#gray and white hall ideas

[lumyerapp]

Mudroom Foyer Chicago Image of a medium-sized transitional entryway with a dark wood floor, gray walls, and a medium wood front door.

[hannieween]

playing dumb | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: loser jeonghan, grad student jeonghan, grad student reader › genres: fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 6.6k

› 🎧easy – jaehyun | cream soda – exo (lol) | feeling lucky – bibi

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little to no plot, dom reader, sub jeonghan, jeonghan is a little pervy, oral fixation, big cock jeonghan, jeonghan is a little bit inexperienced in sex, oral sex, hand job, use of sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, dacryphilia, early ejaculation, cumming on skin, a bit of hair pulling, dirty talk, a little bit of humiliation kink again, a little bit of praise kink, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism. pet names: pretty boy, baby boy (his) baby (hers)

› acknowledgements: @kwanisms @cheolism @whipped-for-kpop-fics, @junekissed for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and terminology bits, thank you. i couldn't have done it without u. i love you 🩵

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

JEONGHAN LIFTED HIS ARM IN THE AIR, LETTING OUT A QUIET GRUNT.

“Yes, do you have a question?” the professor asked, seeing his arm in the crowd of people listening to her lecture.

Jeonghan finished yawning, shaking his head. “Just stretching.”  

A stillness blanketed the room as your fellow classmates bore their eyes into the man sitting next to you. Shaking your head, you tried hard not to roll your eyes at his lack of correctness, or self-awareness.

Professor Blackwood resumed her lecture, unbothered by the small interruption. Granted, in her years of experience, a restless student like Jeonghan might be inconsequential.

But he was puzzling to you. One look around the room would be sufficient to determine that he was the one standing out from the students sitting in the sloped tiers of the lecture hall.

It was not only his attire, a pastel pink hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of worn white sneakers. But his attitude… his attitude was your biggest gripe with him. While everyone was immersed in the lecture, writing down notes on their tablets or computers, he was absentmindedly toying with the string of his hoodie. 

Sometimes, he would shift in his seat, letting out a loud cough that broke the stiltedness of the lecture, or would make the most out of the ordinary question to the professor, causing a pause.

You could tell out of the corner of your eye that he was bored, crossing one ankle on his knee, he had started to shake his foot.

You could have sworn you hated him at that moment, but the lecture was boring if you dared admit it. As much as you had wanted to listen to the lecture, compiling notes and questions for it, it had dragged on.

For one thing, political language in works of fiction wasn't something you had much interest in delving into, so it had been a real disappointment for you to learn that it was boring.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat again, sighing through his nose. He could just get up and leave. But he never did. Part of you believed that he was just too much of a pretentious guy to actually leave, as though he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the most annoying person in the room.

You found yourself sighing too out of boredom, making Jeonghan stir on his seat and direct a quick glance at you. You did not need to use your peripheral vision to know that he was smiling to himself, the quiet exhale told you that much. 

“Now moving on to Foucault’s discourse on Orwell’s 1984…” The professor changed slides of the presentation for the third time in the one hour you had been listening and something in you twisted in great annoyance, but you did not let it show.

Jeonghan however had resorted to creating shapeless doodles on the margins of the book splayed on the table. The book was so tattered and beaten that you could not believe it was brand new just a week ago when Jeonghan brought it with him. You had seen him remove the plastic from its shiny cover to proceed then to crack and bend the spine like it was his sworn enemy.

The little or no attention he paid to the books he acquired for the courses was irritating. He would scribble on the pages, underline paragraphs with whatever pen he could get his hands on, and bend the corners of the pages so he would not miss the last one he read. On one occasion, you saw him tear out the first few pages of a book he was reading and then make little paper airplanes.

Even if he wore a different ridiculously oversized hoodie every day, his attitude would catch the attention of anyone who looked around. The rest of the people sitting in the lecture had a different behavior. While everyone, including you, was prim and proper, he was just plain laid back always.

So, why did you have a bone to pick with him? Well, despite his evident boredom, he was top of the class. And you were a little bit of an overachiever. Not only that, ever since Jeonghan discovered how easy it is to get under your skin, he has done it constantly, like it is his favorite pastime.

Jeonghan knew how to get under your skin, and also on it.

You smoothed your hands over your lap, your fingertips brushing at the hem of your pencil skirt. Suddenly, your seat started to grow hot, not quite literally, no. This was a feeling purely set by the thought of Jeonghan being on your skin, just like he was last Friday night.

Jeonghan saw the motion of your hands, your skirt hiked up on your thighs, giving him a view of your skin. He subconsciously stuck a pen between his lips, and you saw the pink tip of his wet tongue, making you press your thighs together. When that did not work, you crossed one leg over, pressing as hard as you could.

The skirt inched up on your thighs. There was a sparkle in his eyes, he was sure your focus was on him now. Memories mixed with fantasies flew inside your head, making it impossible to resume listening to the lecture, now you were lost in wanting, in the need to recreate what you had done on impulse a few nights before.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat, spreading his legs a little. Your eyes widened slightly, the air leaving your lungs upon getting a clear sight of the outline of his growing erection peaking on the gray sweats he wore.

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to pull yourself together, but instead, your fingers itched to reach out and grab him.

He stilled, reading your body language. For a minute you wondered if he believed you to be capable of grabbing him under the desk and jerking him off in the middle of the lecture. As he pushed his hips forward slightly, you saw how hard he was, his boner leaning on his thigh. He was thinking of the same thing you were.

Now, Jeonghan does not know what got into you that night, but he is thankful as fuck that something did.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled softly through your nose. You hated him. You hated that he knew how to get your attention, whether it was with his stupid behavior during class, or tempting you to tell him to repeat what happened that Friday night.

That Friday night.

All you had to do was film a video for a paired task.

Somehow, everyone had already been paired when you went out looking for any potential partners to do the task. “I’m up for it if you don’t find anyone,” Jeonghan had said timidly.

There was nothing more to his offer, and he was the best in the class, so you thought it could be an opportunity to finally put those unconformities you had with him to rest.

Except that, your little attempt at doing the task failed miserably by a long shot.

It never crossed your mind that you would ever get to see his place. A very simple studio, with everything necessary, but it still looked very minimalist, except for the corner where there were stacks of books against the wall, rising up almost to your height.

You wished to say that one thing led to the other. But you did not know what was going through your head when you gave him a kiss.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor, trying to read from the set of prompts you had prepared beforehand to make things quicker and finish your paired task. Around him on the floor laid the pages of his copy of Frankenstein, which he had mutilated because it helped him find his notes easier.

This is the guy who practically steals the top-grade award every semester. If he went to another program, you would get those awards.

While Jeonghan’s book remained scattered on the floor, your own Frankenstein copy sat on your lap. It was a hardback, and the only modifications it had suffered were adhesive notes sticking to the corners where you had made note of all the important stuff.

You leaned over on the floor, pretending to take a look at the pages sitting beside his legs. He stole glances at you, thinking that you were perhaps looking elsewhere, at your phone, or your nails like you sometimes do during class.

But no, you were pensively outlining the features of his face. Jeonghan had a thing for biting his bottom lip or pushing his tongue on it. There was a beauty mark adorning his cheek daintily. The heavy set of eyelashes made you envy him a little, but the bitter feeling would fade every time his eyes found yours.

Jeonghan was truly one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen. He used his fingers to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind his ear, stealing another glance at you. He was nervous, you could tell from the way his breath sounded shaky as he let out another exhale through his nose.

You have seen him play with his tongue a lot before. Besides constantly licking his lips, he tends to stick the tip of his pen between his lips, keeping the tip of his tongue pushed out between his teeth. It was distracting, but not for the right reasons.

Sometimes, your mind would wander during class with thoughts about the places you would want to feel that tongue. Other times, when he fidgeted a lot with his hands, you would think about his fingers, his knuckles brushing against places you wanted him to feel.

“Jeonghan,” you blurted, commanding his eyes to you as you leaned over to him, knowing that would give more access to his gaze to wander over your cleavage. “I know you’re not reading that, look at me.”

The intrigue in his eyes was also nearly palpable in the room. Part of you could not really believe what you were about to do, you wondered for how long you had felt like this for Jeonghan. You were about to find out.

“What?” he frowned slightly, his gaze trying to read you but getting no clarity. The tips of his ears were red, and you noticed then, they got red whenever he talked to you. Or any girl for that matter.

“Look at me,” you repeated, but his eyes were already on you, trying to figure you out. There was something about him, maybe it was the stupid clothes he wore, or that he got a nervous stutter whenever you were near him.

Maybe it was the fact that you found it cute that he refused to wear his glasses to school, forced to squint at the board every time. Or that you thought it adorable to find out that behind him he had a collection of mini figurines on his desk.

The truth was, there was something about Yoon Jeonghan. Maybe it was the ridiculous yellow hoodie he was wearing that night, or that he got nervous every time you went near him.

Jeonghan was a loser. And you kind of liked that about him.

“Do you want to fuck?”

His pretty eyes widened in shock, but he tried to mask it off quickly, blinking a couple of times without looking anywhere else but your face. “What?” he asked quietly and very slowly, as if he was not sure of what he heard, of having hallucinated what you said.

“Do you want to fuck?” you repeated, dragging out the words for him with a small cooing tone. As you said each word, his gaze went over the features of your face, his eyes widening once again when you finished uttering the question.

“Wh-what about the assignment?” he stuttered, visibly trying to keep his cool.

“I’m bored. And we could finish it later,” you shrugged slightly, putting on your best confident face. Part of you found it cute that his first instinct was to ask about the assignment, and not why you wanted to fuck him all of a sudden.

Jeonghan paused to ponder, and you could see on his face that the gears in his brain had begun to turn. “Are you kidding me?” he stuttered, licking his lips anxiously. “Is this some sort of trick?”

You replied by giving him a soft smile, tilting your head to one side. “Sit on the bed,” you whispered, close enough to his face that you could see each of his individual lashes.

At the sound of your command, Jeonghan could not resist himself any further. Whatever protest he had thought, he brushed them all away with a blink of his pretty eyes. He rose to his feet, turned away and sat on the bed, his hands placed neatly on his lap.

Now it was your turn to contemplate him for a second. “How would I be tricking you?” you mused, getting to your feet to stand in front of him.

He raised his gaze to meet yours, his mouth parting slightly as he swallowed nervously. “I-I don’t know, I…” he blinked slowly, smiling in pure shyness at his own stuttering. “Why would you want to f-fuck me?”

“Mm,” you hummed, inching closer to him so you could reach out and hold his face. “Like I said I’m bored,” you mumbled, bringing up a finger to touch the tip of his nose. “And you, Jeonghan, are terribly skittish… it’s nagging.”

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat, blinking repeatedly as you dragged the pad of your finger to caress his cheek. “I-I still don’t get why-,”

“Don’t play coy, Jeonghan, it doesn’t suit you,” you smirked, enjoying the way he trembled beneath the tip of your finger. “I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” he chuckled dryly, his gaze falling far in the room as if he were directing it to an imaginary camera behind you in sheer incredulity. “What the fuck?”

But his eyes found your face again when you sunk your fingers, threading his long dark hair from the crown of his head and then back. “I can’t really ignore the way you’ve been staring at my tits, Jeonghan, and I am in a bit of a giving mood.”

“Oh god,” he mouthed, shaking as his hands clutched the bedcovers beneath him. “Wh-what—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look-,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a low coo. “You can stare, Hannie. In fact, tonight you can do more than that.”

“Wh-what?” he repeated slowly. “More?”

You nodded, smiling gently at the confusion plastered on his face. Driving that confusion deeper, your fingers coiled in his hair, giving a tug. “Do you want to kiss me, Jeonghan?”

His eyes immediately traveled to your lips, giving you a small nod with his head. “Yeah, I do,” he said faintly.

You smirked, trying to mask your own nervousness. “Don’t move,” you whispered, looking at his eyes and then his lips before dipping your head to meet his mouth with your own.

As you had intuited before: he was a good kisser. The slow and gentle pressing of your lips against his was matched in an instant in the same manner. Helping yourself with your hands on his hair, you tilted his head back, hugging his lips with your own in a deeper kiss. He hummed, which led you to think that he liked that.

“That was good,” you mumbled, pulling back to see his dark eyes glimmering.

You stopped cradling his head with your hands, taking them to your chest where you slowly started to undo each button of your dress shirt. His eyes followed your fingers as they trailed further down, your shirt parting to show your white lace bra.

“Oh, look at you,” you mumbled mockingly. “Hard already. Just by seeing my bra?”

Jeonghan shifted on his bed, his parted legs gave you the sight of the erection tenting his grey sweats. The tips of his ears could not get redder, and you saw how he trembled slightly due to a hard shudder coursing through him.

You allowed the dress shirt to fall from your shoulders and to the floor, uncovering your chest for his view. His mouth parted, and for a moment you thought he meant to say something but never found the courage to do it.

So you made it easier for him. “Do you want to touch me, Jeonghan?” you mumbled sweetly, tucking a strand of dark hair beneath his ear.

He appeared to be unable to speak, his gaze fighting to stay on your face instead of your tits bulging beneath your bra. “Ye-yes,” he whispered, wasting no time and raising his hands to cup your tits over your bra.

He did it sloppily, his fingers shaking slightly over the lacey hem of the cup of your bra. He licked his lips again, raising his eyes to meet yours, a question written on his bright eyes.

“I’ll give you another kiss if you unclasp my bra,” you mumbled with the ghost of a smirk on your face.   

His throat bobbed, a silent groan escaping him before his hands circled your back, fingers desperately searching for the hook of your bra.

“It’s on the front, Jeonghan,” you whispered with a soft smile.

“Oh…” he blurted with a nervous giggle, moving his hands to the front, looking at the intricate hook before giving it a try and unclasp it. “Ho-how do you do it? Like this?” he asked innocently, his fingers going around the clasp, undoing it by pure luck.

The bra came off, freeing your tits in a nearly obscene way. Jeonghan blinked as you slid your bra down your arms, making you smile wider at the shocked look on his face.

His eyes coasted from your face to your neck, from your collarbones to your chest. It was then that he pushed his tongue on his lower lip, right before sinking his teeth into it.

You grabbed his hands, taking them to your chest. His eager fingers squeezed your tits gently at first, a sigh escaping him when his hands came into contact with your skin. “You’re so warm,” he muttered softly.

“You’re cold,” you giggled, a shudder coursing through you when his fingers experimentally pinched your sensitive nipples.

“Sorry, I could just…” he whispered, making an attempt to remove his hands.

“No, it’s okay,” you mumbled, grabbing his face again, your fingers tangling in his mane of dark hair. “You deserve a kiss,” you said, keeping your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss him again.

You felt the sharp intake of breath right as your lips touched his, he closed his lips on yours in a wet kiss. Jeonghan moved his hand to your waist, making you stiffen slightly under his cold touch.

Brushing his hair back, you moved a hand to hold his chin, while the other rested on his shoulder. “Are you ready for more?” you asked.

“Yeah, I want to keep going,” he replied with a weak tone.

“If you want to stop, you can say anything and I will,” you told him with seriousness coating your words.

He nodded, considering your proposition before saying: “We could establish a safeword.”

You arched one eyebrow, about to ask him if he was experienced in that. “How-,”

“I watch a lot of porn,” he explained hurriedly, noticing your expression. “I should also mention that I’m clean, and I have condoms… though they’re already expired,” he finished with a frown.

“That’s okay,” you chuckled, letting go of his chin. “I’m also clean, and on birth control. Well, what is your safeword?”

His eyes swam upwards, looking at the ceiling before returning to you. “Quixotic.”

You gave him a bemused look. “Can I ask why?”

“Because this is what it is, unreal. No one would believe me if I ever dared to tell a soul about this...” he said, his gaze trailing from your face down to your semi-naked body in front of him.

“Alright, baby boy,” you sighed, pleased with his reaction. “Are you okay with this, then?”

“A thousand percent,” he blurted, a shy smile adorning his face.

“I’m going to start undressing you now,” you said, carefully grabbing the sides of his hoodie.

“Ye-yeah, okay, go ahead,” he said, and you noticed that the stutter came and went. But he raised his arms, allowing you to remove his hoodie. He wore nothing beneath it, so you encountered his sleek torso.

“Lie down,” you instructed next, running your palms from his chest down, enjoying that his eyes were on you all the time, not losing a moment.

You searched around the room, spotting the mini figurines on his desk. They were hand-painted, and you assumed that they were special edition collectibles. “You have a lot of toys, Jeonghan,” you mumbled. “Did you put them all together?”

“Yes,” he croaked nervously. “All of them.”

“Such skilful hands,” you smirked, relishing in the awed look on his face upon being showered by your genuine praise. “Do you have more toys that you would want to show me?”

“Sh-sh-show you?” he whispered, and part of you believed for a second that he was unable to bring his voice any louder.

“Do you have toys for me to play around with? With you?” you asked, giving him a knowing look.

He gave you a perplexed look. “How did you know I-,”

“It’s not hard to guess, Hannie,” you tilted your head to one side, pouting slightly. “I mean, you don’t have a lot of girls over, do you? Do you go after other girls that aren’t me?”

“No. No,” he emphasized firmly. “You’re the first girl I’ve brought over in… like forever.”

“Mmn,” you hummed, pleased with his answer but not letting it show. “Well, tell me where I can find these toys,” you mumbled sweetly, littering lips with small, taunting kisses.

“In my drawer,” he choked out. “Bedside table.”

“Alright,” you leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “Don’t move,” you ordered, getting off the bed and his lap, to circle the bed, his gaze following you.

You smirked when you noticed that the only part of his body that moved was his eyes.

You opened the drawer, finding a bottle of lube that was already spent halfway through, a bunch of condoms that were indeed expired, and toys. “You have a wide variety here,” you pointed, giving him a look. “Do you play with yourself often?”

“Y-yeah,” he closed his eyes in shame. “Like I said, I don’t bring a lot of people over.”

“Mmmn,” you hummed, pretending to be pondering what to pick. Jeonghan indeed had a lot of toys, ranging from cock rings, dildos, fleshlights, and vibrators. “What shall I pick for tonight?”

“T-tonight? You mean there will be more nights like this?” he stammered uncontrollably.

“Only if you behave tonight,” you conditioned with a small smirk, but deep down you knew that he was going to be perfect for you.

And that was almost maddening.

“Pick whatever you prefer, I’m down,” he said, and you saw him grow a little bit more confident.

“I have an impression that you’re into cock rings,” you smirked at him, looking at the variety of cock rings he owned, some with vibrators, some without. You grabbed a simple set of two adjustable cock rings, which were slick and black.

Jeonghan shifted slightly on the bed as you returned to him, placing each of your knees on the sides of his hips. His hands tentatively found your hips, grabbing you over your skirt. “God,” he whispered to himself when you lowered the weight of your body on top of him, sitting on top of him.

It was then that you noticed by feeling his erection just how big he was. You shot him a look that told him you were impressed. “Jeonghan-,”

“I’d advise you to hurry,” he said, trembling slightly under your weight.

You emitted a nervous giggle despite yourself. “Don’t tell me you finish fast,” you said with a mocking tone, trying your best to mask your awe. You ground your hips, pressing your ass down on his bulge.

“Fuck,” he gritted with a tiny tone, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you mumbled sweetly, leaning over to prop a light kiss on his bottom lip. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Hannie. In fact, we can have more fun with that.”

He blinked twice, a frown appearing on his face. “What? How?”

You brushed his cheek with the back of your finger, finishing by cupping his chin. “I could put this on you,” you motioned to the cock ring in your hand, “and I’ll have fun making you come again and again until you can’t anymore.”

An exhale escaped him, his eyes widening once again. “Fuck, please, yes, yes, please do that,” he blurted quickly, much as if he could not contain himself.

“Want me to use you, Hannie?” you asked, realizing that you had hit a weak point for him.

His eyelashes fluttered, a small choked-out sound coming from his lips. “Yes, please... use me.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer. “Let’s put this on you, baby boy,” you said, moving from his lap to stand before the foot of the bed. Hooking your fingers on the band of his sweat, you dragged them down his legs, leaving him with his white briefs only.

“Mmn,” you hummed quietly, looking at the way his erection was tenting his underwear.

Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, Jeonghan bit his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on your expression. The band of his briefs inched down, and his cock sprung free, resting on his lower abdomen.

Fuck. He was big, even bigger than you imagined when you felt him. You would take a while adjusting to his size, you knew it. Your mouth salivated at the thought, the thought of riding him raw, the thought of making him come inside you, over and over again. You wanted to make him yours, to ruin him.

“Let’s take this slow, yes?” you said primly, pressing a knee on the bed and between his legs to lean down and press kiss on his pretty lips.

“No, please, don’t take it slow,” he choked out, a hand sneaking beneath your skirt to feel your hip.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasized with a smirk. “That bad you want me already?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Suck me, fuck me, I don’t care, just have your fun with me,” he pressed, removing his hand from your hip.

“What if my kind of fun is to torture you slowly?” you tested him, studying him with your eyes.

His lower lip trembled slightly when you slid your hand from his chest down his abdomen. “I d-don’t wanna come too soon,” he said, cursing under his breath when your fingertip reached his pubic hair.

“Could you come untouched, then?” you wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Right now I feel like I could,” he replied.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” you assured.

“Please do.”

Your fingers inched further down, circling around his shaft. A strangled gasp left him, his breath brushing against your lips, reciprocating your quick kiss as you started jerking him off slowly, exploring his cock.  “You know how many times I fantasized about this?” you asked with a low tone.

“This?” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know, once?”

“You constantly get on my nerves, Jeonghan,” you rolled your hand on his cock, smearing him all over with his precum leaking from its slit. “I wanted to have you like this since you started sitting next to me.”

“Really?” he breathed with the ghost of a smile. “I knew it.”

“You planned it?”

“I didn’t plan shit,” he blurted with a hollow laugh. “I hoped. I hoped you looked at me, I wanted to talk to you, but never could.”

The movement of your hand stilled. “All the things you did to nag me, you didn’t do them on purpose?”

“Not at first, no. I promise,” he smirked innocently. “I just noticed that you would pay attention to me, so I started to do it more frequently.”

Shock buried itself deep within you, making the features of your face go lax, and your mouth opened wide in shock. “Oh, you bad boy,” you whispered reproachingly, switching to a wide smile.

You moved back so you could get a better view of his body, his cock still in your hand. You were stroking him gently, but he was hard for you, his tip reddened and leaking precum as you had never seen another do.

“Yeah,” he said softly, noticing the light shock on your face. “Please hurry.”

“Alright,” you conceded at last, moving the cock ring on his shaft, adjusting it firmly to his girth, then you did the same to his ballsack. “How is that?” you asked with a gentler tone.

“I can take more,” he said, his brown eyes absorbing you.

“There?” you asked, adjusting the ring to strangle him a bit more.

“Ye-yeah,” he breathed, shifting on the bed in nervousness. “Fuck,” he said under his breath when you continued stroking him with one hand, checking him for any signs of discomfort but only finding pleasure on his face.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes fluttered before shutting, and his throat throbbed as he swallowed.

You leaned over, smirking to yourself before you gave him a broad stroke to his long shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck!” he forced out, his eyes snapping open.

You laughed, licking the reddened cockhead, picking up the precum that was leaking from the slit. Jeonghan was a babbling mess, trembling on his bedcovers, breathing raggedly. His face was priceless, scrunched up in utter bliss, his cock covered in your drool.

You teased the swollen ridge of his head with the tip of your tongue, licking it playfully with swift jabs, a hand squeezing his balls gently, the other stroking his long shaft, pushing him further for his early release.

What caught your attention was that he made no move to touch your head or your hair. His hands balled into fists, clenching the bedcovers in an attempt to hold a little longer.

But you continued pumping him with one hand, ignoring the way his eyes widened. Circling his cockhead with your lips, you began sucking it as you would a popsicle, making slurping sounds. You teased him like this, making you with the bulbous head of his cock, holding his gaze with your own.

The expressions he made were priceless, his mouth open, his eyes coasting from yours to your lips on him, to your hand pumping him.

“Ah–fuck, do-don’t—I’m gonna, I’m gonna, g-god,” he murmured quickly but gave you enough time to remove your mouth from his head.

It was too late, a long and pleased sigh left him as ropes of cum spurted from his tip, and just kept coming, dripping from his slit down to his shaft, covering your fingers around him. You cussed with a sigh, looking at the warm mess coating your hand, the beads of cum scattered on his lower abdomen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he drawled pathetically, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, it just feels so good,” he said, mouthing apologetic words over and over.

“You’re good, baby,” you hushed, noticing the furious red tinting the tip of his ears in shame. “Can I keep going?”

He gulped before nodding with his head. “Yes,” he croaked, but his eyebrows drew inward slightly. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, stroking his shaft with your dirty hand, smearing him with cum all over. “I’m having fun.”

“But-but…” he trailed off when you moved, climbing down the bed.

Putting on a show, you finished undressing before him, removing your skirt and your ruined panties with your dainty fingers, leaving your high-knee socks on purpose. You climbed back on the bed, moving towards him, placing each knee at his sides on the bed.

Jeonghan just fell into a deeper fascination. You saw it on his face, how his features fell upon the sight of you utterly naked and on top of him.

“I said don’t worry,” you mumbled, stroking him gently again with your hand, enjoying that his cock was still hard. “I can make myself feel good, and you’re going to help me with that.”

“How?” he croaked.

“Well, we agreed that I’d use you, no?” you cooed softly. “And I want to suck you and ride you until you’re spent.”

His hands searched for you, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling you up timidly. He gave you a tiny nod with his head, unable to utter a word.

“You want that, baby?” you muttered, his cum already cooled in your hand but you just kept going. “You came so much, Hannie… I want you to do that when you’re inside me.”

“I-I… fuck. I want that too—all of that,” he said, now building up confidence. “I want to feel you, please?”

“Not before you come again like this,” the motion of your hand-picked up some speed, your fingers tightening around his shaft.

“No, please, please, I need to feel you,” he closed his eyes, tears falling from the corners when you moved back to wrap your mouth around his sensitive cockhead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no…”

He sucked in a breath, the grunts spilling from his lips only egging you on. You sucked him harshly, tasting his cum with your tongue pressed to the tip, hollowing your cheeks out as your hand kept pumping him relentlessly.

The ring helped keep his erection for longer, but something inside you told you that he could do this even without it. A cunning thought told you that he would be a great sub for you with little training.

“Too much,” he breathed without complaint, there was an elated smile on his face as he sank his head back onto the pillows. “God… ah, please…”

Instinctively, you removed your mouth from his cockhead just as ropes of cum spurted from its reddened tip. Jeonghan tensed and writhed on the bedcovers, choked-out sobs falling from his parted lips. You moved your lips to kiss his shaft, as more beads of cum dripped down. 

