too tight?”

“No,” you answer, and your voice is so breathy it’s almost non-existent. Viktor nods and proceeds. He works carefully and meticulously following the pattern that soon creates a harness on your chest—going from your neck, down, down your sternum to spread onto your shoulders, securing your arms on the back. It’s done so you can palm your elbows behind you. The lower bits wrap around your stomach, and you feel the familiar sensation of a hug that both comforts and restrains. Rope digging gently into your flesh with every miniscule movement, the anticipation of marks it’s going to leave everywhere makes you breathe a little deeper, a little calmer.

He sneaks his fingers between the knots and your skin and pulls on each, checking if they will hold, making you whimper. Viktor pauses, his eyes narrowing. He moves his face so close to yours that your mouths touch when he mutters, “Do I need to gag you?”

You shake your head. He repeats, for around fifth time already, his voice is annoyed but expression playful. “Words?”

“No,” a quiet quip escapes you and the proximity is killing you both. You don’t move, save for the quiver of your mouth opening wider against his. And Viktor squeezes this opportunity dry—he sends a hot breath straight inside, a chuckle, a tease of his tongue. First on your upper lip, then past the entrance, licking the roof of your mouth, a quiet smack against it. You will all the cells in your body to not budge an inch and it pushes a drop sweat through the pores on your forehead.

And Viktor dares to chuckle in an attempt to cover up his own strain. And then he dares to disguise his own visceral want as a mercy, when he grabs your jaw and bites your lip before kissing you. When his tongue invades your mouth, nose presses into your cheek and knuckles whiten on your chin. “So needy,” he coos, pulling away, lovingly mocking the way you lift your hips, and your face follows his.

You shoot him a wounded look and he props your chin with the handle of his cane. “I think you are still granted a little too much freedom of movement.” Something roars in his chest when he sees you like this and realises it’s all his doing.

Cane reaches to the side of the bed, and Viktor pulls up another set of ropes and places it in front of your knees. He hooks two loops over your neck—one for each side— and stretches the remaining length between his fists. The rope wobbles in front of your eyes and Viktor hums, “Open your legs.”

Smile invades his face, when you slide your knees apart and hold your breath in anticipation. “Are you nervous?” he chuckles and before you can answer his middle finger traces through your slit. “Ah, I see. Not nervous. Exited.” When the finger brushes your clit you whimper and bring your legs together in an involuntary twitch, which earns you an amused scold. “This is exactly why we need those,” he sings, pulling on one of the loops around your neck.

Soon enough, your legs get bound in a permanent bend—calves attached to thighs, leaving your feet free to wiggle. Loops on both sides connect your neck and knees, causing your legs to open, and remain open, when Viktor hooks his cane over one of the knots on your back and swings you down to the mattress. Arms restrained under you push your ribcage out, arching your spine.

Viktor hums, a very pleased smirk dances on his lips. He adjusts a rope here and there to finally sit in front of you. He looks into your glassy eyes, his gaze follows down where the binding is already leaving indentations in your skin. He sighs, content, and when his eyes drop between your legs, for a moment he just watches you drip.

Feeling yourself shrinking under his scrutiny you throw, “Take a picture, it will last longer,” before you can bite your tongue. Next thing you hear is your own squeak at the immediate slap to your cunt—not hard, a warning.

“Are you forgetting yourself?” Viktor huffs, bemused by your tone. “I am almost tempted to just leave you here,” he threatens and smiles, seeing your eyebrows knit together in a silent plea. His hands walk by your sides, until you are caged between his arms, his clothed groin brushing your core. He presses it down on you and you moan and clench, spine arching even further. That’s going to leave a stain.

And Viktor is exactly in as much pain as you are. His clothes burn the sensitive skin, cock so uncomfortably restricted by his fly and belt he could howl. So he tries to cover it up by burying his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth, while making the most obscene sounds you’ve heard, and you so desperately want to clench your thighs, but you can’t. And it feels amazing for the both of you.

“I love you so much like this,” he allows himself to slip. Because having you all bound and completely at his mercy is almost better than fucking you. Almost.

He comes back to kneel between your legs, props the bad hip on the pillow and frees himself from the confines of the fly. Cock rests idly against your entrance—wet smacks against wet as he bucks slowly, teasing your clit. Your neck arches and throat bobs, your mouth falls open, palms squeeze your own elbows until your fingers go pale.

You are positioned so well, he enters you with no hands. Eyes molten, as he observes his cock disappear within you and you both groan once he’s hilted. He watches your womb bulge where the tip hits and he needs to feel it with his fingers. He brings his palm to rest on your lower belly—the softest press making your insides even more cramped. Thumb stretches down to your clit, making you moan out his name, “Viktor—"

“Yes? What do we say when we feel like this?” He answers the call, face as composed as ever, but voice wavers, only for your ears to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathe out and Viktor’s eyes roll in his skull. He picks up the pace, his right hand glued to your belly and clit, rubbing small circles, the other one traces his rigging work on your leg. Cock keeps hitting the roof of your cunt and you feel yourself growing tighter and tighter, the ropes digging deeper into your skin, all the sensations mixing together into one, blissful, blinding orgasm, as you come with a bunch of loud fucks and oh gods falling from your mouth.

Viktor’s head falls back on his shoulders at the feeling of your walls milking him, and he keeps fucking you through it. Mercifully, he releases your clit from under his thumb, only to press on your navel a little bit harder, caressing himself through the layers of your abdominal muscles.

With a couple of more hard thrusts, he clasps a hand to his mouth to cover up the sob that pushes past his mouth once he pulls out and spends himself all over your belly. A sputter of warmth startles you and you watch him, shoulders relaxing, forehead damp, shirt clinging to his chest, fingers loosely covering his lips. He blinks once, twice, gathering himself together, and gives you a grateful, loving smile. “You are such a good girl.”

You wiggle impatiently, willing him to kiss you and he comes down to press his lips to yours, a soft, chaste touch. “You did so well, lásko,” he hums, before showering your face with feather light pecks, each interrupted by a quiet praise and you feel yourself melting away.

When he gets up, he takes a moment to admire—your tied up form, legs apart, his cum painting your stomach, you so undeniably his in this moment. A quiet sigh escapes him, when he snags his cane and heads off to the bathroom, leaving you blissfully fucked out. You can hear the water in the sink turn on, and the bath towel cabinet open and close.

He doesn't stay away for long, and returns with a slightly damp, warm cloth. “I'm back,” he coos as he reaches you. “ I didn't forget you”.

You can feel the warmth swiping against your stomach and you involuntarily shiver at the sudden touch. Viktor’s hand lands on your belly in a reassuring rub. He moves the cloth down between your legs to clean up the mess he’s left behind. Hums all the way through it, his palms swiping across your body in a gentle caress.

Once again, he disappears in the bathroom to clean himself up and bring you back some water, lotion and a bathrobe. The mattress dips beside you as he sits and threads his fingers through your hair. You shift, ropes tightening around you, the space you are in slowly dissolving. “Untie me?” You plea and Viktor chuckles warmly.

“Certainly.” He presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs, “Though I do enjoy the view thoroughly.”

His fingers begin the work of ghosting over the ropes, before settling on the ones on your legs. First, he unhooks the loops keeping you compressed, and you sigh in relief of being able to relax your stomach. Your left leg gets untangled first and Viktor traces the indentations with his fingers before rubbing in some lotion. His face is close to your skin, his expression calm as he mutters, “Well, that’s just beautiful, isn’t it.” He repeats on the other side, kneading your calves and thighs, before pulling you up to face him.

He hums and chuckles into a kiss he leaves on your lips, then moves behind you to free your arms. “So pretty,” he whispers absently, high in his own space, when he notices you’ve been quiet all this time. His palms slide down your shoulders and his mouth presses to the back of your neck. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes,” you hear yourself muttering. “Just sore and tired,” you add, sleep tangling your tongue. Viktor responds by kissing your wrists, the crease of your elbows, your shoulders and rubs more lotion into your skin. “Come, let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs pulling you to turn around and perch on his lap, your legs splayed on either sides of his hips.

He tugs on the harness, bringing your lips to his, as he whispers, “You undo me.” And what Viktor means is that your trust, your offerings, shatter him completely. He pulls the rope out of the knots and rolls it up around his arm. Then, he warms the lotion between his hands and places his palms flat on your navel, working his way up. And this simple act of getting undressed once again feels almost more intimate that being tied up not so long ago.

He kisses your chest, following the rope bruising there. Fingers and lips travel up to cup your face and rub his thumbs on your cheeks, adoration seeping from his gaze. He wraps you up in the bathrobe, before beckoning you to lay down and nuzzle into his chest. Warm hands pull your flush against him and as you breathe in his scent, Viktor croaks, “Thank you.” You want to ask whatever for, but sleep presses on you and the only thing you can muster is, “I love you.” You kiss his neck and your mouth stays there, open, fanning his skin as you both drift off into slumber.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #request

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carmenberzattosgf · 1 day ago

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i know you’ve written about carmy and consenual choking before (loved that btw oh my goodess) but i saw this thing on one of those character nsfw alphabets and i cant remember who’s it was for the life of me but they had a thing about carmy like wrapping his arm around readers neck from behind during boombayahing and its stuck in my head if you’re willing to write something with this (absolutely no pressure btw have a great day :)

Okay yes let’s talk about Carmy choking you with his bicep. I’m very passionate about this topic.

Fucking you from behind has never been Carmy’s favorite way to do it. He can’t see your pretty face, or see the way your mouth falls open when he hits that spot inside of you.

The first time the bicep choking thing happens, it’s completely on accident. Truly. It’s the rare time he has you face down on the bed, with a pillow under your hips to keep your propped up for him.

He’s just trying to get better leverage by wrapping his arm around your front to grab your shoulder. The thick muscle of his bicep flexes and presses against your throat, making a gasp leave your mouth.

Carmy practically freezes for a moment, before continuing the pace of his hips. He keeps his arm right where it is, letting his bicep rest against your neck. He then starts to squeeze his arm around your throat, just enough to make everything a little fuzzy.

Your reaction is instantaneous. Your back arches up against his thrusts, and you whimper desperately.

“Oh? You like that?” he asks with a teasing voice. He knew from the second you spasmed around him how good it felt for you. He keeps his pace constant, hitting deep inside of you. It’s becoming hard to think, let alone craft together words.

Your hand grips Carmy’s arm around your neck while you nod your head rapidly in response, but that’s not enough for him. “C’mon—‘M not squeezing that tight, tell me how much you like it,” he insists.

“Feels s’good—fuck, Bear,” you whine.

“Yeah? You like how strong I am? How I can have my way with you?” he murmurs. He places messy kisses all along your cheek before he speeds up his thrusts, practically making you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—so strong. Always take such good care of me,” you choke out in a moan. He squeezes just a little bit tighter at your words, sending a euphoric feeling through your body.

“Know you’re close—can feel how close you are. Let go f’me, baby.” Those few words sent you right over the edge, legs shaking as your peak washed over you. Carmy loosens his grip on your neck, letting the blood rush back up to your head, heightening the feeling of your orgasm. It sends you right into a haze.

You can barely recognize the feeling of Carmen spilling into you moments later. You stay in the floaty haze for a few minutes, humming in response to Carmy’s soft voice checking on you as he cleans you up with a warm rag.

He finally pulls you onto his chest to settle down for the night, safe and sound in his arms.

So yeah after this whole ordeal you’re like obsessed with Carmy’s arms and he’s equally obsessed with fucking you from behind while choking you with his biceps.

His favorite way to do this is to have you bent over the kitchen counter…..

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmy smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #the bear smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you

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sweetascherry1 · 1 day ago

Text

I’ll be watching you — Lee Byung-hun

Description: Over the years your fans has slowly watched you and Lee Byung-Hun fall in love. They finally get to see you guys working on a project together for the first time since G.I. JOE. What even better? The promotion for the Netflix hit Squid Games.

Parings: Lee Byung-Hun x Actor F!Reader

Warnings: Some use of Y/N.

2013 G.I. JOE Retaliation Promotion.

The bright lights of the cameras shined on you and your co-star, while the interviewer asked you basic questions.

“So how did the two of you feel with this new casting. Mr Lee who had already played in the original G.I. Joe movie and you who has just now made her debut.”

You look to Byung-hun silently pleading for him to take on the question first. Luckily one look your way and he knew your silent question. Something you had found yourself grateful for.

“The entire cast is full of amazing actors, who are so caring and gentle.” Slowly you felt your nails picking at your cuticles as you thought of your answer. “I had a lot of fun working with these guys — and everyone on the crew makes it so fun.”

You didn’t noticed at first, and honestly neither did the interviewer. He was so slick with the way he slid his hand into yours, stopping your bad habit. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before you answering as encouragement.

Your voice didn’t waver as you let the warmth of his hand bring you back to earth.

“Working on a project this big, with these actors who I truly admire is something I’m so excited about. This my ‘debut’ and it’s crazy to me that this is all really real.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question Byung-hun didn’t think before keeping your conversation going. Helping your nerves.

