#i almost play better when behind lmao
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adore-gregor · 5 months ago
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I might be insecure about a lot of things but never about my tennis 😌
tennis 🫶
#fr#like i love it and i also love competing in tennis#i always feel confident in my abilities and believe i can beat my opponents#and yeah this is literally so true for me#i also feel like my best self when playing it brings off some of my best qualities#it wasn't always like that but for a long time years now#but i've cone a long way since i started playing#when i was 14 i picked up a racket soon after 2 years later i got into my clubs women's team#but as one of the youngest and weakest players and i hardly ever got to compete in the championship in our league#(understandably because others were much better)#and i was playing with women who were more than twice my age and played this sport for longer than i was alive or some maybe even twice that#well now i'm one of the best of my club and i always get chosen to play and i might even become club champion this summer#at least i hope so and i believe i have a good shot i have to beat our number 1 but it's really close i think#and soon i could be our number 1 and best player#but yeah especially in the last 3 years my game really picked up#it's amazing where training hard can get you#oh and what a season i'm having (and my team)#i won both singles matches against much stronger rated opponents#i love them underdog wins ^^ nah but deservedly so it was quite close especially the 1st one but i'm so proud of how i won a tiebreak twice#(and also twice in a cup game hehe)#like i stayed cool under pressure#i cam back from behind from behind so many times this season and stayed cool in tiebreaks#because i never stopped believing i will win it#i almost play better when behind lmao#the craziest match was that cup game tho i lost the 1st set 4:6 because i couldn't make my own serve (bc it was rly bad that day)#(and my opponent knew how to take advantage of weak 2nd serves really well)#in the 2nd set i was 4:5 down and 40:0 for my opponent close to winning the match#but i ran for my life and played at my best and came back 5:5#then i won the tiebreak 7:4 and the championstiebreak 10:3 🤪#what a comeback one of the best one's 😂
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hoshigray · 5 months ago
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love love LOVEE your toji/sukuna fics, mean big guys have me in a chokehold, but even more so if there’s aftercare right after destroying u , I’d like to see how you write that! No pressure, just a suggestion lol
𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no but you're so valid, idk why i keep forgetting about after care, ughhh!! ty for loving my tojikuna stuff <3
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (kuna got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/nibbling - dacryphillia - unprotected sex - aftercare; taking a warm bath together + tending wounds - pet names (baby, [little] dove, pet, princess, sweet thing) - tojikuna being snarky partners; good luck, lmao - mention of blood, drool/spit and tears.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k
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“Ahaaahhn! T-Tojii, t-too fast, going too fas—Shhaaa!!”
“Heh, y’re complainin’, but y’re the one squeezin’ my dick like crazy.”
“Hmph, right, like some dirty whore…Shit, ass’s so tight…”
You were the partner of both Tōji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryōmen—a fact that many would be astonished to know and for you to go dizzy thinking about.
How does one lure in the deadly, cursed being proclaimed the King of Curses and a cold-blooded assassin dubbed the Sorcerer Killer? You couldn’t even think of a quick answer to such a question. What you do know is that being a spouse of the terrifying two in this polyamorous relationship was the definition of intense. And that would go for tonight as well.
Being bent and forced to be taken advantage of by your two lovers was nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it’s almost a daily occurrence when either of them comes and pulls you aside to appease themselves. Nonetheless, what else was a little cute wife like you supposed to do: sit there and look pretty? Not tonight, at least.
You were all confined in your shared quarters, all three bodies atop the futons pulled to the tatami flooring—three bodies stripped from their discarded attire, now nude and meshed together in hot and wanton passion.
Toji was beneath you, yet that didn’t diminish his control over you. You may be straddling him and moving your hips to take in his erect cock into your aching cunt. However, his hands are stationed firmly on your waist, influential to your pace as he bucks into your wetness stuffed on excessive come. The fast ruts make it grueling to find the rhythm—but that’s what the dark-haired man wants, to see you all desperate and wailing from up above. “How ya feelin’, sweet thing?” 
As if you had any room to speak, so winded that wails were the only words you could say. 
“Oi, pet, answer when you’re being talked to.”
And the voice behind you doesn’t make this scene any better.
From your backside, Sukuna’s massive frame hovered over you and Toji’s, his gigantic frame easily dwarfing you both. His lower arms hold you down by the calves, and his upper left keeps him upright from easily squishing his partners. And the upper right crawls up to your throat, suffocating your airways lightly with just his thumb and forefinger.
As the other has you from below, the gigantic cursed man deals with you from above. His lower member is plunged into your rear hole, stretching you to the point of tears with his hefty girth while the other rubs on the crevice of your ass with every push of his hips. The hands on your legs come up to your waist, brushing Toji’s, who moves his to your chest.
His guttural purrs send shivers up to your ears, and the tongue of his stomach probes you with a lick on your sweaty back. “We need words, or else you’ll be crushed without knowing, little dove.”
Because that is what you were: their little wife tending to them as a spouse would. 
You swallow spit before the grip on your throat gets any tighter. “I–I…Feel sho goood…!” You twitch when the behemoth licks and nibbles on your ear so dangerously as if he’s tempted to eat you—he just might be. “—Mmmhh! S-Shoo fuull..”
Toji notices and snickers, “Yeah, baby?” His hands on your breasts are rough, making you whimper. “Doin’ good so far,” he tweezes a nipple, earning a sharp yelp to leave your puffy lips. “Hehm, so adorable, mama…” you cry even more when he pops the other nipple into his mouth; the feel of his tongue on your bud had you hot. 
“—Hnnm!! Fucking hell, this ass…!” Sukuna’s groans are felt, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Keep grippin’ me like that, princess..” He adds more weight and has you howling like no tomorrow. The nails of his fingers leave dents that you’re sure to see later on—just more to add onto the collection harboring all over your skin – bites and marks galore. 
Your eyebrows screw together, drool escaping your agape lips. The laps around your nipple become feverish along with Toji’s thrusts, and Sukuna pistoning his cock so harshly; it makes you wobble, yet you maintain your balance for the older man beneath you to keep sucking and playing with your chest. 
“—Taahh, uhhgg, sh-shiiit,” your hands grip the sheets as your eyes roll to the top–a sign that you were to fall into your release in mere seconds from the constant rubs of your sensitive spots.