“Thank you… Fuck, that was amazing,” he croaked languidly, opening his eyes.

With a shudder in excitement, you noticed the clumped eyelashes, and the tears falling from the corners of his pretty eyes. You realized then, that Jeonghan would become your obsession.

His cock started to go soft in your hand, but somehow you knew that it would not take him too long before he was ready for round three.

“You did amazing, baby. Let’s take this off for now,” you mumbled sweetly, arranging your fingers to get the ring off him, not paying attention to the mess smeared all over him and your hands. The dirtier the better.

And it seemed like Jeonghan shared the same fascination. He bit his lower lip, much as if he could not resist it.

“Can I ask you something?” his tone was low, but timid at the same time.

“Sure,” you conceded with a small smile.

“Did you know that I like you?” he asked, his voice shaking so much that he ended with a mere whisper.

“No,” you replied with honesty, getting a tingling feeling inside you, blooming into a shudder.

“Really?” he cocked his head on the bedcover. “So what would you have done if I had rejected your advances?” 

You paused, sitting on top of his messy abdomen. You coughed up a low chuckle, shrugging with ease. “Then I would have moved on,” you blinked at him slowly, enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. “I guess I hoped that you liked me too.”

He clicked his tongue softly negating with his head as he said, “Insane… this is insane.”

You found yourself smiling broadly at him, your chest swelling with endearment for him. You brought a clean hand to pinch his chin, and he instinctively opened his mouth, biting the tip of your finger softly, the act so innocent that it made you chuckle.

A rush coursed through you upon having his wet tongue on your fingers, but you were distracted swiftly, noticing that he had grown hard again. “I take that you’re ready for me?”

“Fuck… yes,” he whispered with a mischievous smile.

“What’s that?” you arched one eyebrow.

He made a small motion to shake his head. “Nothing...” he said, but then he reconsidered, “So I mangled a copy of Frankenstein and that was it for you? Should I do it more often?”

 “No,” you deadpanned, the conversation suddenly turning serious to you. “I hate what you do to books… But you know what? Maybe.”

“Ah, okay, okay,” he laughed, his breath hitching when you repositioned your hips on him, aligning your pretty pussy with his long dick. “Fuck,” he gritted, shooting you an exasperated look. “Raw?”

“Only if you want it, Hannie,” you cooed softly, grabbing his shaft. “If not, I’m okay with you eating me out.”

“I haven’t actually given head before,” he blurted, anxiously gripping your hips in anticipation, but then he gave you a nod with his head. “I want it, please, I want to feel you.”

You smiled at him. “Oh, you really are perfect,” you sighed, shifting on top of him, enjoying his gaze on your body, right where you were about to meet with his cock. You slipped the tip of his cock between your folds, teasing yourself and him a little.

“Ssshit,” he hissed, moving on the bed anxiously, but his dark eyes were still on your pussy, waiting for you to give him what he desperately wanted.

His hands clenched on the soft skin of your hips, his fingernails digging into you so harshly you knew you would leave marks in a few minutes.

“Don’t make me tie you,” you said, your tone quivering slightly. It was then when you paid attention to your own body, the way you were aching to feel him, to feel the stretch his long cock would make you feel, you wanted to know how deep he could reach inside you.

“Another night, maybe?” he teased, mustering some courage.

Your heart fluttered upon seeing a tint of attitude behind that tiny, but devilish smirk. “Another night…” you conceded, pushing his cock with your fingers so that its bulbous head met your entrance, your mouth instantly falling open when you started to ease down on his long and veiny shaft.

“God,” he whispered.

“Oh, Jeonghan!” you cried, sinking down on him with a raw and drawn-out moan. You continued to sit down on him, shuddering as his dick stretched your walls deliciously, making you take your other hand to stroke your clit in gentle motions to ease the slight sting.

“Well, that is all the time I have for you today,” Professor Blackwood called loudly as your fellow classmates stood from their chairs, dragging them across the floor loudly, snapping you awake from the memory.

You jolted quite embarrassingly, licking your lips in an attempt to bring the muscles of your face alive. Realizing that had been fantasizing about Jeonghan for the remainder of the lecture, you could feel that your panties were soaked, and sticking to your throbbing core.

Jeonghan did not move from his seat either. He was bouncing a knee, sharing the same tension you were feeling, he shot you a knowing look.

“My place or yours?” you smirked. 

› author's note: HEYOOOOOO

it's finally here! i am sorry it took me so long, the last 10 days of october kicked my ass 😭😭😭😭 i am still recovering from those days lol

it also took me a while to write this one because i can't for the life of me, imagine jeonghan as a loser because to me he is the coolest human being on earth. even if he is a loser at times, i just can't, he is the coolest to me :3

also, remember his iconic s-s-s-s-say the name ? that is what i pictured whenever i wrote that hannie stuttered 😭

anyway, that is it. i'll come back with more hannieween fest fics and maybe i'll post lights out soon hehehehe

toodles! thank you so so much for your support! 🙂

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[vividxpages]

౨ৎ˚⟡.⭒˚no parents, big house⭒˚⟡˚౨ৎ

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 4400

summary: with his family out of the house for one night, Jacaerys and you decide to make the most of it.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, wine drinking, they’re both just really in love with each other, smut (making out, dry humping)

a/n: This is my first time writing smut for Jacaerys, I hope you like it, let’s get through this big hiatus and be good to each other! <3

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤍🍕💋୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you rang the doorbell of the Targaryen-Strong household, you could already hear screeching coming from behind the door.

Smiling to yourself, you shifted on your feet, the staple of pizza cartons in your hand warm on your palm. A bag hung over your shoulder and excited shivers ran through you at the prospect of spending the entire night over at Jace’s place.

Your boyfriend’s mother and her husband had decided to go out tonight, a rather rare occurrence with multiple boys under their roof and Jace and you had decided to make the most of it. Privacy often was an unknown word here and to both Jace’s and your embarrassment, the two had been caught making out on his bed (in various states of undressing) by his siblings enough times already.

Tonight though, there had been a compromise.

Jace was allowed to spend the night with you, but only if Lucerys took the others to see a movie tonight and the brothers were in charge of making dinner for everyone beforehand. Jacaerys had agreed in a heartbeat and butterflies had taken wing in your stomach when he texted you the plan later, accompanied by three red hearts.

Although Jace was a decent cook – you could confirm this, talking from experience – the pizza had been your idea. And if Jace’s brothers did not love you enough already, the door opened and you and the stacks of pizza were greeted with shouting and frantic hugs before these whirlwinds of dark curly hair disappeared down the hallway in excited chatter and you stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Hi.” You smiled brightly as he quickly took your important delivery from you.

“Hi.” He breathed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as always when you two shared a moment. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray joggers and a white shirt, his hair adorably put back in a bun that had you staring at him, utterly in love and anticipating your stay in his home tonight.

Behind his back, a sudden scream could be heard and a pillow flew through the air. You grimaced at the chaos seemingly going on in the living room and your boyfriend’s nostrils flared in annoyance as he threw a stern look over his shoulder.

“I swear they were behaving before; I think we had too many sugar cookies earlier.” He sighed, stepping aside to let you in, his hands subconsciously finding your waist on its own. You leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, inhaling the delicious smell of his cologne.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mom.” You joked. You two quickly closed the door, not wanting the neighbors to suspect someone was getting murdered in here.

He chuckled. “Lucky me then.” Into the vague direction of the living room down the hall, he ordered: “Guys, be quiet or we’re going to eat all this pizza by ourselves and I tell mom you’ve terrorized me and Luke all evening.”

This threat brought silence to the house and you snorted.

“Always works.” He told you before grabbing your hand and leading you to the massive living room, big panorama windows offering a look into the garden of the property. Luke was waving at you from the kitchen, his smile still a little sour since he had to take care of their smaller brothers for tonight, as he prepared plates for everyone.

The twins, now relatively calm and obedient, sat side by side on the couch, smiling brightly at you. You dropped your bag by the staircase, kneeling in front of them and ruffling their light hair. “Hey, you two. Jace told me you’re watching a movie tonight?”

Jacaerys adoringly smiled at you as you talked to his baby brothers, his heart melting as always when he could see how well you were getting along with his family. You had been over enough times to earn yourself a permanent spot in the hearts of all his family members and it fulfilled him deeply to know you were his and you belonged with them just as you belonged with him.

Soon, his family was going to go on vacation and last week, his mother had told him she would be delighted to have you there with them as well. He could’ve cried with happiness and the two of you certainly had celebrated, in your own way.

But tonight, he couldn’t wait to play house with you, only for a little while until you were going to move in with each other one day.

“Thank you for the pizza.” Luke mumbled through his bites and you waved it off, leaning into Jace’s side as the group all settled down on the big couch in the middle of the room. You tugged your legs underneath you and sighed happily as you bit into your first piece, one of Jace’s hands that wasn’t occupied with his own slice resting on your naked thigh.

It had been hot outside tonight and you were still wearing shorts. While you listened to the twins’ stories and chatted with Luke, Jace began to slowly circle his thumb on your knee, the gesture as delicate as the brush of a feather. But it was enough to make you falter, all your nerves seeming to travel down to the small patch of skin being touched by him.

It was enough to distract you and yet, it wasn’t nearly enough.

But this sweet torture of his and inevitably, you giving in to it, had to wait for now.

“Want a slice of mine?” You asked him sweetly, offering him a piece of your pizza covered with cherry tomatoes, arugula and hearty cheese. He nodded, leaning forward and letting himself be fed by you. When you wiped a little blob of sauce from the corner of his lips, Luke had enough.

“Can’t you use your own hands, Jace?” He teased, a knowing grin on his mischievous face.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave to see the movie soon?” Jace shot back, unbothered and unashamed as you laughed and licked your finger clean, causing Joffrey to watch the two of you with a disgusted face. Once, when he still had been a little smaller, he had compared the two of you to his own parents because of the way you always gravitated towards each other, always touching when you could, but you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t regretting this comparison now.

Luke looked to the clock on the wall, startling. “Oh shit, we’re going to be late.”

“Oh shit.” The twins echoed and the two older brothers shared a look.

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you taught them this.” Jace declared nonchalantly and Luke groaned, taking his plate to the kitchen and telling everyone wanting to see Paw Patrol tonight to hurry up.

You chuckled, kissing Jace’s bony shoulder and standing up as well, taking his plate from him.

“No, no, I’m not letting you wash our dishes, you’re my guest tonight.” He protested and took them to the sink himself. You once again shivered at his words, the prospect of having the whole house to yourselves for a few hours more than enough to spark your wildest fantasies of him…

There was some hustling and bustling going on in the hallway as Jace and you worked together by the sink - a compromise because you always wanted to help - before Joffrey shouted a quick goodbye to you.

“Do you guys want ice cream?” Luke asked his brothers on their way out and Jace groaned, quickly shouting after them: “Don’t give them more sugar!” The door fell shut behind them and soon, you heard the engine of Jace’s car start.

“Don’t worry too much about them.” You told him softly, seeing the way Jace bit on his bottom lip, a common sign that he was overthinking. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know…” He took one of the plates you held up and dunked them into the full sink. “I’m very happy you’re here tonight. I was thinking about it all day.”

“Me too.” You whispered, suddenly short of breath. 

It wasn’t the first time you were sleeping over, but with a house full of people, indulging intimacy with your boyfriend was…difficult. Dinners were spent by the big table with his family and once you retreated into his room upstairs – sometimes after roasting marshmallows over the fire pit outside or playing board games with his competitive parents – the two of you were mostly too tired to stay up any longer. Jace shared a bathroom with Luke, so taking advantage of the luxurious big shower was too risky, and the walls were not as thick as you would’ve guessed for such a big mansion.

So, most of these nights ended cuddled together in his bed, sated and happy and tired, sleepily kissing each other in the darkness until you either fell asleep together or Jace would sneak his warm hands underneath his sleeping shirt on you, ghosting over your body until you’d eventually let out a needy whimper he had to cut off with a kiss or his hand. How often had you come around his skilled fingers, silencing your little moans and gasps in the crook of his neck or breathing them into his mouth? And how often had he softly bitten your neck or shoulder to stifle his moans while you sweetly jerked him to completion, giggling to yourself when he had to stagger out of bed shortly afterwards to find a tissue for your sticky hand?

“Is there something you’d like to do?” Jace asked you, ever so eager to make sure you were the most comfortable you could be. You thought of the sun chairs outside on the terrace and how lovely it was the stargaze together or the pool, its crystal-clear waters flickering seducingly. You thought of the shower, your gaze flickering down to Jace’s subtle but strong muscles, subconsciously licking your lips.

But you also had not seen him all week and you desperately wanted to relish the quietness of his home with him before everyone else came back later tonight.

You shrugged, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I just like to be with you. Maybe we can finish up here and watch a movie and cuddle?”

Jace wanted to melt at your innocent suggestion. “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll dry the plates; you grab us two glasses? Dad brought a fancy wine yesterday.”

You found the bottle in question quickly, your eyes widening at the fancy label around it. “I’m not sure if this is meant for us, Jacey. This is expensive-expensive.”

Jacaerys threw the towel over his shoulder, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to him. You had listened to the radio as you worked and an old school love song was echoing through the kitchen now, your boyfriend goofily swaying to the beat and wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll buy a new one first thing tomorrow. We can act like we’re adults tonight.”

“Jace, we are adults.” You laughed as he twirled you, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the stray curls in his nape. You sloppily swayed to the beat, lost in each other’s eyes and smiles and you knew you were not ever going to love anyone else the way you loved Jacaerys. There wasn’t space for anyone else, because you were sure your whole heart only consisted of him.

Eventually, you filled – and emptied - those wine glasses and danced through the kitchen, your laughter echoing through the house, making it your home for the night. You exchanged some giddy kisses and his lips tasted like heavy wine and when you pulled back, his dark eyes laid hazily on you.

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth once more, the wine in your system making it hard to think.

After a moment, he swallowed hard and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

Neither of you had any idea how you managed to stick to the movie, but a little later, you found yourself on the couch, one leg thrown over Jace’s, your head safely nestled in the crook of his neck. Jace had dimmed down the lights of the living room and prepared a bowl of snacks for the two of you while you had changed into something more comfortable.

Now, it had gotten dark outside and the black void of the garden rested to your left while Jace rested his chin on your head, absently picking up some popcorn from time to time as you watched the movie. Earlier, you almost could’ve not hidden the mischievous grin on your face as you quickly snuck under the blankets on the couch, Jace’s back still turned to you. You had picked one of his soft shirts to wear and underneath it, which he had not noticed yet, you were only wearing panties. The lacy, soft pink ones he loved oh so very much.

Jace had returned to caress you mindlessly, his fingers wandering up and down your naked leg and the steady motion made your eyelids drop from time to time, a small yawn escaping you as you nuzzled your face in his neck.

Jace squirmed, not entirely unpleasant. “Hey…’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You breathed back, one of your hands finding a good spot on his toned stomach, the fabric separating your palm from his warm skin almost too much to bear. Like this, it went on for a while, both of you focusing less and less on the movie on the big flatscreen and more and more on the little touches you gifted to each other. Wanting, unspoken questions, disguised by innocent affections.

A while ago, he had turned a little, one of his clothed legs having found the perfect spot between your thighs, still held back by the fluffy blanket draped over you. But you were slowly having enough of useless fabrics between the two of you and Jace’s lean leg between you wasn’t exactly helping to ease the growing pull in your stomach.

You shuffled even closer and Jace tore his dark eyes away from the screen to look deeply into yours, his plush lips slightly agape as he watched you grind your hips forward, your hand drifting beneath his shirt to ghost over his skin. You felt the muscles in his stomach tense underneath your touch, his breath ghosting over your lips and when he finally dared to capture your mouth with his, you let out a relieved sigh.

Forgotten was the movie that had not interested you from the start as Jace blindly grabbed the bowl of snacks and moved it out the way. His hand drifted over your thigh as he delicately cupped your cheek, making your blood tingle underneath his soft touch, and finally snuck underneath the blanket.

You grinned against his lips, tilting your head to give him more access as a shaky sigh escaped him, his fingers trying to feel where the seam of your shorts began. Instead, his fingertips brushed over silk and lace and his mind short-circuited.

He pulled back, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looked at you through them. Both of you were breathing hard, with flushed cheeks and arousal coursing through your veins. He looked at you like you were a miracle, not believing how he managed to end up with such a lovely creature. You pushed your thighs together as he slowly licked his lip, feeling already that your precious panties were going to be soaked very soon. And to think that he had not even gotten started…

“Jace…” You whispered, almost a whine as his thumb brushed over the lacy material, his pupils blown wide as he leaned forward and kissed your neck. You threw your head back, whimpering as his teeth dragged over a sensitive spot. “Please.”

He peeled away the blanket, letting it fall to the floor and looked down, your shirt messily pushed upward to reveal your tummy and the soft pink panties. You swore you could see the dragon in him, his family symbol just lingering underneath the surface. His knee was still resting between your thighs, not yet giving you what you craved so much. Your mouth watered as his darkened gaze landed on you again, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip. He whispered, his hoarse voice sending goosebumps through you; “You’re the most beautiful girl…god, you’re driving me insane with how much I want you.”

You exhaled shakily. “You got me.”  You nodded, trusting him with your whole being. You both had known how this night would’ve ended and yet, you could never prepare yourself for the intensity of your feelings for Jace. Your hand freed his hair from the scrunchie tied to it and you brushed through his soft curls.

“I love you.” Jace murmured and attached his lips to your neck once more, finally having some mercy on you as he pushed his knee forward and making you cry out. The rough fabric of his joggers pressed against your thin, wet panties, the delicious pressure making you weak in the knees. You threw your head back, your arms naturally resting around his neck as you pushed your chests together, sinking into the pillows behind you in bliss.

Jacaerys paced the rhythm, slowly grinding against you with his thigh, feeling your legs    quiver as little lightning shot through your core with each of his motions. Cuddling with him for so long had heightened all your senses, making it hard to concentrate as you pushed your hips forward, riding his thigh as he peppered kisses against your skin, drawing aside the shirt from your shoulder so he could leave a loving mark there, too.

With a particular enthusiastic buck forward, you made him hiss, your little whines and whimpers having made him rock-hard and straining against his own pants. You placed two fingers underneath his chin, drawing him up into a desperate and messy kiss and his hands on your waist tightened their hold.

“C’mere, baby.” He murmured into your mouth, his thigh still rubbing against your most sensitive part. “In my lap, up you go.”

You let yourself be hoisted up until your knees were placed on either side of his slim hips and you gasped into his mouth, your core now deliciously pressed against his length. He placed his shaking hand into your hair and your hands found purchase on his chest, helping him to take it off and throw it somewhere else.

You giggled, head spinning with pleasure as you were juggled around in his lap by him wriggling out of these damn joggers off, your laugh suddenly cut off when he bucked his hips up into yours, the outline of his dick fitting perfectly against you.

“Can I take this off?” Jace asked you breathless, playing with the hem of your shirt and you pecked his lips encouragingly.

“Yes, please.” You could feel his heart beating fast underneath your palm. “I might go insane if you don’t.” You bit your lip and Jace groaned, quickly nodding as he lifted your shirt over your heart and tugging you close against him so you wouldn’t be cold at first.

“Anything you want.” He mumbled, eyes glazed over with love as he looked at you, his fingers ghosting along the underside of your chest, his thumb soothingly touching one of your nipples. “God, you’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and then, you did not talk anymore, driven by the growing need for each other now. You started to grind your hips forward again, hissing at how amazing the friction felt for now, the little gasp Jacaerys let out only encouraging you to continue like this.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to brush your hair back, caress your chest or guide your hips with them. You felt the mixture of the wine from earlier and the warmth in your core get to your head, the room around you spinning as you found another fantastic angle which made his clothed dick rub over your wet clit just right.

You let out a long-drawn moan, doubling your effort and leaning close to Jace so he could hear every little sound he lured from deep within your body. And in return, he made sure you heard him, his gasps soon turning into the sweet whines you loved so much. There was a wet patch on his briefs as you looked down and you had been a mess anyway and none of it mattered the slightest if he only continued to move you around in his lap like he did now.

“’m close…” You told him, brows scrunched together and eyes closed in pleasure as you rubbed yourself against him. Jace was watching your every movement, fascinated how someone as delicate and sweet as you could really belong to him, peppering kisses on your exposed chest and tugging you forward hard, back and forth on his dick, again and again, a thousand nerves in both your bodies alight.

“So perfect for me, so sweet…” He mumbled and your core clenched around nothing at his sugary affirmations. He kissed your cheek, your neck, over and over again, feeling as your grasp on control continued to slip. “Wanna see you come, my love, fuck- I love you so much…”

“Love you.” You whimpered, mouth a little o-shape, sweat on your forehead and Jace could not help himself, he needed to feel you.

His hand disappeared in your panties, one of his fingers finding your achingly hot clit as the other gathered up your wetness. You keened loudly, doubling over in sweet and utter defeat, immediately caught by his arms and held against his chest. You could’ve sobbed with pleasure as he rubbed one, two, three circles on your clit and then you exploded into a million stars, shattering into stardust right in his safe embrace.

Your orgasm tore through you like a crashing wave and Jace held you through it, throwing his head back against the couch’s backrest, groaning deeply from his chest as he felt himself spill into his underwear, the friction and your sweet sounds too much for his system. You still rode him and his soaked fingers, chasing the high he had gifted you, his fingers continuing to guide you through it all, only slowing their efforts when he felt you twitch with little aftershocks and overstimulation.

Your body slumped against his, breathing heavy and hot as you let out a satisfied smile.

He kissed your temple, hugging you close and closing his eyes as your heart beats slowly calmed down again until they were almost beating as one. You let yourself be held by him, tiredly drawing little hearts on his chest and smiling happily as he kissed your cheek.

“Feeling good?” He asked quietly and brushed back your sweaty hair.

You lifted your head, nodding timidly as you kissed his freckled nose. “Amazing. And you?”

“Perfect.” He smiled blissfully and when you shifted to get more comfortable, both of you grimaced at the sticky feeling. “We made quite a mess, huh?”

Your eyes widened and you hid your face in his neck. “Oh god, do you think anyone will notice?” Suddenly you could not believe you both had let this get so far, in the living room of his family as well-

“Nah, everyone won’t be home for another couple of hours and we can air out the room through the terrace doors.” His eyes sparkled as they looked you over, tucked against him, perfect in every way. “We’ll clean up here and go up to my room to clean you up, okay? Does that sound good?”

“And we’ll cuddle?” You wanted to know, a safe and sacred part of your soul only coming to show itself when Jacaerys was taking care of you like this. To know he knew what you needed and to simply let yourself be led by him made your mind blissfully empty yet full of love and adoration for your boyfriend.

“Yes, love, of course we’ll cuddle.” He pecked your cheek and helped you stand up. (But then again, this whole thing had started out by simply cuddling too, didn’t it?) When you lifted your arms obediently, he slid his shirt back on you and collected his own from the floor, arranging the pillows neatly and folding the blanket like nothing inappropriate had ever happened here.

You laughed as you tried to walk on wobbly legs, only to be scooped up by Jace before you could even reach the staircase. “I think we ruined your favorite underwear.” You whispered into his ear and he blushed madly.

“You can wear one of my boxer shorts if you want.” He offered and you nodded quickly, always a little thief when it came to his clothing. He carried you upstairs, mindful so your legs wouldn’t bump into anything, and gently set you down on his bed once you reached it, kissing your forehead one more time before he rummaged through his closet and found you something to sleep in.

It was ridiculous how happy you felt, how unbelievably in love you were with Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong. You watched him with soft eyes, nearly melting when he cleaned you up with a warm washcloth first, then helped you dress and slid into his twin size bed with you in his arms.

You kissed his smooth jaw, getting comfortable in the familiar safety surrounding you. His fingers were stroking up and down your spine in an easy rhythm.

“I think I’m going to give your brothers gift cards for the cinema for their birthdays.” You mumbled sleepily against him and he laughed, the sound like bells in your ears. 

With it, you drifted off into a wonderful, dreamless sleep and he followed you soon after…

When Rhaenyra came back later that night, finding her sons passed out in their beds, she couldn’t help but peek into her oldest’s room, finding the two of you sleeping peacefully and entwined with each other. 

In the morning over breakfast, she kept it to herself that the TV had still been running and you two had left the terrace door open…

𓆩♡𓆪

taglist: @earth4angels @princessvelaryon

If you would like to be tagged for Part 2, let me know with a comment <3

[nanqmies]

Dainty | Boothill

cw: really bad southern slang, slight bondage, overstimulation, facial, he eats you out, praise, creampie, exhibition cause you’re outside, consent isn’t verbally stated but it is consensual, hitting it raw, biting + marking, oral, brat taming, porn with plot and i think thats all?

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i finally have motivation again.. it took months but my brain is flowing with ideas!!!! please enjoy my work!~

nsfw under the cut~

God-fucking-dammit. One second you're relaxing in the comfort of your penthouse, gazing out the window as music lowly plays in the background. The next your mother is kicking you out the house for a "wake up call" throwing a bag of necessities out next to you on the street, calling you spoilt and ungrateful for not appreciating the things she and your father have done for you. Sending you out to this dirty old countryside with no buildings, no people, and no service for miles! Seriously? She must be crazy! What about college? Your friends?? Even your butler bids you goodbye when dropping you at some stupid rusted bench in the middle of nowhere. Powering your phone on and raising it high in the air, desperately trying to get some bars to call an uber, groaning in annoyance when your phone overheats and shuts down.

How long has it been since you got here? Sweat coats your forehead causing your hair to stick uncomfortably to your skin, begrudgingly dragging your luggage behind you. Your mouth is dry from dehydration, stomach rumbling for a crumb of food on your plate. It feels like you've been walking along this dirt path for a lifetime. Fortunately your efforts have paid off, finding a small inn, the first building in the miles of grassy fields and farmland. Maybe god truly was on your side! Moving your aching legs to the double doors of the inn, pushing it open and begging the owner for a room to stay. Digging through your wallet and slamming a few hundreds on the front desk, the man behind counts the crinkled bills and leads you to through the halls. Unlocking the last uninhabited room with the key to reveal the ratty and unkempt space, the dim lamp flickering on and off, unexplainable stains on the sheets of the bed with musty smell emitting from the room.