“Going Hollywood is definitely something that is nerve wracking. I remember how crazy the whole thing was for me.”

Your little smile at him made the fans go crazy when the video came out. The hand holding, and little gentle reassurances he would do throughout the entire thing was something fans couldn’t get enough of as they would re-watch it over and over.

—

Photos flashed everywhere, blinding you as you stepped onto the movie premiere. Your dress was gorgeous, just like you. Your hair and makeup styled perfectly, you had honestly felt like a princess.

And in true prince fashion, Byung-hun stepped in when he saw you picking as your nails again.

Smiling at the photographers, he grabbed your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear; “your hands are too pretty to mess up. Squeeze mine instead.”

When he straightened his posture, and smiled once again for the cameras, as if nothing happened, you couldn’t help but think maybe that’s when you first felt it.

Devotion, wrapped in admiration.

He had helped you so much with your anxiety, some would say it was inevitable to favor him. “Thank you.” All he did was simply squeeze your hand back.

The blinding lights going crazy over the hand holding. Surely it would cause rumors, but for once you didn’t let it get to your head. Simply holding his hand instead.

—

For Lee Byung-hun, he had only thought of you as a co-worker. While your admiration for the man was so obvious, he couldn’t help but thing it was a silly crush you had because he helped you in tough situations.

He kept it professional, denying at friend invites you sent him, or any drink you’d offer him. Though he changed perspectives after watching you most recent single interview.

“Many of your fans are interested with your relationship with your co-star Lee Byung-hun. Can you elaborate on it?”

Truth was you felt nervous at this question, you didn’t know the right way to answer. Though you knew you wanted to be honest and not let the rumors continue, even if it may disappoint some.

“Ah, well truth be told there is no relationship I can really explain. This movie is the first time I’ve had such a big role.

While filming, it’s true I had quite a few scenes with Storm Shadow, more often than not. While filming those scenes I’d watch the way Lee Byung-hun embodied his character.

It was something I was truly impressed about, and so since our characters were so intwined with each other — we were paired for most promotional videos.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, grateful that the interviewer didn’t interrupt.

“During our first promo video, I was extremely nervous. This is such a big film and I was so in my head — seeing this my co-working held my hand to help with my anxiety.

People who support me loved it. Was all for it, but all it was, was him helping a co-worker out. The same thing happened at the movie premiere.

While on that carpet my heart was pounding and he was there to offer support. That’s all, the rest is rumors. I simple just admire him and someone to learn from.”

You felt a little shaky but ultimately felt better after clearing air. In your eyes Mr Lee Byung-Hun was uncomfortable about the rumors. That’s why he wouldn’t ever socialize much with you, so you had felt proud of yourself for putting an end to it.

On the other hand, him hearing you say you only admire him from a person to learn from had hit him hard. A person he knew actually looked up to him. It was an honor, one he had became proud of.

So when he saw you next, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m a person you admire?” You didn’t have a crush on him like he originally thought, and that’s the moment he wanted you be your friend.

That’s the moment he had devotion towards you. Devotion wrapped in friendship.

—

Your final cast interview. It was a long experience, but an unforgettable one. This whole movie had became something you truly loved, cast included.

“Each of you will read out a card, and say the answer within ten seconds. If you get it, you’ll gain points. Whoever has most wins.”

A simple game to finish it off. Easy peasy.

To the right of you, Dwayne went first. “In ten words, explain the film.” He read off before hurrying to put ten words out.

“Cobra.” One finger up. “Escapes.” Another. “While. Joes. That. Are. Left. Fight. Back.” One last word, but just before he could think of it — getting stuck the timer went off.

The whole crew laughed at his disappointment, and then next was your turn.

“I’m nervous.” You gave one deep breath before reading out your card. “Why should you watch the new movie.”

One. Two. “Have you seen this cast?” Five. Six. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.” Everyone laughed.

Dwayne got a little red, causing a little teasing. It was a good moment, a happy moment. So why was Byung-hun laughing?

In fact as it was a viral clip, not you teasing Dwayne, no it was Lee Byung-hun reaction that was viral.

“Have you seen this cast?” Byung-hun kept his entire focus on you, not even looking away once when you spoke. In fact throught most of the interview, he barely paid anyone else much attention. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.”

A bitter feeling bubbler under his skin, as he felt his blood hot. His jaw visibly clenched, as he glared at the man in question. Before looking you up as down, his fist the next to clench. Not a single laugh leaving his lips let alone a smile.

It went very viral, and Lee Byung-hun didn’t even try to deny what they were saying. Jealousy, yes. Though it wasn’t because he was romantically interested. He just felt a sense of belonging over you. Not in a toxic way, or at least not in his eyes.

Truth be told you only mentioned to him simply because you didn’t want him to be mad at you.

“What that video going around about?” A simple question. He was in your living room, laying down on your lap, eyes closed while you mindlessly scrolled through instagram.

Instantly he knew what you were talking about and once again he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t like how you mentioned him.”

“His muscles.”

A scoff slipped past his lips, “I have those too, you know?” He sat up, and didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt up to show you. His abs briefly capturing your full attention.

“Yea but there’s already enough rumors about us.” That was true, and he knew that but he just didn’t care.

“Let them talk.” He brushed a hair out your face, “we’re friends, and friends go over co-workers.”

Friends, neither of you doubted the word. But we’re friends so devoted to one another? So admirable to the other? So protective? Yet the word was never doubted.

—

Over the years

Over the years, neither of you worked on a project again. That didn’t matter, your friendship was still so ever strong.

Often at each other’s house, getting food, attending events. All your fans had was an occasional post about the other.

Once you posted putting a pretty pink bow in his hair, his face was in complete annoyance.

“Byung-hun. Look at me!” He knew you had your phone recording and he debated on weather or not to snatch before looking at you. Ultimately he settled for a glare.

“My pretty princess.” Oh he just might kill you. His head tilted as suddenly you felt a little hotter as he look up at you. Like he was going to devour you alive. “Princess? I’m the one that pampers you—“ before he could continue the video went black.

It was a fond memory of your and you had posted it. As expected whenever a post involving the other popped up it blew up.

Though his comment made even more chaos. As he so much loves to do. No joke, before he made the comment he laid on your bedroom floor breaking silence as he watched the video.

“How can I make this more chaotic.” You couldn’t help but sigh at him.

I dream so often of shutting your mouth. Any ideas?

It went crazy. Then again you’ve done that before, comment a wild thing on his post.

For instance, he posted a picture of himself sweating. Chain dangling (one you got him) and a devilish smile.

Have my kids, I’ll never talk back.

Yea?

You had purposely also sent him a private audio message, cat calling him.

The uproar your fans had, oh well let’s just say many articles broke out.

It was honestly fun, watching your fans want something so bad and just dangle it. Made the two of you feel euphoric on the power.

Yet that wasn’t the only thing you two had found euphoric.

Eventually at one point the two of decided to drink and drink. None of you think before you both crossed a line that was already so faded.

You kissed, and then kissed. Until you ending up the next morning both naked in bed.

The two of you decided for the best that none of it ever happen again, but even though you didn’t — it doesn’t mean you two forgot. In fact neither of you can look at wine the same.

Though, y’all’s restraint fell apart eventually as the two of you kept ending up in each other’s bed.

Most people wouldn’t be shocked if they knew, but oh the two of you were dumbfounded on why you guys could resist each other.

So began your friends with benefits era. A classic.

As that era ended, you both realized you had wanted more, so eventually causal dating was the next step for the two of you. In private of course.

—

Promotion of squid games

You and Byung-Hun both sat in front of cameras. Each looking at fan made videos. It was nice to see such creativity, or that what you thought going into this.

As the first video played, with weird dancing and animation, you couldn’t understand how Byung-Hun could keep a straight face.

“That was for sure… interesting.” The side eye you gave him, and then the camera was definitely clipped.

“I feel wrong.” Is all you had simply said. Which was true. “Definitely love the work put into this, and I think it’s cool how people made this. Just… not my cup of tea.”

A few more weird videos broke out, and some nice one with people singing the theme song, and etc.

The next fan video was an edit of the two of you. Simply just watching each other as the lyrics in the video played. Romantics clearly intended.

It didn’t surprise the two of you. Byung-hun turned his head to you, laughing a little.

“You know, a lot of our fans watched this show for us being in a film together. Yet our characters actually despise the other.” Your smile felt contagious to him as you laughed back.

“Are we the problem?”

The man simply nodded his head back before the two of you watched the next video.

—

Instagram

Liked by byunghun0712 and 345k others

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Username1 Ah! So exciting

Yourbestfrienduser MOMMY?!

byunghun0712 is this how I find out?

Liked by Yourbestfrienduser

Username2 OMFG 😭

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Liked by Yourusername and 455k others

byunghun0712 how come you never buy? @ yourusername

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Liked by creator

Username1 see how me and him both eat McDonald’s? Meant to be trust

Yourusername honestly you’re so real for that.

Username2 AH, I love you in squid games

Username3 Frontman ❎ Hotman ✅

—

Lie detector interview.

“We are going to give you a set of questions, please answer yes or no.”

Nerves picked at your skin as your watch Byung-hun opposite from you.

They would start with true or false trivia, before going into more detail questions. He gave you a reassuring smile before reading out the first words.

“Is your name really Y/N?” Easy. “Yes.” The detector person gave a thumbs up and he went onto the next question.

“Is it true that you play in squid games season 2?” Another easy one. “Yes.” One more true or false. “Is it true you are very nervous?” The look you gave him was the most ‘duh’ bratty attitude ever.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now onto the actual questions.” He looked down at his card, almost laughing before reading it out to you.

“Have you ever injured yourself on the set of squid games?” You knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it took you a moment not to laugh as well.

“During one of my earlier scenes, I was drinking wine, that I thought was grape juice.” Byung-hun placed a card over his growing smile as you continued. “Well no one actually thought I was drinking actual wine. Nor did I. So I ended up getting a little flushed and tripped off my chair spraining my ankle.”

Amusement wouldn’t even began the joy your co-star had as he remembered the day he carried you back to your trailer.

“Did you have to learn Korean for this film.”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. “I didn’t learn it for this film, but I had learned it a while ago to surprise you because I felt bad you had to translate your thoughts before saying them.”

Lee Byung-hun remembers the first time you spoke to him in Korean. In fact he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you.

You two had become the definition of she fell first but he fell harder.

You use to mess up so much, and he always loved it. Now you’re pretty fluent but he loves the moments where you ask him for help.

“Tell me more about your character.”

“I play a foreign player, that is intended to remind Gi-Hun about Ali. When I get into the games lots of drama, funny and stressful things begins to happen. I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“Well you passed!” As your began to unhook yourself from the machine, “not a single lie.”

“Not like I could.” You would rather be seen as the honest person you were anyways.

You had asked your co star similar questions but one was a heavily asked fan question.

“What’s your relationship with Co-Star Y/N L/N.” Even you began to feel nervous. Dating. You two were dating and had went a very long time keeping your confirmed relationship private.

But, as you both looked at each other you both knew there wasn’t a point in keeping things a secret.

“Dating.”

Let’s just say the PR for squid game was better than gold.

A/N: I have so many WIP, but no motivation to finish them 😭. So this is my very half attempt to get out of this writing slump! Otherwise I might go insane.

#lee byung hun #front man #lee byung hun x reader #frontman x reader #squid games #GI Joe #storm shadow

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tpwk-formula1 · 2 days ago

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Hi, can you please do Fisting with Lewis Hamilton. Maybe like reader and Lewis are trying something new and possibly an age gap relationship

An: Good morning! I hope everyone is having an amazing day!!

TW: MDNI 18+ Fisting, age gap

WC: 1k+

Y/N POV

We had finally settled down in Maranello after a long few days.

"Lew, I saw something I kind of want to try but I'm scared you're gonna think it's weird," I admit softly while crawling into the lap of my older boyfriend.

"What is it love," Lewis asks softly while rubbing my sides up and down in a soothing manner.

"I don't even know if I can say it," I admit feeling my cheeks heat up just thinking about what I'm about to say.

"Hey, you know I will never judge you for something you want to try," Lewis tries to reassure me. I nod my head softly feeling myself fidget a little getting turned on just thinking about it.

"I saw a video when I was touching myself a few days ago..." I start feeling my hips slowly start to grind slowly into Lewis's hardening crotch.

"You didn't tell me you needed some relief," Lewis whispers leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Anyways, I want you to fist me," I spit out the words as fast as I can hoping Lewis knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"You wanna feel my whole hand stretching that pretty pussy out?" Lewis asks with a smirk written all over his face. The grip he has on my hips only tightens while he helps me grind harder down into his crotch.

"If it's too weird I'm sorry," I whine feeling my panties start to dampen making Lewis release his grip on my hips and move his hands to grip my face gently making me look at him.