Clamping onto their shafts, you shriek during the impending climax, the walls of your holes puckering and contracting around the limbs that graze your sensitive nerves. You finally give in and fumble atop Toji, luckily catching your expected reaction with a smirk. “Fuck, feel so good and tight,” he kisses your cheek and chortles when your arms sling around his neck. “Stay still, baby; let us finish here.”
The two men still undulate their hips, their dicks ravaging your insides even when you’re stuck in your crescendo. You nearly choke on your spit, wailing as you’re forced to submit to their frantic bucks, and the sounds of them moaning and groaning only fuel your ears to clench them even tighter. It has both men hiss and tighten their hold on you, Toji burrowing his face to bite your shoulder while Sukuna’s fangs dig into the other. And you can tell blood was drawn as the giant licks the inflicted marking.
At your scream, they simultaneously bust their loads into your trembling frame, stuffing you with more of their essence in your cunt and asshole. And Sukuna’s upper cock dispels its semen out to paint your back. The sensation of their lengths pulsating inside you has you quiver, hiccupping when they sneak in short yet fierce pounds into your sore holes until their sweaty frames succumb to tranquility. Then, they remove their limbs with a blissful groan to your sob, come sliding and dripping down to your thighs. 
Finally, you sigh into Toji’s chest as he kisses your forehead and kneads your ass lovingly. I can finally rest now…
However, you squeak when your body is pulled upward so quickly, and you’re now being held by Sukuna, who straightens up and stands up. He scoffs, “Relax, dove.” The hand under your legs squeezes the flesh of your thigh. 
Leaving Toji to the futon, the cursed ancient man thunderously strides out to the room two rooms down from the shared room. He slides the shoji door open after the changing room, and you’re instantly met with a wave of humid air from the bathing area. Ripples from the humongous stone bath become more evident as Sukuna closes in, and the water climbs when he gets inside with his massive volume.
He sits, the water sitting above the mouth of his abdomen. He has you sitting on his lap, yet his lower arms still hold you close to his chest. With the upper left, he brings the wooden bucket the servants left behind to scoop with water and pours it gently above your head. 
Your hands wipe the water from your face, but a washcloth and a colossal hand wipe it down for you. “Y-You know, I can clean myself,” you inquire with a scrunched expression as Sukuna wipes your cheeks a little too rough. 
“With your shaky legs, I’d be amazed if you’d even make three steps out of the room.” You pout at his tease, and it only has him want to poke fun at you more. “Like a baby deer trying to walk.”
You snatch the washcloth with a heated face. “Quit it!” Humiliated, you sigh and raise your left arm to dap on the markings decorated on your skin. However, he takes it away from you, his lower left gently grabbing your arm for the lower right to compress the damp cloth on your sore markings. 
“Let me.” He wasn’t asking, leaving you no space to interject his company. He pulls an ointment from the other wooden basket into the washcloth; the lavender scent pleases your nostrils while the minty sensation cleanses your skin. “Sit back,” he orders you, and you allow your back to rest on his torso, watching the man tend to the wounds he and his partner inflicted on you. It almost puts you to sleep, sighing pleasingly and relaxing to the monster’s touch. 
Speaking of, “Wow, so ya leave me at the room to clean up after you two, huh?” Toji enters the bathing space, joining you and Sukuna in the warm water. “What am I, y’r maid?”
“You seem to have walked here on your own just fine.” Sukuna bends to place a kiss on top of your head while the raven-haired other approaches closer. “You have no room to complain, Fushiguro.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you observe Toji come to you between Sukuna’s legs. “Hey, mama, feel better?” You nod to him meekly while he cups your cheeks with one hand. He then brings you to a soft kiss, mewling to his lips while his wet thumb brushes your cheek. “Mmm, so cute…Stand up fr’ me.”
He takes the wet cloth from Sukuna’s grasp while you slowly rise. He helps you turn around to have your back to him, your hands clinging onto Sukuna’s thighs while the giant gives the human male a cream to place on the rag. Toji then rubs circles on the red crescents of your waist–dents marked from Sukuna’s nails–and you jerk and hiss at the contact. 
“I know, sweetie, I know,” he coaxes you with whispers to the ear and a kiss on your shoulder. “Blame ‘Kuna for doin’ a number on ya.”
“Keh, I know you’re not talking,” the salmon-haired one sniggers as he grabs another dry cloth to wipe your collarbone. “I can count with three hands how many of these hickeys aren’t mine.” 
The other barks a laugh. “Now I know y’r ass is lyin’.” The two men humor themselves on the trauma they just put you and your tiny body through, and you can only shake your head at their insufferableness. Yet, at the very least, they’re taking their roles as your lovers to take care of your body. Not so bad, isn’t it?
Especially when the bathing is over, and you’re all clean from the event that transpired an hour ago, sleep stops evading you, and you return to the shared room ready for slumber. To end the night, the candles are blown out, you’re adorning your yukata robe for your soft skin, and Toji and Sukuna wait for you on the futon to conclude this session. 
Toji has you to his right, arm around your figure to keep you close to his warmth. This gives you the view of his easeful sleeping face; the moonlight from the opened shoji window panels makes it easy to trace his handsome features and the deft scar on his lips. To his left was Sukuna, his tremendous size unavoidable, and his strength still evident as his upper arm cages you and the other older man in proximity. The pink-haired beast purrs at the rub of Toji’s hand on his nape and hair, and you giggle at the display—like a giant cat.
Seeing the Sorcerer Killer and the King of Curses act so leisurely around someone is inconceivable; not many live to see such a picture when met with their brute force and killing instincts. And yet, you suppose that makes you more valuable than anyone, their sole and precious partner.
And as you bury your face and let the blanket of sleep take over, you rest for yet another night, knowing you’re in the best care you could ask for.
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© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
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nvuy · 6 months ago
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doctor, doctor — veritas ratio
summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.
notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.
my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.
warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.
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“Hi, Doctor.”
Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.
“Yes. Good evening to you.”
Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.
You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”
Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”
You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.
Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.
“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.
Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”
You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”
You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.
“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.
“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”
Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.
“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.
“I want to play chess.”
“I’m busy.”
You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”
His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.
You only stared at him expectantly.
“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”
“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.
Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”
You took another sip of your drink.
Then, you blinked. “Yep.”
Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.