Your nose crinkles in disgust, there... there's no way this room is $200 a night... Glance over the owner, you notice the gold tooth in his mouth shimmering while he grins,, as if he expects you to sleep in some dingy place like this?? You turn around and rush out the doors as quickly as possible, there's absolutely no way in hell you're sleeping in that room... Speeding out on the dirt road and falling to your knees, stress, exhaustion and hunger overwhelms your body. How could you possibly survive in a horrid place like this? No butlers, no phone, no air conditioning, this has to be abuse right?! Laughing hysterically at the absurdity of your situation.

You don't know how long you’re sat there until the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts, looking up you see him. A tall man with slightly tanned skin, long white hair adorned with black accents, covered by a dark gray cowboy hat. He wore a cropped jacket with a scarf hanging down the back with tight black slacks that flared out at the ends. A belt around his waist with a holster and a stack of bullets on the hips

"Ain't yer ma' tell you it's rude to ignore someone when they're talkin' to ya?" the strong southern accent snaps you back to reality, brows furrowing at the man when you shakily stand on your sore.. sore feet.

"What's some city boy doing round ere' this time of day.?" The man persists in his questioning, an annoyed look plays on your face. "I was kicked out, sent away, whatever you'd prefer to call it. For some stupid wake up call." -"| see.. kicked out by yer folks? Nowhere to stay?" His brow rises in curiosity, how amusing.. Some spoilt city boy hauling his luggage around like some sort of idiot, it was painfully obvious to him that you weren't from these parts.. You stomp your foot in annoyance trying to power your phone on but alas it stays black, the screen hot to the touch.

"Ugh! Can my butler just pick me up! The only place to stay is that damned inn." Before you're able to complain you're interrupted by a loud laugh, the cowboy wiping his eye with a chuckle, revealing his sharp toothed smile.

"Aren't you cute.. Ain't no butlers round ere' to save you dainty boy." His words immediately ticked you off, crossing your arms over your chest with a glare. Is he really laughing at your expense? "Dainty boy? Is that supposed to be a joke?" You were now clearly irritated, raising a brow at his laughter, he smiles and tilts his hat down. "Just an observation sweetheart." clearing his throat to try and calm his chuckles. "Tch.. You think you're better than me cause you're from the countryside?" You lean on your luggage for support, you were already exhausted from the scorching heat and long journey his annoying attitude wasn't making it any better. Snickering a bit he decides to indulge in your bad mood a bit more..

"Better than you? Course not.." he takes a step towards you.

"Fancy little electronics and butlers.. so fudging clean and proper.. Ain't never gotten dirty in yer life.." he takes his last step directly in front of you. Leaned over to your shorter height, casting a shadow over you. You swallow thickly, sensing danger in those dark eyes of his. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself composed, the close proximity making it difficult.

"And what's wrong with being clean and proper huh?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, "Who wants to be sweaty and dirty like you?" challenging his tone. You expect him to back off but he does the opposite, laughing lowly at you. A raspy one at that. Tilting his hat down and running his tongue over his cracked lips..

"Ain't that right.. Boys like you are my favorite."

You can't even question what he meant by that statement because he stands to his full height and glances over at you, immediately asking another question.

"Anywho.. You got nowhere to stay right?" You're caught off guard but nod reluctantly, "I don't.. but I'm sure your place isn't any better than that dirty old inn." Responding with a scoff, his eyes narrow slightly, a twitch in his smile that's barely noticeable. Scoffing, he drags you along to his horse, helping you get on as it rides through the fields with long gallops. You hold onto his waist, terrified to fall off the moving creature. On the way to his farm he shares his name.. Boothill he tells you, telling him your own in return. Conversation flies by easy with Boothill, listening to you complain about your parents and the boring countryside they left you in. Only answering with a nod or a hum, as easy as the conversation flows by you can't help but feel a bit uneasy around him. Not mentioning family or friends or anything about his personal life, barely knowing a lick about him while he knows your life story.

After about an hour the horse stops at the large farm buildings, a stable for horses and a small batch of chickens and a few cows grazing in the fields. It's oddly.. nice? You trip slightly off the horse, looking at the perimeter of the place. Boothill leads you into his farmhouse, a comforting look you didn't expect. Warm and nicely decorated, cinnamon candles burning a pleasant scent around the house. Grinning at your awed expression, "Is it old and dirty like that inn?" He taunts you, a cocky tone in his words. Sighing in defeat you shake your head no and roll your eyes. Like the gentleman he is he brings your luggage upstairs, touring the house. Boothill nudges the door of the guest bedroom open, dropping your belongings on the bed. And lord he was right,, it was so much better than that stupid inn! Relishing in the feeling of soft sheets under you, Boothill grins once more at the sight.

"Well now.. better rest yer aching bones.. cause tomorrow.. yer working for me." Immediately you shoot up from bed, confusion clear on your face.. WORK? What does he mean work?? He can tell by your expression that you're awfully surprised. "Hm? You didn't think i'd let you stay for free didya?" He wishes you goodnight but not before mentioning you'll "need it' for tomorrow.. Whatever that means..

Waking up with breakfast isn't what you expected, wearing a pair of thin jean shorts and a tank top. Boothill looks over his shoulder when you finally awaken, "Ah.. Rise n shine sleepin' beauty.." he hums cooking, flipping the pancake in the pan. You sit at the table and wait for him to finish breakfast, looking around for a while. He ends up breaking the silence with an odd ask, "Do you like rope city boy?" You were rather confused by this, eyebrows furrowed. "Rope..? Why do you ask?" The kitchen falls quiet for a few long seconds, "Just askin’.."

After breakfast you're led outside, he tells you the tasks you're assigned with:

Feed the animals

Plant and water the crops

Time passes with the tasks you're forced to complete, he's sick of moans and complaints about the hot weather, the sun being too bright and the work being too hard. Boothill feels throbbing i n his temple, jesus you're annoying. Bratty, loud and ungrateful. Has nobody shown you anything about respect? Clearly he'd have to be the one to smack some manners into you..

.

.

.

"God.. always complaining about something huh." Boothill mumbles as he ties the coarse rope over your thighs, keeping them tightly together. Moving up to do the same with your wrists. He watches with a sharp eye, you're sprawled out underneath him in the grass unable to squirm away from his grasp. "I 'ought to force the brat outta'ya myself." Boothill bends you over and forces your head into the grass, yanking down the flimsy fabric of those shorts of yours down to your thighs. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight, completely bare underneath such thin shorts. * Easy Access * "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes darlin." gripping your hips tightly and spreading you open, impatiently kissing over your thighs..

Carnal desire burning inside his chest as his lips part eagerly to run his tongue over your tight rim, plunging his tongue in with such intensity it sent shivers down your spine. Tongue lapping down to your cock then back up, hand tightening around your throbbing shaft as he pulls the skin back to start stroking you. The euphoric sensation becoming overwhelming as he continues, it's so difficult to ignore the hot feeling of him prodding inside, spreading you open like never before. Hands clenching and writhing against the rope tightened over your delicate skin, pitiful mewls slipping through your lips.

"A-Ahn..! hmn~ don't! not there..-" A boyish yelp coming out when Boothill's hand struck down on the flesh of your ass. "Yer so goshdarn prissy.." he mumbles against your skin, fastening the pace of his hand on your dick. Unable to stop the way his tongue goes from running along the outside to fully thrusting his tongue inside. "Not letting a man finish his work.." he hums while you shake underneath him eyes rolling back when you finish, coating his hand in white. Murmuring in amusement not bothering to cover his laugh.

"Well color me surprised. ain't ever seen such an eager thing.." kissing up your back whilst he pulls your shirt off, forcing you down further into the grass. He unzips his slacks to free his hardened cock, spitting on his hand to lubricate his shaft. Lining himself up with your sex and slowly pushing in, teeth clenching when his cock stretches you open with a mix of pain and pleasure. "H-Hahh…. i-it won't-fuck.. fit..!"

Tears streaming down the apples of your cheeks, Boothill knits his fingers into your hair. Rocking his hips back and forth with a slow pace, getting you used to his large size. "Look at you.. whining all over me..ain't that sweet darlin!." he drawls into your ear, body on top of yours fucking into you. His pace quickening with his intense assault on your body, sharp teeth biting into his lips. Groaning loudly at the feeling of you squeezing him tightly, the sounds of your angelic cries of pleasure echoing in his ears. "Hnng..! I-Its ah.. s-so good.. jesus.." mumbling incoherently when your hips move against him for more, a creamy ring of white circling the base of his cock. "Ah.. hmn.. god..! Yer squeezin' me like a virgin." he sinks his sharp teeth into your shoulder blade, causing the skin to break and bleed.

Trying to hold on to anything but to no prevail, arms tied behind your back. "Cause. am a virgin~!" Slurred words constantly fall from your mouth, Boothill only put haste in his thrust, desperate to fuck the attitude outta you and make you his. "Hm..? Must be why yer so gosh darn sensitive... haven't even started yet." Suddenly you're pulled up, back against his chest. The warmth, the closeness overwhelming your senses.. The full feeling of his girth tearing you open to places your measly fingers could only imagine reaching. Maybe he should be more gentle with a dainty thing like you, roughing you up burns an insatiable fire inside him. Once perfectly smooth skin now bruised, bitten, marked and covered in rope burns. But who would he be not to test your limits? Folding you in half to rut his fat tip against your sweet spot, eyes rolling back to see the stars above.. How you beg him to slow down, be more gentle but your body saying the complete opposite, cumming time and time again, thin fluid splattered over your abdomen and chest..

"Absolutely ravishin'..." Boothill groaned into your ear. Pumping his next load inside, the excess of the last trickling down the base of his cock. You can take another can't you? Don't disappoint him, with all that snark and backtalk you must be able to back it up.. Boothill pulls out your warmth, watching his seed overflow and drip down your thighs. You groan and move your head up to look at him as he unties you, exhausted by the intense session. Sweat coating your skin and marks over your shoulders. "Now.. isn't it rude not to clean up the mess you made?" Leaning down and whispering into your ear, taking his hat off and placing it on you instead. You swallow thickly and shakily sit on your knees, enamored at the size of it compared to your hand. Just like he asked you kindly clean off the excess, using your hands for the parts your mouth cannot reach. As he grows close he pulls you off and strokes himself quickly, panting and groaning under his breath. "Yea.. look up at me.. just like that sweetheart." cooing at you, with a grunt he finishes over your face. A soft smile playing on his lips.

"Ain't that a sight for sore eyes.."

Boothill picks you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest, entering back into the farmhouse and kicking the door shut. You'll love your time here at his farm, he's sure you'll be back.

@nanqmies © 2024

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[hoseoksluna]

THE FUN DAY, pt. I. | kth ft. pjm

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, angst — the sad kind

word count: 4.8k

summary: you've prepared a fun day for your boyfriend's military vacation. thank god he's here, right?

pin: f. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: suggestive but not described themes of sex and alcohol consumption.

note: i'm so EXCITED to bring you this fic that i can't wait until tomorrow to post this. everyone welcome TAEHYUNG and JIMIN to the hoseoksluna universe. i have to tell you a secret. taehyung was my first bias when i first became army. taehyungie was the first one to save me from the bunch—literally to resurrect me because in him i found all the things i used to love and fell out of. jazz, poetry, the aesthetics and arts. it is an honor to write about him and i think i will write another taehyung fic next week. if you have any ideas, drop them in my ask box and i will use them for inspiration. this fic is dedicated to my baby ruru @tkslovechild, my tatlim @jjk7k, and the beautiful anon that asked me for a tae fic while i was already working on this one. i love you all so much. enjoy this beautiful piece. <3 mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ .

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

It was your love language, to dress up like your boyfriend. 

Dress pants, shirts and jackets. Linen, silk, leather. Pointed heels or oxford shoes. Grays, browns, beiges and whites. It was something that made you happy—and it was something that represented a vessel, made of unbreakable porcelain, for your love that you carried for Taehyung. 

He’s sitting in the corner of your bedroom, on a wooden stool he specifically placed at such a picturesque place. With the ivory curtains drifting along the nape of his neck, sheer enough to expose the small vase of tulips that stoop in a private longing for his touch. He fondles them often to preoccupy his mind when you take your usual long showers and he waits for the fashion shows you give him. He’s the one who says yes or no. These shoes, love. Look, they’re just like mine. And right at this moment, the wine-yellow petals are caught between his slender fingers when you come out and he doesn’t let go of them—because you’re not holding up the outfit for the day as you always are. 

For the fun day as you’ve called it. 

You’re dressed in it. Low-waisted gray dress pants with a little, tight, white shirt. Black stilettos, black shoulder purse. Your trench coat is waiting for you in the hall, hung up and lonely, but other than that you’re matching him fully. It feels as though you’re fading into him, becoming a singular being that has his DNA and his beauty, and when he beams up at you, boxy smile on full show, spine straight and tall on the stool, long fingers gripping its rim, Taehyung, with his gray suit and a white shirt, somehow validates that feeling. 

Somehow, in that peculiar Taehyung way of his. 

He extends his hands towards you, asking for your closeness. There’s a mist of murkiness that envelops him, with the saddened clouds beyond the window, standing in the place of the sun. It moves through you, this image of him reaching for you in this landscape, and you think he deserves to be painted like this. With black charcoal and a little bit of soft carmine to eternalize the blush of his cheeks—the only trace of color in the sketchbook. Your hands don’t know the art of drawing, but your heart does and while you take those necessary steps towards him, you feel the scratches of that dark pencil over that grainy flesh. 

His palms find your curves and you consider it unbelievable, the fact he’s still so big, despite the size of the stool and the height of your heels. No matter how much taller you grow, he’ll always be that tower that protects you from the blazing heat of the sun. 

He’s the epitome of autumn. No longer a boy, but a man, whose lungs are perfumed by apples, leaves, cinnamon, pumpkin spice and the slight iciness of the seasonal wind. Whose eyes witnessed the growth of your form since you were a little girl with two long braids. 

Childhood best friends turned to lovers, favored by the hanging, twinkling stars. 

You always saw him the most in autumn. Chasing you down during festivities that your mom couldn’t not be a part of, grabbing a hold of one of your braided pigtails with his already long fingers, then tickling you until you gave up. Ever so easy to catch because of the length of your hair. You knew, even as a little girl, that he was not just a part of your life, but your life itself. More than a companion, more than a friend. You dreamed about having his babies and that dream would come to life through your imagination whenever he would chase you down, years later, in the grand halls of the east wing of his grandiose family home, where nobody ever comes, just to steal a kiss or two. It was the moment you realized that you were no longer kids, even though you acted as such, but that you desired little legs to follow you in the fun of it all. 

And that kiss changed every autumn from that year on.

Stolen glances, the blush of cheeks, quivering fingers that no longer grabbed your braids. Not until many autumns later. You gave him your everything, every bit of your newly-bloomed femininity, your dream of having his babies and he folded it into the vinyls of his favorite jazz music that he would play every night whenever he needed inspiration or whenever he simply needed you. 

Newly. Not just yet as adults and no longer as kids. Somewhere in between. 

And then the duties of adulthood came. The natural process of drifting apart settled between your bodies and you no longer played in the stage between. Taehyung, the saxophone-playing jazz singer, moving foreign bodies into his personal, heart-sung rhythm. Not yours, never yours for a long time. You, working a day job that never paid enough, not for the dresses you yearned to wear at those clubs he would play at. 

But what you didn’t know was that drifting apart meant coming together eventually. 

He might have become your Turnip Head, silent and distant, but you were Sophie—and you found him. You found him while looking for something, or someone for the lack of better words, and he helped you. Over a cup of coffee he didn’t drink, at a jazz bar you always wanted to come to. Your date was a hit and miss and the guy never came, and your Turnip Head didn’t help you find your Howl. 

He helped you find himself. And from that moment on, you never drifted apart again. 

Who would’ve thought that seeking a relationship that did not resemble your dream nor your childhood would make you find him all over again. 

In autumn, too. 

Taehyung paid for your dresses, your female suits, paid for your drinks. Kissed you underneath those dimmed, brown lights before he went off to play songs that moved your body at last. Dancing alone to his songs was your dream come true until he set down his saxophone and joined you. Let his band mates play his favorite Etta James song as he took your hand and drifted upon the dance floor with you. Those who danced before this song sat down, let you have this opportunity for yourself, and Taehyung kissed you, after a long time, after many autumns had passed, right then and there. 

And both of you realized that you could never drift apart again. You could only drift together. 

You moved in together. He bought you tulips of every possible hue every week. Played you his new songs for you on the saxophone. Took you to art galleries. Took you sightseeing, sometimes alone with you, sometimes with Jimin joining you. Shared your dream about having babies with you and talked about it all the time. Tried it out, seized it many times, though the outcome both of you desired never came. Had a beautiful life with you until…

Until he thinned out into his Turnip Head form and skipped away to fulfill his country duties. 

But he’s here. Oh, he’s here. Buff and big, apples, cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Brown eyes that carry the memory of your growth, hands that clutch your hips and that hold the silky memory of your still long braids. Hands that edge around your slightly, barely puffy tummy and that don’t know that you are with a concoction of a small him and you, a divine magical realism, a dream that came true without his knowledge right after the last hours of his military vacation were up and he had to go back to serve the country. 

The reason behind this fun day. 

The day of his second vacation, the day you tell him. 

“You look just like me,” he breathes, the width of his smile never lessening, hands skipping over the space between your hips and your arms and grabbing your hands. It gets to you still, the way his eyes never look up at you, the way they never have, and you feel so sweetly small. Even more so when Taehyung stands to his feet and slides his suit jacket over your shoulders. You become even smaller, a fawn taken care of. A pregnant fawn. “And now you are me.” 

Oh, he doesn’t know just how much. Not yet. 

He sits back down and gently pushes you to take a step back. On wavering feet, like that freshly-born fawn, you waver on your feet, but Taehyung keeps you stable, leaning forward to make sure you’ve caught your balance. A wisp of his dark hair falls over his eye that he, at last, flicks up at you. And the sensation from it, it is nothing that you ever felt before. 

It is a step forward. 

It’s something that tells you: go ahead. 

You planned to tell him at the jazz bar where he kissed you for the first time as an adult and made you his. But now, now it feels more than right, amidst this strange newness that you don’t think you’ll ever experience again. 

You open your mouth, brace yourself, but Taehyung is faster. Ringing fills your ears, the atmosphere around you feels gooey—as if you’re walking through a limbo. 

“Jimin will meet us at the park.” 

Oh, yes. Walk in the park, a warm drink to go, then the jazz bar. Jimin is having his military break as well, about to sing in Taehyung’s honor, you already knew this, knew he would join you, but being in the presence of your boyfriend, the detail slipped out. 

The newness leaves. Taehyung straightens. Towers over you. The normalcy flattens over the chemistry between you and him, the atmosphere lessening to feathery lightness and when you move your arms to give back his jacket, your arms feel as though they’re not your own. 

Your smile falls. 

Jazz bar it is. 

“We should go,” you prompt, turning around, having all the balance in the world as you go fetch your purse and reapply your red lipstick. 

Taehyung watches you in the mirror, his boxy grin on eternal display, warming your heart. You think about how you can’t wait until his baby witnesses that smile for the first time—and wonder if God is molding, at this very hour, the same one upon their little face. It brings tears to your eyes, ones that you quickly blink away, and instead you focus on lining your lips with the tip of the lipstick with utmost precision. 

In your vast collection of lip liners, you don’t have a red one. Truth be told, you always feared this vibrant color. It represented a stigma you never liked—that only promiscuous women wear that color, but to you it was never that. 

It was a color that meant you lose your girlhood, your childhood upon wearing. 

And now, it is a color that announces the next era of your life: adulthood, but different, painted with motherly instincts that are of these vibrant hues. Womanhood. No longer fearful, but brave. 

Right. 

You want your baby to connect this color to you and know that you made it. You waited your whole life for their father and gave it to him in one of the autumns as a child. Without knowing, without realizing. 

That color is a legacy. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyung kisses the back of your head, halting your motions. Wraps his arms around you as he props his chin on the place he kissed—and right here, right now, you’re looking at a family portrait in the mirror. 

A living, breathing one. With lifting chests in tandem, growing smiles and a growing baby in your womb. 

Magical realism in full effect. 

And then Taehyung is off to fetch your trench coat, holding it up for your arms to slip inside its sleeves. Grabs your hand and revels in the autumn weather outside, boxy smile never faltering. Sings in the car on the way to the park, makes eye contact as he mouths the lyrics—kiss me once and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time—because he could never sing over that part. It’s too precious to his heart for him to do so. 

The wind accompanies you and grabs your other hand as you walk down the pathway lined with half-barren trees and a still pond. Taehyung hums the Bing Crosby song that seems to be playing on loop within his mind and it is the only greenery that spreads around through his husky voice. All else—the pond, the trees and the last of their leaves that dance around you, the shrubberies and the clouds up above—are smeared with sullen blues and grays, to which Taehyung is everlastingly immune. 

Jimin is standing by an antique coffee stand, dressed to the nines in an outfit he most definitely must be cold in. Black dress pants with a jacket that stuns you. A matching Hussar one, with golden braiding. A military piece of clothing from another time. You think it suits the fun day quite delightfully, but not as much as it suits him. The golden detail goes hand in hand with his golden hair and you think he needs his picture taken. 

“Jimin!” you call out, making his confused little face turn in your direction, and he swivels his body to face you altogether. He holds two cups of coffee in both of his hands, one for him and one for you. You melt at that and look up at Taehyung to see his boxy smile ever so frozen and beautiful, pointed at his best friend. 

When you reach him, he hugs you. His cold skin stings you and you quickly warm him up with rubbing motions against his back. Scrunch your brows in puzzlement when he doesn’t hug Taehyung nor even look at him. 

But all is swept away when Jimin exclaims in discomfort and takes a rapid sip of his boiling drink. 

“Jimin, where’s your coat?” you ask him in pity, watching him shake and moan in pain once he burns his tongue. He uses the cup to warm up both of his hands. 

“I didn’t think Paris would be so cold in October,” he explains in a hushed, livid tone, drawing the rim of the paper cup back to his lips as if he didn’t learn his lesson. Typical Jimin. “But this outfit is for Taehyung anyways, so I’ll survive.” 

He talks of him but he doesn’t look at him. Makes heart eyes at the misting coffee, instead. Like Taehyung isn’t here at all. 

Strange. 

You shake off the thought. 

“Go stand by the pond before you freeze. I want to take a picture of you,” you say, softly, pulling your phone out of your purse. Glancing up, you expect Jimin to be ready with his pose, but he’s looking at you as if you said the most outrageous thing in the world. Eyes wide, mouth downturned in horror. You laugh and place a hand on his arm. “Go, Jimin. This is a special day and special days ask for special pictures.” 

Jimin sighs and nods, despite the fact he doesn’t really look like he wants to do it. 

“Fine, but I’m keeping the coffee in my hand.” 

Your tender laughter prolongs. “Fair enough. Go pose with your little heat pack.” 

Gazing out at the pond, Taehyung is already standing there. With his brown coat over his gray suit, he coalesces with the autumnal scenery and you think he belongs there. That a statue should be made of him right where his feet are planted, for people to remember and appreciate his beauty. You snap a few pictures of him before Jimin makes his way towards the stone bannister and stops right in front of Taehyung, who towers over him. Jimin lifts his cup and smiles a little tight smile, the mist from his coffee eclipsing over him like a soft fog. Switching to portrait mode, Taehyung is gone by the time your screen clears out and shows Jimin by his lonesome self, setting his coffee cup down on the bannister and turning around for some dramatic, aesthetic shots. Taehyung laughs in your ear, catches your slipping purse and places it back on your shoulder, and what he says next gives your life a whole new meaning. 

“Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.”

You pivot back, piercing your sight right through him, not believing those words were just flung out of him like that. Taehyung never mentioned you having a protector while being in the military and even the whole concept of it confuses you even deeper as Jimin is serving as well. He might not be in the special forces like your boyfriend is, but he’s serving nonetheless. The systems are the same, no matter the department. 

Before you can ask him what he meant by that, the sing-song tone of Jimin’s voice reaches you. He calls out your name with a bit of alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You gaze back and meet his eyes in full motion—he’s already taking long steps towards you and grabbing your arm, taking your confusion to another level.  

“What happened?” he asks, his pupils thin dots that ripple through your skin with stiff, panicky electroshocks. You glance back at Taehyung to discover that he’s not standing behind you at all, but behind Jimin, clutching his shoulder. 

You blink. “Nothing.” 

Jimin lets go of your arm and inhales the autumnal air. The pond, suddenly, heaves. 

“Let’s go somewhere warm,” Jimin suggests and you agree with him with a nod of your head. Pinpricks of iciness kisses your fingertips, despite the fact you’re still holding your own cup of coffee that Jimin bought you. 

A strange feeling seizes you. 

The jazz bar is an embrace of snug heat that embraces your womb first before greeting the rest of your body. You can’t help but to touch your baby, say to her in your heart: this is your Daddy’s most favorite place in the whole wide world. And the feeling is so surreal that it washes away the strange sensation that clung to you so heavily. 

You’re the first customers to come. Jimin sighs in absolute relief and he’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen in time, as he lets the warmth of the place defrost his bones. Your cup of coffee was long finished and discharged; Jimin’s drank his in long sips that took seconds to finish, too, and the whole ordeal was so funny to you that it’s given you a sense of lightness that you needed. 

Taehyung hasn’t spoken a word since you left your apartment. 

He sits at the bar stool like he sat in your shared bedroom. One leg propped on the footrest while the other is relaxed on the floor, one hand folded on the apex of his thigh, the other drumming on the bar while the band he doesn’t know is rehearsing their instruments. You take a seat right beside him and feel like the parents you’re about to become. Sophisticated, classical, sublime. 

The pretentious kind, but in a good way. 

That thought makes you smile softly until the bartender asks you if you’d like anything. You politely decline her, even though you’d love a glass of wine with the daddy to be beside you. You can’t drink, not for many months to come. You wait for her to ask Taehyung the same question, but she doesn’t even lift her eyes to his direction. She wipes down the wood of the bar and leaps away. 

Nobody fucking asks Taehyung anything. 

Amidst a hearty guitar strumming solo, Jimin notices the furrow of your brows, the downturned pout of your mouth that opens to ask Taehyung about the strangeness that keeps occurring today. But before you get the words out, Jimin calls out your name into the microphone, the vowels made sweet by the sound of his princely voice. He stands with the band behind his back, his Hussar jacket exquisitely fitting the dimmed background. He holds out his hand for you, a poignant glint perched on top of his irises, and he flattens his puffy, pink lips. 