"It's not weird, if it's gonna make my girl feel good than we are gonna stretch this pretty pussy out to take my fist," Lewis tells me before pulling my face towards him and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

Lewis got the both of us moved to the bedroom where he undressed me completely and undressed himself down to his boxer briefs letting me see his hard cock pressing again the fabric of his briefs.

"Are you ready?" Lewis asks softly while running his fingers through my soaked folds making me moan while nodding my head softly.

I notice Lewis quickly pull off the rings on his right hand gently placing them on my fingers before kissing my hand before bringing his now bare fingers back to my pussy.

Lewis easily slips two fingers deep into my pussy making me moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

Lewis fucks my pussy for a few seconds before he slips a third finger in making me gasp at the slight stretch.

"Take my fingers so good," Lewis whispers before leaning down and kissing my inner thigh in a soothing manner.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis's fingers continue to fuck into my G-spot before slipping his pinky finger to join the other three making me tense up in a loud moan.

"Come on relax love," Lewis whispers softly while using his free hand to rub my thigh trying to get me to relax.

"It's a lot," I gasp while trying to relax to let Lewis continue to fuck my pussy.

"You can do it," Lewis encourages while slowly starting to pump his four fingers in and out of my pussy trying to loosen me up enough to be able to slip his thumb into my pussy.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis starts picking up pace with his finger fucking.

Lewis slows his fingers down knowing if he makes me cum right now it'll be too sensitive to keep going. I can feel Lewis using his free hand to softly start rubbing my clit before I feel Lewis folding his thumb in softly trying to stretch my pussy enough to be able to take his whole hand.

"Relax baby," Lewis comments when I tense up so much that Lewis can no longer move his hand that he's still trying to fill me up with.

"Fuck Lew! It's so big," I gasp out while trying to relax to let Lewis continue pushing in.

"You can take it baby," Lewis says while pushing in a little bit more making me moan at the pleasurable burn of the stretch. I can tell Lewis is close to being able to slip the rest of his hand in.

"Just push it in!" I moan loudly which had Lewis pinching my inner thigh hard making me whine from the pain but during the pinch he pushes the rest of his fist deep into my pussy making me scream in pleasured pain.

"Fuck Lewis!" I scream out never being stretched this wide before.

"Fuck, you took my full fist baby," Lewis comments while slowly starting to move his fist deep in my pussy making me moan loudly.

"So much," I mumble getting lost in the pleasure.

"Doing so good for me, you gonna cum like this?" Lewis teases knowing damn well I was getting close to cumming for him.

Lewis uses his other hand to start teasing my throbbing clit making me moan loudly while he starts fucking into my pussy faster and faster making me arch my back off the bed at how close I'm getting to cumming.

"Cum for me," Lewis groans while rubbing my clit even faster throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Fuck!" I cry out when I fall over the edge squirting all over both Lewis and I. I could feel myself starting to cum once again letting my second orgasm wash over me blending into my first one.

"Oh God," I cry feeling my orgasms start blending together in one overstimulating mess.

Once Lewis helps ride out my orgasm he slowly starts pulling a his fist from my pussy making me moan and whimper from the over stimulation.

Once his fist pops out of my pussy I can feel how much my pussy is gaping and when I notice Lewis staring I can't help but feel slightly embarrassed.

"Fuck that's so hot," Lewis groans before leaning down and taking a teasing lick out of my overstimulated clit making me jump at the contact.

"Did so good for me," Lewis groans while pulling himself back up to place a kiss on my lips.

----

The end

Sorry for not posting yesterday but my goal is to post 3 or 4 more times today but absolutely no promises

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captain-bubble-wrap · 2 days ago

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Your dark Quinn is DELICIOUS! May we have more!?

I can't get the gif of Quinn out of my mind from the awards last season. The one where hesfixining his tie? Can we get some outfit picking? Quinn approving and disapproving of the reader's dresses for the upcoming awards show?

Please,make my dreams come true? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Nonnie...I went down a very slutty rabbithole with this one. If you (or anyone else) don't want 1,500 words of smut right out the gate. Ignore this one. If you'd like a redo, let me know, please!

It goes without saying: dark sexual themes throughout, just....dark everything. There's too much to list. 18+ Rated A for Adult, lol. Y'all know the drill!

"Darling, I need you to show me what you're planning on wearing next weekend," Quinn spoke, giving you a sideways glance as you passed by him in the living room. You stopped when he spoke to you, giving him your full and undivided attention anytime he spoke to you. He'd beckon you to come closer to the sofa where he sat, instructing you to sit and straddle his hips before he'd continue. His hands found the curve of your hips like a magnet, fingers clawing at them gently, while your hands rested on the top of his shoulders.

"Do you have an idea of what you want to show me?" He pressed, bouncing you with his leg a couple times so you slid closer to his chest.

"I have several I think you'd like," you smiled, keeping your hands where they were, but wanting to play with his hair. Your eyes remained on his, knowing he didn't like when they wandered.

Quinn breathed deep the smell of your shampoo as he leaned up into you to place a kiss to your exposed collarbone. His hands trailed from your shorts, up under the hem of your tank-top, to tease your taut nipples with the soft pads of his thumbs. Your sharps gasps brought a smirk to his lips while he continued to dot your skin with his affections, careful not to leave a mark anywhere it might be seen by a prying camera.

"Someone's a little needy this morning," he teased, working fast circles on your left bud while your hips grinded against him. You could feel your heartbeat pounding between your legs, just wanting to beg him to touch you but you knew he wouldn't. It was a treat that he was even letting you tease yourself through the friction of your cloth shorts. You could already feel the fabric grow cool from your arousal.

"What are you doing, princess?" He hummed, feeling you try to push deeper into his hips; struggling to press your clit on something that would give you the stimulation you craved.

Your answer to his question was simply a moan, as his tongue took over for his finger. His hot breath and spit against your sensitive button sent a fresh wave of tingles coursing through your body, Your pussy ached for the feeling of a touch that wasn't your own, of something you couldn't anticipate the sensation of.

"Answer me, sweetheart, or you'll be grounded."

/Grounded./ Quinn's definition of the word meant no orgasms, either by your own doing or his, no matter how much you begged, promised, or cried. He'd get you just to the point of release, time-after-time, just to leave you in tears while he walked away, making you think he was going to lift your punishment when in reality it only made it worse. You had only been "grounded" once, and it had been the worst week you could remember. You had never felt more desperate, more needy, or touch starved than the week he kept you waiting. But god, when he finally let you come, you felt weightless for an hour afterwards.

"I want you to touch me, please," you replied, breathlessly following his one and only warning, stopping your movements while he spoke.

Quinn's tone deepened, "Do you want me to touch you, or do you want to get off?"

"Both," you answered immediately, your chest heaving.

He just grinned at your answer, that devious smirk that drove you equally as crazy as it frightened you.

"Get up, princess," he ordered, withdrawing his hands from your body, leaving you stunned and fearful you had answered incorrectly. "Now."

Without needing another push, you pulled yourself off of him and stood beside him, trying so hard to be patient.

"In my lap, sweetheart."

Swallowing hard, you did as you were told, and soon found yourself between his thighs, your hands resting on either side of him.

"You're such a good girl, doing as you're told so quickly," he growled deeply into your ear. "I don't like having to tell you twice. Thank you for not making me do that."

"You're-- welcome," you choked out, finding yourself nervous for whatever was about to happen. You mind was fuzzy with wants and unspoken desires, making it harder to focus on the present.

Quinn's breathy laugher sent goosebumps across your skin as his right hand roamed. "I like to reward good girls."

His fingers slipped under the band of your shorts and painfully slow, inched across your bare skin until he discovered just how wet you were for him. You never disappointed him on that front, and he loved being surprised with just how intense it was. There were few things that topped how his fingers felt when you craved him so badly, they were a second to his tongue, of course. Your back arched against him as he traced the outline of your lips so lightly you had to focus to feel it. He was playing with you, but it didn't matter: you were getting what you had asked for, and if you played your cards right, he'd complete both of your wants at once.

"You get so wet so fast, princess. I hardly even touched you. Tsk, tsk, tsk," his tongue ticked against the back of his teeth. "Such a desperate little thing you are, aren't you?"

"Yes!" You moaned as he slipped his index into you, the sound of your wet sex popping in the quietness of his apartment while he buried his finger into you as deep as the angle would allow him. You were tightening against him, pushing into each thrust with quickening desperation.

Having given you a taste of what you could expect later, Quinn withdrew his finger, slick with your fluids, and took to rapidly stroking your plump clit. Your moans grew deeper, and more consistent with each wave of pleasure that washed over you.

"You sound so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, nuzzling into your neck as you continued to grind against his hand. You tried to grasp at the cushions for something to hold on to, but you just couldn't get your fingers around enough of it to do any good. Instead, your right hand would find the top of his, as he continued to play with you; your fingers sliding down his.

"Maybe I should make you get yourself off?" Quinn teased, feeling your hand press against his.

"Please, no," you begged, eyes closed in complete bliss.

"But you seem so eager to help. Do you want to feel how wet you are?"

Quinn slipped his hand from beneath yours and forced you to touch yourself, his fingers instructing where and how fast. You already knew you were past the point of being a dripping mess, and you couldn't deny how good it felt to have him show you how to pleasure yourself. Your moans continued, short and high-pitched as his pressure grew against your clit with that of your own fingers.

"That's enough," he hushed, making you take your hand away reluctantly. "That's for me to do."

The next time his fingers would separate your aching slit, your legs would involuntarily spread wider, as you pushed back against the pleasure. Every sensation felt so heightened, so intense, while you teetered on the edge of numbness. Quinn was grinning as he nipped at your shoulder, wanting to leave the darkest hickey on your shoulder yet he had to restrain himself. His fingers switched between rolling your clit under his fingertips to seeing how far he could bury his fingers inside of you.

"How good do you taste?" He asked, ordering you to clean off your fingers of your own arousal. "Good?"

"Yes," you replied, after sucking your fingers clean on demand.

"I can't wait to taste you," he murmured, his hum of his voice shooting like a vibration between your legs, a fresh supply of that slick nectar coating his fingers. "Ah, fuck.'

Quinn hissed against his tightening cock pressing against the zipper of his pants. Each time you thrusted against his touch, it teased him and you could feel him press up into you. He was hard, making you want to ask him if he'd fuck you right there.

"Do you feel what you do to me?"

"Yes."

"Good girl." Upon the praise, Quinn buried two fingers deep into you, for the final push to get you to come when he said so. You were close; you had been since touching yourself. Your mouth was growing dry, having to constantly gasp for air against the throaty moans he was causing you to expel. You wanted to come, yet you didn't want to have his fingers be gone from your body.

"Are you going to come hard for me, sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh," you nodded, mouth open and eyes rolled back as you met his thrusts. His beautiful fingers lost inside your wetness just made you quicken your pace. He knew you were desperate to come, and he was nearing letting you finally let go. Just a few more minutes under his control was all he selfishly wanted and he'd get it, too.

"You've made such a mess."

"I know, I'm sorry," you whined, absolutely pathetic and lost in his touches.

"What do you want?"

"I want to come," you cried out.

"What else?" He dared you to say what you wanted later.

"I want-- I want to--," you were struggling to speak in complete sentences, and for good reason. Quinn had two fingers, knuckle-deep inside of you, pressing you to do what you were told. "I want to feel myself tighten around your cock, daddy!"

You were drooling as Quinn smirked behind you. Your hips were pushing against his erection harder now, causing Quinn to have to issue you a warning.

"Careful, princess. Not so hard; I'm not inside of you yet." His voice was low as he bit your ear. "Eager little daddy's girl, hm?"

"Yes!" You gasped, feeling Quinn's fingers slip back to your sensitive clit. You didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

Feeling you had deserved to finally have your release, Quinn brought his left hand to your throat and squeezed just enough to heighten the last few moments of pleasure. "You've done so well for me, baby. You've made daddy so proud. Would you like to come now?"

"Yes-- Yes, daddy, please! Please!"

With his lips right next to your ear, he breathed that phrase you had been craving, "Come for me, princess."

Your ears were ringing, legs were Jell-o, and your whole body was tingling as you were finally granted the extended orgasm you had begged for. Your moans were loud, but sounded so sweet to Quinn. He loved how your voice sounded at this stage, your fingers clawing at his skin, and you going limp against him as wave after wave of bliss flooded every one of your senses.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered again, holding you tightly against his chest, your back still to him. Your head had fallen back against the sofa, as you struggled to catch your breath. The room was spinning but you felt so good that it didn't matter.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Quinn asked softly, giving you as much time as you needed to find yourself again. He had all day, and he was kind enough to let you use as much as was necessary.

"Mhm," you mumbled, your voice sleepy. "Thank-- thank you."

"But of course," he said, a smile in his tone. "Take your time. There's no rush, but I'm going to take my fingers away, alright?"

You bit your lip and nodded; your hips jerked feeling his fingers withdraw from your over-stimulated petals. However, you quickly melted back into a feeling of weightlessness as Quinn's arms snaked around your waist, holding you tightly and keeping you right against him.

"Still okay?"

"Mhm."