You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.
Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”
You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”
The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.
*ೃ༄
“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”
As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.
Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”
You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.
No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.
“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.
“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”
“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.
When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.
Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”
“Winning.”
“You are not winning.”
“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”
Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.
“Excuse me?”
“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”
Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.
He lost.
Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”
“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”
“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”
“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”
“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”
“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”
“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”
The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.
The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.
You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.
Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.
You looked offended when he pulled back.
You whined. “What was that?”
“Your reward,” he argued.
“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.
It was working.
You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”
“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”
“Fine.”
This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.
Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.
When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.
Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.
“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.
To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.
Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.
“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”
The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.
Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”
His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”
“You are horrible.”
Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.
He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”
The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.
His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.
It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.
Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.
Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.
“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.
“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”
Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.
He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.
He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”
“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.
“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.
The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.
He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.
Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.
Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.
His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.
His heart stopped.
“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”
Too late.
Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.
The damage had already been done, however.
Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozen, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.
Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”
Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her hair.
Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
You waved. “Hey, queen.”
Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.
You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.
“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”
He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”
“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.
“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”
“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”
“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”
Veritas rolled his eyes.
Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.
It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.
You found it sort of hot.
Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”
His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”
"Aww."
"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."
Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”
When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.
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atlabeth · 7 months ago
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(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton
masterlist
summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.
a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao
wc: 9k
warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333
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You’d never been this restless before. 
Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way. 
No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through. 
He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would. 
He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.  
In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that. 
But you were not there. 
You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing. 
You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.
“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”
“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours. 
She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.” 
“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.
“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.” 
You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”
“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.” 
“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?” 
“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile. 
“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.” 
“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.” 
“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?” 
She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.” 
“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.” 
You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life. 
“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?” 
No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it. 
Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused. 
“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”
Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—” 
“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”
“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.” 
“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.” 
“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.” 
“Truly?” you asked softly. 
Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.” 
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly. 
“I love you too,” you whispered. 
-
“Are you alright, my lady?” 
Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile. 
“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.” 
Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.” 
“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.” 
Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?” 
You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew. 
You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you. 
Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official. 
It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…
Then, he would propose. 
You would accept. 
And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed. 
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears. 
“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.” 
“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.” 
“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you. 
Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.” 
“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.” 
“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.” 
You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack. 
“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.” 
“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking. 
“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?” 
“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.” 
Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.
“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.” 
“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders. 
“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.” 
You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.” 
She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes. 
“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.” 
You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes. 
“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.” 
She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.
“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.” 
“Has he?” you asked. 
“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.” 
You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with. 
Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal. 
 “I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.” 
“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.” 
“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.” 
There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him. 
Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?” 
“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.” 
-
You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still. 
Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least. 
It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up. 
Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles. 
Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.  
Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad. 
“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile. 
“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in. 
“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.” 
You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.” 
Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”
Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable. 
You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”
Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you. 
You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”
No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress. 
Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”
“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”
“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.” 
“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”
“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”
Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you. 
“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”
You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.” 
You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you. 
You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.
You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.
“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.” 
“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.” 
“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”
Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne. 
“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.” 
Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?” 
Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”
She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”  
“That is different,” you insisted. 
“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.” 
“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.” 
“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.” 
“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.” 
“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.” 
“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.” 
“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.” 
“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”
“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”
Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you. 
“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”
“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”
You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.
Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with. 
It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf. 
You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears. 
You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and  pressed your palms to your forehead. 
You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan. 
Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at. 
“Miss Worthing.”
The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut. 
“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery. 
“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said. 
“How did you find me?”
“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”
“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”
“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.” 
“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?” 
“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh. 
“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.” 
“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”
You turned away. “I can try.”
“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”
“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly. 
“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.” 
“And what makes you think that?”
“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.” 
“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.” 
Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.” 
“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out. 
“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged. 
You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”
“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.
Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become. 
“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.” 
“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.” 
“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.” 
For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing. 
“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head. 
“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.” 
You nodded, and he did as well. 
“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine. 
“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.” 
“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.” 
You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into. 
But he… he loved you. 
He loved you just as you loved him. 
“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.” 
All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions. 
“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.” 
“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?” 
“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.” 
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance. 
Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could. 
Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes. 
“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”
“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst. 
The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.” 
You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.” 
Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.
“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it. 
But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you. 
“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”
“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket. 
“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.
“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
“Just take it off.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”
“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you. 
“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”
“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver. 
“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access. 
The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire. 
You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way. 
You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord. 
“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.” 
You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.” 
You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you. 
“Anthony— oh!” 
The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied. 
You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh. 
“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin. 
“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.” 
“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?” 
“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.” 
“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.” 
You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?” 
“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.” 
“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?” 
“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.” 
“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.” 
Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.” 
“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”
Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.” 
“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”
“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly. 
You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.” 
“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.” 
“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.
“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.” 
“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.” 
Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”
“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head. 
Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne. 
“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”
“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?” 
“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.” 
Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual. 
“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”
“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.” 
He frowned. “What do you mean?” 
“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”
“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded. 
“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”
“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.” 
“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.” 
Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words. 
“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.” 
You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion. 
“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.” 
Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth. 
“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.” 
A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears. 
“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”
“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.” 
“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”
Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you. 
You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.  
And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.
“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”
Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.” 
You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.” 
He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”
“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.” 
“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.” 
“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.” 
His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?” 
“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.” 
“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned. 
Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either. 
“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.” 
“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.” 
“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.” 
Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?” 
“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.” 
“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.” 
“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked. 
She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.” 
You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his. 
“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.” 
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief. 
“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.” 
“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head. 
Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.” 
You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.” 
“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.” 
You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.” 
“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.” 
Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.
“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.” 
You hummed in agreement. “As do I.” 
You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him. 
Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged. 
Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 
“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured. 
“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?” 
“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…” 
“It is our secret.”
Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.” 
“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured. 
Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife. 
The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.
And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.