“Don’t be sad. Tonight is for Taehyung and all sadness is prohibited,” he says with his feigned announcer articulations, the corners of his mouth rounding in a similar manner to yours, in sympathy. “We will have to kindly ask you to leave if you proceed in your sadness. Please, join me here.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile gracing your features couldn’t be erased even with the force of the whole wide world. You stand to your feet and paddle your way to him, the heels of your stilettos clicking on the worn parquets. Jimin gives you a soft grin and places his microphone down, meeting you halfway on the dance floor and taking your hand. 

It is when he begins to sing, just for you, that you perceive that the instrumental song the guitarist played is one, which is contained in one of Taehyung’s vinyls. The ones he would play in the darkest of nights and sing the lyrics to your bare body. Tears prick your waterline when Jimin guides you into a gentle slow dance while maintaining the tones of the song with utmost perfection. 

And Taehyung is carried in every languid motion and in every vocal cord that is strained upon this hour in his honor. 

I’m in the mood for love, simply because you’re near me…

You gaze back at Taehyung, who sits still and smiles his boxy smile. Frozen and beautiful, but unbreathing. 

Still and unbreathing. 

Frozen. 

You halt your movements. 

Jimin stops the dance, ends the song with a deep hum that pulses through you along with the notion that something isn’t right, but very, very wrong. 

“I wish Taehyung were here,” Jimin says with a deep sigh, holding both of your hands, and an uncanny, perplexing feeling constricts your throat. 

Your breath shivers, vision blurry. “But he is here.” 

Jimin lets go of your hands and you lament his touch. You need to be touched because you feel yourself shrinking into a fawn most vulnerable that doesn’t know what’s real anymore. A fawn just born, pathetically ignorant of the world and of her loved ones.

“I know, but I wish he were here for real.” 

A cold sweat drips down your spine, paralyzing you. Your constricted throat dries up like a well and you can’t swallow. You can’t think, you can’t blink—your lungs can’t lift to inhale any air and they mirror Taehyung’s still ones, unbreathing. 

It is a surprise to you, the question that flows out of you. 

“Jimin, who is sitting at the bar?” 

A wrinkle forms between his brows as he sweeps his gaze over all those bar stools and doesn’t linger at the occupied space that you know is there. A perturbing energy thuds in his eyes once he returns them to yours, and that alarming potency in him rises once again. 

“Who do you see there?” he asks, carefully, leaving his mouth parted as he anticipates your answer. 

You peer back behind you and don’t find any bar stools occupied. Not single one. 

No Taehyung, smiling his boxy smile. 

No Taehyung behind Jimin. 

No Taehyung behind you. 

A sob rumbles out of you in unison with your realization that you were, indeed, very wrong. You catch your sob, covering your mouth with your fingers as your tears spurt down onto your cheeks. 

And then the memories arrive, the reality.

But Jimin ceases their flow with the warmth of his even more careful question. 

“Did you see him at the park, too?” 

You can only nod, but you can’t look at him. You stare at nothing in particular and it seems that what Jimin has ceased, he allows to stream through the pond of your thoughts, accompanied by his vocalized truth. 

“Taehyung isn’t here. He should’ve been here with us, but he had to go to North Korea. There was a conflict, remember? You know this.” 

Taehyung’s apologetic text message appears before your eyes. The letter that came first before his phone call, where he explained to you that he can’t have his vacation and visit you because he has to go and save his country. The real, known reason between the pair of you and Jimin behind this fun day. To honor Taehyung for what he’s doing. The day you wanted to share, as well, that you were pregnant. 

The aloneness has gotten to you, helped by your blessed state. Confused your mind to the point that you imagined him here when he’s not here at all. 

Jimin calls your name and you glance at him. Perhaps he can see the truth dawning on you by the way pity twists his features. He caresses your arm and leaves his hand there, his heat locking in the realization. 

“What has happened to you?” 

Another onrush of tears clouds your vision. Your spine bends. And you can’t. 

You can’t not tell him. You can’t keep it in. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and it merely takes him a second to envelop you in his embrace. He coos your name, rubs your back, a whimper resonates in his chest against yours as he holds back his tears. The music falls into nothingness—and nothing is said for a time that appears to be as long as the season of autumn. 

And then, somehow, you’re outside of the jazz club, sitting on Jimin’s Hussar jacket that he put down on the cold ground for you beside him. And the silence continues until it doesn’t. 

“Does he know?” he asks, and you feel his irises gliding across the side of your face that you cannot turn. 

It’s you who’s frozen this time. 

Still and unbreathing. 

With no smiling Taehyung at your hip. 

“I wanted to tell him tonight,” you say, quietly, with your hands helplessly in your lap. “On the day of his vacation that he looked forward to.” 

Jimin sighs, the sound full of that terrible pity. “How far along are you?” 

It’s a question that brings life to your numb hands and you take them to your belly. 

“Three months.” 

A beat of silence. 

You fondle your growing baby. Jimin seems to be watching you, considering his following words, but you fear to move your eyes. Lift them in expectation to see Taehyung only to meet the half-barren trees and the leaves on the ground that have absurdly regained their vivid colors. 

Lift them to look at Jimin and meet the outcome of your autumn-long aloneness. 

“He’ll be back in a month and I’ll talk to the Sergeant and offer my own vacation. I’ll give it up so you can see him and tell him.” 

A sob lodges itself in your throat and you tilt to the side, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder. He, in response, leans his against yours. 

“I don’t think your Sergeant will even hear you out,” you say, humorlessly, your personal pain still prickling the flesh of your heart. 

But then Taehyung’s words wash over you. 

Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.

Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend, who’s been there for him through thick and thin, long before you came into the picture. Jimin, who stuck by your side when sightseeing, and took your pictures. Who devoured dinners with you and drank a whole bottle of liquor with you when Taehyung abstained. 

Jimin, your best friend, too. 

“Will you be here for me while he’s gone?” you ask, the sob in your throat enlarging, preventing you from speaking, but you push through. “So I won't get delusional again?” 

Jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it firmly in your lap, his thumb brushing over your little, half-swollen belly. 

“It’s the least I can do. Let’s get you home.” 

And he does. 

He calls a cab. Walks with you up the stairs, lingers at the door, watches you take off your heels—watches the comprehension of this day being anything but fun take form on your face and posture, and he hugs you. Reassures you that he will be here the whole week until his vacation is over, and even long after that. 

And you nod. Thank him. Turn your head away when he clicks the door shut behind him. Walk over to the window and stifle your tears when you see him head over to the liquor store in front of your apartment and leave with a bottle of spirits hanging from his fingertips. 

And the tears rush out, despite your efforts, when your gaze cascades down onto the windowsill and onto the vase, where white wine-doused tulips stooped in yearning for Taehyung’s touch a few hours ago. 

They aren’t stooping. They’re flaccid, dead and withered. Like the fun day you prepared.

Because Taehyung hasn’t bought any newly blooming tulips in a long while. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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BACK to masterlist | read part two

[k4marina]

— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now. 

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today. 

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas. 

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face. 

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out. 

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.” 

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck. 

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?” 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.” 

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.” 

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle. 

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys. 

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.  

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned. 

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.” 

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.” 

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates. 

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.” 

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.” 

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down. 

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down. 

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?” 

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled. 

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field. 

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.” 

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me. 

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?” 

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.” 

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet. 

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs. 

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience. 

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm. 

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.” 

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax. 

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular. 

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons. 

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King. 

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched. 

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.” 

“What? 

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me. 

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded. 

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass. 

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me. 

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him. 

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.” 

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon. 

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me. 

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off. 

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice. 

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right? 

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes. 

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky. 

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz. 

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.” 

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears. 

“Your dragon,” 

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I. 

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end. 

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible. 

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely. 

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle. 

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.” 

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly. 

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.” 

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub. 

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, arranged marriage, extramarital affairs, explicit smut (sukunaeste AND sukunayn 🫣), mentions of drugs, mentions of affairs, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conception, mentions of food, family tension, toxic family dynamics

masterlist | playlist

The day is bright, unseasonably warm for a wedding.

As the last guest trickles in and the church doors close, the organ strikes up and down the aisle walks a bride in a silky, form-fitting wedding dress, thick veil covering her exquisitely made up face. Her father looks striking next to her, tall and handsome in his charcoal gray suit. He kisses her hand and passes it to the man at the front of the altar, his smile betraying no hint of regret as he clasps her offered hand tightly.

The groom doesn’t stutter or mess up his vows. He’s clear-eyed and level-headed, handsome with just a hint of devilishness when he sweeps her into his arms, kissing her right in front of the entire congregation, cementing his willingness to love her for the rest of his life in front of God and her family. 

What the heavens have joined, no man can destroy. 

Those were the words echoing throughout the halls as they left the luxurious chapel, rows of Rolls Royces wrapped with ribbons and daisies waiting to take them back to the city—the bride’s favorite flowers specking the bright scene with dots of yellow and white, a touching new day for two families who were finally one.

Inside the car, away from the cameras and guests, you drop Sukuna’s hand the second he releases yours, and shift to the other end of the interior. He lets the space fester between the two of you, not bothering to even speak to you or ask how you were feeling now that his wedding band was wrapped around your finger.

Your mother told you she heard from Mrs. Gojo that Sukuna himself picked the band and stone, sparing no detail to his help. 

In fact, she gleefully announces, he chose the venue, the music, the color scheme and cars that would bring you both back to Tokyo as a newlywed couple.

You’re dumbfounded. 

It doesn't make any sense.

One glance at him now would disparage those rumors. Sukuna barely looks at you, preoccupied with the passing scene outside the car window. His side profile cuts a sharp outline amidst the fading scenery, and he turns to catch your stare, eyebrows raised.

“What?” 

You flush and look away, clutching the stem of your bouquet tighter in your fists. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t comment on your lack of conversation, deciding to drop this matter. 

All that’s left on today’s itinerary is the reception dinner and you’d both be free of this depressing charade. Smiling too much made your cheeks hurt, and you physically couldn’t feel your feet; the tight heels Okura-san bought nearly cut off your toes’ circulation. 

Sukuna catches you wincing and he scoffs. “What now? You were fidgeting throughout the whole wedding ceremony.”

He doesn’t bother to speak nicely to you once your names are signed on the same page, resorting to his standard fare of rudeness and disappointment.

“My shoes hurt,” you complain. He rolls his eyes.

“Why did you have to wear them?” 

Because it’s the style you like, you want to bite back. One of his ex-girlfriends from five years ago had a picture on Getty Images wearing this exact cut and color when she was rumored to be with him. 

“They’re pretty,” you argue.

He gives you a look. “No, they’re not. I don’t like them. They squish your toes too much.” Sukuna sighs, as if the idea of berating you is too taxing for him to handle.

“Next time, have some more common sense. You’re an Itadori now. Your image is mine and you have to keep it spotless. Whatever you do, wherever you go, my name will always be attached to yours.” He gives you a side glance, and you feel his vitriol and cutting annoyance. “If you wear those shoes and stumble around, you’re just begging for the wrong kind of attention.” 

Mental note made. You glance back at the shoes, wanting nothing more than to burn them. I’ll have to tell Okura-san to phase this style out of my wardrobe.

The day continues with a celebration of your nuptials at a high end Michelin restaurant in Tokyo Tower, the reservation made under his name and intended for selected family and friends only. 

You see Este in the crowd, months after your last encounter with her at the Hokkaido lodge, and feel a nauseating sense of unease when she beams at Sukuna, readying herself at the front of the stage where you’re supposed to toss the bouquet to your unmarried friends. 

She’s changed into a cream gown, almost the same color as your own bridal dress from her previous red number in the church—probably when you were all too busy getting the ceremony underway. Many people stop to stare at her, though shameless as she is, she doesn’t pay them any mind, tossing her shiny brown hair back and giggling with her gaggle of prissy friends also mutually connected to the Itadoris. 

Pitiful stares slide towards you, and Iori even threatens under her breath to spill red wine all over the front of her frock in passing for daring to humiliate you like this; her arms locked tight around you in mid-embrace when you come over to her table and greet her. She’s splendid and iridescent in an airy pale green dress and her hair up in a pristine bow, though the look of vitriol on her face could kill a man. 

We can’t do that, you regretfully inform her, squeezing her forearms, feeling helpless at her righteous anger. The Naras are priceless to the Itadoris—angering them would affect Jin and Sukuna’s relationship with James. 

Ever since you came back from Hokkaido, you hadn’t found the time to update her on what you had overheard from Sukuna and Este, too consumed by wedding prep and your inner conflict at whether you should proceed with the whole farce now that both your families were starting to put the pressure on you and Sukuna. 

Iori, kind-hearted as she was to a fault, gave you your space, one call away whenever you needed emotional support. You hated keeping her in the dark for so long, but there were just some things you could not speak about without going deeper into this impending tragedy of a loveless marriage.

As the new wife of their family, there were things you had to learn—and fast. 

The first being you would always be last in the grand scheme of things in the Itadori clan.

First was their brotherly bond, then their business, and then their shared raising of Yuuji who’s the heir apparent to the entire company. 

Any children you beget for Sukuna would be second in line, a spare in case anything happens to Yuuji in the future.

Between the struggle or slaughterhouse, you chose to duck your head quietly and let yourself be led down this road where your happiness came second to everyone else’s. You had a duty to fulfill—to protect and upkeep the L/N name; nothing else can matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now perform the highly waited for bouquet toss! The announcer guides you to the stage where your carefully crafted bouquet of daisies and peonies sourced from one of the best florists in Shinjuku was pressed into your hands. Your family beams across the room, your mother grasping Sukuna’s bicep as she excitedly chatters into his ear.

The wedding is over, the five course meals are done and now, the games will begin. 

Let’s see who the lucky lady is today, he trills, and you turn back from the crowd, steadying your aim towards Iori, who bounces on the balls of her feet, excitedly shooting you a grin. 

If there was anyone who deserved better luck than you in your love life, it’s your best friend of twelve years.

“Three, two, one—and toss!”

You throw the bouquet back and catch the peel of high-pitched squeals, some scrambling. Then, the crowd starts to clap and cheer.

You turn around, expecting Iori to be the one triumphant in holding your bouquet in her hands, but find that it’s Este who brandishes the flower arrangement in the air instead like a conqueror holding her enemy’s beheaded head.

Some peony petals scatter to the ground, looking like crimson bloodstains as Este’s mother pinches her cheeks, happy at her daughter’s good luck on such an auspicious day.

For a split second, the entire room forgets about you—the woman in white, standing all alone with a spotlight on her, arms uselessly dangling by her side; a smile frozen on her face like a mannequin left out in a snowstorm for days. 

You feel someone staring at you from the dais on the other end of the room, and lift your eyes, your gaze colliding with a pair of vermillion hues. 

Sukuna holds eye contact with you for a moment longer than you hope, and in those eyes, an evasive yet curious emotion stirs, stunning you for a second more than you could ever dream.

Then, he drops his eyes and the connection blanks, your world going back to white and black again. 

-

“Cancel the honeymoon,” Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t leave like this.”

Jin sits solemnly in front of him, lips in a thin line and circles dark underneath his eyes.

The latest investor meeting was a clusterfuck. None of the numbers were making sense and revenue across the Middle East had been disrupted because of a supply chain leakage. 

Things weren’t looking too bright for Itadori Corp—all this while Sukuna was getting a hang of the ropes and trying his best to catch up with a decade’s worth of data, numbers, and Jin’s expectations. 

“Are you sure?” The younger twin sinks back in his seat, turning his sleep-deprived eyes to the ceiling. Ever since the third quarter report came out, Jin’s been spending more nights in the office than he cared to admit, relegating Yuuji to the care of his nannies and nurses. “Won’t your wife be mad?” 

Sukuna couldn’t care less what you would feel about this decision. This is his profit at risk.

He snorts. “No. She’s too busy shopping all day long and painting. Y/N won’t notice if we never went for our honeymoon.”

There’s something deeper behind his scorn, and Jin wants to ask, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the office door. 

His personal assistant walks in, the man’s flush face and aggravated expression sending off flickers of anxiety crawling all over his skin. Jin’s office with its floor-to-ceiling windows, curated artwork and priceless mahogany desk seems to shrink in the periphery from the magnitude of the news he receives next. 

“Itadori-san, my apologies for interrupting.” Ijichi bows deeply, his glasses almost falling off his face. “But, the stakeholders have requested an emergency meeting tonight.”

“Shit,” Jin curses. 

It’s horrendous timing. Tonight’s the night you’ll be officially welcomed into the Itadori household. 

Reading his mind, Sukuna shakes his head. “We have an important family event tonight. Push it to tomorrow morning.”

Over the decade he’s served Itadori Corp and Jin loyally, Ijichi wasn’t sure if he could take Sukuna’s order. But, Jin eases his uncertainties with a nod and a sigh. 

“My brother is right. Just let them know we’ll meet on this tomorrow. It will give  Sukuna and I some time to go over the report and speak to our analysts.”

Not one to waste any time, their subordinate bows again, leaving the room to make the necessary calls. 

“Can you get me a meeting with James Nara?” Jin stands, buttoning the front of his blazer and adjusting his glasses. “We might need to expedite things on the manufacturer's end.”

Sukuna stands as well, smoothing the front of his dress pants. “Of course.” 

“He’s in his apartment down in Shibuya. Get Este on the line, too. Something tells me we’re going to need their connections to Dubai to get us out of this mess.”

His older brother hesitates. Jin furrows his brow, turning back to look at him. “Is something wrong?”

The confession hovers on the tip of his tongue—I can’t see Este or else I���ll be tempted to do something horrible. Sukuna hasn’t seen her since the wedding when she caught the bouquet you obviously meant for that Utahime girl; knowing they would have to reduce their encounters if they didn’t want word of their affair to spread across the city. Besides late night texts on his burner phone and a few nudes exchanged here and there, Sukuna hasn’t felt her under him in days.

And the need is ever growing.

“Nothing,” he lies smoothly. “I’ll catch up with James in the afternoon.”

Sukuna walks back to his office opposite Jin's, a space curated just for him. He surveys the tournament trophies hanging on the wall, the boxing memorabilia. Unlike his brother’s office, it’s clinical and colder. While Jin proudly has photos of himself, Kaori and Yuuji hanging on the walls to mark his unending devotion for his family, Sukuna’s content to focus more on his achievements and goals rather than sappy, cliche mementos.

Even the wedding portrait sent back by the studio remains in the storage, hidden from his view and attention. A nagging voice deep inside tells him to speak to you about it—to give you a choice to hang it up or burn it. But, he doesn’t bother to revisit that task, hyperfocus on closing this deal before the next quarter arrives.

It’s part of his charade to show Jin he’s worthy of that 110% profit when it inevitably gets cashed into his account.

“Sir?” 

Ijichi stands at the door, daring to interrupt his thoughts; the vermin bows to him and straightens.

Sukuna’s starting to feel like this guy would never give him a break. His mouth curls into a sneer, words piercing and cold.

“Well? What is it?” 

“Sir, Miss Este Nara has made an appointment for you to visit downtown Shibuya on Jin’s request. Your 4.30PM meeting is set.” 

Saying nothing else, the meek man bows again and retreats, leaving Sukuna to his spiraling thoughts.

Three days without her body and the drugs were pushing it. But, it’s been almost a week since he’s had a hit and he feels the gnawing ache overtaking his every thought. If it weren’t for the little bags of coke she had brought to him before the wedding which he does every night in his own private bathroom before returning to the penthouse you both shared, Sukuna might have murdered someone by now.

To prepare himself for her, he staggers into his bathroom, procuring the small pouch hidden behind rows of mouthwash and setting it up on the black marble counter. Sukuna lines it up, bends his head forward and inhales the sweet, sweet powder that sends a shock up his spine, his eyes narrowing into pinpricks and mind floating away in a blissful sea of nothing.

He leans against the counter, head languidly rolling back, eyes half closed. 

His watch beeps with the meeting reminder Ijichi uploaded into his shared data, and he walks out of there with a swing in his step, shoulders loose and a confident grin in place.

The Naras weren’t as ostentatious as the L/Ns thought their uptown apartment in Shibuya begs to challenge that notion.

Concierge immediately recognizes his Superleggera, ushering him up the gilded smart elevators; purified oxygenated air circulating around the ample space, ruffling the tips of his pink hair.

He arrives at the front door, ready to make a deal with the Nara patriarch himself when the door opens and he finds Este on the other end, her red lips in a smirk. 

“Wh—where’s your father?” Sukuna holds his cool while keeping his confusion under wraps. 

It’s fine. If the old man wasn’t here, he could come back another day… after he sorted out his hit, of course.

Her coy smile reflects his thoughts, and she doesn’t stop to think of the consequences, pulling him into the apartment by his tie. 

Sukuna falls into the gravity of her seduction, lips pressed onto hers, moaning and licking along the seam of her mouth. She tastes like Dior’s cherry lip gloss and a bad mistake, weighing him down with the burden of her arms around him. 

Este drags him to the couch, panting when he pushes her skirt aside, finding her completely naked underneath.

“You planned this?” He growls, eyeing her flushed nub that twitches under his glare.

“I knew you were coming back for me.” Her eyes roll back into her head and she bites on her lip, tangling her fingers in his hair as he ducks his head down in between her legs.

Sukuna eats her out right on her parent’s couch, the bulge in his pants hard to ignore. He snaps his pants’ button open with one hand, dragging the zipper down and pulls out his cock, giving it a few good pumps as his tongue traces his name onto her clit.

Este’s breathing like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, the whites of her eyes glimmering in the low light. Sukuna feels her spurt into his mouth and he drinks her down, never taking those sultry red eyes off of her.

Limp and satisfied from her orgasm, she gives him a lazy smirk and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Sukuna’s tongue twines with hers in a kiss which makes his cock throb, and he aches to be in her—it’s been too long since he’s felt her pussy clinging onto him.

Este’s slim legs wrap around his waist, and her cries are muffled by his large palm slapping across her mouth. 

Shut up, Sukuna snarls. Shut up and take it.

He fucks her fast and dirty, the thrill of his raw cock inside of her enough to make his balls twitch and the band around his belly tighten. 

Come in me, her lusty cry spills from between his finger cracks. I need to feel you, Ryomen.

His name tumbling from her swollen lips is enough for him to spill inside her, filling her with warmth. Este brushes the sweaty strands of hair from his face, tracing her lips over the tribal tattoos on his jaw.

“Where the fuck is my reward, woman?” He grumbles and she giggles, reaching behind the sofa to rummage for the secret packet. Sukuna swats the globes of her ass on display just for him, admiring the thick white glob of his cum oozing out of her puffy cunt.

She settles into his lap with the white ziplock bag, daring him to sniff it off her pelvis bone.

Sukuna arranges her back on the couch, carefully stacking a line of white on her pale, silky smooth skin and inhaling it in one go.

The drugs take effect immediately and he’s seeing stars everywhere; on the ceiling, outside the windows, twinkling from inside her pussy.

If this is what love feels like, Sukuna thinks he’s a master of it. 

“Feels good?” Her voice wavers in and out of his shaky consciousness. Sukuna nods, resting his head on her thigh, eyes closed and enjoying the feel of her nails raking through his scalp.

Fuck, if this is what love feels like, he doesn’t mind upping his dosage for a stronger hit.

The ticking kitchen clock becomes the subject of your nervous glances.

It’s half past six and Sukuna still isn’t home yet. Dinner with Jin starts at seven. 

You bite your nails, knee bouncing up and down as you contemplate driving straight to the younger Itadori’s apartment without your husband. 

It won’t be a good look. Jin would obviously question Sukuna’s whereabouts, and you didn’t want to paint yourself as a bad wife for not knowing where your husband was. 

It’s not my fault he doesn’t tell me anything! You seethe in frustration. That damn asshat wouldn’t give me his daily schedule—even when I asked him twice! 

You groan and tilt your head back, flopping onto the sofa. The satin dress you bought from Dior clings to your figure, and you fiddle with the biker’s jacket you got on a whim, crinkling your nose at how stuffy and humid it was because of the thick material. This isn’t helping my nerves.

You sigh and push back your hair, wondering if you should leave Sukuna yet another voicemail. You’ve already left about four since the clock chimed six, and you’re honestly considering calling up his office line to remind him of this special occasion.

Just as you make the decision to flag the chauffeur from his patient post in the suite’s parking spot to take you to Jin’s apartment on your own, the doorknob jangles and turns.

Sukuna steps in, cheeks ruddy and hair askew, looking like someone had taken a huge windblower to his face.

“Well?” He snaps, like he’s the one who spent half the day trying to get a hold of you; nervously waiting for your arrival back home. “Do I have to fucking roll out a red carpet for you? Let’s go.”

He doesn’t raise his voice at you, but he might as well have judging from the annoyance simmering in his vermillion gaze. 

Sukuna slams the door shut and you scramble to your feet, grabbing your purse and the remains of your patience. He waits for you in the elevator, and you huff quietly, stepping past the doors and standing beside him with your eyes latching onto the ground, simmering in annoyance.

“Stop pouting. Your face is annoying me.”

Darting your eyes to his, your lips tighten into a grimace. It takes some effort to school your features into a pleasant smile, but you do it for the sake of keeping the peace this evening.

“I apologize, Itadori-san.”

Rather than reducing his severity on someone who doesn’t deserve the least bit of his hostility, Sukuna’s nostrils flare and he groans, shaking his head. Underneath the harsh fluorescent light of this private elevator, you can see his skin stretching taut across his face, the dark circles like bruises smudged under his eyes. 

Without taking a second to think, you step closer to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

Sukuna flinches as if you’ve struck him, his jaw tightening and body tensing. You falter and retreat back to your corner of the elevator, the skin on the back of your hand prickling. He, too, feels a tingling sensation on his forehead where your touch made contact with his skin, and despite the lack of malicious intent, he doesn’t let his walls of hostility fall for a single second.

“What are you doing?” He seethes, narrowing his eyes.

Curling your shoulders forward defensively, you gesture to his appearance. “You look exhausted. Sick, even. I was just trying to see if you’re feeling well. You know—like a good wife is supposed to do.”

The word ‘wife’ tears through him like a bed of nails. This time, Sukuna actually flinches. 

You look like the picture of innocence in front of him, staring up at him with those wide doe eyes as if you don’t know that you’ve crossed a line. His high-maintenance, image-obsessed wife who thinks she has him all figured out. Sukuna finds you sickening, a pain in his ass. 

As if to retaliate back against your unwanted touch, he scoffs. 

“You can drop the act, Princess. Spare it for someone who actually cares. Like Jin. We don’t have to pretend when it’s just the two of us.”

Unbeknownst to him, your expression breaks into one of hurt behind his back when he turns around, ignoring you like you’re the dirt underneath his expensive designer shoes.

You can’t find the words to fight back or retort, tightening your hands around your embellished purse as you trail behind him quietly like his shadow.