Smiling, Quinn tightened his hold on your, nuzzling against your bare shoulder. "How about I get you cleaned up and you play dress-up for me, hm?"

You would nod again, and he'd let you get away with not using your words when he asked you a question. Quinn believed in a free pass every once in a while.

"Alright, swing your legs over, princess, and I'll carry you."

"I can--," you mumbled, still sleepy but you'd be interrupted.

"You can't walk, don't lie to me. I can see you're still shaking. You'd fall down if you tried to stand, and I won't have that. Legs. Don't make me ask again, sweetheart."

Swinging them to the left, this would be the first time seeing his face since he told you to get up and turn around. Your hair had fallen down from the messy bun it had been in, sweat had your skin glowing, and your bottom lip was red from how many times you had rolled it between your teeth. Quinn pulled your shirt back down before placing one last kiss to your exposed neck. He always led with his tongue. Your eyes would roll closed, feeling your core tense up in eager anticipation all over again.

"Just one last little tease, baby," he whispered. "There will be time for more later."

Hiding your face in the curve of his neck as he stood to his feet, you'd find yourself smiling at the thought.

- - -

The bath had been so relaxing.

Quinn had washed your face while the water filled, and made sure you didn't have to lift a finger for anything. All he had asked, was that you sipped at the glass of water he had given you. Everything he did was calculated, unhurried, and almost painfully soft. Even has he washed your hair, his fingers were careful never to pull through a snag. You were his little doll, and the most delicate of treatment would be afforded to you every time.

"Do you need anything else?" He asked, kneeling down to be level with you. You hadn't bounced back as quickly as he thought you would have, so he was keeping a close eye on you just to be sure. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I think so," you replied, eyes searching his face for a hint of what could be the reason for him still asking the same question so many times. He always checked in, but this seemed different. "Is something wrong?"

He smiled, "That's for me to worry about."

You remained quiet. You felt okay other than you were just physically drained.

"Have you had anything to eat today?" Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly, knowing you had a bad habit of forgetting meals.

Your guilty eyes fell from his face in an instant and you knew you'd have to answer for it. "Toast."

"Sweetheart, you can't live solely on toast."

"I know, but--" You went to bite down on your lip again, but you stopped yourself, just like you stopped yourself from saying something that would get you in trouble. "I'm sorry. I'll be better."

Quinn's hand found the side of your jaw, holding it to keep your gaze where he wanted it. "Thank you." His smile was minimal but spoke volumes, mostly that of how pleased he was at how well you knew your place and what he expected of you. When he called you a good girl, it was because you really were one.

"You stay here and relax a little more, and I'm going to make you something for lunch. Ah--," he stopped, putting his thumb to your lips to keep your mouth closed. "I'll come get you when I'm done. Do you understand?"

With his thumb tracing your lips, you'd give a nod to his question.

His smile deepened as he pulled your face to his for a kiss, making you work for it as the water sloshed about with you having to struggle to meet him. "That was mean of me," he lamented, finally letting you slide back into the warm comfort of the water. "You should be resting."

Quinn would kiss the top of your head before getting to his feet and leaving the room. However, before completely exiting, he'd turn to look at you, his eyes dark, "I expect you to be where I left you when I come back, princess. Towels and floors best still be dry."

"I promise."

"Thank you," he said, finally disappearing from your line of sight.

The water was still steaming hot, but you knew he wouldn't forget you, and leave you to sit in cold water. Having a moment in your own thoughts, you remember what he had asked of you. The NHL Awards were next weekend and you needed some black-tie-level dress to wear. You knew you had several such gowns hanging in Quinn's closet, you just weren't sure which one would be the one he'd pick. Mentally, you'd flip through each of them, deciding which ones you'd reach for, and which you'd pass on when asked to finally try them on. At the moment, you knew of five you knew he'd show interest in. One he hadn't seen yet.

Twenty minutes later, Quinn would return to the bathroom, and was pleased to find you sipping from your glass and just as promised.

"Ready to get out?"

"Yes, please."

- - -

Quinn laughed, setting down the bowl of lemon and herb pasta in front of you. "Do you want me to feed you?" You couldn't tell if he was being serious or actually joking with you. His laugh should have given it away, but the sheer nature of it all seemed very honest.

"I can manage," you replied softly, hopeful he wouldn't take offense. "Thank you."

"I know you can, just having a bit of fun," he winked, though a part of him did wonder how that would go if he told you that you just had to sit there while he brought food to your mouth. A thought for another day, perhaps. "I want you to let me know how you feel in a little bit."

"I will," you reassured. "I'm okay, Quinny."

Quinn turned his head, his brows raised. "That's for me to decide."

You adverted your eyes from his face, focused now on the marble veins of the island. You knew you had just spoken out of place and now you feared the consequences. You could hear his footsteps move back towards you, and through your peripheral you could see him headed to come up behind you.

"Do you think I don't know when there's something wrong with you, hm?"

Quinn's finger traced the curve of your spine through the black silk, slip dress he had chosen for you following your bath. You shuddered against his touch, eyes closing unsure of what he was going to do next.

"You do, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way."

His fingers continued to inch upwards, following your neck until the digits were buried deep in your freshly dried hair, coiling around it tightly. He had a fistful when he pulled you backwards, your eyes snapping open when you felt like you were going to fall off of the kitchen stool. You would be looking at the ceiling when Quinn stepped into your view, still gripping your hair by the roots.

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"No," you yelped, the nape of your neck more sensitive than you could remember. "You know better than I do! I'm stupid, I'm sorry."

Quinn's fingers let go in an instant, allowing you to pull yourself back up and catching your breath. He stepped around to your right, taking the empty seat beside you.

"Look at me," he ordered, causing you to turn your whole body to face him. "Never say anything like that about yourself, princess. You're not stupid. I don't like hearing you put yourself down, especially when it's incorrect. Understood?

"Yes," you replied quickly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was turning into a struggle.

Quinn's hand would touch your thigh and move upwards, stopping when his wrist reached the hem. "You're never stupid," he reiterated.

You sniffled, as you nodded at his statement. He knew you were sorry so you refrained from uttering the constant apology.

"What am I going to do with you?" He mumbled, looking you over as you continued to face him. Quinn reached forward for your silverware then the white ceramic bowl, his left hand still gripping your upper thigh.

With a perfect piece of bowtie pasta perched on the tines of the fork, Quinn instructed you to open your mouth. He'd feed you the whole bowl, one piece at a time.

- - -

Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, watching you as you thumbed through the hangers, looking for the dresses you had in mind for the following weekend. He finally felt confident that you were well enough to entertain his private little show. You were barefoot, wearing only the silk slip dress, and your hair was pulled back in a large, black hairbow. While on your tiptoes, he gazed at the curve of your calves, upwards to your full thighs and bum. So many places for his hands to hold, but he'd restrain himself from telling you to come over. He'd get the opportunity soon enough.

You decided to pull first the dress that he hadn't yet seen -- start strong right out the gate. It was black, floor-length and off the shoulder with long sleeves, with a single, thigh-high slit on the left side. No sparkles, no lace, just the dull satin to hug your body. Minimal but stunning.

Quinn would watch you let the slip dress fall from your body to a minimal pile on the floor as you stepped into the gown, pulling it up over your hips before it pulled your cleavage into place. You'd get the zipper up as far as your could on your own before he finally spoke to you.

"Come here."

As instructed, you'd saunter over, the slight train dragging behind you as you made your way across the room. And when told to turn around, you'd do so. Quinn's warm fingertips touched your back gently as he pulled the zipper up the remainder of the way.

"I like this one. Face me again." As you turned, his hands felt your curves until you were once against standing in front of him. "Set this one aside. I want to see something else before I decide."

He'd give you a nod to return to the closet and pick another for his viewing pleasure. The next one was similar, only it fully covered your chest while the entire back was out. Quinn wasn't as pleased with this one as he had the first.

"It's alright, but the first one suited you more. Put it back on for me."

Again, you'd find yourself walking back across the room, your heart beat quickening as you remembered just how much trying on anything for him made you wet. Any time you had taken photos for him while he was away turned you on so much that it made it easy to record a little something extra for him with nearly no effort. This was proving to be no different.

With the dress back on, you'd return to his side but this time he wouldn't complete the zipper. Instead Quinn would rise to his feet, a look in his eyes like he was plotting something.

"Over the bed, princess."

There it was. This was the "later" he had mentioned before carrying you off to the bath.

Doing as you were told, you bent over the bed, your arms outstretched in front of you, face down into the duvet, as you knew what that meant. You tried to contain your breathing, hiding that you were anxiously awaiting his next move. Quinn's hands gripped the curves of your hips as he pressed himself into you, forcing your legs wider apart with his foot. Your stomach tightened as you found yourself aching for his touch again. Slowly, the fabric of the dress was inched up until you were exposed in front of him.

"You deserve this," he said, the sound of a smirk in his tone. The smack he'd give to your ass stung like a hot iron but you couldn't lie -- it had felt good. "Did you like that?"

"Yes," you giggled, getting a rise out of Quinn.

"Oh, did you now?" While he was talking to you, you hadn't heard the sounds of him removing his pants, but what you felt next had you clawing at the sheets.

"Can you take all of me, princess?" He asked, teasing the head of his cock against your throbbing sex.

"Yes!" You cried out, your eagerness getting the better of you again, making Quinn laugh softly. "Please!"

He'd enter your awaiting folds in one, full thrust, pushing you deeper into the mattress. You'd moan into the blankets but the sound was hardly muted. With one hand, Quinn braced himself, while the fingers of his other slipped beneath the folds of the dress to flick your sensitive clit. Like before, you'd push back into him, feeling the pleasure strike you all at once. Each stroke he blessed you with was met with a deep thrust in tandem. All you could do was grab at the blanket beneath you and gasp for air between moans.

Adrenaline was making your hearing fade, but you could hear him enter you again, and again -- the bed thumping against the wall slightly. Everything felt so good: his cock plunging deep into you, his soft fingers teasing you devilishly, keeping you so close to the edge of ruin.

"You're so pretty, darling -- say it back. Tell me you're pretty."

You were so lost in the multitude of sensations rattling your cage that you almost didn't hear Quinn talking to you. You swallowed hard, gasping for air to help you form the words he wanted you to say.

"I'm pretty!"

"Mhmmmm, and you're prettiest when you're get so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy!"

"That's right. You're doing so well for me, but I think you can do better."

Upon issuing you the challenge, Quinn's pace quickened, and you were all but biting at the sheets. Slick fingers caressed your clit with such pressure you nearly forgot to breathe. Just when you thought you'd hit your limit, Quinn demanded more from you, more patience, more self-control.

"There you go," he purred. "Hold on until I tell you not to."

You wanted to scream. Your brain was pudding, but that release was so close, one thought and you'd explode. He was railing you so hard into the mattress you had to constantly keep grabbing new fistfuls of the duvet to hold your place. You were on your tiptoes, cramps threatening to buckle your legs. It was so much to handle.

"Just a little more, princess. You can do it. Wait for me."

Had you been biting your lip, you would have tasted blood. Every muscle keeping you upright was at its limit, but you had to do what you were told. The last few minutes felt like an eternity. You were nearing the point of overstimulation.

"Now, princess, tell me what you want." His voice was strained, trying to hold himself together.

"Come in me, daddy! Please!"

His release shot into you before you were finished uttering the words.

Eyes rolled in your head when he finally granted you your reward for being so good, "Let go, darling. Come for me."

Your back arched, pushing yourself down on him one more time before he pulled out, leaving himself dripping down your leg. "That's a good girl," he finished, leaving a kiss between your shoulder blades after you had collapsed into the bed. You would have slumped to the floor in a heap had Quinn not pulled you into his embrace on the bed. You couldn't find your breath at first.

"You're alright, breathe. Breathe with me, sweetheart."

You were crashing, reduced to a girl puddle in a black gown.

"I definitely want you to wear that dress. I'll be sure to fuck you in it afterwards, so you can just be a desperate mess for me the whole night, remembering what I've already done to you in it. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, daddy," you whispered, throat sore from gasping for air so many times.

"Thank you, princess." Quinn said, his arm tightening around you, as you went limp. You were exhausted and in need of another bath. For now, he'd just hold you while you had a little nap. You had earned that and much more.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #dark quinn #💌maven's love notes

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sugusat · 3 days ago

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Suguru Geto x Reader

sub! / whiny Suguru who is usually the dominating one in the relationship but reader finally gets her way for once when he’s sleepy af.

Warnings: Oral, submissive, overstimulation, mention of word advantage but is completely consensual

————————————————

Suguru who is usually the dominant one in the relationship, always having to be in control and having some sort of power over you. He enjoys taking care of his girl and felt stressed if he wasn’t able to make sure you felt good every time, even if it was supposed to be about him. But this one particular day Suguru comes home from work all sleepy and pent up, he’s grabbing at you and just wants comfort and sleep. Finally being able to rest after a long, stressful day in the tattoo shop. And in his state you decide this is the perfect time take advantage, finally able to make him feel the way he deserves without him making it about you as well.