-
taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy
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sorryimananti-romantic · 17 days ago
Text
Ateez as Villains
disclaimer: read at your own risk. do not interact if not comfortable with any tropes. reminder that this is a work of fiction and must be treated so. 
warnings: absolutely no morals here, 18+ mdni, illegal acts (abduction, murder, physical abuse, stalking, trafficking, financial crimes, dirty politics, corruption), suggestive/nsfw scenes, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, smoking, drugs, alcohol
a/n: couldn't have done this without @eightmakesonebraincell's and @chronicvagabonds' validation lmao also tribute to tite kubo for coming up with the juiciest dialogues, some of which i quoted here
Hongjoong
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The Manipulator
hongjoong always knew he had leadership skills
from being the team leader whenever he played games as a young child, to growing up and eventually influencing people
he was often told that he has a certain way of pulling people’s attention and leave something stirring inside them with his words
so it is no surprise that hongjoong is where he is today. a renowned businessman, philanthropist and… politician
hongjoong adjusts the sleeves of his shirt and glances at you from the mirror
you are standing behind him, holding his coat for him. he wears it with a proud smile and holds his chin high
“tonight is very important. for me. for this country.” 
he goes on about how there will be people from all over the country
people who are the foundation of this nation. people who care about the future of this world 
and if you weren’t so blinded by the adoration you have for this man you would have called him delusional
but the fact is that you are deluded by him. hongjoong has the ability to cast a spell with his words
he feeds his supporters the lie of a better world in the near future, and they bow to him
hongjoong smiles devilishly at the thought of what entails the events of tonight
he can picture it clearly- the cheers and desperate screams of his followers as he steps on the podium
the cries of these people, as helpless as sheeps in a herd, waiting for an upright politician to save this nation 
he can feel the thrill just imagining what it will be like tonight when he addresses the nation as the new face of his political party
to a common person, he would just be another man with a good heart striving for a better change
but the common person is weak, and for them… he is their salvation
they will hear his words tonight- words he has carefully crafted himself. the cues will register in their minds, and they will end up seeking him to announce their undying support and loyalty, to shower in his glory
you straighten hongjoong’s coat and smooth over his shirt, your hands unsteady with anticipation
“aren’t you happy to be right next to me when i conquer the stage tonight?” he whispers, lifting your chin up
you meet his eyes and he can see his answer there
you hope he doesn’t see the conflict in your eyes. the conflict is to be concealed in your heart, in the deepest, untouchable corner of it
you are blessed, they tell you, to be the politician’s favoured
and you are- you truly are. hongjoong loves you. he adores you
in fact… he’s almost obsessed with you
and why wouldn’t he be? you were the one who led him here
you were the one who held his hand and showed him the right path- his partner, and now his secretary
oh, how you sometimes wish you could turn back the hands of the clock and go back to when hongjoong was hopeless and thought that the world was a wretched place beyond saving
that is when you told him that the only way to run this world was to join hands with the elites of this nation- or to become one
it must be the fates that led him to where he is today
after all, isn’t he a king without a crown? a ruler without a throne?
he is a born leader and a strategist. he has always been good with his words
it’s how he earned the favour and graces of the elites and the politicians and made a place for himself- not under them, but beside them
but to stand beside those people, you have to be a little… corrupt. and morally ambiguous
the world is not run by saints, after all
“sweetheart?” he calls when he sees you are distracted
you don’t miss the warning tone in his voice. tonight, you have to be on your toes
you have to seek out willing supporters and show them that they mean the world to hongjoong and his political party
but more importantly… you need to target other politicians, find their weaknesses and if lucky, have some join hands with you
“i’m here,” you tell him and he nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple
“i will see you tonight,” he promises, and you know what he means
he always gets such a thrill out of playing the leader
he gets so much energy, and he has to take it out one way or another
and what better way to take it out in the form of lovemaking?
you feel warmth course through your body as he trails his finger down the middle of your chest purposely
he almost smiles maniacally as he leaves first, giving you a moment to gather your wits
you pour yourself a glass of drink- you can’t possibly do this sober
you join hongjoong as he gives his first speech- a very normal talk about how this nation is on the verge of collapse
corruption, crime, inhumanity, dirty politics? you name it
you admire his resilience, really. whatever he is talking about comes straight from his heart, and he has been talking about these issues for a long time now
you also admire his pompousness and the audacity to talk about dirty politics, when he is the face of dirty politics
you join the audience when they clap for him, your heart full of pride
there is a break where he meets with the high-profile people and asks them to consider joining hands with him
‘to make a better world for the future generations’. such inspiring words from such a young political leader
except hongjoong’s trick is that he always, always has something over them
he has a team dedicated specifically for this task- to dig dirt on his political targets so he can wield them like the blade of a guillotine over their heads
despite his evil means to climb the top, somehow, his image and reputation remains far too clean
and that is because he knows to take these actions behind the scenes, away from any eyes
a true politician, he’s been dubbed
it is about midnight when the hall almost empties, leaving only the members of your party and some new faces- people who are willing to hear him out and decide if they want to join his party
you wish you could tell them that it is a trap- hongjoong will promise that their efforts and support will lead them to something great
‘the greater good’, he always says, except these people do not know what they are getting into
they are merely sacrificial lambs, the stepping stones that will lead hongjoong closer to his utopia
they will, for the sake of loyalty, put a blindfold over their eyes. they will hold him in high reverence as he becomes their lord, their saviour
he will feed them copper pellets and claim that this is the best that they can get while he himself sits on a throne made of gold
and when they empty every last drop of whatever they have to offer- their blood, sweat and tears
hongjoong will discard them without remorse. that is who he is- a master manipulator
when you are done wrapping up the event in the deep, dark hours of the night, hongjoong finds you in your bedroom
his chest is heaving with energy that is threatening to combust from within him
he outstretches his hand and you saunter over to him
his hands are dominating when he holds you, though his kiss is soft and unrushed
until that too becomes scalding hot
he is quick to lead you to the couch where you sit on his lap, finding him painfully hard
he groans loudly and starts to unbuckle his pants, and you instantly know what he wants- you always know what he wants
he easily slides his hard length inside your warmth and groans heavily in relief, resting his head back and just letting you both stay still
you only move to rest your head against his shoulder. he can have you like this for as long as he wants
“we have a lot of new supporters tonight,” he begins, chuckling deeply, “the polls seem to be in our favour too.”
his dark curls caress your face as you snuggle against him
“we also managed to score deals with many influential politicians and businessmen tonight,” he tells you and you look at him with pride as he names them
“soon,” he begins, trailing his hands under your dress and squeezing your thighs, “soon… we will have our people in every sector- in business, healthcare, industrial, courts… we will be controlling the nation- we… we are the leaders of this nation.”