The car ride to Jin’s mansion is hell on earth, if you can call the hot depths your husband’s cold stare never leaving the window, or his tense jaw keeping its edge long after you both left the penthouse.

You never thought such a simple gesture would incite this much resistance from one man. All you had done was try to see if he had a fever, and Sukuna was acting as if you had insulted his entire bloodline in front of his business associates. As much as you want to shirk the pain off and ignore it, it slices you everywhere, leaving no inch of your heart unscathed.

The car idles to a stop in front of a simple, double-storey mansion, one of Jin’s properties near Shibuya that he prefers to reside in over his penthouse in Akasaka. 

And, you can see why. Homey with plants dotting the balconies and blinds at every floor-to-ceiling window, it’s a perfect blend of luxury and comfort for a single father raising a rambunctious young boy. 

The driver steps out and opens your door. You get out and Sukuna follows behind, making a sound of consternation under his breath. He takes a step forward, and you can’t tell if it’s the lack of light, or if his gait is wobbly. 

Like he’s drunk, you think silently to yourself. But, after witnessing his venomous side firsthand, you keep a hold on your tongue. After all, this is the first night you’ll be meeting Jin and getting introduced to his young son. You don’t want to mess it up. 

The tiny gift you spent a whole day making for Yuuji weighs heavily in your purse. Before you could follow behind him into the home, Sukuna whirls around, and in a low tone, he warns, “Don’t do anything stupid tonight to embarrass me. My nephew doesn’t take kindly to strangers so stay in line, princess.” 

His words, harsh and cruel, slice through you again, reminding you of your position as his lawfully-wedded wife. Always beneath him, always available for scrutiny and scorn. 

Before you can murmur your agreement or nod docilely, he turns back around and opens the door. You take a deep breath the second you step through the threshold, heart hammering in between your ribs at what you can expect from the other side.

Warm, orange light drips from the chandelier above. A cozy L-shape couch with a crackling fireplace immediately puts your worries at ease, and the tinkling of a water fountain by the large, living room windows, soothes the ire your husband’s previous words incited almost instantly.

Jin hears the door opening and he steps past the pillar separating the open concept kitchen from the living room with a smile on his face.

“Sukuna. Y/N. Welcome, welcome. Take a seat. I’m just warming up the dishes the chef left for us.”

You bow to him slightly and he returns your gesture with a friendly wink. “It’s good to see you again, Jin-san.”

“Likewise, Y/N. And please,” he flashes you a bright smile. “Call me Jin. We’re in-laws now so you don’t have to be so formal with me.” 

His openness, so different from his older twin’s antagonism, heals a part of your heart that’s still tender from Sukuna’s afflictions. You nod and gesture to the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything, Jin?” 

It’s strange to see a man work a kitchen, much less a man like Itadori Jin who’s brilliant mind and business acumen was said to rival Bill Gates’ during his prime years. He’s the picture of ease, standing there with a gray apron wrapped around his neck and waist, effortlessly heating up some sauces in pots and checking on the oven settings.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Y/N. Sit, sit. There’s refreshments in the fridge. Don’t be shy to help yourself.” 

You set your bag down on the counter and nod, ambling over to the large, smart fridge, opening it idly.

Apparently at ease now that he’s comfortable in his twin brother’s house, Sukuna sinks onto the couch with a low groan. “D’you happen to have a beer or something?” 

His brother, already back in the kitchen, overhears his gripes. 

“Yeah, I do. Go get it yourself. And get one for your wife, too, prick.”

Uncaring for the warning in Jin’s tone, Sukuna flickers his crimson eyes to you standing there like a statue by the fridge. “She’s right there. She can take a drink for me, can’t she? It’s not like her legs aren’t working.”

You see a darker emotion flash on Jin’s face, almost like anger, and decide to intervene before the two brothers could fight over something as trivial as manners and who should bring who a drink.

“It’s alright. I’ll get a beer for him,” you quickly butt in, and grab a cold can of Asahi for Sukuna and a sparkling water for yourself. You pad over to your husband, ignoring Jin’s flickering gaze passing over your expression and school your features into one of neutrality when you pass the beer to him.

Sukuna takes it without ‘thanks’, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and groaning. You take the love seat on his other side, uncapping your drink and politely sipping on the bubbling liquid.

“Oi.” His terse tone catches your attention and you startle. Sukuna frowns, and flickers his gaze to the spot next to him. In a low voice so that Jin can’t overhear, he murmurs, “You want him to think we’re a celibate couple or something? Sit next to me. Don’t make it so obvious.”

Despite the fact that yes—you two were for all intents and purposes a couple who had not even consummated the marriage yet—you heed his words, knowing that what happens behind closed doors is not allowed to see the light of day. 

Mutely, you shift to sit by his side, quietly absorbing the house’s minimalist yet expensive decor. 

You want to ask Jin what’s his inspiration for the color palette when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind you, and turn to find an elderly woman in a starchy black dress and hair in an uptight bun walking hand-in-hand with a tiny boy who barely looks to be past four years old. 

Oh. Your breath rushes out of your chest as you take in his fluffy pink hair, the orange dungarees which clash horribly with the blush-tone hue of his locks. This must be—

“Come on, Yuuji. Come and meet your new aunty.”

Jin removes his apron and nods to the maid, guiding Yuuji over to you and Sukuna. His smile becomes both paternal and soft as he places one large palm on his son’s head, urging him forward to meet the newest addition to their family. 

Disregarding Sukuna’s warning to not step out of line in front of his family, you walk up to his nephew and slide down to one knee, so you’re both looking right into each other’s eyes. Yuuji isn’t shy like you expected, gazing at you with open curiosity, those brown eyes comically wide.

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet him warmly. The small boy doesn’t say a word. 

Behind you, you feel Sukuna’s looming presence, and not wanting to prove him right, you stand and pluck your tote bag from the counter, rummaging inside and pulling out a crocheted blue bunny. Yuuji’s eyes go even bigger at the sight of the toy, his pouty, pink seashell lips dropping open, eyes never leaving the gift in your hand.

“Your father told me you like toys so I made this for you.” You slide back onto one knee and hand him the stuffed toy, waiting for him to take it.

Everything is quiet for a brief moment and a part of you thinks he might reject you, as children do when for no logical reason. But then, Yuuji turns to look at Jin, as if asking for permission and his father nods, grinning widely.

“Go ahead, Yuu-Yuu. Aunty Y/N made that just for you.” 

Two chubby hands reach for the toy, taking it from your grasp as he squeezes it right to his plump cheek. Yuuji’s nose crinkles and he starts to rub his face on the scratchy material, the furrow on his tiny forehead smoothing out and a giggle blessing your ears.

“I think he likes it,” Jin laughs, and you can’t help but chortle, too.

“I think he does.” You turn towards Sukuna, who’s looking at the boy holding the toy with an amused smirk.

“Well. First one for the books. You have it easy—wait till he starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Straightening, you extend your hand out to Yuuji who stares at it like your fingers are a foreign object hovering right in front of him. Slowly, he feels the trust seeping from you, knowing you wouldn’t mean any harm, and spreads his tiny fingers towards you—stopping when he suddenly remembers something. 

One more glance at his papa, who nods graciously, a bright smile on his face at the sight of his adorable son warming up to his aunt. “You can trust her, Yuu-Yuu.”

Relaxing at his father’s words, the smallest Itadori stretches out his free hand, grasping your pinkie. The warmth of his entire palm engulfing your smallest finger sets off a sense of maternal protection and sweetness surging through your veins, and you can’t help but think that if someone were to threaten Yuuji with a gun, you would put yourself right in front of the barrel to protect him. 

“Would you like to have dinner now, Yuuji?” You ask him warmly, and the toddler gurgles as if he completely understands what you’re saying, tugging you along. 

You swivel back to Sukuna who’s watching the entire episode unfurl with a look of pleasant surprise on his face, unaccustomed to having someone hit it off with his crybaby of a nephew. 

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you give him a triumphant smirk, and he relents, shaking his head with a low laugh. You got me there, that chuckle seems to say, and he keeps his eyes peeled on Yuuji who leads you right down the hall with mincing steps—strides which you match effortlessly. 

Where other nannies and butlers would try to order Yuuji around, you bend right to his whims, meeting him at his level. You listen to him babble in his baby language without any hesitation or judgment; you coo and gasp at the right time, as if he had told you something scandalous. Whenever you had to speak to him, you tried your best to get onto one knee to be eye-to-eye with the two year old. 

It’s safe to say by the end of the evening, you’ve won at least one Itadori man’s heart.

Yuuji insisted you sit next to him on his high chair with his thumb in his mouth, shaking his head furiously when Jin tries to take the seat on his right hand side.

“Okay, little man. It’s not like I’m your father, or anything.” Jin complains, much to your amusement. 

You try and fail to hide a giggle at Yuuji furrowing his tiny brows and puckering his mouth into a pout when Sukuna attempts to take the chair next to the young boy. Those sweet brown eyes search for you, and he whines, unsticking his thumb from his mouth to make grabby motions at you. 

“Me?” You point to your chest, pretending to look back as if you expected him to choose someone else.

Yuuji whines louder, and you giggle, shaking your head at his antics. “You want me to sit next to you, Yuu-Yuu?” 

As you speak, you circle the table and hover at the chair next to him. Yuuji doesn't say a word or even mumble a protest—watching you with wide, doe eyes.

Taking it as a ‘yes’, you shoot both Jin and Sukuna an apologetic look, settling yourself on Yuuji’s right; the toddler smacking his lips in satisfaction. He’s managed to trickle drool all over the crocheted bunny, holding it fast to his chest as a maid helps cut his potatoes into smaller bites, quartering the Shine Muscat grapes so he could easily grab it and stuff it into his mouth.

Jin takes the seat opposite of you, hovering close enough in case you need help with his son. 

But, he was surprised to see that you were perfectly capable of handling Yuuji all on your own.

The spread of food arranged by both Jin and his maid is luxurious and homey, filled with stewed meats, stir-fried veggies and at the center of the table sits a hearty salmon dish lightly boiled in dashi broth, its flavor clean and nourishing at the same time. 

You eat while Jin and Sukuna catch up over business and other formalities, your attention solely on Yuuji and his antics. You giggle when he offers you a grape and nod, extending your palm for him to drop the plump fruit into your hand.

“So, how’s Project Dubai going?” Sukuna inquires, and Jin tears his eyes away from the intriguing young woman who’s getting on well with his son to entertain his brother.

You’re nibbling on a grape when you overhear this intriguing topic; Project Dubai being the codename for Shinjuku Alliance, your father’s company, patenting technology from the Middle East under Itadori Corp’s supply channels. 

This was the one project which brought you into their lives—the reason why Sukuna’s ring was on your finger in the first place. 

Jin senses your mounting curiosity, and as much as you’re a key person in this deal, he doesn’t need anymore stakes in such a top secret project that was sure to boost Japan’s economy as a whole. He frowns, and gives Sukuna a pointed look.

“Do you think we should be speaking of business at this table now?” 

He meant it as a joke, but you, knowing the entire context and having overheard it, tries to reassure him in your usual selfless way.

“It’s alright, Jin-san. You and Itadori-san can talk about business. I’ll keep Yuuji entertained so he won’t interrupt.” 

Jin startles from your sudden quip and begins to stammer out that it’s fine, that he’ll save the talk for later in the smoking room, when Sukuna returns his previous gesture and gives him a glare. 

“I suppose it’s going well,” the youngest twin finally responds with a sigh. “I’m meeting Jiro tomorrow. He wants to talk over logistics and send a rep over to Dubai. I think you should be in the meeting, too.” 

Sukuna takes a sip of his whiskey and nods. “Of course. I’ll be there.” 

He gives you a furtive look, and as much as he wants to pretend you’re not an important person in his life, the truth is far different from the reality. 

You’re nothing but a naive princess who doesn’t know the ins and outs of his world. You live in a fantasy so much different from his own world. Where Sukuna faces rejections, threats and failed investments, all you had going on for you was a rich daddy and a mother who’s descended from retail royalty. You would never understand how important this deal was to him, you could never comprehend the magnitude of burden that rests on his shoulders.

He watches you coo at something Yuuji says, and his rumination catches Jin’s attention. His brother chuckles, and Sukuna swivels back to find him wiggling his brows.

“Say… she’s a natural with children, isn’t she?” 

Sukuna bristles. The thing with Jin is that compliments aren’t actually about highlighting a person’s achievements. It’s a means for him to scheme and further coerce someone into doing his bidding.

In this case, Jin’s motivations are clear.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her? 

In answer, Sukuna glowers at his brother, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth curling from a glare to a grimace.

Jin rolls his eyes, twin telepathy at play between the both of them.

Oh, come on. His youngest brother glares back at him. You know it has to happen soon—her father wants grandchildren… that’s part of your deal, Sukuna. 

“Are you both… okay?” Your concern breaks their staring contest and Jin turns to you with a slight cough, while Sukuna continues to sip on his whiskey.

“We’re fine,” his twin brother grins. Sukuna grunts.

His eyes flit from Yuuji to you and back to Yuuji again, Jin’s silent question echoing loudly in his head.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

Growing up with a mother as an art collector gave your childhood a magical touch. 

On days when Lia brought you to work, you spent hours exploring the exhibition galleries, hiding underneath the stone benches, running and prancing around just to hear your shoes skidding on the polished, honey oak floorings as world class paintings looked on at your naive, childish glee. 

Now that you’re older, the gallery is a source of comfort and a spot you spent most of your time, trying to learn the ropes from your mother in hopes that one day, your name might be on the grant of his great building.

After instructing your new driver to circle towards Monolithique, a cube building housing New Age Impressionist art which your mother is particularly fond of, you take the spiral staircase up to her office, letting yourself into the executive suite.

Lia glances up at you from her spot behind the great mahogany desk, her smile both curious and despairing.

“Already back to work so soon?”

You scoff and shrug off your Balmain tote bag, settling it down on the smaller desk to her right. “Why? Hoping I never come back to work again?” 

Looking radiant in a yellow sundress with a Tom Ford leather coat hanging from her shoulders, your mother chuckles. 

“It’s only been three weeks since the wedding. Itadori-san should be keeping you at home to enjoy your presence.”

At the reminder of how long it’s been since the ceremony and yet, Sukuna refuses to make a move on you despite sharing the same bed together, your bubbly smile falls slightly flat. 

“He’s been busy with Project Dubai,” you shrug off your long, black trench coat and set it on the back of the chair, careful not to crumple your new silky Dior dress. “I was growing bored at home.”

Lia eyes the new monochromatic fashion you’re sporting, her lips pursing as she looks you up and down. “The dress is something… different. I’ve never seen such a lack of color on you. Not even a pastel bow in your hair?” 

Referring to your old style which Sukuna had insulted as an ‘old maid trying to play a prepubescent girl’, you cringe at the internal shame you still carried around from that conversation. You shrug, trying to play it cool in front of your mom. 

“I suppose I came to the realization that my old style was… childish.” 

Lia chuckles, shaking her head. “I did love your old style, though. It had a certain innocence. But, you’re right, you’re a married woman now and you need to look sophisticated and carry yourself well.”

You nod, going back to your stack of papers which need your attention after your wedding leave. 

“Oh, about the Daley memorial exhibition—”

Your head shoots up, piqued by such an interesting concept. “Did the board bite my pitch idea?” 

Lia tries and fails to suppress a smile. “Yes, they did, Y/N. They loved your idea and the suggestion of  a tribute for him. Getting his grandson to unveil an exclusive painting which the public has not seen was such a great idea, that even Mrs. Saichi loved it.” 

The idea of Mrs. Saichi, or known as the art curator from hell who loves terrorizing the newer hires, loving your idea enough to put aside her cantankerous attitude makes you grin from ear to ear. 

“That’s great, mom. I have some other ideas, too that I think the board will like,” you clear your throat, removing a clear binder from your desk drawer. “There’s this artist. His name is Suguru Geto and he studied in Vanliette’s School of Art in Salisbury. He stated that one of his biggest creative inspirations is Nathan Daley and his recent works have been generating hype especially in Denmark for its use of Daley’s paint splatter method. I think he would great to feature as a highlight artist, considering he’s—” 

“From Tokyo,” Lia finishes, her eyes twinkling. “Mhm. Yes, I've heard about him, too. A very talented young man, though he is rather… rakish in nature.”

You tilt your head, a polite yet confused smile lifts your lips. “What do you mean by that, mom?” 

Lia takes in your innocence with a chortle, folding her hands right in front of her. “It means he’s a playboy, my dear. He’s used to having his way with many, many beautiful women. If we want to get him onboard for the Daley Memorial, we need to employ a very convincing incentive, indeed.” 

Her eyes rake across your face, scanning down your bare shoulders. You blanche, the implication of her words rising inside you like the warmth staining your cheeks. 

“Are you saying I should be the one to lure him in?” 

A smile plays on the corners of her lips. “I believe so. If you so badly want to take over Monolithique and expand to other corners of the world, there are certain sacrifices and tests I must put you through to prove your worth, dear.”

Of course. You’ve made it known many times to Lia how much you yearn to have this art gallery under your name; your dreams of expanding to cities like New York or Chicago are the same ones which fuel your determination to show up at work everyday. 

You square your shoulders and steel yourself with a breath. Getting Suguru Geto was no easy feat, but you’re an L/N. Your father’s stubbornness and your mother’s wit runs through your blood. But, like every good businesswoman, you can’t just take the first offer on the table. You had to play your cards right; dig deeper to maximize your benefits.

“And if I do get Geto-san for our exhibition? What will be my compensation?”

Lia’s eyes sparkle at your question; she’s taught you well.

Tapping one manicured finger on her chin, she hums, as if deep in thought. 

What she says next is the stuff of your wildest dreams.

Biting her cheek, she says, “I’ll let you take charge of expanding Monolithique to Chicago.”

Your heart literally stops. A breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes past your lips, and you press a hand to your mouth to keep from squealing. 

“Are you serious?” Your eyes sparkle with a million stars, the first piece of good news you’ve gotten since your inescapable marriage to Sukuna.

Lia hums, the twinkle in her eyes matching your ecstasy. 

“As serious as I've ever been.” Her gaze softens, and she sinks back into her high chair, a satisfied smile across her dewberry stained lips. “But, on one condition.” 

You look at her expectantly, willing to do what it takes to see your dreams grow wings and fly. “Yes, mom. Anything.” 

Lia exhales, twining her fingers together, looking at you with a keen shine in her eye. 

“We expect to hear good news of a grandchild sometime this year.” 

Sukuna’s day was going from bad to worse. 

First, his assistant messed up his meeting schedule for an important VIP catch-up with Jin and the rest of the committee, then some board bitch from his brother’s posse of investors made a snide comment about his facial tattoos which he couldn’t rebuke if he wanted to play nice. Afterwards, his favorite protein shake bar in the cafe below unexpectedly ran out of his favorite whey solvent and on top of that, his wife has the fucking audacity to text him to come home earlier tonight for dinner. 

He’s seething when he reads your message, not bothering to reply and switching his phone off.

If you had half the brains to text him in the morning when he’s still fresh and ready to take on the day, he might’ve been lenient to your request. But, he can’t afford to make anymore mistakes today. 

His position as Jin’s VP already drew raised eyebrows from across the room when it was announced just three weeks ago after his marriage to you. The rumor mill ran rampant with voices of dissent, calling him a product of nepotism; whispers behind his back of how he didn’t deserve this position over other long-time cohorts who were unfairly pushed from the top. 

Without thinking it through, Sukuna rummages in his desktop drawer, removing a small, white packet. 

The entire office had already emptied out a long time ago; Jin himself had rapped his knuckles on his door, announcing his leave to go back home. 

It’s just him, a few security guards manning the building, and the promise of his high.

Sukuna lines up the powder on his desk and takes the first hit, feeling the drugs swirl in his system. The familiar high hums in his veins and a dopey smile breaks out across his face. He sighs and sits back in his high end chair, folding his hands on top of his chest. 

Enjoying the lightheadedness for a few more moments, Sukuna decides enough time has passed and he needs to crash out in his own bed. The idea of coming back home faded as hell doesn’t even cross his mind when he calls for the chauffeur to pick him, or when he’s ambling straight to the door of the penthouse he shares with you. 

The second the lock clicks inside, he’s assaulted by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Candles glitter across every available surface, and it feels like he’s stepped into the middle of a séance.

Sukuna’s confusion is palpable, especially when he notices you rising from the sofa, clad in a skimpy black robe with lace trimmings, the peek of your collarbones past the silk stirring something inside of his chest.

“What’s this?” He tries to demand, but the hardness of his confusion doesn’t translate in his tone. Instead, he sounds curious.

“I made you dinner,” you murmur and this close now, he sees your lips shining with a sheen of plum wine, your skin smooth and flawless under the warm, flickering light.

Sukuna swallows and involuntarily takes a step back. 

“I told you I’d be working late—”

“It’s no worries,” you interject, and without a second’s hesitation, close the distance between the two of you. “I don’t mind waiting for you, Itadori-san.” 

He can smell the vanilla wafting in your hair, clinging to your skin. Whether the drugs are messing with brain or his resolution is weaker after such a shit day, Sukuna caves in and lifts his hand to your face, running the back of his inked knuckles down your cheek. 

Your skin is softer than he imagines, and a jolt runs through him, hot and needy, at the thought of how many days he’s spent asleep next to you on the large, cold bed without even once thinking of caressing such dainty and silky flesh. A flash of heat unfurls down his spine, and he growls, low and in warning, his crimson eyes darkening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, little miss.” 

Incredulously, you smirk. Emboldened by his touch, you raise your own dainty palms, pressing it to his chest, feeling the solid muscle underneath his dress shirt. 

“Don’t you think we’re both past games, now?” You whisper, hesitantly stripping his jacket off his broad shoulders. The heavy material falls to the floor with a dull thud. Your fingers dance across the buttons of his shirt, and Sukuna doesn’t utter a single word when you start to undress him. 

You’re trembling on the inside like a violent earthquake has besieged you, fingers quivering as you work the buttons off, one at a time, until the dip of his pecs appear in your line of sight. A part of you thinks he’s going to snap and come to his senses, pushing you away. But, the dark, pensive look in his eyes doesn’t fade, and it reassures you somewhat. 

As if struck by a certain thought, Sukuna brushes your hands away.

Your face melts into a look of hurt, but that changes when he brings his arms to wrap around your smaller figure, pulling you flush to his body. Sukuna’s blood-red eyes hungrily search your face. In the dimness of the penthouse, his facial tattoos stand out garishly, bleeding lines of ink across his skin. 

You tentatively reach for his face, cupping it in both your palms. Though no stranger to sex thanks to your reckless youth, this moment feels different. Incredibly intimate. The atmosphere presses around you with sensuous demand, the hot lines of his body against yours causing your heart to thrum out of control. 

His crimson eyes fall at half-mast, peering down at you with curiosity swimming in his dark gaze. 

You tip his face closer to yours, breath caught in your throat. This will be the first kiss you’ve ever had with him since that day at the altar when he made you his wife. 

You can feel your pulse beating wildly through your partially closed eyelids, his lips approaching closer and closer. Your thumb brushes his upper lip, and you’re about to let him close the gap when you see it.

A fine dusting of powder concentrated around his nose.

Instinctively, you gasp, eyes flying wide. Sukuna, who feels the ambience shifting, pries his eyes open too, gazing at you with disgruntled confusion. Before he can ask what has gotten into you, he feels your thumb swiping under his nose, as if scrutinizing some residue. 

He blanches immediately, knowing what you would be seeing. What you had found.

Your husband wants to reprimand you for your invasive exploration, but the words catch behind his gritted teeth when you turn your wide eyes to him, shock and dismay mingling upon your expression.

“Sukuna… is this… cocaine?”

a/n. ruh-roh x238585

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms, and claim as your own

[pandapetals]

First Day Jitters

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, you are a english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

Flashback before you two got married. It's Logan's first day as a teacher and you give him a lucky pen since he is nervous.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Logan never thought he’d end up teaching, let alone standing in front of a classroom full of students eager to learn about history. Hell, he still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. He’d lived through more of it than most textbooks could cover, but that didn’t mean he knew how to explain it in neat, digestible lessons. Yet here he was—Xavier’s latest idea, no doubt convinced by the same reasoning that had gotten him to stick around the mansion in the first place.

It was his first day as a professor, and Logan hated to admit it, but he was nervous.

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing the back of his neck. The white-gray streaks in his hair were a little more noticeable than he’d like today, not that he cared much about appearances. But something about standing in front of a bunch of fresh-faced students made him feel older than he usually did. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, already regretting the stiff, buttoned-up look. This wasn’t him.

Storm and Scott—hell, even you—made teaching seem like the easiest thing in the world. You had the confidence, the charisma. You could talk about Shakespeare or Hemingway and have a classroom hanging on your every word. Logan, on the other hand, could barely imagine keeping their attention long enough to get through the syllabus.

With a low grunt, he gave his reflection one last, unimpressed look. He had no idea how the day would go, but at least there was something to look forward to: you.

Your classroom was right across the hall, and despite having known you for a while, Logan hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to make a real move. The two of you had always had this easy back-and-forth, full of teasing and subtle glances that lingered just a little too long. He could sense you liked him—he was good at picking up on that sort of thing—but something held him back. Maybe it was the thought of disappointing you. Or maybe it was the idea that someone like you, with all your grace and cleverness, deserved better than a gruff old man.

As he shrugged on his jacket, the door to his office creaked open, and there you were, leaning against the doorframe with that easy smile of yours, the one that always managed to throw him off his game just a little.

"Nervous?" you asked, your voice teasing but gentle, your eyes bright with amusement. You knew him well enough by now to see through his gruff exterior, especially on a day like this.

Logan scoffed, turning to grab his bag. "Nah. It’s just teachin’. Nothin’ to it," he grumbled, though the tightness in his jaw gave him away. He slung the bag over his shoulder, trying to play it cool, but his hand lingered on the strap, betraying the anxious energy simmering beneath the surface.

You stepped further into the room, crossing your arms as you watched him. "Right, of course," you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. "Because you’ve clearly got this whole professor thing down on day one."

He shot you a look, half-amused, half-annoyed, but didn’t argue. You took a step closer, your tone softening. "You’re going to be fine, Logan. You know more about history than anyone I’ve ever met. Besides, if Scott can manage to teach teenagers about geometry without setting himself on fire, you can handle this."

He huffed out a laugh, but it didn’t completely shake off the tension in his shoulders. You caught it, your eyes narrowing slightly as you gave him that knowing look of yours.

"Here," you said suddenly, reaching into your bag. "I’ve got something for you."