So as Suguru collapses on your shared bed and makes hands to pull you in, you smirk down at him. An idea forming in your mind. Crawling onto the bed to sit in between his legs, he moves to prop himself up on his elbows, watching you get yourself comfortable with a faint grin on your face.

“Baby what are you doing..” he whines as you start to palm at his already semi-hard cock. Too tired to move but not tired enough to stop your eager hand. He collapses back on to the bed and lets out a groan as his hips buck in agreement with your hand, already needing more.

But Suguru has no idea what’s install for him.

Already ditching his shorts and boxers with Suguru lazily helping, his eyes now closed and head sunken into the pillow, you begin to leave a trial of hot kisses down his neck, sucking gently and nipping slightly into his skin. Sugurus breath hitching slightly as your free hand begins to lightly trace circles around his thick length. And down you go, trialing kisses all over his body, small goose bumps rising on Sugurus skin as your delicate hand trails down his arms and then thighs, teasing him ever so slowly whilst lulling him into a relaxed state.

“Hhmhp princess, that feels sgood” he murmurs, his body practically melting into your touch. Not usually one to be vocal, you eagerly continue your ministrations working yourself down till your wet lips are ready to meet his shaft as his breath begins to pick up. With another light buck of his hips, you know what he needs but you want to tease him a little longer.

Faint breath fans over Sugurus cock as precum begins to leak from the tip, your hand now lightly pumping around him, refusing to give him what he’s aching for just yet. You wiggle yourself further down the bed and hook your arms underneath Sugurus legs, giving you better access to his thighs as you begin to trail kisses down them like he does to you.

Small moans betray Sugurus lips and each time you get closer and closer to his awaiting and eager cock, you switch to the other thigh, now lightly trailing your hands over his tightened balls as well.

Sugurus not used to this, being the one in the compromising position and allowing you to basically worship him, that’s his job, but he’s too relaxed and turned on to care right now. His erratic breathing turning into breathly moans as you finally let a fat glob of warm spit drip from your mouth onto his aching cock. His hips jerk in shock at the new sensation but you quickly get into the rhythm as you take him as far down as you can go and back up with a loud pop!

“Fuck” Suguru whispers as his hands lung for something to grab on to, looking down to see you smiling at him before going straight back down to your meal this time. Suguru groans at the site of you. His head slamming back onto the pillow as you swirl your tongue around his cock, pumping around the tip just the way he likes. You still have one arm wrapped underneath his leg, giving you perfect access to the area between his member and hole, starting to massage a single finger, occasionally moving back up to play with his balls. “Ah-sshit baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up” Suguru groans, as you taste more of the salty precum pump out of him.

Large globs of spit slide down your hand and Sugurus cock as you pump him with more eagerness, moaning into his cock when he grabs your hair. Thinking he’s hurt you his hand freezes against your hair but you grab his hand and place it back where it was, gesturing to pull, to use you as much as he wants.

Suguru doesn’t believe he could be anymore harder right now, his orgasm begins to approach as he begins to fuck into your mouth, loud moans now leaving his throat as he chants ‘fuck’ over and over. You allow him to use your mouth for what it is, but what drives Suguru insane, what you haven’t done before is you keep up your movements of stimulating his cock with your hand, hitting him to the base, all whilst your other hand has snaked its way back down to his balls again, tightening on your touch.

He’s close, you can feel it as your eyes begin to water. His hips buck into your mouth, “fuck baby, shit, that’s f-fuck yes”

“Just like that keep going,” Suguru chants as his body begins to shake, “fuck, ah fuck I’m-I’m cuming, fuckkkkk” you moan into him as you feel ropes of his cum paint the back of your throat, swallowing like a good girl as his hips jerk below you. You continue to pump him into your mouth as his orgasm comes down, slight moans leaving his mouth at the sensitivity. “S-shit baby what was that..” Suguru laughs as you swallow the last bits of spit and cum.

But it wasn’t enough, you could still feel Suguru hard underneath you and he had pushed you in the past before, once bringing 7 orgasms out of you in one sitting. But you had never done so for him, so you continued to pump your hand as your tongue went back down to swirl around his cock, already hardening again under your touch.

“Fuck baby, I came. It’s ah, it’s too-mhnph-much” Suguru groans as you continue, if he really wanted to stop you he could. But he wasn’t, if anything you begin to feel his hips buck up into you again, with silent pleas to keep going.

“Ugnh, princess please” Suguru whined as his hand found your hair again, pushing down slightly, Suguru wasn’t even sure what he was begging for at this point. He was overstimulated but this felt different, and he didn’t know what he would do if you stopped now.

“Fuck, that’s, fuck” Suguru panted as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his orgasm already fast approaching. You bobbed up and down on his dick, lapping him in every way you could, occasional moans leaving you as your dripping hole clenched around nothing. Until you felt it again, heard it in Sugurus pathetic whines.

“Ah ah ah fuck, I think, I’m gonna, fuck princess I’m cumming, I can’t, I’m-again-ngh’

Suguru babbled to himself as he saw stars, his vision going white as he let out the loudest groan and more ropes of cum pumped out of his spent cock. It tasted different this time, less salty but more powerful. Suguru whined into you, his abs tensing again and again as his orgasm seemed never-ending. Finally, his entire body collapsed and you pulled yourself away from him as Suguru lay on the bed utterly worn out. A light blush graced his cheeks as he appeared to realise just how loud and whiny he had been then. But you only smiled down as he peaked one eye open.

“What did you just do to me princess..” Suguru laughed into the room as his eyes closed again. “Made you feel good baby, like you always do to me” you said proudly as you squirmed on the bed, doing anything to alleviate the ache between your legs.

“That was.. maybe I should be tired more often” Suguru huffed as his hands reached for you, pulling you down to rest half on top of him. “But now I need to make this up to you,” Suguru said as his lips graced your forehead and he began to pull you closer.

“Uh uh baby tonight was about you!” You said despite the ache between your thighs this was for Suguru and that’s the way it would stay, at least for tonight..

“I don’t deserve you, “ Suguru said into your hair as you could already feel him dozing off, post orgasm bliss.You settled into him content as ever as you both fell into dreamland.

—————————

But Suguru was Suguru after all and he liked to be in control one way or another, so it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning you woke, breathless and panting, feeling an indescribable ache between your legs. In your sleepy state you realised Suguru wasn’t next to you in bed and then looked down to find him between your thighs instead, feasting on you like you were his last meal on earth.

#can you tell I love a whiny boy :(#geto suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #jjk suguru #gojo satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen

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psycholuvrgirl · 2 days ago

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duplicity! [teaser]

rafe cameron x sweetheart!pogue!oc [baby porter]

summary: baby porter, the pogue princess, asks rafe cameron out on a date after losing a bet. to her surprise, rafe says yes.

warnings: nsfw (very brief smut)!

a/n: this is just a teaser for this series. this series will follow the plot of obx, so a lot of it is going to seem very familiar, just with a twist because baby will be in it

wc: 2.1k

it was meant to be just one simple task: ask rafe cameron on a date. baby lost a bet with jj and the punishment was simple, but the problem is baby porter is, unlike most pogues, terribly shy.

“guys i don’t think i can do it,” she says, glancing across the boneyard where rafe was standing. he has an arm wrapped around his sister, sarah, laughing with kelce and topper about god knows what.

“you lost, baby, you gotta do it. deal’s a deal,” jj says.

“deal’s a deal,” she breathes out. “okay. i can do this.”

“you can do this,” kie assures.

baby stands from the log she was sat in, crossing the sandy expanse until she was right in the lion’s den of kooks. also unlike most pogues, baby got along with most of the kooks—she wasn’t like other pogues, which meant she wasn’t treated like one. so her presence didn’t seem to unnerve anyone in the group.

“sup, baby,” topper says, throwing back a swig of his beer.

“hi baby,” sarah says with a warm smile, “what’s up?”

“uh, well, actually…” baby straightens her back, clearing her throat and doing the best to sound as confident as she can. “i’m here to talk to rafe.”

“me?” rafe asks, pointing the lip of his bottle to his own chest.

“mhm,” baby says with a nod.

the kooks ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at this, making rafe mutter threats at them as he follows baby away. she shoots the pogues a glance—a final plea to be done with this, but they all just give her encouraging thumbs-ups. so she continues to lead rafe to a more secluded area.

“am i in trouble with the pogue princess?” he teases.

“don’t call me that,” baby says through a whisper.

baby isn’t sure when she earned the nickname “pogue princess” but she didn’t like it, not one bit. it made her feel weird, but for some reason the nickname coming from rafe’s lips didn’t seem to bother her as much as it normally would. but she quietly scolds him all the same.

they both take a seat on a large branch that washed ashore, rafe’s whole body turned towards baby as he awaits whatever it is she dragged him out here for. baby clears her throat, uncrossing her legs just to cross them back over.

“so, rafe…” she says.

he lets out a laugh. “so, baby…” he takes a sip of his beer. “what d’ya need?”

if baby has learned one thing from her pogue friends, it’d be to just “let it rip” in any circumstance that could remotely use that advice. so that’s what she does.

“will you go on a date with me?” she asks, words tumbling out faster than even she can comprehend.

“what?” he asks with another laugh, “i have no idea what you just said, b.”

she clears her throat again, sitting up straighter. “i said…” she looks down at her nails, picking at the pink polish coating them. “will you go on a date with me?”

she braces herself for rafe’s reaction. she expects laughter, for him to holler in her face and say the big “no” as if she just asked him for a million dollars.

“sure.”

her eyes bug out of her head, head snapping up to look at him. “what did you just say?”

“sure,” he repeats.

“y— you wanna go on a date? with me?” she asks. a small smile raises to his lips, the smile turning into a quiet chuckle. he nods, and baby’s eyes only widen further. “seriously?”

“yeah, i mean, you’re cute,” he says, “why not?”

her skin burns at the compliment. “you think i’m cute?”

“why do you sound so surprised? you know you’re cute,” he says.

“no i don’t,” she says.

“well…” rafe scoots closer to her, his cologne invading her senses. “i can assure you…” he kisses her left cheek. “that you, baby…” then her right. “are very cute.” his lips meet hers, just for a moment. the kiss is over almost as soon as it began and baby porter is still left a blubbering mess after it. her mouth opens to speak, then closes, then reopens. no words come out though, making rafe laugh just a little more. “how about tomorrow night? i’ll pick you up at around seven?”

she nods wordlessly and he chuckles.

“i’ll see you then,” he says, standing from the branch. he holds out a hand to her and she takes it, letting him pull her up effortlessly.

“see ya,” she breathes out.

he leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek before walking away. she stands there stunned for far too long, and when she finally snaps back to reality she scurries back to her friends.

“how’d it go?” john b asks.

“should we start planning the wedding?” jj asks.

“he… he said yes,” baby says.

kiara’s head nearly snaps off from how quickly she turns, pope drops his beer on the sand, john b’s jaw falls slack, and jj spits out the beer in his mouth.

“he what?” pope asks.

“you’re going on a date with rafe cameron?” jj asks. before baby can answer, he howls with laughter. “oh my god, that is priceless!”

but, for some odd reason, baby porter didn’t find this funny—not even a little bit, not even at all.

“what are you even worried about?” jj asks, “it’s rafe fucking cameron. you don’t need to impress the guy, you just need to get this over with.”

a honk from outside pulls baby’s attention away from her friends. “that’s him.”

“we’ll walk you out,” pope says. baby turns to pope with a scrunched face. “what? it’s for safety reasons.”

baby sighs, reluctantly standing and allowing her four friends to follow her out of the chateau. rafe is on his phone, standing next to his car, and looks up at the sound of the front door shutting. he looks over baby’s outfit—a sundress over a bikini, just in case. his eyebrows raise as he looks her over, then his face falls as he notices the pogues behind her.

“have her home by eight,” jj says.

“jay, it’s only seven,” baby says, shooting jj a glare.

“fine. eight thirty,” he says.

“ignore him,” baby says with a small, nervous giggle. rafe laughs with her, but it’s evidently forced for her comfort.

“just, don’t do anything stupid,” kiara says, ever the blunt one in the group. “bring her back in one piece, okay?”

“okay,” rafe says, in hopes that they’d go away. and his wish is granted because they all reluctantly head back inside, tossing looks over their shoulders at baby. she doesn’t seem to notice though. no, not when her focus is on the tall man in front of her.

“hi,” she says.

he smiles. “hi.” he makes his way to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips that makes her heart flutter.

and the rest of the night goes the same. he brings her onto the druthers for a picnic under the stars, bringing them to the middle of the ocean so they have privacy, the stars and a few candles being the only light they have on the deck of the boat.

“have you ever gone night swimming?” baby asks.

“hasn’t everyone?” rafe asks. both of them are laying next to each other, most of the food packed away by now. they stare up at the stars as the silence of the night engulfs them, only breaking the silence every so often.

“probably,” baby says with a laugh, “i guess that was a silly question.”