his cock twitches inside you as he finishes that sentence and you bite your lips in thought
“what are you thinking, love?” he asks, caressing your face
“i just sometimes wonder,” you begin- can you admit your bare thoughts to him?
he squeezes your thigh as a sign to go ahead
“i wonder how we got here, joong,” you admit, “you know that we are exploiting people-”
“for the greater good-”
“for the greater good, yes,” you finish, nodding and he furrows his brows in concentration
“these people are just like us. we were once slaves of this society, but now we are the leaders. and they are our slaves. but…”
“they will offer us what they have,” hongjoong replies softly, “and we will make the best out of it. isn’t that right?”
you nod. there is no more space for any more questioning
you have never like the darkness in his eyes when you question his- your- methods
all he knows is that he is right
he knows what he is doing is wrong in essence, but it is about the bigger picture- he is doing this for his nation
and you cannot expect to run a nation claiming to be a saint
the nation is run by wolves, and to make space there, you must be some sort of a predator. that is who he has become
his grip on your thighs tighten and he starts to grind your body on him
between the sounds of pleasure is the groan of pain as he spanks your thighs and remind you of your place
“all you have to do is follow me,” he breathes into your ear, trailing his lips across your cheek. “all you have to do is stay with me. together…” he thrusts hard inside you. “together, we will rule the world one day, you and i.”
you nod and he swallows your moans as he kisses you, thrusting with all his might until you both come crashing down
he takes you to the shower and you both quickly clean up and get in bed
as you watch his figure relax and succumb to sleep, you confess to him
“you are a great politician, hongjoong,” you tell him and the corners of his lips curl in a smile. “i’m just afraid of going too far with you. every day, we learn that we can get worse than we are, yet…”
“yet, it has become my addiction and my duty,” he whispers, hand finding your bare arm and caressing it. “don’t you want to rule the world?”
“you will rule the world. i will be treading on your shadow, following you closely and sharpening my teeth… but afraid.”
“afraid of what?”
“of you,” you breathe and he opens one eye
“you won’t leave me, will you?” he asks innocently, yet it is there- the warning in his tone
you are responsible for who he is today. you are an accomplice
every person he ruins to get closer to the top, you are equally responsible for it
“of course not,” you tell him, “i can’t leave you.”
hongjoong notices your choice of words
you can not leave him- you do not have a choice
he holds you close and kisses you like he means it that night
it would be such a shame if he would have to throw you away after all of this, right? 
it would truly be such a shame if you are just like the others in the end- weak and helpless
since you know exactly what is going on inside hongjoong’s head, you tell him you love him like you really mean it and you let him hold you close
it may be a trap, but you don’t mind being trapped if this is where you end up every night- in his arms
your lord, your saviour
The Manipulator and the Manipulated
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Seonghwa
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Jekyll
park seonghwa is a man who is adored wherever he goes
be it at work- at a prestigious university as a neuroscience professor, dr. park, or at social gatherings, formal or informal
he is a man born with the best manners, the most caring and generous heart
you’ve seen him around the department as a masters student and attended a few of his classes 
but you never got to interact with him personally until it’s time to choose a thesis supervisor and you learn that you have a chance with him
it’s purely because he’s amazing at what he does 
your subfield matches with his specialty so it will be better if he’s your supervisor (and it’s only a bonus that the man is painfully hot so you’ll never be bored)
your professor recommends you to seonghwa and he goes over your synopsis which leaves him intrigued because coincidentally, he’s researching in molecular neuroscience as well
he gladly takes you on because he believes you both will be helping each other along the way
plus, he recognises your name- you’ve always had a different air about you (and he remembers you from somewhere else too)
he’s looking forward to working with you, that’s all
so when you arrive on your first day as his supervisee and research assistant
you catch him in his natural habitat- unaware of his surroundings, humming a tune to himself and swiping his hair hurriedly to the side with the hand that’s holding a clear solution of some sort while struggling not to drop his notes on the table that has a few microscope slides 
basically, moments away from a disaster
he spots you and grunts as if asking for help and you immediately drop your bag to rush towards him, only now noticing that somehow, he’s holding his glasses by his teeth
you first take those out of his mouth and he groans in relief. “can you please help me wear my glasses? those cultures are moments away from expiring.”
“oh goodness,” you mutter and you lock eyes with him as you put on his glasses for him
and your intrusive thoughts take over because you simply cannot take how his hair is poking his eyes so you gently brush his hair out of his eyes
for a moment, time is frozen for all sorts of reasons
before seonghwa takes a deep breath and you blink, immediately getting out of his way and holding his notes for him
the notes apparently hold the readings on how much solution he needs to pour so you read it for him and consequently save him from a disaster
as soon as he is done freezing the cultures, he holds the edge of the table to save himself from slumping in relief
and you share a laugh, the ice breaking just like that
he tells you that the student assigned for taking care of the cultures had an emergency and he had to rush from another department
and he thanks you for helping him
you both move to his office to go over your thesis and he helps you create a timeline
you wrap up the meeting with a clear direction of what’s next and with a schedule of shifts where you will be assisting him
it doesn’t take long to get used to being a part of his team of five calm students with a little streak of crazy
and you suppose dr. park has an eye for people like that because you fit right in
you are all very dedicated so he seems to be at ease when you are working, though he does monitor you more closely since you’re new
you start to spend more time in the lab simply because you like how it feels there
it is like a little cocoon where you can tune out the rest of the world and work on your thesis without distractions (plus, it helps how people from your team pop in once in a while to throw some suggestions at you)
you like how it is there- neat and clean
the sound of metal against metal, glass against glass. the smell of the cleaning agent which calms you since it is something familiar now
and then there’s dr. park himself, gentle and composed, yet at times clumsy and rough which results in the room cackling with laughter
however, there’s a side to him that you only see when you’re alone with him
you’re not sure if he’s like that with everyone- he must be, right?
does he pay as much attention to everyone else as you?