Logan raised an eyebrow, curious despite himself, as you pulled out a pen—a sleek, simple one that looked a little too fancy to belong to someone like him. You held it out to him, grinning. "This is one of my lucky pens. Take it with you. You know, for good luck."

He stared at the pen, then at you, his eyebrow inching higher. "Lucky pens, huh? Didn’t peg you for the superstitious type," he muttered, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

You shrugged, still holding the pen out toward him. "I’m not, really. But it’s worked for me in some tight spots. And, besides…" You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice. "It’ll give you something to think about when you’re in there, pretending not to be nervous."

Logan felt his lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile, but he kept his gruff demeanor intact. "I don’t need luck," he grumbled, but after a moment, he took the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. He pocketed it quickly as if the small, intimate gesture had caught him off guard.

You gave him a knowing smile, stepping back, clearly pleased with yourself. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, tough guy."

Logan shook his head, trying to suppress the warmth that spread through him at the sight of your smile. "You should get to your class before I regret takin’ that pen."

You laughed softly, the sound light and easy, before heading toward the door. "Good luck, Professor Howlett," you teased over your shoulder, winking at him as you disappeared into the hallway.

Logan stood there for a second longer than he needed to, the room feeling a little emptier now that you’d left. He patted the front pocket of his jacket, feeling the smooth edge of the pen nestled inside. He scoffed under his breath—luck, yeah right—but his fingers curled around it, holding onto it just a little tighter than necessary.

As he made his way to his first class, Logan kept his usual stoic expression in place, but he couldn’t quite shake the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The students waiting inside the room wouldn’t know it, but tucked in his pocket was a little piece of you, a reminder that maybe he had more going for him today than just his knowledge of history.

If he was being honest with himself, that was all the luck he needed.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Not sure what to think of the design of this 1982 contemporary in Pikeville, KY. 3bds, 4ba, 3,800 sq ft, $1.2m.

Enter the glass tower. That ladder is impressive- it slides almost completely around the room. Can you imagine deciding on a book on the top shelf?

There's a fireplace, a loft, and while I don't mind wallpaper on the shelving, I don't think that I would choose that particular pattern.

Lots of stairs. This is another sitting room with a stone fireplace soaring up 2 floors.

Look at all the levels.

Here's the dining area, and there are several surrounding seating spaces.

There's even a small seating nook tucked under the stairs.

And, there's also a guest 1/2 bath.

I was liking the warm woods and stone, so I was taken aback when I came to this starkly gray and white kitchen. I didn't expect it.

At least they added a wood dining set.

In the loft, the living room shelves continue to a corner office area. There's also seating and more shelving.

The door by the desk opens conveniently to the primary bedroom suite.

It's large with a seating area.

Back down to the living room, a smaller staircase and hall goes off to another bedroom.

It could be a nice, private guest suite.

I'm getting lost. This is a mezzanine with more bedrooms and baths.

Large bedroom and en-suite up here.

I have no idea where this is. It looks like an upper floor, but then it also looks like a basement door over at the end by the closet.

There isn't much of a yard b/c the terrain is so uneven.

But, there's a very large deck.

And, this fenced in pool and patio is nice.

There's some flat grass here.

Quite a hike from the garage to the kitchen, though.

The 5.33 acre lot is next to the pool and far from the house, itself. It looks like another house can be built on that flat land.

https://www.zillow.com/homes/870-Stone-Coal-Rd-Pikeville,-KY-41501_rb/2127190338_zpid/?

[ur-dad-satan]

DiaxF!MC

Distract me!

4.4K words, 18+ MDNI, enjoy <3

(Includes swearing, MxF sex, oral, face painting, r1ding, m1ssionary, etc. etc.)

It was a quiet Friday afternoon in the Devildom; RAD was closed for repairs due to a fight amongst the brothers that resulted in several desks and chairs thrown across several classrooms and a destroyed pillar or two. MC sat in her room bored and alone as all of the brothers were busy; Mammon, Satan, and Belphie were all being punished, Lucifer was punishing them, Asmo was working, and Beel was at fangol practice. MC has texted Levi, but he hadn't replied in over 2 hours.

"Damn, seems like I'm on my own today. Doom scrolling it is." She said to herself and opened some social media app.

Over at the Demon Lord's castle, Diavolo sat frowning at his desk; a huge stack of paperwork frowned back at him. The prince sighed and ran a hand through his soft hair. He was trying to do his work, but his brain seemed to reject the words on the documents as he found himself just staring into space. Briefly, he looked up checking for his butler, who was more like a nanny, then went on his DDD. He needed a break and he knew just the human to help.

*.*.*.*.*.

Dia: MC!! SOS

MC: What!? MC: What happened???

Dia: I need an escape! Please break me out 🥺

MC: Last time I did that, Barbatos lectured me for 3 hours straight after giving me extra energizing tea. MC: You're on your own this time, Young Master

Dia: Please!!! I'll take full blame and everything! Dia: I'll even buy you something from that boutique you've been eyeing

MC: How do YOU know I've been eyeing that old boutique? 🤨

Dia: Now is not the time for me to explain how much you post on social media! Please!! I'm begging you!

MC: Okay, fine. MC: But don't come crying to me when Barbs makes you eat nothing but pickles for an entire afternoon

Dia: Thank you so much, MC!! Dia: And why would you even put that idea out there? 😐

MC: Gonna teleport you to Purgatory Hall. Solomon should be in the lab MC: Wait there and I'll come by to get you.

Dia: Thank you! I can't wait!

*.*.*.*.*.

Diavolo smiled at the little device in his hand and quickly locked the door to his office as quietly as he could and waited to appear in Purgatory Hall. A little while later, MC was ringing the doorbell to the Hall where she agreed to meet Diavolo. After a moment, a white haired man opened the door looking incredibly stressed and irritated.

"Damn, Solo, you look rough." MC said in a joking yet concerned tone.

"Hello to you too, MC." Solomon rolled his eyes and let the other human in before continuing. "I'm perfecting some spells, both for class and for myself. Diavolo isn't helping, but he isn't hurting either; though he did say you two were hanging out." MC explained the situation as they walked to the common room, causing Solomon to grimace at the thought of them inevitably being caught by Barbatos. When the two humans entered the room, Diavolo's eyes lit up in excitement.

"Hello, MC!" The prince said standing to embrace his "savior".

"Hey, Dia." MC said returning the hug.

"Dia?" Solomon asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Mind your business." MC grinned. When Diavolo let go, MC handed him a bag that they had been carrying.

"What's this for?" He asked taking it regardless.

"We don't need anyone recognizing you, and clearly, you don't have any actual casual clothes, so I brought you a pair of Beel's sweatpants, one of Levi's hoodies, a hat and some sunglasses." MC gestured to the literal suit he was wearing to emphasize her point. Diavolo smiled sheepishly and followed Solomon to one of the gust rooms so he could change.

Not long after initially leaving, the red haired man came back; the black cargo pants fit him almost perfectly, and so did the hoodie. He was a bit taller than Levi, so it was a little shorter than it would be on the purple haired demon, so his t-shirt poked out from under the gray hoodie the slightest bit. MC looked him up and down and had to stop herself from drooling.

*A.N. I'm a whore for unnecessary detail so I put the outfit I'm talking about at the end of the fic. I found it on Pinterest :)*

The two thanked Solomon for his hospitality and apologized for the interruption, then left, wandering into town. The two walked around until they found a little ice cream shop and decided to get some. It was a small, empty, shop with only two employees in it, and a small variety of flavors from both the human world and Devildom. MC got a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of blood strawberry ice cream. Diavolo got a similar combination of blood strawberry and chocolate. As the two talked and laughed, the sky turned darker.

After they were done in the shop, they begin wandering the town once more. All was well as the two walk and talk before a drop of water falls on MC's nose. "Oh, shit. It's starting to rain." MC said looking up to the darkening sky.

"Ah, so it seems. I'm still not ready to go back yet, however I know how fragile humans are, and I don't want you to get sick." Diavolo said sincerely and got closer to the human seemingly shielding her from the weather. Something in his voice made something in her stomach flutter just a bit.

"Neither do I. I have a friend who runs a little hotel nearby. Maybe they'll have an extra room for us." MC suggested. Diavolo nodded in approval and extended his hand for MC to take so she can lead him out of the rain that was starting to fall heavier. Their brisk walk soon turned into a mild jog, a light run, and then a full on sprint as the light drizzle turned into a frigid downpour leaving the two soaking wet and laughing at the situation. As they all but burst into the reception of the small hotel, their laughs died down, but their warm smiles lingered.

"MC! And friend! What a pleasant surprise!" The demon said and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Hey Noah! Sorry for the unannounced visit." MC said and leaned over the counter to give him a quick hug.

"Nah, don't be. I run a hotel. I'm used to unannounced guests; they kinda give me my whole business." Noah joked making MC laugh and Diavolo chuckle a bit. MC explained that the duo just needed a room for a little while to get out of the rain. Noah gave them a discount on a nice, secluded room after learning who MC's 'friend' was and threw a wink her way, causing her face to heat slightly and her eyes to roll in amusement.

*.*.*.*.*.

Thirty minutes later, MC and Diavolo were wrapped in the complementary robes and their underwear as the rest of clothes hung up to dry. The two sat close together, warm and cozy, on the large fluffy bed as they half watched a movie. Neither could remember when it happened, but Diavolo's arm somehow ended up around MC's waist pulling her close. As the movie went on, one of the characters said something that made MC giggle.

"That's what she said." Diavolo muttered under his breath almost instinctively. MC's eyes widened in amusement and slight surprise.

"That's what she said?" MC repeated. It took Diavolo a second to realize that he had even said anything; once he did, a light pink gently dusted his pretty face.

"Sorry, that just came out." The prince said sheepishly.

"I didn't think you could make jokes like that, Young Master." MC joked copying the way Barbatos calls Diavolo. He faked a grimace and moved his arm from around MC to gently and jokingly push her face away while he laughed. The human dramatically fell backward and laughed along with him.

"Please don't call me that." Diavolo laughed. MC sat back up and thought for a moment before grinning.

"What should I call you then? Besides Lord Diavolo, of course." MC asked genuinely wanting to know.

"Hmm, I quite like when you call me Dia. It's cute." He smiled a bit at the admission.

"Of course it's cute. It's your name." MC complemented and unconsciously leaned close to Diavolo. A mischevious smirk pulled at the corners of the demon's lips and he got closer to MC before speaking again.

"Are you flirting with me, MC?" Diavolo asked in a teasing tone. MC, not backing down, put her face impossibly closer to his, but didn't allow them to touch just yet.

"So what if I am, mister prince? Would you order me to stop?" MC matched his energy. The two stared in each others eyes for what seemed like hours, but was just about 10 seconds, as the air became thick. "So, what happens now, Dia?" MC asked putting seductive emphases on his name.

"What do you want to happen?" Diavolo responded; though he already knew the response, he wanted MC to say it. He needed to hear it from her mouth on the miniscule chance that he was wrong so he didn't fuck this up.

"Kiss me." MC said lowly. Almost instinctively, one of Dia's hands cupped the human's face, and their lips met. MC leaned into the touch and she put her hand on Diavolo's thigh. He let out a small sigh, and placed his other hand on the small of MC's back, pulling her closer. While the two made out, their robes got looser, Diavolo's underwear got tighter, and MC's panties got wet. Without breaking the kiss, MC straddled the red-haired prince sitting just shy of the growing bulge under his robe and putting her hands on his face. Diavolo moved his hands to MC's thighs, kneading them - moving closer and closer to her ass. They keep kissing, but before long, Diavolo can't help himself; he pulled MC so that she was flush against his chest, his hands were on her ass under the robe, and her crotch was pushing against his.

"Someone's handsy." MC teased against his lips. Diavolo let out a low, breathy chuckle before kissing down her neck and squeezing her ass again. The combined slight pain and pleasure of his nails digging into her skin made the human bite her lip to stop from moaning.

"Well, can you blame me?" He said against MC's skin. The vibration of his voice against her skin made her shiver. As the prince kissed and licked messily on MC's neck, one of the human's hands slid down his chest, to untie the robe; she guided it down his arms so it would expose his chest. She ran a hand down his chest, eliciting a light moan from him as her fingers grazed over his nipple. He roughly squeezed MC's ass, then pulled her underwear up to expose more of her ass cheeks. MC sat back to look Diavolo in the eye; his eyes we're slightly glossy in pleasure and he just looked so fucking good. MC gingerly untied his robe, and placed her fingers on the waistband on his boxers before speaking.

"Is this what we're doing, baby?" MC asked before going any further.

"I hope so; no pressure, of course, sweetheart." Diavolo said genuinely and moved his hands from her ass to her waist to further prove his point.

"I was just making sure." MC said and started to kiss and lick Diavolo's neck before sticking one of her hands past his waistband and gripping his hard dick, making his breath catch in his throat, followed by a low moan seeping from his throat. His hands moved back to MC's ass, squeezing and kneading once more as the human worked her magic. It took no time for the prince to become a flushed, aroused mess, and he thought he couldn't feel any better until MC's hand that wasn't stroking his dick, started playing with his nipples making him gasp and squirm lightly.

"Fuck, MC." He moaned breathlessly. If he could get harder, then he did and MC's pussy only got wetter, slowly soaking the fabric of her underwear and getting on Diavolo's. The red-haired prince couldn't help himself and started to play with MC's pussy over her underwear making a moan bubble up from her stomach.

"Holy shit," she said against his skin, and bit down right below his collar bone. It was like all of the man's reasoning ceased functioning in that instant; after his eyes finished rolling a bit, he pulled the robe off MC and threw it somewhere in the room. MC followed suit, and pulled his robe the rest of the way off of his arms, letting it fall to the bed, and kept touching and biting him.

"MC, I need you," His words were cut off by a moan. MC smirked and kissed Diavolo on the lips, kneaded his chest, and played with his nipple. "A-ahh, f-f-fUCK. I need you in my mouth." He forced out and gripped MC's hips. MC chuckled, moved her hands to hold his face, and started kissing him deeply on the lips. Her tongue plunged into his mouth as she took in his taste: the faint flavor of ice cream and heat.

"Is this what you meant?" MC asked faux-innocently against his lips. Though her eyes were closed, she could tell that he rolled his eyes from the smirk she could feel pull at his lips.

"Honey, you know that's not what." Diavolo replied desperately yet amusedly. MC let out a small giggle and pulled back looking the prince in the eye.

"Lay down for me." MC pretty much commanded, which the red-haired prince followed almost immediately. Diavolo hooked his fingers in the top of MC's underwear and helped her out of them. Instead of normally sitting on his face like he expected her to, the human, now naked from the waist down, turned and sat on his upper chest facing away from him and began to pull at his boxers to take them off as well. He lifted his waist to allow MC to strip him as he pulled her waist up to his mouth so he could eat her out.

Diavolo's mouth went to work; licking, lapping, sucking, and tongue fucking MC's wet cunt. As he messily ate her out, MC sucked him off. Her head bobbed, and her tongue licked and ran up his length and over the head. The room was filled with the sounds of the two moaning, heavily breathing, and wet slurping. Diavolo wrapped his arms around MC's thighs to keep them open and gently dug his nails into her lower back making her moan around his cock. MC's warm, wet mouth felt so good around Diavolo's hard dick that his hips seemed to have a mind of their own. He planted his feet on the bed, and started thrusting his hips up into MC's mouth; he started slowly, careful not to hurt or choke the human, but fuck was his control slipping. It wasn't long before MC pulled off of his cock with a pop and clearing her throat to speak between moans.

"Dia," she started. "I w-want to fuck you... so bad." MC said while still pumping his dick to keep him hard. Diavolo only responded with a moan and a squeeze to her lower back before pulling away and letting go of her legs. MC readjusted and let Diavolo sit up with his back against the headboard. The human removed her bra so they both were completely nude, then sat just shy of his dick once more.

"Are you sure you want to go further, Dearest? I don't have a condom or anything." Diavolo said. Obviously, he wanted to have sex with MC, but he needed to make sure she 100 percent wanted to; an 'enthusiastic yes', as he had once heard it called. MC leaned in close, almost letting their lips touch, but not quite.

"Fuck yes." She said lowly, yet certainly. Before she could lean in, Dia closed the gap between their lips, capturing her in another heated kiss. MC placed one of her hands on Diavolo's chest, while the other hand stroked his cock again. The demon moaned and moved to kiss and suck on MC's neck. The human's breath caught in her throat as a small sharp pain emitted from the base of her neck; unconsciously, she tilted her head in hopes he would bite her again, before adjusting to hover over the prince's dick. "Is this how you want me, baby?" MC asked seductively, looking for permission as he had not long ago.

"Absolutely, my darling." Diavolo said as his signature black, red, and gold accented horns and wings appeared almost instantaneously. His pretty yellow eyes deepened into a radiant, almost sparkling, gold and his hands found their way to MC's waist and squeezed gently yet possessively as she slowly slid her soaking wet cunt onto Diavolo's hard cock. They both let out a shuddered moan, MC threw her head back, and Diavolo let his eyes flutter closed; clearly, they no longer cared about being quiet.

After taking a moment to adjust to his size, the human started to move. Up and down, up and down, squeezing, taking him deeper, leaning her body closer to his so he can bite her once again. Constantly moving, heat prickling her skin threatening to start sweating, and moans and swears bubbling up from her stomach leaked from her pretty mouth. Dia's hands guided MC's hips to the perfect speed for both of them as his face got warmer and warmer. He continued to suck and lick MC's skin, being much more careful with his teeth knowing how sharp they can be while like this.

As if she was weightless, Diavolo flipped the two of them over so that MC was on her back and he was kneeling on the bed in front of her. With a lustful smirk on his face, as if he had just gotten a great idea, he pulled MC to the edge of the bed and pushed into her once again.

"Fuck!" She moaned. The prince moaned in response and leaned down to kiss her lips.

"You're so fucking good, pumpkin." He complemented against her lips. His thrusts became slower, more deliberate, as if he was making sure this lasted as long as possible. MC let out a breathy giggle between soft moans causing Diavolo to amusedly move his face back to look at MC. He face was flushed, her lips were swollen, and a thin layer of sweat now coated his beautiful skin. "What's so funny?" He asked sweetly and slowed down even more.

"Nothing, I've just never heard you swear before." MC said looking at him with lidded, lust filled eyes. The red-haired demon let out his own small laugh and something he hadn't really paid attention to before caught his eye.

"Well," Diavolo started, then grabbed MC's face by the chin- his large hand so soft against her skin- and guided her gaze to a mirror to their right. The sight was unlike anything MC could have ever imagined; of all of the times she's fantasized about being with anyone, this was a thousand times better. "I've never seen you like this, my little lamb." Diavolo said and began kissing MC's neck once again, watching her face contort in pleasure and her eyes struggle to stay open and not roll back and shut. Fuck, she was so much more gorgeous than he had ever thought; he'd never be able to look at her like before again. Her beauty, he scent, her moans, the way she felt in his arms, it was utterly intoxicating. Absentmindedly, he started to fuck her faster than he was before, and with the speed, came the force. The sounds of skin slapping and their moans was better than any cursed record either of them had ever listened to, or would ever listen to. As the pressure started to build in MC's abdomen, her moans got more needy and desperate, and her nails dug into Diavolo's sweaty back.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," The human moaned as she neared and toppled over the edge of her orgasm. The prince slowed his hips but kept the same amount of force, making MC moan loudly with every time his skin hit hers. As he kept fucking her, getting close to his own orgasm, he noticed the creamy white cum gathering on his dick and it turned him on an immeasurable amount more making his orgasm come faster than he thought it would. He pulled out of her and moaned as his own hot, white, sticky cum painted MC's boobs and face.

"Shit!" He exhaled sharply as he rode out his orgasm and MC licked some of the cum off of her face, swallowing what she could like it was life saving.

"You're fucking amazing." MC complemented out of breath. In response, Dia just kissed her, the smirk evident on both of their faces. When he did pull away, he took a moment to admire her and how utterly filthy she looked with messy hair, hickeys on her chest, and covered in sweat and cum.

"You're one to talk." He smirked and got on his knees. He wasn't quite finished just yet.

"What are you doing?" MC asked opening her legs a bit to see where he was.

"First to cum, last to cum." He said simply and propped MC's legs on his broad shoulders, spreading them further. Before MC could ask what the hell that meant, Diavolo had gone back to work eating MC out. Her breath caught as her body seemed to move on its own; her head fell back down onto the bed, her back arched dramatically, one foot's toes curled while the other's pointed, and her hands went from covering her face to Diavolo's horns making him moan as well. Since she was still so sensitive, and Diavolo decided to play with her clit, MC ended up cumming very quickly and very loudly, pulling Diavolo by the hair to get him as close as he could physically be and trembling with pleasure.

"Holy shit, Dia! I don't think I've ever cum that hard." MC said in a breathless laugh. Diavolo laid across the bed next to her and placed his and in one of her still shaky hands. He laughed lightly, then kissed the back of her hand.

"I couldn't help myself. You taste so damn good." He complemented still flushed. As the two laid next to each other hand in hand, a comfortable silence washed over the room. Once they had completely caught their breath, Dia helped MC into the shower and acted as her support because her legs were no longer shaky, but definitely weak in a good way. As they were putting their now dry clothes on, they heard the door open and saw the worst thing come into the room. Barbatos stood in the doorway with his icy glare and completely calm expression on his face. Despite his demeanor, they could both tell that he was pissed at them by two very key things: 1). he was in his demon form, and 2). they could feel the murderous intent radiating off of him from where he stood.

"Young Master, MC, I am here to escort you both back to where you belong; please finish getting dressed. And, I would like you both to know that I am very disappointed in you two. I will be right outside of the door when you are both ready." The butler said and turned around to leave the room. As the door clicked closed, the two turned to look at each other with a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and amusement in varying amounts. They giggled amongst themselves, and hurried to finish getting dressed. Before they opened the door, Diavolo pulled MC close and kissed her lips once more.

"My dear, I want you to know that I'd do this again. I don't regret anything." He said sincerely.

"Neither do I, Dia," MC agreed and pecked his lips. When they opened the door, Barbatos was looking at them with a bored expression on his face and clearly fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I would hope that you regret this and not do this again. Now, I will be escorting you back to the House of Lamentation and the castle respectively. Let us go." Barbatos spoke in his usual tone and turned on his heel. Dia and MC looked at each other and the prince mouthed the words 'I don't' to MC causing her to giggle silently. The three walked past the front desk where Noah still was behind the desk. The only difference was that he sported a knowing smirk and held back a laugh.

"Bye, enjoy the rest of your evening." He spoke to the three of them. Barbatos bid him farewell, and once the blue haired demon turned to continue out of the hotel, Noah caught MC's arm stopping her from leaving.

"You're gonna tell me everything when you're done getting in trouble with mister angry pants, you know that right?" Noah asked quietly. MC's face burned and she made a 'talk to the hand' motion. Before she got too far from him, she turned back once more and mouthed 'obviously' with a still embarrassed look on her face. The other demon just smiled knowingly and waved.

*.*.*.*.*.

As MC walked back into the HOL, Asmo, Beel, and Lucifer were all sat in the living room. They didn't really look up from what they were doing, but they instinctively knew that it was MC coming back. They greeted her, and she immediately went into her room. Not even five minutes later, a series of rapid knocks sounded on her door.

"Come in." MC answered. In a flash, Asmodeus came into the human's room with Solomon on his phone.

"I can smell the lust and Solomon told me you hung out with Diavolo in secret today, so tell us EVERYTHING!" Asmo rushed out.

"Later. We'll go out with my friend who's hotel we went to." MC said in a tired tone.

"HOTEL!?" The both of them asked in incredulous unison.

"Out!" The exasperated human commanded and Asmo stood up.

"Fine! But you have to swear you'll tell us every gritty detail when we go out." the blond demon bargained.

"Fine. Love you bye." MC said and turned over ready to take a nap.

"Love you bye!" Asmo and Solomon said together once more and the demon left. Before MC could close her eyes, her D.D.D. vibrated. Rolling her eyes, she opened the text and saw it was a voice message from Diavolo.

(We're all going to pretend the blank says MC and I wasn't too lazy to edit it.)

*.*.*.*.*.

A.N: Here's the outfit Diavolo was wearing incase you were actually wondering. Also this didn't take 6 months! Yay! New smut poll maybe in a week or so. <3

[bucketsofmonsters]

Vows - Part 1

cw: consentual blood drinking, cockwarming, accidental voyeurism, polyamory, more tags will be added as the story continues

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: 6k

Vows Masterlist

You kept your back straight, trying to maintain what little dignity you had left standing before the man on the throne in front of you. 

You lost all of that when he looked you up and down and gave you a simple command.

“Kneel.”

You bit your tongue, doing your very best to keep a pleasant look on your face as you got on your knees. He couldn’t know how much you hated him. You wouldn’t blow this. 

Your valiant attempt to hide your disdain didn’t seem to have the effect you’d hoped. He looked down at you, sneering, and said, “I was told you’ve been quite eager to get in here. You don’t look eager.”

“I am not in the practice of fawning over men I’ve just met.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes roaming over you, trying to get a read on you. 

His hair was dark, touched with hints of gray. His face was pale and smooth but not uncreased, particularly worn crow's feet in the corner of his eyes telling tales of a smile that you saw no signs of right now.

He looked down at you with eyes that looked faded, like a half-decayed corpse, and spoke through his fangs. “Why did you want to come here?”

You couldn’t pretend it was out of desire, he’d clearly seen right through that. So you tried another tactic. 

“I had nowhere else to go,” you admitted, looking up at him with sad eyes. 

His brows furrowed. “If you wanted shelter you could have asked for shelter, we would have given it. You took our vows. Why?”

He was right, you had. You’d signed your soul away. Your body too. For what, the chance to live in the home of a leech? You had no idea how anyone could agree to this, how he could have fooled any of the poor people who lived here, who he saw as dinner and as walking sex toys. It was dehumanizing. 

But it was also the easiest way to get close to him. To learn his secrets. 

His eyes softened as your gaze fell, your combative eye contact turning to something shyer, more nervous. 

“We don’t need to talk about that now. But you don’t need to be embarrassed, not here. And you certainly don’t need to be afraid. Whatever your reason, you’re here now, that won’t change unless you want it to.”

He rose from his throne and moved towards you, holding out his hand. You took it as you rose to your feet, not wanting to insult him any more than you apparently already had. 

“What can I call you?” you asked, still not having so much as a name for the man.

“Sir is fine.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at him. 

“Now,” he said, his hand still wrapped around yours, his grip firm but not strong enough that you couldn’t pull away if you really tried. “I should show you around.”

It wasn’t much of a tour. 