“did you want to?” he asks, turning his head to look at her. “did you want to go night swimming?”

she turns to him with a bright smile, nodding rapidly. rafe gets up from his spot, helping baby up. he strips off his shirt as she gets rid of her dress. rafe runs and dives off the end of the boat and baby follows him, diving into the cold ocean. they both resurface, letting out joyous laughs when they see each other.

despite everything she’s been told about rafe cameron, baby actually finds herself having the best night of her life with him. her heart sinks a little at the thought of everyone’s judgements making it take this long for her to ever get to know the beautiful boy in front of her.

“why are you frowning?” rafe asks.

“oh, am i? i didn’t mean to,” she says. baby swims closer to him and he grabs her, letting her wrap herself around him.

“are you not enjoying the date?” he asks.

“no, i am!” she exclaims, her heart quickening at the thought of him believing this is anything other than perfect. “i’m loving tonight, honest!”

“then what’s wrong?” he asks, tucking a soaked strand of hair behind her ear.

“it’s just… you’re so different than what i expected,” she says, “i wish i had asked you sooner.”

rafe doesn’t bother with words. he was never good with words anyways. instead he presses his lips to hers, their lips moving passionately with one another. heads twisting as baby holds onto rafe just that much tighter. like he might slip away if she doesn’t, like the moment might fade to nothing if she lets him go.

the brush of something against her leg has baby scrambling to climb rafe, ruining their perfect kiss as she yelps.

“what was that! something touched my foot!” she exclaims. rafe breaks into a fit of laughter, but she’s still trying to climb him as if he’s a tree. “it’s not funny, rafe!”

she quickly swims over to the side of the boat, hauling herself up and shivering on the ledge. he follows her up and guides her inside. the air is warmer down below and rafe wraps a towel around baby’s shoulders.

“there you go,” he whispers.

“thank you,” she says with a shy smile.

rafe responds by reconnecting their lips, cupping her cheek with one hand as the other lands on her waist. her arms wrap around his neck, letting her hands move through his hair. when his tongue slips against hers, caressing it sensually, she lets out a whimper that goes straight to rafe’s dick.

he gently nudges her down onto the couch. he hovers above her without detaching their lips. he pulls at the tie of her bikini top, slipping the fabric away. he pulls back and looks down at her with hearts in his eyes.

“wow,” he whispers. baby crosses her arm over her chest, but he gently pries it away to continue admiring her. then, he dives in. his lips wrap around one nipple, his hand massaging the other. he switches after some time, leaving baby to mewl at the sensations he’s causing.

“kiss me again,” she says, trying to pull him up. he obliges, climbing back up to bring their lips back to their prior rhythmic dance together. his hand slips down her body, falling beneath her bikini bottom and massaging her wet slit. she lets out a quiet whimper as he gathers the wetness on his fingers, then a loud moan when he brings his fingers to her clit.

“you like that?” he asks. she nods her head and he dips back down to kiss her, swallowing every moan that falls from her pretty lips.

he slowly pushes one finger inside of her, then another. leaving her a mess underneath him. she grinds up towards him, chasing her own release.

“rafe, please,” she pleads as he slips his fingers in and out of her.

“please what, baby?” he pants. she’s past using words at this point, too lost in her own pleasure to make her mouth form anything coherent. so she takes matters into her own hands, literally. she drops her hand down to cup him, massaging him through his board shorts. she slips her hand inside, wrapping her tiny hand around his length. they both grind into one another’s hands, chasing their highs. when they both get their release they lay there, content with one another’s company.

interrupted by the ringing of baby’s phone, they both reluctantly go back to the deck to retrieve the device.

“did he kidnap you? what’s taking so long?” kiara asks.

baby rolls her eyes, “i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“tomorrow?” john b shrieks.

“goodbye guys.”

since that night, rafe and baby have been inseparable. in secret, that is. both went home to report to their friends that the date was just a bust, both knowing that if their friends knew about their successful date that they’d never hear the end of it. so that’s how the relationship went. sneaking out late at night, long weekends spent alone together, calls until the early morning. it worked for them — secret, intimate, and just perfect.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader smut #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction

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crepezinhos · 23 hours ago

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The Lion and The Fox

POV: Sunday has always had high expectations of you, his dear secretary, and his lovesick obsession for you has only made his trust on you increase uncontrollably. But now, he felt like his world was crumbling right in front of him when he learned that you were pregnant, and the father was the man he most despised, that he wish he could deport from Penacony, Aventurine.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere and Suggestive SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: A lot of dirty-talking and racially-motivated talking, accidental pregnancy, bloody fighting, attempted murder, violent language and obsessive/possessive behavior.

— Yandere!Boss!Sunday x Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Aventurine

— AU is: In-Game

“Ah, Y/N. You’re here.” Sunday turned his gaze away from the windowed wall of his office with a little grin growing in the edges of his lips to look at you, who was entering the room with embarrassment already taking you over.

“Hi… Mr. Oak.” You didn’t even dare ignoring his greet as you pushed the door back to its place from behind, especially considering how much he personally respected you.

But you immediately sighed in defeat as you realized how obviously awkward your tone accidentally came out of your throat, which you knew would alarm his attentive ears in a blink.

“Is everything okay?” And his speed to figure someone’s head out, or at least yours in particular, made you even less confident to keeping making eye contact at those mesmerizing amber eyes of his. “You seem very disturbed, dear.”

“Mr. Oak, I—” At the same you desperately wanted to vomit those words out of your chest, your logical thinking warned you that the conversation you were about to have with him right now would not be easy work, perhaps even heartbreaking.

Sunday begun silently walking away from his spot and going towards you, as if he was trying to avoid any explosive reaction out of you or comfort you. But unfortunately, his elegant apparent d and tall figure completely triggered the opposite out of you.

“I need to take a break.” You threw your head to the left as you confessed your intentions to him without any further context, paralyzing the Halovian. “Like… a few days or a whole week…”

“A whole week?” Sunday’s tone did not change, though, and after a few seconds waiting for a response, he finally figured you were too uncomfortable to speak any more without his leadership. “May I ask why?” He continued walking, a little more faster this time, cornering you against the wall even if his hands remained behind his back as usual.

“I’m not feeling quite well, Mr. Oak—”

“Please, address me as Sunday, dear.” You suddenly felt something wooly reach your left cheek and begin to caress it gently, figuring it was Sunday’s fingers after successfully cornering you against the door. “My apologies… I won’t interrupt you again.”

“I’m just feeling sick. That’s all…” You awkwardly finished yourself while trying to ignore his intimate demonstration of care.

“And you need a whole week to recover from it?” His tone shifted to a more serious one while that hand of his spread itself around your whole jaw and slightly pulled it upwards, forcing you to look at him again, and your silence made it obvious to him that you were either lying or hiding something from him. “Let’s sit down, dear.” His hypnotizing grin almost made you vomit the truth right there out of guilt.

Sunday released you and begun stepping towards where his office desk and fancy chair were, without acknowledging how quickly he had convinced you to speak the truth to him. That distressing nod in your throat was already unbearable on its own, but that you were being forced to tell such disappointing news to such a sweet and caring boss like Sunday, that truly admires you and trusts you deeply, just couldn’t be postponed anymore.

“I’m pregnant!” As soon as the distance between you and him was comfortable to you, when Sunday’s hand was about to reach his chair’s arm support, you let the beast out of its cage. “I am feeling sick indeed, but it’s because I’m pregnant and I have no idea what to do about it yet!” Your voice cracked a few times as you bowed your head down, tears barely glistening your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back and not stress Sunday, who had fully paralyzed in his spot.

…

“I beg your pardon?” Sunday slowly turned his head to you, the rest of his body immobile in its place.

“You heard me, Mr. O—… Sunday… I’m pregnant.” You crossed your arms and legs, leaning against the wall vulnerably.

And once again, Sunday didn’t say anything again some awkward seconds, causing your heart to beat even faster than it already was.

…

“P-Pregnant..?” This was one of the first times you’ve ever heard Sunday’s voice crack and stutter.

“Yes, sir.” You quickly nodded.

…

“Like… pregnant pregnant?” Sunday repeated himself again, a little more desperate.

“Yes, sir.” And you nodded to him again, a little more desperate too.

“When did you…” He didn’t know what to ask you due to the unprocessed shock. “For how long have you known this?” Sunday sounded a little madder as you expected, but at the same time you could feel some worry and anxiety coming from him as you saw him move a hand to his collar and start fidgeting his own tie.

“I took the test a few days ago, Mr. Oak.” Although you noticed how you referred to him in the wrong manner, Sunday didn’t seem to notice it, or at least preferred to not scold you again.

“How many people know about it yet?” Sunday finally turned his full body to you. After all, that question mattered a lot.

“None of my friends know about it yet, only the father and you, sir.” At this moment, it felt like all of your friendship with Sunday never existed in the first place, considering how incredibly negative his reaction was.

“Ah, yes… the father.” Sunday spat the word like a curse, scoffing at it right afterwards before pausing for a moment. “Who is the lucky man, Y/N?” Sunday decided to speak in a warmer tone, hoping it would help appeasing the suspense between you two, but it wasn’t quite useful to you.

“Sunday, I… I don’t think I should—”

“I have to know who the father is, Y/N.” He immediately shut you off with a shaky, anxious voice before you could fully reject him. “I don’t think it would be beneficial for us if the people of Penacony were to learn that the secretary of the Head of the Family… my secretary… is pregnant of someone of bad influence, especially if I was not aware of it or consenting to it. Don’t you agree?” Sunday’s voice cracked a few more times with his growing anger as his fingers became more aggressive with his tie.

You weakly nodded, feeling more tears rise up to your eyes. You were expecting Sunday to have a negative reaction indeed, but you did not expect him to be this bold. It even made you question your non-professional friendship with him. Was he not as attached to you like you thought? Was his kindness to you just a souvenir for your hard work? Have you two ever developed a friendship in the first place? If not, were you really just a secretary to him? If yes, how intimate are you two?

“This seriously endangers your job, Y/N, so if you don’t wish me to take extreme measures with you, tell me, dear, who is the father..?!” Despite his self-control, you noticed a pattern of how he was simply unable to hold all his anger when he mentioned the ‘father’.

You breathed in and out, preparing yourself for the bomb you were about to drop on him. After all, losing your job to this did not seem to be the smartest choice to be done, although the answer itself could still make you lose your job anyway.

“I believe the father is Aventurine, sir.” You closed your eyes as you told your version of the story, trying to make it more broad by stating as a theory rather than a fact, but you were certain that the baby was Aventurine’s.

…

Sunday scoffed.

…

“Aventurine?” Sunday’s tone deepened, almost falling into pure madness. “The Sigonian from the IPC?”

“…Yes, sir.” You weakly nodded again, finally finding some courage to open your eyes and look up to him.

“You’ve been going out with him?” Sunday’s tie wasn’t tucked under his white tuxedo anymore, and he was barely blinking his widened eyes.

“I believe you’re crossing a line of privacy, sir. I won’t be answering that.” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you remembered your last date with the gambler, specifically when the baby was being made, speaking a little bit more annoyed.

“Why? He didn’t assault you or anything of the sort, did he, dear?” Sunday’s hands crossed around each other.

“No, sir.” Your tone went back to its previous shy one.

Sunday’s eyes finally dropped and stopped violently staring at you, looking around in confusion as he breathed in and out harshly. It did help you and your body to calm down, though.

“You know you can always trust me if there’s any danger going on in your life, right?” Sunday looked at you again with curiosity, which made your body stiffen again.

“Absolutely, sir.” You nodded more confidently. That statement reassured you about your previous thoughts about Sunday.

He really isn’t that bold. He never was. Today was just a minimal and reasonable exception.

“Good.” Sunday’s eyes got distracted again as he thought about all the facts that have been told, and you decided to contribute with your own silence.

…

“You know what? I must apologize to you, dear. What kind of man treats a pregnant lady like this? Only some uneducated punk… It was very childish of me, Y/N, I’m truly sorry.” Sunday suddenly relaxed in a blink, his hands going behind his back as usual while a cute grin took over his lips again as if he hadn’t almost gone mad in front of you.

After all, self-control is a really important aspect in this sort of job.

“No, it’s ok… I understand. I would be very worried too if I found out my secretary suddenly got pregnant.” Sunday hummed a giggle at your comment as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Go home, dear.” Sunday walked to you again, his hands landing on both your shoulders. “Go take a good rest. I’ve made you work enough this week.” His thumbs gently brushed your skin like wet porcelain, even raising them a few times to push some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re… you’re not mad?” Deep down, you found his sudden change of behavior weird, and you weren’t exactly comfortable with it.

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, dear? I trust you to make a smart choice about this.” And now that you were closely staring at his fine face, that smile, no matter how warm it was, it seemed to be betraying whatever was going through his mind. “Make sure to keep your commitment with the Family in mind, ok?” Sunday suddenly leaned his face to the right side of your face, his mouth hanging inches away from your ear as his voice suddenly turned serious.