perhaps, you’re delusional. that must be it
seonghwa knows you must think that, because he has not been very obvious but he has not been subtle either
it’s just that he remembers you from that time. he remembers seeing your face in his friend wooyoung’s data
wooyoung, who is an expert at singling out people like them
people like seonghwa who have a little streak of crazy in them, yet manage to be a part of the society almost seamlessly
wooyoung’s company does a good job at managing these people because they ultimately help the black market grow
seonghwa is half convinced wooyoung’s company is just a faction of the government but of course he can’t confirm that
all he knows is that he cannot act out too much and get caught
in return, he knows when someone like him is in his radar
here you are, glasses perched on the tip of your nose as you examine different slides under the microscope, muttering to yourself about the readings as your scribble them
he can’t help but notice how you always wear that one specific shade of deep red on your lips or how your hair falls in the most irresistible way in front of your face
he’s never looked at a student this way- ever- but you’re not just a student now, are you?
so when he makes his move, approaching you from behind as silently as he can
he’s not disappointed when you turn- he didn’t make a sound, yet you knew
you’re not even surprised, and that excites seonghwa to no end
“ah, dr. park,” you go casually, as if him sneaking behind you was normal behaviour. “can you approve of these hypotheses?”
seonghwa hums and stands awfully close to you, your sides brushing against each other
he purposely crowds in your personal space as he leans in to confirm the readings of the specimens on the table
“everything’s perfect,” he announces, meeting your eyes
you’re still sitting so you have to look up at him and lord. what a sight he is even from this angle. you could totally get used to it-
“what are you looking at, sweetheart?” seonghwa smirks knowingly 
you have to physically struggle to maintain your composure because you are pretty sure you were gawking
“nothing, just zoned out,” you say, which isn’t a lie but not the whole truth either
he knows though. he knows the effect he has on you because he hasn’t been subtle
from the casual touches to the unnecessary (but not undeserved) praise
from the prolonged eye contact to the suggestive smirks
there is something electric between the two of you, an undeniable tension
and while you’re not one who sticks to the rules, you can’t help but wonder just why is dr. park playing with you?
“you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa leans in and searches your eyes for any signs of lies
upon finding none but gaining satisfaction from the way your lips part in surprise, he draws back 
you try your best not to make things awkward for the rest of the time you’re with him
and in the following days, his advances only start becoming stronger in nature
you like the attention he gives you. you like how he always puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a little squeeze whenever he finds you sitting
you like the way his warm breath caresses your cheek when you’re both sitting side by side inspecting a specimen
you enjoy the sound of his gentle voice as he instructs you
it’s almost as if he knows. it’s almost as if he’s asking for it
does he not know that once you become obsessed with something, you’ll try- no, you will possess it at all costs?
so one night when you’re both working at late hours, busy with wrapping up one section of your thesis
you can’t take it when seonghwa scolds you teasingly for being clumsy 
“you’ve got pen on your chin,” he says and before you can take care of it, he himself scoots closer-
too close for it to be professional anymore because at this point, he can probably count the freckles on your face too-
and begins to rub at your the skin near your lips gently
he frowns when it doesn’t come off, and then he has the audacity to lick his thumb and rub your skin again
“dr. park,” you mutter, about to remind him how you are supposed to be a teacher and student
you’re not friends (despite the very friendly relationship you have developed with him)
seonghwa only hums and you can’t help but notice how he stifles a smirk as he moves his thumb to your lower lip and swipes it, all the while maintaining eye contact
you raise a brow in challenge, silently questioning why he’s still holding your chin
he leans in as if to kiss you and you stop breathing
except he tilts his head to whisper in your ear
“would you like to attend the next soul society meeting with me, love?”
to say that you freeze is an understatement
you don’t move when his lips caress your cheeks as he stays in that position
you don’t move when he purposely trails his lips along your cheek as he draws back
“what’s your classification?” you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper
the way seonghwa smirks is something you’ll never forget
“jekyll,” he says. “nice to meet you, hyde.”
there’s a moment of silence where all you can do is stare at the man in front of you
a moment of pure static
as soon as you take off your mask and your lips curl in a smirk, it happens
you don’t know who took the first step but you’re both kissing each other
it’s rushed, passionate and desperate, the air filling with your grins and giggles and you’re only glad you’re not in the lab right now because the way seonghwa clears the table with a swipe of his hand, making the notes fall on the ground
only to lift you up and seat you there so he can kiss you better? being in the lab would have done some damage alright
between kisses, you learn how seonghwa recognised you
you ask him if he lured you here somehow, but he tells you it’s just luck that you’re here as his student right now. you don’t quite believe him though
but you let it be- if he’s jekyll, that means he’s got the brains to scheme
he tells you that he’s glad to have found his hyde because he would prefer someone else to do his dirty work for him
you agree- it’s been far too long since you’ve had an adventure, and you’ve heard about the notorious jekyll in the soul society too. you just never connected the dots
he takes you to his private lab (not before feasting on you and fucking you on that very table)
for the next few weeks, you familiarise yourself with his actual research
mind altering chemicals and drugs, anything to do with control
very illegal stuff, but the soul society funds him with whatever he needs
he can’t believe he found you- you’re perfect for him
seonghwa believes he has morals and he can be a good person
so you make the perfect partner because you can be the bad person in his stead
you’re his alter ego, the voice in his head that he never lets come out
you’re the person who not only matches his freak but helps bring it into manifestation. you are now his face
while he advances in molecular neuroscience in the world, you advance, on his behalf, in the underworld
there’s no blood on your hands- you both only produce drugs. you’re not responsible for what is done with them
you do sometimes assist in the practical work, which seonghwa avoids, because after all, he has a reputation to maintain as dr. park
no one suspects a thing. you’re just supervisor and supervisee who share a similar obsession with research
nothing to worry about
Jekyll and Hyde
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Yunho
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The Hunter
when you finally got to a blind date that your friend begged you to go to, you didn’t expect to meet a man who would actually catch your eye
there is something about this man, jeong yunho, that instantly pulls you in as if you really are tied by a thread 
for starters, he is incredibly handsome and has a soft vibe to him that exudes warmth
his voice has a soothing quality and his mannerisms are as gentle as his gaze. his laugh is pure and he makes quite a good company
he just makes you feel comfortable and safe right away, which is kind of surprising
so when yunho tells you about himself, confirming that he is indeed a corporate lawyer at a well-known firm, you are simply in awe
you thought your friend was bluffing when she told you that she is trying to set you up with a ‘beauty with brains’
she was not lying, is all you can think now
you’re a simple school teacher, you tell yunho with a laugh