He took you through the halls, up a spiral staircase, and past what felt like dozens of doors without uttering so much as a word to you. 

The monotony of the tour was disrupted when a young man came barreling down the hall. He was dressed in all white, his hair a curly blond. It was a bit too long and he pushed it out of his eyes as he skidded to a halt only for it to fall dutifully back into place. 

“Hey Rook I…” He did a double-take as he saw you. “Oh, hello. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new.” Your tone was dry. You could tell from the two marks on his neck that he was one of the vampire’s disciples. You knew it wasn’t his fault he’d been fooled into staying here and fought the urge to resent him, to view anything associated with this monster as bad.

A massive smile took over his face. “Great, it’s always nice to have someone new around! I’m Oliver, by the way.”

“Hello.”

“Listen, I know it can be intimidating here at first but I promise he’s a sweetheart under all the dramatics,” he said, gesturing to the visibly frustrated man standing right next to him.

He didn’t take that well.

“You should run along,” Rook insisted, pressing a quick kiss into Oliver’s forehead and cutting off your conversation. “I think I’m going to have to give some special attention to this one.”

Oliver looked at the vampire with furrowed brows. “Okay. You’re being weird but okay.” He turned to you on his way out. “He’s not usually this weird, I promise. I mean, that’s not actually true, he’s always weird but like… different weird.”

“Oliver!” he hissed, his face twitching into what almost looked like embarrassment. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Just try not to scare them off.”

As you both watched them trail down the hallway, you turned to Rook and asked, “What happened to everyone calling you sir?”

“I didn’t say everyone had to call me that, I said you did,” he replied, an unmissable snideness in his tone.

Great, you’d been undercover for less than a day and he already didn’t like you.

You hadn’t had much further to go before your little interruption. Your room seemed to be only a few doors down. 

Rook held the door open for you, beckoning you inside. 

He stood in the doorway looking in at you, not entering the room. “The closet has clothes for you. That’s why we gathered your measurements after you took your vows, everything here should be perfectly fitted to you.”

“Thank you, Rook,” you said with a little curtsy.

“Sir,” he hissed at you, his fangs particularly evident as he spoke. 

“Rook,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

He conceded faster than you would have expected, a soft chuckle escaping him at your persistence. “Fine. Rook. Now get some rest. You can pick more of those fights you’re so desperate to pick with me in the morning.”

You immediately turned defensive, terrified of what he was implying. “No, I’m not… I just…”

“I’m not blind, and you have a worse poker face than you seem to think. I’m not worried, I’ve proved less understanding people than you wrong.”

“I really am sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” That much was true at least. You had a feeling your nerves wouldn’t subside until you left this god-forsaken place behind.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “We’ll work on that.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. What was intended to be reassuring felt threatening instead. Something about the way he spoke to you, all straight faces and hushed words, left everything he said feeling sinister. You decided that even if you didn’t know what he was, they would make you feel uneasy. 

It only left you more convinced he had the people here under some sort of spell. Surely he couldn’t have won them over, there must be something else at play. 

You’d half expected to be forced to stay with him your first night so you let out a sigh of relief as he turned without another word and left you in what appeared to be your own room. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think he had the space, this place could house hundreds, you just weren’t sure of his morals. Or how impatient he would be to test your loyalty to his vows. 

You patted at your side, ensuring you could still feel the notebook you’d sewn into your skirts before you came. 

It was fairly thin. It needed to be able to let it sit, undetected, in the fabric just below your hip.

You hiked up your skirts, pooling the fabric in one arm as the other reached down and grabbed the silver dagger that lay flush against the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t known where it would be able to lie safe and undetected or how thoroughly you would be checked. 

You opened the wardrobe to try and asses where you could go about hiding your contraband from now on, your prior hiding spacing being spoiled by your new host's insistence upon extravagance. 

You considered hiding it somewhere in your room but quickly dismissed the thought. At least with them on your person you’d know if you were discovered. With them in your room, you could be compromised and in danger and be none the wiser. 

There were more clothes in the wardrobe than you’d owned over the rest of your life combined. There were suits and pants and skirts and dresses of every length, even ones that didn’t quite feel appropriate. 

Your gaze was drawn from those scandalous dresses as you realized that some in this closet, shoved into the corner, were sheer. Those you discarded immediately, you wouldn’t give him the pleasure. 

Despite all the variety in clothing types, it all seemed a bit one note. You were stricken with endless patterns of black and white. There were a few in plain black or plain white that you gravitated towards but the rest were covered in patterns. Diamonds and stripes and checked skirts, it was enough to give you a headache. 

The colors and patterns felt aggressive and gaudy when confronted with a whole closet of them, but you couldn’t help but admit that they were beautifully made. The fabric was the softest you’d ever felt. 

You pulled out a black dress, the one that felt closest to what you were used to, and started to put it on. You’d been searching for places where you could sew in secret folds when your hand went right through the skirt and into a pocket. 

You pulled the skirt upwards to evaluate and noticed that the stitching was far rougher there than any of the other seams, looking not unlike your secret pockets you’d become adept at making lately. 

Their presence couldn’t help but worry you. Who had these belonged to before? Who had felt so unsafe here they’d been set on creating hiding spots close to them. 

Whoever they were, they had more sense than the rest of Rook’s victims. 

Your fingers ran over the handle of the knife as you shoved it into your new pockets instead of reattaching it to your thigh. It was safer there, better hidden, but you wanted it at hand. You’d been reassured you wouldn’t have to use it, not on your first mission, but it was always good to have. 

Just in case. 

Your knife was still stowed away but the notebook remained out. You still had work to do. 

Quickly, afraid someone may walk in on you at any moment, you scribbled out a summary of your first day here. It wasn’t much but you’d been told to take note of everything. Besides, you’d never hunted a vampire before, you didn’t know what details were important yet. 

As you completed and folded up your note, you rushed to the window, unlatching it and looking around quickly for anyone surveilling you.

You noted a distinct lack of onlookers at the same time a pigeon landed on the window frame. 

Your face lit up as you saw him, your dutiful little messenger a welcome familiar face in this horrible place. You cooed at him for a moment, giving him a soft pet down his back.

“You’re so good. Told them you could find your way to me.”

But you didn’t have time to fawn over him, you needed to get this note out of here as quickly as you could. 

You attached the note securely to his leg and sent him on his way, staying at the window and watching him until you could see him no longer. 

With your mission for the night completed and your little friend finally out of sight, you gave yourself permission to rest. 

Taking up most of the room was a massive bed, with black blankets pulled over white sheets and sheer black curtains hanging around it. 

The bed was so nice and perfect you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb it, instead curling up on top of the perfectly made bed in the house you didn’t belong in. 

You woke up with a jolt, already filled with adrenaline. The sun was shining through the window and you felt a pang in your chest at the implications of the fact that you had a window at all. He had to avoid the sun, it caused vampires pain and sapped them of most of their strength. Most avoided houses with windows entirely, wanting a space to hide away from it. 

But no, you’d been given a window. This really was your space, a space that half the time he was likely to avoid. 

You realized you’d slept in much later than you’d intended. So much for getting up early and poking around. 

For most vampires you’d be right where you needed to be, most of them were nocturnal but there were a lot of patterns Rook didn’t follow that most vampires did. 

He seemed to prefer following the sleep patterns of his disciples who lived with him, or at least you thought he did based on the little intel you had. 

It was his house so he didn’t need to be invited in anywhere. Instead, it had wardings that meant only those invited could step inside, hence why you were on your very first mission, all alone. You were the only one who’d never been in the limelight, who vampires wouldn’t know to watch out for so here you stood, invited inside with the rest of his little humans. 

If you couldn’t snoop, you should at the very least try and gather information from him. 

You stormed out of your room, set on gathering intel. 

You needed to have more to report this time. What you were doing wasn’t cutting it. You were supposed to be proving yourself and instead you were what, wandering around a mansion and picking petty fights?

You didn’t really know where he was so you took your best bet and headed down to the throne room. 

He wasn’t a ruler of anything, not really. It felt like it was more for his ego than anything. 

The massive wooden doors that led to it were shut with Oliver sitting on the ground beside them, like the world's least threatening guard. 

Upon closer inspection you realized he was knitting something, the pile of yarn next to him the same black and white as most of the things in this god-forsaken place. It didn’t help him appear more intimidating, that was for sure. 

As you reached for the door handle he made a noise of protest from his seat on the floor.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” he called out. “Rook said not to let anyone in.”

“I don’t care what Rook said,” you insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“I really wouldn’t if I were you…”

You left his calls of protest behind as you stormed into the room.

Rook was sitting on his throne, but he wasn’t alone. 

There was a girl in his lap. You couldn’t see her face, her back facing you as she straddled him. Her long, red hair hid most of her from your sight but it failed to cover her lower half and your face heated at the sight of her plush, unclothes thighs hugging his midsection, her dress hiked up around her waist. 

He pulled her head to rest on his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of both her face and neck, a trail of blood gently trickling down her side, staining her white dress bright red. From what you saw she looked completely out of it. You weren’t even sure she noticed you coming in. 

“Would you like something,” he prompted, his arm wrapped protectively around the girl on his lap. Something in you churned at the sight and you forced it back down. 

You didn’t say a word, turning on your heels and storming right back out of the room. 

Oliver looked up at you, fighting back a smile as the heavy door fell shut behind you.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, amusement radiating off of him and you wondered if maybe everyone in this god-forsaken place was an asshole. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon seething. You weren’t even entirely sure about what, to be honest, just spending most of your time pacing and feeling generally upset. 

When Rook finally decided to show his face, you let it all out on him. 

The second he entered the room you were chewing him out. “What the fuck was that? Do you have to be getting your dick wet and feeding constantly? I mean, christ, it’s my first day here!”

He countered your aggression with a roll of his eyes. “You’re mad at me? Maybe if you listened to Oliver it wouldn’t have happened.” 

You avoided his gaze sheepishly. He was right, this was your fault. Your anxiety about this whole situation was manifesting as anger and you needed to get it under control. For the sake of the mission. 

“If you want to be rude to me, fine,” he continued, “but do not be rude to these people. They’ve done nothing but welcome you here.”

“It’s alright if I’m rude to you?”

“For now. I foresee that changing in the future but I don’t mind a challenge.”

Is that what he thought you were doing? Playing hard to get? It bought you time so you went along with it, wondering how long it would be before his patience snapped and you no longer had a choice

Your thoughts drifted back to the redheaded girl. His body language had read as protective but she’d been bleeding and she didn’t even seem to react to you coming in. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the worst-case scenario. 

“How many people live here?” You asked, trying to get him to reveal if she was one of his pet humans or someone disposable, someone you should start quietly mourning.

“Right now? You’re met both of them. Well, met is a strong word, more like rudely stormed in on.”

If she lived here, she was probably alright. You’d do your best to find a way to check in on her, just to be safe.

At the revelation that only two humans lived here, you thought back to the only face you’d expected to see within these walls. “The man who measured me, the one who permitted me inside and made me take my vows. Where is he? Petyr, I think his name was.”

He was an older man, you’d guess late 50’s. He’d been a calming force when you’d met him, making your mission seem less daunting with the power of pleasant conversation, even if you couldn’t admit any of your real intentions to him. 

You would’ve appreciated his presence. Your only hope was that Rook hadn’t already gotten to him.

“He’s traveling,” Rook explained, a faraway look entering his already glassy eyes. “He always wanted to see the world. He’s spent far too many decades trapped in here with me so I sent him off to see it.”

You scoffed. “So that’s it? He got too old and you sent him off? You just discard your little lovers when they’re not young enough for you anymore?”

He looked genuinely hurt by the accusation. “You don’t know anything. I’d give the world for him to be here, for them all to be here. But they have lives to live, certainly more than I do. They’ve more than earned their dreams, I just try to help with the ones I can.”

At the clicking sound of approaching heels, you glanced down the hallway to see a woman with familiar long locks of ginger hair striding towards you. 

“I’m done taking insults from you. Play nice with her,” he hissed.

“Or else?”

He didn’t answer before storming off, leaving you to get acquainted with the redhead you’d already seen far too much of.

You turned back to her and saw her looking longingly after him as if she didn’t want to be left alone with you. Part of you couldn’t help but take offense to that. He was the monster, not you. If anything, you were going to be her savior. 

She let out a nervous giggle as she shifted her gaze from the hallway where your host had disappeared back down to her dress, a new one without blood dripping down it. “I’m sorry about earlier. Not the most dignified meeting we could have had.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have been in there.” The mark on her neck had already begun to fade, healing much faster than a regular wound. However, you knew it would never fully heal, his mark would be on her skin for the rest of her life, claiming her. 

“Regardless, I'm sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like that until much later, our third meeting at least.”

She smiled at her own joke and you could help but mirror it. 

“I’m Vivian, by the way. It really is lovely to meet you.” Her smile was so genuine it was hard to not have an immediate fondness for her. 

“It’s good to meet you too. Can I ask, are you alright?” You asked as you stared at the wound on her neck, the blood that had been spilling down her before completely absent except for that small reminder of its presence.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little embarrassed. Rook says I shouldn’t be but you’re the first new person who’s come since I arrived, I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“No, not that. You just seemed out of it in there, he didn’t hurt you did he?”

“What, Rook? No, of course not. He was taking good care of me, I promise. Has he talked to you about when you want him to drink from you yet? It really isn’t scary, I promise. He’s very gentle.”

“People keep saying that to me and yet I haven’t seen any proof. He’s been nothing but an ass to me.”

That threw her off balance. “He has?”

“I think he thinks I’m a bit obstinate,” you said, hoping that was all it was. The alternative was that he’d become suspicious of you and that was something you couldn’t abide by.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she insisted. “He doesn’t mind a bit of pushback. God knows Oliver can be a handful and I’ve never even seen him get upset.”

“Well, he’s been plenty upset at me.”

“I’m sure you two just got off on the wrong foot,” she insisted. “He’s a little rough around the edges sometimes but hey, who here isn’t, right?”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment. 

She picked up on your reaction immediately. “No, I didn’t mean… It’s just, we’re all running from something, right?”

You nodded. You needed to stop being so aggressive, you were standing out far too much. “Yeah, of course, you’re right.”

“It’s alright,” she said, resting a reassuring hand on your arm. “It took me ages to get used to this place too. Try not to worry too much, it’ll feel like home before you know it.”

You doubted that.

Vivian wandered off, saying something about taking a nap and you retreated to your room. 

You were a mess. It felt like every time you tried to do anything here it ended up being a disaster that got you one step closer to being caught. You collapsed backwards on your bed, set on hiding in your room until morning. 

The universe seemed to have other plans.

A knock sounded at your door and you called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Oliver, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, not even waiting for you to call him in and he stared down at you, collapsed on top of your blankets. 

“Good your still dressed,” he said, extending a hand to help yank you to your feet. “You’re having dinner with Rook at sunset.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with him and of what ‘dinner’ could entail for a vampire. 

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped back.

“Too bad. He said, and this is a direct quote, ‘they wanted to speak to me so fucking badly earlier, let’s give them an opportunity.’”

Oliver’s persistence in inviting you made sense, it didn’t sound like an offer one was allowed to refuse.

“Go hang out with Viv in the meantime or something, it’s awfully lonely in here,” he said, not waiting for a response before setting out on the move again. It was almost like he was allergic to standing still. 

You followed his advice, figuring you wouldn’t be able to relax knowing what was coming anyways. 

Vivian wasn’t hard to find, although you wouldn’t exactly say you found her. One second you were wandering down empty hallways and the next second she was behind you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Hello,” she said, her persistent warmth immediately setting you at ease, even if her sudden appearance had frightened you. 

Vivian was an easy person to get along with. You spent the next few hours milling about with her, not talking about much of importance but passing the time much easier. 

She seemed determined to make you feel welcome. It was nice, feeling like you have a friend here, even if she could never be an ally. 

Oliver and Rook were entirely absent as you and Vivian wandered about. You made sure not to open any firmly shut doors this time. 

After a few hours, the moment you dreaded arrived. Vivian poked her head out the velvet curtains that were covering the nearest window and grinned at you. 

“Alright, Oliver said to send you down right about now. It’s right down that hallway.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down the dark hallway. Vivian didn’t seem to quite understand the magnitude of your anxiety, excitedly shooing you down towards the door. 

You entered a room that looked almost exactly like what you’d expect from a dining room in a house this big. The table was massive, spanning the humungous room. 

Something you hadn’t expected to see was the number of chairs. 

The table was completely devoid of them except for one Rook was sitting at right at the head of the table and another right next to him. 

You sat beside him, having no other choice in the matter. 

“This massive house and you can’t afford more chairs?”

“They were removed. It’s hard to talk all the way across the room.”

You resented the fact that he refused to even give you the option. 

The chairs that remained looked heavy and you couldn’t help but imagine Oliver and Rook desperately trying to push them out of the room in order to trap you next to him. Despite the less than optimal outcome, you had to fight back a smile at the mental image. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, cutting through your daydreams of him. 

“Fine,” you responded bluntly. 

“Are you sure? Your bed was still made.”

You were suddenly very glad your knife and notebook were stashed in your pocket. “Why were you in my room? How did you even get in, I left the window wide open.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked embarrassed and you got the sense that he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it instead of being pale and cold. “Well, we don’t exactly have staff here, they’re too scared of me to come. Everyone mostly takes care of their own tidying but I look after the rooms of newcomers. And I just covered up until I could get the drapes closed, it’s not the easiest way to move but I only have to travel the length of a room.”

Your accusation suddenly felt cruel. There was something so earnest about his words, something sheepish at the fact that he was picking up after you. “Oh. Okay. Well, the bed was just so lovely and made so well, it felt rude to mess it up.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate my bed-making skills but I promise I don’t mind if you sleep under the covers. That is what they’re made for.”

The conversation put you more at ease, feeling less like you’d been brought here to be interrogated and more like this was a ploy from Rook to make you like him. It almost felt worse this way, the way he seemed to be trying to hide his eagerness to make you feel welcomed. 

You looked down at the plate of food in front of you, finally convinced it was probably safe to eat, and noticed that it was the only one on the table. The spot in front of Rook was entirely empty. 

“You’re not going to eat?” you asked as you took a bite of the food. It made you a little angry how good it was and for some undiscernible reason, you hoped Oliver had made it. Like that would make it alright that you’d enjoyed it. 

He shook his head. “Can’t. Solid food are beyond me I’m afraid.”

“Why would you invite me to dinner then,” you asked, baffled by the decision.

“It seemed like a good time to talk. Besides, it’s a good way to make sure you eat. Viv is very concerned about you, says you’re not handling all this very well.”

She might’ve been right to be. With everything going on, eating had been the last thing on your mind. “I’m just nervous,” you justified weakly. 

“So you keep saying.”

He watched you eat, studying you as you made your way through the dish. Finally, you grew tired of his observation and set down the fork. 

“I can’t help but wonder, am I playing right?”

“Playing? This isn’t a game.”

“Yes, it is.” you insisted. “All of this has been, despite the fact that you declined to inform me of it. I think you like when it's a game. So am I playing correctly or have I already lost?”

“You barely know me and yet you pretend to know so much.”

“Am I wrong?”

“About this? No. Might be a first since you entered this place but you are not wrong.”

You scoffed. “What do you want from me?”

“You came here. You act as if I forced you into my home.”

“And you let me in. But you’re not making me give you anything so what do you want, why am I here? Why should I want to win?”

“I want you to trust me. That’s where this has to start.”

“And where does it end?”

“That depends on you. If you keep behaving like this it might end with you never trusting me.”

You worried when that end might be. “So I am losing. Good to know, And of course I don’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Alright then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking up before he could manage to suppress his smile. “Go on.”

“With what?”

“Getting to know me.”

This was your opportunity, he’d just all but given you permission to ask all the questions you wanted. Not wanting to let the chance pass you by, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So you drink blood.”

He smiled, baring his fangs at you as he did. “See, you know some things about me.”

“Are you going to drink from me?” you pressed on, refusing to let him steer you off track. 

“If you want me to.”

“And if I don’t? Isn’t that what you brought us here for?”

He scoffed. “I’m building a community here, not a buffet.” 

You just continued on with your questions. “Do you kill people?” 

“Not unless it’s self-defense, same as most people I’d assume.” He chuckled as he answered but you didn’t find it funny. 

“Let me rephrase then. Have you killed people?”

“Noone who didn’t try and kill me first.” That answer he didn’t chuckle through. 

He looked you right in the eyes as he stated it. It felt like a promise. You just weren’t certain if it was a promise not to hurt you or a promise of what would happen if you tried to hurt him.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you said. You didn’t have to do much acting to appear nervous around him but you hoped it might help. Maybe if he knew you were afraid of him he’d give you space.

“You should. Vampires can’t lie.”

You perked up at that. “Is that true?” you asked incredulously.

He just raised his eyebrows and gave you a shit-eating grin.

You had half a mind to throw something at him. 

He didn’t apologize for his stupid little joke, which was well enough because you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Instead, his eyes darted down to your half-finished dinner. 

“You going to finish that?”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t be like that, we were having fun! You were playing the game. Well, if you’re really done, come on,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’ll show you the gardens. You’ll like them. Everyone does.”

There were few decisions you could’ve made that felt as deeply ill-advised as going on a walk with him, alone, as the sun had already set. 

You told yourself it was because there wasn’t an easy way out but honestly, you weren’t so sure, and you took his hand. 

He led you outside, the grip on your hand less firm than it had been last time. 

“Where are the flowers,” you asked when confronted with walls of bushes as the two of you stepped outside. 

“There aren’t flowers. It’s a hedge maze.” 

You snorted out a laugh. “Why do you have a hedge maze?”

“Every self-respecting mansion has a hedge maze.”

“That’s absurd,” you insisted.

“Well, maybe I’m absurd. Either way, absurd or not, everyone loves the hedge maze. Want to give it a try.”

The idea of being lost and alone, or worse, lost and with Rook, wasn’t exactly appealing to you. “Not really.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I have more questions for you,” you said, figuring you should at least take advantage of this alone time that you’d foolishly agreed to. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I hope they’re more fun than your last ones.”

“Can you actually turn into a bat?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Can I see?”

“No. Maybe someday but that’s something I only do with people I trust and as someone very cross with me once said, I can’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay. Another question then. What’s with all the black and white?”

“Don’t you like it? It feels fitting to me. The light and the dark, the wars that are waged, reflected on everything here.”

Your nose scrunched up as he talked, waxing poetic about two colors that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care about. 

As he went on, you began to put some of the pieces together as he spoke. “Your name is Rook too. That wasn’t your given name I assume.”

“My favorite chess piece. Honest, direct, noble.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting him off before he could start rambling again. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t impose your weird chess thing on us. Some of us like colors.”

“My weird chess thing?” His voice cracked as he questioned you, snorting out a laugh at your comment. “You are so rude, where were you raised?”

You clutched your chest in mock pain. “Sorry, not all of us were raised in a mansion Rook.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize most people went around insulting one another so freely.”

“I think you’d be surprised. If you went out in the world wearing some of those outfits you gave me I think you’d hear some choice words thrown your way.”

The thought inspired yet another question from you. “When you talked about needing a special outfit to close the window, is it like, a big sun hat? A black and white one of course.” 

“More like a sheet ghost.”

You giggled and he laughed along with you, looking down at you fondly and with some undeniable smugness present on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, quickly snuffing out your laughter. 

 “You’re not afraid. It’s the first time since you got here that you weren’t terrified of me.”

You hadn’t even noticed that the bubbling fear that lived in your chest had faded out as the two of you had spoken, “How could you possibly tell?” 

“I can smell it. All those chemicals in your blood.” 

“Stop smelling my blood,” you practically shouted, smacking at him.

He let out an almost boyish laugh as he dodged your attack. “I can’t help it, that’s like asking you to stop smelling the flowers.”

“There are no flowers,” you pointed out.

“Well, in theory. I can’t just turn it off. Trust me, if I could I would.”

After a moment of thought he added, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Not a clue.”

“It means I won. This battle, at least.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

A tempest of competing emotions fought in your chest. You were a fool, you were giving in to him. The hunters didn’t want you here for this exact reason, he must be hypnotizing you or something. 

That felt more believable than you having a pleasant conversation with him. 

With his victims? Maybe. They were people with souls, albeit misguided people. But not with him.

You felt like you were losing control. Of all the things you’d imagined when you got here, this was the furthest thing from your mind and yet you couldn’t deny it, especially after he’d as much as said it.

You’d stopped being afraid of him, for however brief a moment. 

[delopsia]

"The hell?"

It's muffled as can be, but you swear that's what you hear warbling from down the hall, somewhere in the bathroom. Your eyes dart to the basket of body washes and hand soaps marked for the Gift To A Friend pile. Did your pruning unintentionally steal away something he had been secretly using again?

No...Rhett's already said he's not a fan of that daisy-scented soap his momma gifted you for Christmas. Last you checked, he's not using peppermint bubblegum body wash or anything remotely close to the artificial scents residing in the basket.

"What the hell?" Louder. The bathroom door open a smidge wider than before.

"Rhett?" You call out. No answer. "Rhett, what's wrong?"

Still nothing.

Lazy feet fall to the floor. Haphazardly untangling yourself from your blankets and the pile of hoodies, he unceremoniously dumped on you, fresh out of the laundry.

"Rhett?" Repeating yourself, stopping just before the door.

But he can't seem to tear his attention away from his reflection, eyes so wide that the whites seem to drown out the deep blue. "D' you see this?"

"See what?" You don't follow; he looks the same as he did ten minutes ago. His shirt is missing, but you're not entirely sure if that's what he's referring to.

"Look at me!" Throwing his hands up. Then, jabbing an index finger towards his temple. "Look at this!"

...you still don't get it.

And that must be painfully evident on your face because he continues without you uttering a word.

"'m fuckin' gray!" He squeals, tapping at the whisps of white that have long since taken over.

...oh. "You're just now noticing that?"

"What d' y' mean just now?" Staring back at you like a deer caught in headlights. Has he really never noticed?

"I've pointed it out like a dozen times," you can't help the giggle that bubbles out of your chest as you reach for his face, gently squishing his freshly-shaven cheeks.

"I thought y' were jokin'!" Poking his bottom lip out, like a child.

You just can't help but shake his head a little, long brunette curls bouncing with the motion. "I thought you knew!"

"There's no way this is..." all of a sudden, he draws away, looking at his reflection once again. Then, back to you. "I can dye this, right? They make stuff for that?" And you're not sure if he's asking or pleading; maybe both.

Purely out of habit, one of your hands wanders to his hairline, fingertips lightly smoothing over the bits of gray there. In truth, he's got little gray hairs just about everywhere, but its a bit more concentrated here. "There's nothing wrong with a little gray hair."