“Of course, boss.” You nodded to Sunday, who patted your head in appreciation for a few seconds before finally letting you go.

SLAM!

All the human bodies in the casino were attracted by the loud bang of the double doors being against the walls as they were brutally pushed open, whispers beginning to accumulate onto each other as they realized it was Sunday Oak who walked in.

“Is that Sunday Oak?”

“I thought he condemned gambling…”

“What is he doing here?”

“Sunday Oak?”

“Should I ask for an autograph?”

“Isn’t he Robin’s older brother?”

Sunday couldn’t care less about any of those comments or the glances landing on him as he walked inside the flashy halls of the casino. He was entirely interested and focused on his hunt, and his hunt only.

After all, it didn’t take him more than 5 seconds to identify what he was searching for.

Aventurine.

The slim, blonde man sitting down lazily on a chair with spread legs and a pack of cards in his hands, accompanied by two other men playing with him, sitting in the opposite corners of the table, all of them shaping the form of a triangle where Aventurine was directly facing Sunday. The table was full of cards and chips thrown around it, even a few real credits too, showing that they weren’t just playing casually, and three cups of alcohol being the only objects standing still.

“Ah, the Head of the Family himself, Sunday Oak! What an honor it is to have you in my casino! What brings you here tonight?” The gambler put his cards facing down in the table to open his arms to Sunday in a warm greeting.

His purple eyes still managed to shine through the dark pair of sunglasses he was wearing and the whole dark ambient around them.

But Sunday’s murderous face didn’t appease a bit with his warm greeting.

“Leave.” He glanced down at the two other gamblers, who simply shared confused looks with each other and Aventurine when they heard his order. “NOW!” Both men immediately flinched upwards hearing his scream, fleeing from their seats as if they were fleeing for their lives.

After all, who would be insane enough to challenge the Head of the Family?

As soon as the steps of the coward men started to become faint murmurs in the ambient, Aventurine finally started taking advantage of their privacy to speak again.

“See… when I say that you’re always welcome in here, Mr. Oak, that doesn’t necessarily mean you have the right to interrupt any of the games—”

“You got Y/N pregnant..?!” Aventurine’s smirk grew as he realized what was Sunday’s objective in his casino and how angry he was due to it, even if he had been interrupted.

“Ah… so you’ve heard the news…” Aventurine proceeded to grab the glass of liquor sitting closest to him and took a sip of it. “It is also an honor to have being the first person to congratulate me…”

“Congratulate you..?” Sunday’s eyes widened in audacity at his words. “Congratulate you?! For what? For making such an absurdly irresponsible decision?!” Sunday finally dragged one of the empty chairs closer to him and sat himself down at on it, both his hands slamming the table while Aventurine simply mired down at the liquor in the glass. “You’re a gambler, and you’re completely addicted to it! What is wrong with you?! What kind of man sustains his family by gambling?!” Aventurine couldn’t help but scoff at his words as his eyes finally looked up to meet his again, starting a war of eye contact.

“Oh, please, we both know that you’re not mad at the fact that I’m a gambler about to become a father.” The gambler finally placed the glass back to the table, his arms crossing as he leaned against the chair.

Sunday refused to answer him although both men had a lot of privacy to discuss such an intimate topic.

“You’re mad that it’s not going to be a beautiful and cute Halovian baby growing inside her with cute little wings on his head and a shiny golden halo that will grow to be the Family’s next prodigy..! And instead, it’s going to be a little Sigonian trash with cursed fortune.” Aventurine used his hands to point at Sunday’s features and his owns, but it didn’t trigger Sunday to answer him, despite his boiling annoyance. “Not that? No? Then it might be that… you’re mad at the fact that it wasn’t you who made the path inside her womb first?” Aventurine uncrossed him arms and set them on table while leaning his body a little closer to his to challenge him, finally causing Sunday to slightly snap.

After all, an obsessed man like him could not handle the imagination of his perfect pure darling being bred by the man who directly competes with him for her, all twirled around his figure and showing him your nudity.

“You little shit…” Sunday fisted his own hands as his eyebrows to frown in the table’s cloth as he tried avoiding those sinful thoughts.

“Me?” Aventurine’s eyes widened with Sunday’s hypocrisy. “Imagine you’re constantly trying to hang out with this marvelous, jaw-dropping and inspiring woman, but she’s always rejecting you because she was either working in a Saturday night, or too exhausted from it on Sunday, hum? You feeling me now?” Aventurine tried waiting for an answer, but Sunday refused to let himself downgrade to the gambler’s level and backed down again. “I think I should actually thank you for making her exhausted and home-alone during her precious weekends. You’ve surely left that woman touch-starved, and I certainly took advantage of that whenever I insisted in visiting her in her home… She’s actually extra tight when she’s stressed.” Aventurine winked at him, intentionally ignoring Sunday’s unblinking, widening eyes. “Just to think about my cock suffocating inside that tiiight pussy of hers while she begs for me to keep ravishing it nonstop makes me so hard…” Aventurine was rubbing his legs together under the table to avoid his slight erection to grow any further under his pants while his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You hell-sent maniac…” That was all Sunday could mumble without exploding. “Do you even listen to yourself? Is this the poor vocabulary that poor kid would learn from their father? You have absolutely no conditions of being a father. I know it, you know it, Y/N knows it. Do you have any idea how worried she was when she was talking to me about this mess? Do you think she’d be that worried about it if I was the father of her child, hum? Do you think she’s happy to be pregnant of you?” Sunday finally decided to take some dominance in the conversation and leaned closer to Aventurine.

“Do you think she’d be any happier to pregnant of you, Mr. Oak? Her manipulative boss that takes advantage of her every free second to keep her revolving around you, yet, refuses to take a single step forward with your relationship with her and keeps edging her pleasure in you?” Aventurine sounded a little angrier as he described Y/N’s work ambient.

“You know nothing about me and Y/N…” Sunday hissed at him. Deep down he knew he had a fair point and that he had to change his relationship with her if he wanted to conquer her heart.

“Well, I certainly know all of this would’ve probably been avoided if you weren’t the coward that you are, and asked her out before I did. Now, even if you did manage to make her fall in love with you and make her your wife, you’d never be able to get rid of the shape of her insides, forever prepared to receive me inside her instead of you because she knows who introduced her the magic of paradisiacal pleasure.” Aventurine twirled his fingers together and set his chin on top of them, his face proudly hanging on it.

“You do realize Y/N is most likely going to abort that cursed baby, right?” Sunday finally found an opportunity to counter Aventurine, smirking in victory after all those sexual comments of you Aventurine has been doing to frustrate him.

“Good for her.” Aventurine shrugged his shoulders, dumbfounding Sunday, who allowed his smirk to die for a moment.

Sunday didn’t understand. Wasn’t he cheerful about her pregnancy? Wasn’t he happy about claiming her womb first and making her a mother before him? Wasn’t he initially arguing with Sunday about being a father?

“You’re just bluffing. I know you’re disappointed.” Sunday brought his grin back before Aventurine could take dominance again, trying to convince him to let that guilt out of his mind.

“I don’t think you’ve understood it yet, Mr. Oak… I don’t intend to be a father. Never intended to be.” Aventurine spoke with a straight face, very relaxed as he confessed his feelings, unlike Sunday.

“I beg your pardon?” Finally, Sunday felt challenged again, so his smirk died again and never rose again.

“Sure, it would be disappointing if she did decide to abort the baby. After all, the idea of repopulating my clan back to this world sounds good to me… but I got her pregnant simply because I want to get her away from you, and that pregnancy is going to force her to take a break from you, and maybe eternally. I already heard you did let her go home today, so it’s already working! Thank you, Mr. Oak!” Sunday was entirely speechless at Aventurine’s confession, not a single full phrase managing to form in his head as the gambler paused again to take another sip of his liquor.

And Sunday knew he had more to add onto that confession, seeing how he swallowed the liquor quickly.

“It surprised me how all it takes to impregnate a woman is a single little puncture in a condom… Make sure to double-check your condoms before sex, Sunday! Protection isn’t a joke!” Sunday couldn’t believe all he had to add to his confession was a joke.

“You..! You did it on purpose?!” Sunday hissed as if he wanted to squeeze the gambler’s head until it crushed into a gory mess.

“Congratulations, Mr. Oak! We can finally have a man-to-man conversation!” Aventurine threw his hands in the air cheerfully as if he was celebrating his birthday.

“Do you have shit in your head instead of a functional brain?! Do you realize you’re putting the life of a child on stake and even her trust on you?! You’re a monster! You had no right to fool Y/N like that!” Sunday was finally finding out how little power of you he had on his hands, his anger finally spilling from its chamber.

“Oh? But you have the right to keep overworking her with the stupidest tasks ever? Making her bring you breakfast and lunch from the cafe with the stupidest exigences ever?! Like ‘No veggies, only keep the onions’, ‘Diet raspberry juice’ and ‘Strawberry cupcakes for desert with no sprinkles or extra frosting’? To make her rearrange your whole calendar for the month because you suddenly have a doctor’s appointment in the middle of month? Knowing she’s not intelligent or bossy enough to tell you’re just taking advantage of her position and her trust on you? That you’re a very busy man and genuinely can’t deal with fucking calendars on your own?” Aventurine also dropped his smirk, speaking in a more angered one as well.

“It’s her job, and I’m her boss. And don’t you worry about it because Y/N gets some good money for all her hard work and she loves me for it.” Sunday defended himself a little proudly. It was a good reason to keep her busy with him.

“And I’m just a great fucking friend! See? We’re both playing dirty here…” Aventurine giggled at his own pun, which made Sunday’s wings to twitch.

“Don’t imagine it… Don’t picture it…” Sunday thought to himself, and Aventurine took advantage of his silence.

“And, think about it, what is the worth in all the money you apparently give her if she can’t find herself some time to spend it because her boss can’t let her enjoy her weekends, hum?” Aventurine crossed his arms, settling them on the table to keep himself still leaning close to Sunday’s face.

“As soon as I get you out of my way, I’ll make sure she’ll have a lot of time to enjoy her life with me as her company.” Sunday threatened him with a mean smirk in his face, finding joy in Aventurine’s struggle.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet, Sunday. Y/N is already mine. All, all mine. She’s been mine for a long time now and will always be mine. Your little tricks to imprison her with you are clever, but you know how gambling with me works. I’ll always find my way out of risk and become the winner. And if Y/N is clever enough to remember this little fact, you might face a serious danger of her deciding to keep the baby.” Aventurine’s irises were trembling with excitement and hatred for Sunday as he talked about his possession over you.

“We both know she won’t.” Sunday hissed, still keeping his smirk, although he was doing a great effort to not punch the gambler’s face.

“How do you know, hum? Y/N is the kindest soul in this planet! I don’t think she’d opt to interrupt that growing life inside her so easily like you think. Maybe she’ll start sympathizing with it and decide to accept the duty of raising it with me as the father and provider. And if that happens, what are you going to do, huh? Shove your hand inside her womb and abort the baby yourself? You can’t do anything!” Aventurine cackled at the thought of Sunday trying to get rid of the baby inside you or convincing you to do it and pathetically being defeated.

“Maybe I’ll fire her. I can’t afford to have a secretary who’s going to birth a disgusting Avgin nor can she afford her life without the salary I give her… It’s a fair trade!” Sunday threatened enthusiastically, although in his mind he knew he’d never do that to you.

“Oh, really? And make her hate you forever? What a stupid way to give me the opportunity to finally imprison her with me, Sunday! Maybe she’ll learn how great it is to have me as her sugar daddy…” Aventurine threw himself in the chair and I’m his arms in the arm as if he was receiving a gift from Sunday.

“Or maybe I’ll take the matter to my own hands and marry her with me before you. And trust me, gambler, I’ll make sure you have the lowest share of custody, or maybe even none. I’m the head of the Family Oak. I own this whole planet in the palm of my hand.” Sunday also rose his hands in the air and inflated his chest, trying to demonstrate the size of the power he owns.

“Yet, you can’t stop the woman you love from fucking with other men.” Aventurine hummed some giggles while Sunday had to stop himself again to impede his brain from picturing that scenario. “I would rather die than let a baby of my blood to be raised by you. To be raised like a mere annoyance in the house… forever incapable of making his daddy proud of him because he’s not his real son… destined to be overshadowed by his future siblings… Both Y/N and the baby would be happier to have me taking care of them instead of you.” Aventurine’s tone deepened again, his arms lowering sown to his knees and gripping them to control himself.

“I will not lose Y/N to you, gambler. I don’t care if that baby would not be the happiest one in the world. I refuse to let you have her for another single minute of your life with those dirty hands of yours.” Sunday spat his prejudice for the gambler with no remorse.

“Oh-ho? Are you afraid I’m a better womanizer than you, Mr. Head of the Family? That my ‘dirty hands’ are capable to make Y/N moan my name in a volume you’ll never be able to get out of her?” Aventurine stared at the deepest corners of Sunday’s eyes.

“Quiet.” Sunday hissed barely above a whisper.