however, the man’s eyes are practically twinkling as he hears your stories about school 
you’re only telling him because he insisted, and now he can’t stop appreciating your profession, saying that it’s admirable how you are able to connect with children and educate them
the conversation steers to your likes and dislikes, your preferences, and what you’re looking for in a partner
surprisingly, the two of you have a lot in common
you both have a special place in your heart for food. you both love travelling. and there are some things he does not need to say out loud 
like how he’s a caring person- always making sure you’re comfortable and your bowl is full, draping his coat over your shoulders when you leave the restaurant and scour the streets for something sweet
the hand that he offers you is not suggestive and you like that (you also like how tall he is and how his hand engulfs yours almost entirely)
just two people who talk about anything and everything- that’s who you become by the end of the night
as you settle in bed later, you’re still smiling about how his eyes twinkled when he learned that you too have a thing for gaming too
you have good feelings about this person so far but there’s a feeling scratching at your heart that has you restless
it is the way his eyes darkened almost dangerously, only momentarily, when you insisted that you could get home on your own
he was a gentleman, no doubt about it, insisting that you could never be too sure these days especially with the news being so horrible lately, the crime rate spiking up dramatically in the past few months
you just did not like the idea of having a stranger accompany you all the way to your home, even if it was this gentleman- this was only your first meeting
so he made you promise to call him and let him know when you get home 
and here you are. you dated him for a few months before you both decided to move in together into an apartment that suited your needs
he’s perfect in every way- attentive, responsive, caring, funny, and he gives you space when you need it
which matters the most because you value your personal space a lot
he understands the importance of personal space very well and even though you share a room, you both let each other be 
you let him be when he’s gaming, and he lets you be when you’re staring at the ceiling or reading
more often though, he’ll have you sit on his lap as he games
since he’s so much bigger than you, you’ll curl on top of him to read or scroll and he’ll be focused on his game, liking your presence
it doesn’t always lead to something but when it does, it’s always fun
he has you smitten- his kisses still make you feel like it’s your first time sharing a kiss (and he’s damn good at it)
his touch lingers on your skin throughout the day and you cannot wait to be back in his arms again
it is just another night when you decide to walk and take the longer route back home because apparently yunho was going to be late and you did not want to be home alone
it gets quieter as you navigate through the streets and alleys
and when you take a turn and notice a familiar figure, you stop in your tracks
is that… not yunho? the back and the height looks pretty much the same
the man is watching a woman at the end of the street who is using her phone as if waiting for someone
the woman catches the man watching her and grows wary- you can tell even from the distance
you can tell that she is very much pretending to be on call when she starts moving
despite every cell in your body urging you to ignore this and go back home, you start to follow the man when he starts to follow the woman
you are careful to maintain a distance, cursing yourself internally for being a curious little shit who seeks thrill like there’s no tomorrow
but the woman takes a left, and the man takes a right, leaving you standing in the middle of the street, taking a few deep breaths
nothing happened, you think. you turn and start to trace your path back
and just a minute later, there’s an unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream filling the air
every hair on your body rises as your heart drops and eyes widen
you’re frozen in one spot with no idea what to do next- should you go check on the woman? see if it was the same person? 
not once do you think of calling the police though
you walk back home, lost in your thoughts with the image of the man’s familiar figure branded in your mind especially since you are pretty damn sure that those were little sunflowers embroidered on the hem of the hoodie
sunflowers that you embroidered on yunho’s hoodie
when you open the door to your apartment, though, you hear the sound of the TV and yunho is sitting very casually on the couch
“ah, you’re home,” he grins and waves, just like he usually does
he’s not wearing the hoodie anymore
“i thought you were gonna be late?” you ask
“you’re late,” he counters. “why did it take you so long to get home?”
“just decided to take a walk,” you smile, ruffling his hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head before going to your room 
you grab your clothes and move towards the bathroom to take a shower, and it is then that yunho’s eyes widen
“ah, babe?” he calls, his voice uncharacteristically high
when you don’t answer, he rushes towards the bathroom and finds you standing in the doorway
your eyes are fixed on the sink which is a pale shade of pink with handprints on it
yunho curses himself internally- he rushed to hide his hoodie as soon as he got home, jumped in the shower, spotted the bloody sink from when he first washed his hands and decided to make it look like he had been home for a while before cleaning the sink
only he fucking forgot
it doesn’t look as bad- it’s not a bloody red, for starters
“ah, i forgot to clean that up,” yunho awkwardly laughs, proceeding to move inside and open the tap, taking a sponge and cleaning the edges of the sink
yeah. it does not look that bad
“i accidentally spilled that red ink you have in the room- i don’t know why i got curious and messed with it.”
that’s not the colour of your ink, though, and you know it never leaves stains like these
“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, but your eyes are wider than usual. yunho notices that
he lets you shower in peace, all the while thinking if you suspect something
truth be told, he saw you when you were following him back there which is why he took another turn to mislead you
he also knows you are far too observant for your own good
he can’t lie- one of the reasons he fell for you is because of that. you are just like him
though you are free of sin unlike him, your mind is a mess
you notice too much that is not meant to be noticed. you sometimes say things that even he has not thought about. you question if human morals are an actual thing or a made up construct
is it from reading too much fiction? he thinks not
when you come out of the shower, something possesses you to move to the balcony
and that’s another thing yunho likes about you (which also scares him a little at times)
it is your intuition- which leads you to inspect the little corner where you pile up useless stuff. you can see the sleeve of his hoodie there
you pick it up and find it wet in certain spots
on its black base, you can’t tell what it is, but the sunflowers are stained a suspicious red colour, and it’s definitely not your ink 
you look towards your right where yunho is standing, vigilant
there is a moment of silence before you lower the hoodie 
“it really was you,” you say, unwavering
your heart is not speeding because you’re scared- it is speeding because you are right
yunho is still, contemplating how to deal with this
did he think he could hide his secret from you forever? no. was he prepared in case he gets caught? no
he just never imagined it would unfold like this
and now… will he have to hurt you if you threaten to expose him? he can’t bear to hurt a hair on your head
you bring out all the good in him. he does not know how you do that, but you make him believe that he can love with all of his heart too, just like any other person
you make him feel whole, and it would be such a shame if things fall apart now
to his surprise, you drop the hoodie back and walk towards him until there’s little distance between the two of you
you hold both of his hands in yours and look at him earnestly
“are you going to tell me what you have been up to?”