"Yeah, when I'm in my forties!" Rhett whines. "I ain't even thirty yet!"

"I think it looks good on you."

"You're biased."

"Maybe," you're definitely biased, "but it's just a little bit of gray."

Those brows rise; you wonder if he realizes he's got gray in them, too. "Are y' sayin' that just to make me feel better?"

You weren't...that wasn't...shit, what the hell do you say?

His laugh rings through the bathroom; he's already figured you out. But if the upward tilt in the corners of his mouth and the wrinkling of his eyes are anything to go by, then he doesn't seem all that upset about it.

It's certainly not enough to stop him from leaning in to steal a kiss.

"But if you really wanna dye it..." even if you do hate to say goodbye to those little bits of silver peppered throughout his hair, "then I'll help you."

Something sparkles behind his eye at that.

You don't know what exactly, but you've seen it a million and one times. "Uh oh."

"What?" He's grinning. Already fighting to keep his little idea at bay.

"You've just thought of something."

His eyes roll. Guilty as charged. "What if we dye my hair red?"

[tom-holland-stuff]

Displeasing Encounters & Passionate Debates // Chapter 1

My Masterlist

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 + mood-board // Chapter 3 //

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summery: After returning form district 12 Coriolanus snow has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Wealth, status, power, he has got it all. What happens when he discovers that Dr Gaul, his mentor, has taken on a new assistant.

Warning: SFW - for now. (let me know if i forgot any)

A/N: Hey Hey, so this is my first time writing for Coryo. I Have heaps of ideas for where this could go and also ideas for other fics but i'm 1000% open to any suggestions, ideas or even just a chat. DM me or drop in my ask box. Chapter 2 is already in the works hehe

Word Count: 1.7K

The citadel is a cold place. Most may find it unwelcoming, but Coriolanus considers it the opposite; he feels as if he belongs there, like a snowflake in a snowstorm. The white walls seamlessly connect to the marble floor, creating a stark, pristine atmosphere.

Coryo's expensive boots click against the sleek marble floor as he walks through the empty halls. His posture exudes confidence, his chin held high, and his shoulders squared. To those below him, he appears to be looking down with disdain—a smirk playing at his lips.

He is here on business, he must maintain a professional appearance, though he always carries an air of superiority. Today, he's meeting with his mentor, Dr. Gaul. 

After returning to the capital from his stint as a peacekeeper in District Twelve, Coriolanus has thrown himself into university life. Under the tutelage of the Plinths, he's risen in the elitist circles of the capital, becoming somewhat of a hotshot. On a more sour note, along with his new found wealth and status has come the form of a rift between himself and his dear cousin Tigirs, which became very evident this morning in the nature of a disagreement regarding his ever growing likeness to his father. This argument really set a displeasing tone for Coriolanus's day to follow. However, he has far too much to deal with nowadays, and can’t afford to let these spats occupy his thoughts.

Moving on, in addition to his growing popularity, he has secured the likes of the infamous (and slightly psychotic) Dr Gaul. 

After Coryo’s return from 12 the unhinged professor took him under her wing as his mentor and has not only supplied him with an incredible internship to become an gamemaker, but also the promise of becoming one of the greatest minds Panem has seen 

(maybe even a potential political figure one day…)

Perks of having Gaul as a mentor allow Coriolanus to secure one on one meetings or ‘tutoring sessions’ as she likes to call them. Which is where he finds himself on his way to now. 

Navigating the halls with ease, he makes his way to the wing of the building housing Dr. Gaul's lab. Typically, their meetings occur in her office, either at the university or in the citadel. However, due to the last-minute nature of this meeting regarding an assignment, Coryo finds himself summoned to the citadel.

As Coriolanus approaches the door to the lab, he hears someone clear their throat. Turning to his right, a dark wooden table occupies that space, its glossy top covered in neatly stacked folders and paper. He notes to himself how odd it is that he has never noticed this ‘receptionist desks of sorts’ before. 

Coryo is a selfish person, he knows that. He never really worries about anyone other than himself, or more so tries not to, maybe that’s why he has never noticed this space before, or noticed her. 

Seated at the table is a girl who looks to be around his age. She's clad in a fitted gray suit vest with a white button up shirt underneath. A red tie fits loosely around her neck, the deep blood color stands out against the dull accents of her outfit. 

She sits elegantly in her chair, her shoulders straight and poised, her hands clasped softly in front of her. He would have maybe described her as attractive if it wasn’t for the clear expression of displeasure displayed across her face.

Observing her, Coryo determines her demeanor screams entitled and... well, he refrains from using other such derogatory terms, but the sentiment remains. 

His nose wrinkles in disgust at her apparent lack of recognition, but before he can bring himself to think of more unpleasant descriptions of the lady in front of him, she speaks. 

"Name?" she prompts plainly, sitting up a bit straighter (if that was even possible), locking eyes with him.

Her gaze is sharp, her eyes feline like, piercing into his crystal blue ones. 

"Pardon?" He responds incredulously, matching her rigidness.

He takes a step closer to the desk. His strong frame towers over her, casting a shadow on the desk. His being exudes authority and importance, but the girl does not falter. 

Her eyes never leaving his, she states again.

“Name” her tone is almost challenging but her expression remains firm.

Coryo folds his arms across his chest. His embryos scrunch together slightly in annoyance because, who doesn't know who Coriolanus Snow is!

His thoughts are once again interrupted by the girl at the desk.

“Do you have a name?” she states more so than asks. Tilting her head ever so slightly to the side, only then does her gaze leave his as she slowly looks him up and down, sizing him up

Before she has another opportunity to repeat herself, he gives her an answer.

 "Snow," he states curtly. His response prompting her to meet his gaze once more.

“Coriolanus Snow” He reaffirms in an attempt to prevent her from having to ask him anything further, but unfortunately his effort is ill as she presses further.

“Are you sure?” the corners of her mouth pull into a small smirk as she questions him or challenges him, he is unsure. However, he is certain about his displeasure with this conversation. 

He uncrosses his arms and places them on the edge of the table. His face morphing into a scowl. “I have a meeting with Dr Gaul…” he states bluntly.

 “...so if you don’t mind, I shall see to that now, and you can resume with what I'm sure is a very… important task that you do.” He states, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Without waiting to see the offended expression that was no doubt about to take over the girl’s face, he turns back towards the entrance to the lab taking heavily determined steps towards his desired destination. His smirk wider to himself, triumphant as having now ended that distasteful interaction that has consequently wound him up.

“Interesting Dr. Gaul wishes to spend her time with someone so daft they can’t even remember their own name”.  

He whips around fast on his heel, his smirk immediately replaced by a furious scowl. Coryo's eyes narrow, his gaze burning in her direction. 

She is standing now, almost mimicking his previous position, arms placed strongly on either side of the desk and her face adorned with a smirk that slowly morphs into a wicked smile, obviously satisfied with his visible reaction.

His whole body is tense, his chest is heaving in anger… no, 

Rage.

Who does this bitch think she is? 

He is usually one to have a lot more control over himself and would never allow his emotions to cause him to react so out of pocket like this, well at least not in this environment. But after having to deal with one nuisance after the other, all restraint has gone out the window. 

As Coriolanus prepares to give the girl a piece of his mind and unleash his frustration, he is  interrupted… again.

This time by the creaking sound of two heavy doors behind him, followed by the distinct click of heeled shoes. He halts in his tracks, watching the girl at the desk almost instantly return her seat at the desk, with her hands placed neatly in her lap. Her once devilish expression now replaced by the sweetest of smiles accompanied innocent, doe-like eyes that stare in the direction behind him. 

He looks over his shoulder to find Dr. Gaul exiting the lab, catching them in this tense interaction. 

No. 

Catching HIM. 

His previous ‘opponent’ now looks as if she would never even hurt a fly let alone be involved in an uncivil argument of sorts, and well… let’s just say it's definitely not a good look for him.

He quickly straightens himself and turns to face his mentor, while silently acknowledging himself how the sudden change in the girl's demeanor was slightly impressive.

His posture exudes professionalism, contrasting the state he was just found in.

Dr. Gaul's voice fills the silence as she addresses Coriolanus.

“Ah Mr. Snow, it seems you have already had the pleasure of meeting y/n, my newest addition” she says teasingly. 

He puts on a slight smile as an acknowledgement to her words, but Coryo would have called it anything but a pleasure.

“Both young great minds.” she says outwardly, directed neither of them in particular. Almost as if she was simply verbalising a thought.

Dr Gaul then steps slightly to the side, signalling for Coriolanus to follow her into the lab. 

As he begins to walk, Dr. Gaul holds the door and continues to talk, this time addressing him but speaking loud enough for y/n to hear.  

“Don’t be giving our sweet y/n any grief, hmm?” She teases. 

Sweet? 

Coriolanus finds the use of the word odd, not only because he completely disagrees with it as an appropriate description for the girl… y/n, but also because it's not a word that seems natural being used by his unhinged professor.

Coriolanus looks over his shoulder catching a glimpse of y/n as Dr Gaul begins to close the doors behind them. Gaul takes his shift in attention as an opportunity to add to her previous statement.

“We Wouldn’t want her to get caught up in one of your… Passionate debates” she smirks knowingly.

Coriolanus feels his cheeks flush, caught off guard by such an insinuating statement. Disgusted and embarrassed by his own involuntary reaction, he turns his head back in the direction he is walking, but not before catching a glimpse of y/n. She was still seated at her desk, with poised and perfect posture, but her face held a new expression. An expression Coriolanus did not have the previous pleasure of witnessing. 

Her eyes had gone wide and her mouth was slightly held open in surprise. Her face had turned a soft shade of pink, the flush of her cheeks matching his own.

That's all he is able to note before Dr Gaul shuts the doors completely behind them. She walks swiftly in front of Coriolanus and he follows quickly in toe.

“Something tells me you two will get along quite well” She chuckles to herself but Coriolanus couldn’t have disagreed more.

A/N: Sooooooo what did we think?? i tried my best so if there were spelling or grammar mistakes i'm so sorry!! i checked it so much it pained me hahahah. Also i don't give permission for my work to be posted without credit or whatever.

[vikisbay]

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【MEGUMI F.】 flowers.

A/N —> I can just imagine Megumi trying to hard to hide his feelings for you but Gojo can see right through him and so he tells Megumi to leave you flower until he’s ready to confess !! ★彡

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

➤ it’s been two weeks, two whole weeks of flowers being left outside your dorm room every single day. There’s never a note leaving you flustered and confused. You had asked around the entire school and no one knew anything. “I wished I knew who it wass!” you said with an annoyed huff.

Fushiguro, Kugisaki and Itadori sat with you on the ground of the training field. You had all been training for hours while you talked there ears off with all your different theories. You decide that it must of been someone outside of Jujutsu Tech “do you really need to know who it is…?” Megumi asked clearly annoyed with you at this point.

“Yes, yes I do?” You threw a handful of grass at the raven-haired boy, “I think it’s Yuta!” Nobara stated her thoughts ignoring Megumi “he’s always looking at you” she pointed a finger at you emphasizing her idea.

“Whatever” Megumi rolled his eyes before storming away from the group leaving all three of you confused “what’s got his panties in a twist…” you muttered throwing the other two first years in a laughing fit, “he’s…just jealous” Yuji said in between laughs.

His words causing you to stop giggling “w-what?” Itadori and Kugisaki look at each before falling back into there laughing fit. “Ugh you guys are no help” you rolled your eyes and walked off to go find Fushiguro. When you didn’t see him in the hall you decided to knock on his room door.

You stood in front of his dorm waiting to see if he was even inside, after a few minutes past you decided that he probably wasn’t in his dorm so you turned to walk away “what…?” A low voice said behind you making to spin on your heels back to the now opened door.

His hair was wet and he was wearing gray sweat pants, he clearly had just gotten out of the shower the biggest give away was that… he didn’t have a shirt on.

Oh god

“Why’re you here?” He raised a brow at you, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts “oh… I just wanted to check up on you… you know, because you stormed off…” you tried your absolute hardest not to let yours eyes wander to his exposed chest.

“I’m fine” he said quickly, he moved the towel that adorned his head to rest on his neck. “Well… can I come in?” A small smile found its way to your face “I promise I won’t talk about the flowersss!” You said jokingly.

He nodded his head slightly, you pushed past him and made your way to lay on his bed “training was so exhausting…” your eyes shut sleep slowly enveloping you. You could feel a dip in the bed when Fushiguro sat down next to you “do… do you enjoy the flowers…?” You opened your eyes to look at him “definitely!” You nodded your head happily.

“Is there… anyone you want it to be…?” You shut your eyes once again smiling at the idea of a certain someone giving you these flowers “there’s one person”.

“Oh…”

His tone confused you for the 100th time today “why do you sound disappointed…?” You sat up on the bed opening your eyes to look into his, “I’m not” he shook his head quickly, “mhmm” your eyes wandered across his room and soon landed on a bouquet of white roses.

“You should go back to your dorm… it’s getting late” he said getting up from the bed, you ignored what you had saw and quickly exchanged good nights. You were tired from your long day and decided to call it a night.

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

The next day was another extreme training session with Maki and Toge, you tried your best to take your mind of your current situation, you and Maki walked back to your dorm to find another Bouquet of flowers.

But this time they were familiar… way too familiar.

It was a bouquet of white roses. The same bouquet that you had seen in megumi’s dorm last night. You pick up the flowers and made a run for Fushiguro’s room. When you got there you started knocking non-stop “I know your in there Megumi!” you yelled from outside the door.

The door was pulled open, an annoyed expression planted on the boys face “wha-“ you slammed the bouquet into his chest “so it’s you! It’s been you all along!” His face went from annoyed to absolute fear and shock “I-I can explain” his fingers wrapped around the bouquet nervously.

“It’s not what it looks lik-“ his eyes widened when you pulled him into a passionate kiss, you hands moving to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his dark locks and his own hands found there way to your waist.

You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch your breath, he looked into your eyes “if I knew you felt the same… I would’ve told you sooner” his voice was just barely a whisper, you roll your eyes before pulling him into another softer kiss, his lips soft when they pressed against yours.

“I really love you Gumi…”

“I love you too…”

— yours truly, Viki

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

[cherrys-writings]

Do you have any idea when ur next fic is going to be out ?

18+ only

Missed You

You stumble through the dark halls of your family’s estate, the promise of your bed the only thing keeping awake now. You round the corner, there’s a light under your door. Silently opening the door and walking through the sitting area to your bedroom. Through the dim glow you can just make out Grayson under your blankets, fast asleep with the most adorable pout on his face. You tip-toe by, slipping into just a long t-shirt and watch him for a minute. Grayson shifts around groaning, “So wet for me. Dirty girl, you gonna let me have a taste?”

You stare, open mouthed, at your boyfriend; his mumbles pleas pushing away your fatigue momentarily.  

“It’s been too long, Dove, need you to come on my face. Won’t stop ‘til you’re crying.”

Before you know it, you’re on your knees beside his sleeping form, kissing his stomach where his shirt rumpled up. Grayson sighs, but shows no sign of waking. You lean down to kiss your way up his neck, quietly giggling at how responsive he is, leaning his head to the side asking for more. Slowly, you kiss and nip your way to his ear murmuring, “Wake up, Gray.” 

After an eternity, he stirs, hands tangling in your hair, “You’re home,” his voice raspy, “I wanted to be the first person to see you when you got back, Dove.” 

He kisses you long and slow, like he could make the moment last forever. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Were you having a good dream?”

Grayson’s eyes widen, instead of responding, he pulls you down for another searing kiss. Tongue sliding against yours, savoring the soft gasps that escape. He groans when you suck his lip into your mouth, softly biting him. His hands wander down your body, squeezing your ass, sliding down the backs of your thighs, guiding your knees apart until you’re straddling him. You feel the rumble of another groan against your mouth when he realises you aren’t wearing panties and immediately grinds your soaked core against him.

 “Awe sweetheart, did hearing my dream make you all needy? You gonna let me fix that?” 

You nuzzle his neck, humming your assent and trailing open mouthed kisses along his jaw. He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, ruffling his light hair. You let yourself stare and trace the familiar lines on his body. Grayson Hawthorne. Your Gray. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to him. Though you memorised every inch of him, the curve of his shoulders and feel of his flushed skin against you, your sleep-addled brain needs to make sure he’s real. 

  “Now that you have me you can’t decide what you want.”Grayson gently lifts your chin with his finger, “How about you sit on my face, Dove? I need to feel you gushing all over me, taste you for real. Please.”

Your mouth collides with his, pushing him down on the mattress, hungerly silencing whatever filthy words were about to follow. He could make you come by his words alone. Pulling away and smirking at his lust blown eyes, you shuffle up his body, resting your hands on the headboard. Impatiently, Grayson hooks his arms around your thighs, tugging you down to him. Moaning at how tightly he presses you against his face, tongue slowly moving against your folds. Gray’s groans send sparks up your spine, arousal pooling against his mouth. He circles your clit with his tongue, the lightest touch making you writhe against his hold, it’s somehow too much and not enough. Grayson has an iron grip on your thighs, firmly keeping me seated when he seals his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. 

“Grayson,” you wail, nearly doubling over, your hands tangled in his hair. Tears pricking at your eyes at the tightening in your abdomen, moans falling from your lips. His name catches in your throat, white overtaking your vision. Grayson’s tongue teases your entrance, thumbs stroking your oversensitive bundle of nerves, as you fall apart above him.

“Taste better than you did in my dream, Dove,” Grayson murmurs against you. 

One isn’t enough for him. Grayson lazily drags his tongue along your slit, flicking your clit every time. You gasp, shuddering thighs clamping around his head. Vibrations from his groans send fire up your spine. Combined with his merciless tongue, you’re falling apart all over again, nearly going limp. Grayson manhandles your pleasure wracked body until you’re resting your head on his chest, unconsciously rubbing your overstimulated cunt against his bulge. 

“Fuck, I need you Gray,” you whine.

He chuckles at just how needy you’ve gotten, helping you clumsily take his pants off. Then he’s stretched above you, rubbing his cock through your folds. You watch as his leaking cockhead slides through your arousal, bumping your clit each time. 

Grayson pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at him, “you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I shove my cock into you.”

His eyes nearly black with lust hold yours as he pushes into you, groaning loudly, “fuck I missed this pussy.” 

Grayson rests his forehead against yours, grinding his hips slowly against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, whining and pulling him tighter against you. Grayson continues the torturously slow rolling, barely pulling out before hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over. He bites and sucks along your neck leaving deep purple marks, pulling more broken moans from you. Grayson groans when your nails dig into his back, shallow scratches decorating his shoulder blades. 

“Love being inside you,” he pants into your ear, “never wanna leave.” 

You let out a long wail when his hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“That’s it, Dove. One more.” he punctuates his words with several hard thrusts, punching the air from your lungs. 

“Grayson,” your words breathy, “Grayson, ff-fuck Grayson please. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

White overtakes your vision once more as you come, scream caught in your throat, clenching hard around Grayson’s dick. Grayson bites your shoulder, silencing the moans of his own release. He continues rutting into you, whining. He rolls to his back, pulling you with him to rest on his chest, fingers trailing down your spine. You let out a small yawn, fatigue creeping back in. 

“Rest up, Dove,” Grayson whispers, “I’m not letting you leave this bed come morning.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

Neighbors (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Writing and inspiration has been hard these last few weeks, but, I think I'm getting back into the swing of things! I posted a poll about a week ago with about 20 fic ideas I've come up with, and this was the fic that had the highest polling percentage! I'll work on getting the others up but, yeah. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Summary: Home redecorating shouldn't be a dangerous activity. When it turns into a more treacherous adventure and you end up hurt, you're not expecting your handsome neighbor from across the hall to come to your rescue.

Warnings: Fluff, injury (nothing explicit--a fall from a ladder and a lot of body aches), Matt being sweet and kind and helpful and a little flustered, some sweating

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,546

You know you should have gotten a different ladder. The little voice in your head kept telling you to grab a different one—one a little more sturdy. But this was sturdy enough, it just creeks a little if you step on a rung a certain way, but they’re metal steps, so it’s fine.

Yeah right.

All you can do as you fall is hope that it won’t be as hard of an impact as you're imagining. You cry out as you hit the old hardwood floor, figuring the hidden concrete of the old building makes it worse than it should have been. Feeling intense pain all on your left side, you can only lay on the floor and groan in pain. If you try to move—just roll on your back to take some pressure off—you only cry out more before you move back into your landing position. You're startled, though, when you hear a knocking at your door.

“Hello?” you hear a strong voice call. “My name is Matt, I’m your neighbor across the hall. I heard screaming and a crash. Are you okay?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you feel like crying when you do. Gritting your teeth and breathing deeply is the only way that you can prevent yourself from screaming out again.

“Doorframe,” you breathe out, but not loud enough for him to hear. He’s probably gonna leave any second, and your phone is too far away from you to call for any help. To your surprise, you hear the sound of metal against wood and then the sound of the key sliding into the lock and the click of the door opening.

“H-Hello?” he calls again, and you hear the repeated tapping of plastic against the floor.

“‘m here,” you breathe. “O-On the floor.”

He—Matt—comes into your line of sight and gently starts to feel around, folding up the white cane in his hands. You briefly cry out in pain as he tries to help you up, and he is quick to apologize.

“I think I should call an ambulance,” he says, pulling his phone from his gray sweatpants.

“No, please,” you pant. “It’s too expensive. I don’t think . . . My insurance wouldn’t cover it. I just need some ice—aah!”

“Let me take you to the hospital, then. An ice pack and Advil won’t fix this.”

You're about to turn down the offer, but he says “please” so gently it makes your heart skip a beat and a heat grow between your legs—how can your body even think of that right now?

“Okay,” you concede, watching him slide his phone back into his sweats. “I’ll need help getting up.”

“Y-Yeah, I’ve got you.”

Gingerly, Matt helps you stand back up. Pain shoots throughout your body, and you almost collapse, but his strong arms keep you upright. Step by step, he walks you to the door, helping you grab your keys and your crossbody before you lock up and walk toward the elevator. You swear, if they hadn’t put it when they did, you’d be dragging yourself down the stairs.

“Shit, your cane!” you hiss while you wait for the elevator to come up. “It’s in my apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges.

“Isn’t it kind of important? I mean, I don’t mean to assume or anything, but—.”

“I know we just met, but, I don’t think you’d willingly let me walk into traffic or a concrete wall. I can do without it for this outing. Promise.”

The elevator chimes open and he carefully guides you in, running his fingers over the buttons until he finds the one for the lobby. The trip down to the main floor is quick, and he hails a taxi quickly in a way that only someone who has lived in New York their entire life could.

“(Y/L/N), (Y/N)!” the nurse calls out into the waiting room. Matt helps you stand, carefully holding onto you as you make your way back for triage. They’re both patient with you as you move as fast as you can through your injury, Matt keeping one of your arms slung around his shoulders as his other strong arm keeps a firm hand on your waist.

“Easy,” he encourages. 

“‘m sorry,” you grunt softly, doing your best to focus and not pass out.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, don’t push yourself too much.”

A small whimper pulls from your throat with each step, the pain in your leg increasing so much you stop focusing on the pain in your arm.

“You’re doing good,” Matt whispers as we walk down the small hall to the treatment area of the ER, the nurse joining him to help you sit down.

“Most of the people in there have nothing more than the sniffles, and you can barely walk,” she explains. “I’m not gonna make you go back out there into that. Is that proper procedure? No. Am I worried that if you keep moving on that leg something will snap? Yes.”

“Thanks,” you say as you use your good arm to slide back and adjust as she starts to confirm information, ask questions, listen to your heart, and take your blood pressure.

“Any chance you might be pregnant?” the nurse asks, typing into the computer.

“No,” you say, resting on the pillows on the gurney.

You watch her look over at Matt, look him up and down before moving her eyes back over to you. “You sure about that? Absolutely positive?”

You start to blush hard, feeling your cheeks grow hot and the tips of your ears burn. “I’m sure.” You shouldn’t even be embarrassed—he isn’t anything to you at all! You're flattered she thinks you could date someone that looks like him, but, the assumption has you bashful.

“If and when you two ever do decide . . . that kid has a nice gene pool to swim in.”

She enters a few more things into your chart, letting you know a doctor should be by soon when she leaves the curtained-off gurney with a hospital gown for you to change into.

“I’ll . . . I can step out so you can change,” Matt says with a blush burning up his neck.

“Matt? Can you please stay?” you blush. “I don’t think I can get undressed and into that gown by myself.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I can see if the nurse—.”

“No! I mean, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, but I just didn’t think that you’d be comfortable helping you like that. If you’re okay with it, I can.”

“I trust you.”

He nods and gives you a small smile, carefully asking with a raise of his brows and his fingertips if he can help you take off your shirt. We carefully maneuver your clothes off, and you're so thankful that you were wearing cozy and stretchy lounge ware when this happened to minimize his touch against your bare skin. You don’t even know the guy, but, having him near you makes your heart race—a fact not-so-well-hid by the monitor you're hooked up to. If he asks about it, you're really hoping you can write it off as exertion from the pain. You’d say it’s crazy of you to be completely charmed and infatuated over a man that you don’t event know, but, who are you kidding—this is textbook behavior for you, and you don’t know whether to be happy or sad that this is the only time he’ll ever be this concerned with you.

“I . . . Do you want me to take your bra off for you, too?” he breathes.

“Um, yeah,” you hum. “They’ll probably need it off to look at my arm. Maybe do an x-ray or something.”

Part of you is expecting his fingers to feel cold against your bare skin as he undoes the clasps, but the surprise of them being warm sends shivers all over your body. With your good arm, you slide it off of your body and help him guide the johnny on your body. He ties it closed, the air charged between you two as your heart pounds in your ears.

“How did you hear where I said the keys were?” you ask as he helps you sit back down. “I barely spoke at my normal voice.”

“You’re . . . You were louder than you think,” he says softly, his brows gently furrowing together, his pouty lips glistening under the fluorescents. “Besides, even if I didn’t hear where it was, I wasn’t gonna just leave."

“Well, thank you.”

“Something tells me you’d do the same for me.” He helps adjust the pillow behind you. “I’m just going off of a hunch, but, I wouldn’t mind helping you with what you’d need. Helping you while you rest, make you some meals.”

“That’s sweet, but, you don’t have to.”

“Like I said—something tells me you’d do the same for me.”

A small smile pulls at the corner of your lips and he does the same, the space between us slowly starting to close, but he backs up as the curtain opens.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Kent,” he says, pushing back the curtain. “I hear someone has had a bad fall.”

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