“That my fingers will penetrate that wet pussy of hers while I devour her throbbing clit with my dirty Avgin mouth? Oh, yeah, I’ve already done that!” Aventurine brought a hand closer to Sunday, only to thrust the air with his ring-finger and middle-finger a few times, pretending it was your pussy.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Sunday made sure to pronounce every syllable of his order slowly, exciting Aventurine to keep teasing him even further.

Sunday’s cheeks were reddening with arousal as he couldn’t hold back the few pictures his brain illustrated for him of Y/N’s naked body being touched by Aventurine, meanwhile the gambler moved his hands to his body and started brushing his own body in a suggestive way.

“Ohh~… Aventurine..! You feel sooo good around me~… Oh, right there..! Fuck me right there, Aven..!” Sunday’s fingers gripped on the table’s cloth as if that was the only thing keeping him from having a boner on his own, trying to force himself to focus on the gambler’s threat rather than his pathetic teasing. “Ah, yes~! Touch me, Aventurine! Touch me!” Aventurine put his own palms on his own breasts and gently fondled them, which made Sunday feel so disgusted he slightly backed away from the pervert in front of him.

“Do you seriously think acting like this is going to annoy me?” Sunday bluffed, betraying his own mindset. “I must thank you for the spoilers, though.” He shrugged his shoulders, pretending there wasn’t a noticeable tent growing in his pants.

“See? Even you recognize you’ll never be her first in anything because I’ve been there first!” Aventurine dropped his act, jumping back to the table, leaning over to challenge Sunday with a creepy expression and a proud smile. “Every Saturday night, when you decided to send her a ‘Goodnight’ message and ask how she was doing, I was already pining her down on her own bed and taming her pussy.” Sunday’s mind was unfortunately too attracted to that scenario, forcing himself to think about it.

Thinking about your insides being stretched by the gambler, your breasts fondled by the gambler, your pretty moans being listened by the gambler, your mouth kissing the gambler, your clothes being taken off by the gambler…

All by that stupid gambler, and not him.

“Focus, Sunday. Focus. Focus on the gambler.” Sunday thought to himself.

“Sometimes I even answered you for her, y’know? Sending you a ‘Goodnight’ with cute a heart sticker, pretending to be your dear woman while the real one was gagging on my cock.” Sunday’s eyes widened as he heard that disgusting confession.

Every time you talked to him at nighttime, Sunday would think about what were you possibly doing while texting him. Maybe you were changing yourself into your pijamas, specifically a beautiful nightgown of his favorite kind. Maybe you were kicking your feet and your cheeks were red because you were talking so intimately with your sweet and handsome boss.

How did you even save his contact as? Most likely ‘Mr. Oak’ or maybe ‘Mr. Sunday’ because of your professional relationship with him, but maybe it is something more friendly like ‘Sunday’ or ‘Sunday ❤️’.

But now all those fantasies that made fall in love with you even harder, were crushed by the gambler’s words, and he was really hoping the man was just bluffing to annoy him.

“You disgusting piece of crap..! You had no right to do that!” He hissed as his mind pictured more and more dirty illustrations.

“Seeing you smirk at me every time I passed her to you, thinking you were in charge of her and that I was losing precious time with her, made me want to laugh. Poor you..! You had absolutely no idea! You could’ve died without knowing!” Aventurine started cackling as he saw Sunday’s destroyed ego.

Sunday couldn’t believe it either. The gambler was right, and he did not plan on ever admitting it. To think that he has been interpreting you so wrongly all along and that that Aventurine was taking advantage of his foolishness was making him ache in need for revenge.

It was embarrassing to see a man of his level of money, power and intelligence to commit such a rookie mistake, of letting your weekends free of his obsessiveness and stalking, and find himself in the edge of losing to someone so weaker than him.

But Aventurine didn’t notice Sunday’s breathing becoming louder and louder.

“That’s why I had to show you the truth. To show you who is truly in the lead.” Aventurine unexpectedly leaned closer to Sunday until he was a few centimeters away from his right ear, invading his personal space. “That’s why I made a little hole in my condom before going to her home and ejaculated a lot of sperm inside that pussy when we were having sex. Thousands of my little spermatozoids… finding a way out of that rubber barrier and swimming their way inside her womb, claiming ‘your’ territory…” Sunday shit his eyes, trying to control his painfully quick heartbeats while Aventurine kept enjoying the mental torture. “And trust me, Sunday, despite her not knowing what I had planned for her, she was the one that kept begging for me to keep fucking her and to cum inside her again. Not a single cell of her body wants you—” Sunday unexpectedly unchained himself from the chair, violently grabbing Aventurine’s collar by his green uniform and fisting his knuckles across his cheek.

Sunday just couldn’t deal with his own imaginations anymore.

It hurt him to imagine you not desiring for him to touch you that way. The same way you’ve allowing the gambler to do. It couldn’t be true. He knew he could make you feel as good as the gambler did. All that he was missing was courage to ask you out. To think of Aventurine having the privilege to watch you during sex, giggling about Sunday’s obnoxiousness. To think of the gambler fucking you right in front of him, conquering your heart, and you enjoying it rather than asking him to stop and to saves by Sunday.

Even if it was just a dark fantasy. A horror one. One that would never come to be true, if it depended on you at least, he smacked Aventurine’s face as if he wanted to avoid that possibility as much as he could. He did not want that scum making someone like you fall in love with it anymore.

Although the punch itself wasn’t hard enough to make Aventurine drop his smirk, it was surely made him roll down from the table and vulnerably land on the floor along with a few cards, chips and one of the wine glasses, that broke as soon as it touched the ground, and Sunday throwing himself on top of him.

“YOU FOUL DISGRACE!” Sunday kept attempting to spank Aventurine, who allowed himself to receive every single punch like a masochist while laughing at how Sunday snapped. “YOU HAD NO RIGHTS TO DO THAT TO Y/N!” Everyone in the casino already had their bodies turned to both men, some had even stood up to have a better view of the scene going on, all the whispers accumulating onto each other again.

“What’s going on?!”

“Are they fighting?!”

“Why are they fighting?!”

“Did Sunday Oak lose a bet?!”

“Who is Y/N?”

“They know each other?!”

“Punching me… won’t undo what has been done, Sunday! She’s pregnant! 100% pregnant!” Finally, Aventurine got bored of Sunday’s amateur boxing and rose his hands from the floor, clutched them around Sunday’s cranial wings, squeezing them hard to almost break its bones, and launched his forehead against Sunday’s.

“Who is pregnant?”

“This Y/N person is pregnant?”

“For God’s sake, who’s Y/N?!”

Sunday moaned loud in pain, accidentally weakening his weight on top of Aventurine, who quickly pushed him away from the top and reverted the positions.

“She’s mine… all mine!” Despite the few blood drops running down his nostrils and red marks in his cheeks, Aventurine kept smirking as if he was having the biggest thrill of his life. “And I’ll make sure to keep impregnating her every time I need to remember you who is in the lead! Over and over again!” Aventurine made sure to whisper his words about you and guarantee that nobody would gossip about their conflict, or at least gossip it with all the context behind it.

Aventurine’s punches were way more painful compared to Sunday’s, which was causing him to become so pained and desperate that he couldn’t even react to it, nor hold the gambler back. He doesn’t really tell people that he��s quite stronger than he looks. Although his slim body and smaller height sell the contrary image, all the years he spent being a slave strengthened his muscles forever, unlike Sunday, who has never quite invested in giving himself a buffer body. And the many rings hanging in his fingers, made of multiple gems, were making it only worse.

Sunday started to panic. So many people were witnessing the worst side of him, the Head of the Family, the representative of their planet, being in a casino and initiating a fight on it, one that he was also pathetically losing. After he’s given so many speeches about the importance of peace and the abolishment of violence, he was the first one to opt for violence when the stakes of a fight got too high? Even if he found a way to avoid the situation to escape everyone’s mouth, it still wouldn’t hide the multiple bruises in his face, and that would immediately denounce that he got involved in a fight, whether being who started it or not. Injuries like hematomas and cuts can take weeks to fully heal depending on their depth. How would he hide that from his public? His dear little sister? Gopher? Or… you?

“Oh, fuck.” Sunday thought.

Had he just made a bad decision? Had he embraced his instincts rather than his critical thinking?

He couldn’t let himself lose his reputation or influence so easily. He’d be willing to beg for Aventurine’s mercy as long as his face remained intact. So, that’s why he did his best to turn his face to the side while his arms and cranial wings crossed on top of it to create a barrier between him and Aventurine.

“What is it, birdie? Are you scared?! Come on, punch me again, I dare you!” Aventurine teased as he started digging his hands under his protection and undo it.

But Sunday was way more focused on the miracle laying in the floor by his side. The cup that had previously fallen in the floor and was ignored by them had broken into many big shards of glass, all beautifully laying down by his side and going unnoticed by the gambler.

How fun would it be to stab the foul gambler?

One of Sunday’s arms slowly reached out to the glass, but it wasn’t long enough to grab it, his fingers slightly touching the pointy tip of the glass. And unfortunately, a single arm on its own wasn’t enough to impede Aventurine from breaking through his barrier and curl his both hands around his neck.

“Bye-bye, Mr. Oak…” Aventurine’s eyes only widened in pure joy the more he suffocated Sunday’s throat.

Sunday grunted and gasped, trying to salvage the remaining oxygen in his body while his single hand kept helplessly trying to fight him back and pull at least one of Aventurine’s arms away of his neck.

Aventurine was so invested in his own sadism, watching Sunday’s face contort and crumble, that he still didn’t realize what was his other arm doing, slowly pulling the glass closer to his palm bit by bit.

And when Sunday’s fingers were finally able to pull that piece of glass close enough to him, with a swift movement, Sunday was finally able to—

“ENOUGH!” Aventurine was suddenly pushed away from Sunday by a security guard, immediately making Sunday’s lungs fill themselves with the oxygen he had lost while the glass stabbed nothing but the air.

And with the assistance of incoming men, Aventurine was quickly struck on the floor with his belly turned down and his hand locked together behind his back.

“Smart move, birdie! But, don’t you see..? You don’t stand a chance against my luck!” Aventurine cackled while he was momentarily being cuffed while Sunday was still recovering from the murder attempt.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Sunday couldn’t stand seeing that smirky face of his anymore and quickly stood up again, getting up on his feet again just to launch himself on the gambler again, the shard of glass already prepared to stab him.

But Sunday was immediately held back by even more guards that arrived in the scene, every muscle of his arms being held back while his legs desperately kicked the air.

“N-No!” He grunted in agony while one of the guards that cuffed Aventurine begun moving to Sunday and undoing his grip on the shard, pulling it away from him after a few seconds.

Aventurine kept cackling at the scene he watching, loving to see Sunday losing all his power and dignity in front of so many people.

“I PROMISE YOU I’M GONNA KILL YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS ONE DAY, YOU MANIAC!” Sunday spat his violent threat while still trying to launch himself towards Aventurine.

“Lets settle the bet, then! Whoever kills each other first gets to keep Y/N forever! Fair trade, ain’t it?” The gambler rose his head to talk to Sunday more confidently.

“AND I’LL MAKE SURE YOUR DIRTY CLAN WILL BE ERASED FROM HISTORY!” Slowly, both men were dragged afar away from each other, Aventurine being set in a sofa while Sunday was kicked out of the casino, rolling down a few staircases before finally finding himself wormed on the floor.

“Oh, wanna raise the stakes?! If I’m the one who kills you, then… your little sister will be punished too~…” Sunday fumed in anger as he thought of the murder of his little sister.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE PUT ROBIN INTO THIS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Aventurine rolled his eyes in boredom with Sunday denying to raise the stakes of their bet.

“Get him out of my sight.” Aventurine looked at the guards and spoke more seriously, a smirk still displayed in his lips.

Sunday gasped when he begun being pulled away from his prey.

“YOU’RE DEAD, GAMBLER! DEAD!” Sunday made sure to state his final words before he was thrown in the streets.

Sunday rolled a few stairs down, ruining the perfect white color of his suit, but unfortunately he couldn’t stop to relax, ease the pain and fix himself because of the people that could be around him. So, he quickly got up from the floor and fled to a narrow corner between two tall buildings, surrounded by dark and trash and isolated him from anyone’s sight.

Meanwhile he fixed his suit, hair and face, while calling a cab to pick him up, Sunday kept insulting the gambler and even himself.

Sunday knew he should’ve asked you out long before all this situation, but he didn’t believe he had to do it since he didn’t think Aventurine’s competition was that dangerous. So, he preferred to wait until he believed you and him had developed a better friendship, and possibly sparked you to like him more than as a friend, a colleague or a boss.

But now, the race for your hand in marriage has started and Sunday is ready to cheat to win.

It doesn’t matter if he suffocates you with work.

It doesn’t matter if he has to kill Aventurine or the baby.

It doesn’t matter if he’ll not raise the baby without a lot of love and care.

It doesn’t even mattter if you don’t want to marry him in the first place.

He’ll win this bet.

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