yunho is surprised at how calm your voice is and how accepting your eyes are
he sighs deeply before steering you to the couch in the living room
and then he bares his heart to you
he is a monster. that is it. he hurts people and it satisfies this ugly part of him
he does not always want to, he justifies, but sometimes, he just can’t help it
and the only reason he gets away with it is because he is not stupid and carefully chooses his victims- people who are miserable. people who have no one around them
“well then… i’m lucky to have one person in my life, right?”
yunho’s eyes widens at your response
you fulfil the criteria of being his victim- you have no one 
you have no one but him- how did that happen?
he thinks back to your first date and he can’t help but feel overwhelmed
he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his head about to explode 
why are you not running away from him? why are you caressing his head and holding him close?
you don’t tell him everything right away. you only ask him to trust you
so he trusts you and waits for you
he learns little bits about you- you, who do not care who yunho is, as long as he is transparent with you
you, who has a twisted sense of morality. you, who might be as bad as yunho, even worse
though, your hands are clean, you tell him sarcastically, it’s just your head that is a mess
and it’s a blessing that you two are together and can be honest about this too, right? how lucky you are to have each other
“you, without sin, are like the sun,” he tells you one night as he kisses the top of your head and holds you close
“you, even with sin, are like the sun,” you respond.
The Hunter and His Guide
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Yeosang
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The Mad Scientist
there is something about the innocent features of his face, the gentleness in his mannerism, the absolute ethereal aura about him
that contrasts strikingly with the pitch black (or maybe, just two shades lighter) of his soul
the man only knows how to scheme and how to take the best possible route towards his goals
the goals are all related to science
sure, he is contributing to the scientific area, doing researches no one else would do
doctor kang yeosang- a scientist and philosopher, held in high reverence in the medical field, contributing with numerous researches centering the human body
nobody needs to know exactly how he gets such extensive, solid results to support his theories
he comes off as a soft-spoken man, someone who possesses a kind heart
he is willing to overwork himself in order to make life easier for others
he is much appreciated by his peers
they don’t need to know that behind his neat and professional setup is a dark, cold space that holds his real workspace
the endless corridors lined with shelves upon shelves of jars 
jars containing the human body parts within them
from the brain to the spleen, from the heart to the liver
each jar meticulously lined in an organisation such that only yeosang could close his eyes and know where to pick what he needs
each organ in the jar has a story of the human that it once was- the story that yeosang himself scribes and tucks in the safe (and in a corner of his heart)
taking it out only to read and reminiscence, or to make another addition
such as the one that he is about to make now, sauntering with an almost skipping manner, highlighting his delight in the events about to unfold
his pristine white lab coat flows behind him, a symbol of everything that he would not be doing tonight, which only adds to the irony of it all
he finds you mirroring his expressions, eyes wide with anticipation and lips curled in a stifled smile
and he can’t help but smile wider, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly as he speeds towards you so that he can finally hold you after the long day he had, tired of playing it cool in front of everyone
you are snaking your arms around his neck immediately as he bends down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, earning a surprised but pleased yelp from you
you let him have his moment, kissing him back with equal passion until he draws away and rests his forehead against your shoulder
“long day, huh?” you press your lips against his temple. “how did the presentation go?”
the presentation being at a conference of the national medical association where yeosang was the chief guest, awarded for his valuable insights to the medical world
“i sometimes wonder if i’m the only one wearing a mask,” yeosang confesses.
you know what he means
there surely must be others just like him
you can’t expect to make medical advancements while sticking to the stupid laws and regulations they have carved for you
the medical associations do not allow anyone freedom 
“it’s tiring to pretend my research was simply a result of my team’s hard work,” yeosang continue, “they didn’t do batshit. i wish i could credit you instead.”
“but you can’t,” you caress his dark locks. “that would certainly raise suspicion since i’m… underqualified.”
well, that’s arguable 
you may not be as good as yeosang at what you do but considering that you come from a non-medical background, yeosang would say that you are pretty close
in fact, overqualified
“i don’t think there’s anyone more qualified than you,” yeosang lifts his head to look up at you, eyes scanning your face. “you’re an expert of the human body.”
you are an expert, that is true
you did what you had to do to survive as a young girl who lost her way
you were meant to be a test subject yourself but you created your own path and proved that you were good with your hands- almost artistic
and that you could open up humans as long as you had a good knife
your skills were a bit rusty when yeosang found you in the black market
but he was thoroughly impressed and made an offer. it was an offer that you couldn’t resist 
you would no longer be bound to be a slave for the rest of your life
you would be his equal. an accomplice 
“but you are the mad scientist. i’m just your unofficial assistant,” you pat his cheek in answer
it’s a wonder that you’re here now, in his arms
a muffled sound interrupts your little moment
you both steer towards the big room and yeosang looks around for a moment to take in the glory of his workplace
the crisp white walls and clean tiles smelling of antiseptic, marred with red stains of blood that is dripping from the man’s limbs
the man who is currently tied to a stretcher in the middle of the room
the instruments and tools that he would be using tonight to open his test subject up are glinting with silver, ready to be used
he has chosen the perfect target- a relatively healthy, middle-aged homeless man
really, no one would care if he went missing
in fact, you were doing him a favour by putting an end to his miserable life, right?
surely, he did not wish to live without a home and the means to survive
though here he was, sedated but struggling nonetheless, as if finally having found the will to live
“ah, he created a mess,” yeosang begins, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he inspects the bruises around the man’s wrists. “i’m sorry you had to wait so long, hmm?”
it’s almost eerie, how yeosang’s voice drips with pity
but that’s what you like about him
he thinks of the greater good. he is doing all of this for the greater good
there is no personal desire to kill random human beings, no
he simply needs test subjects to study the human body, so there can be advancements in the medical world
he just can’t believe that the world does not have a cure or even a prevention for most of the diseases in this age
he has taken it upon himself to contribute to the medical world so people do not have to suffer anymore
he complains about this a lot 
if people had guts, they would have done this ages ago
sometimes, he refers to the awful medical experiments done by humankind- especially on women
he is different from them, he claims
he cares about their pain- that is why he makes sure to make his subjects’ death quick and painless before he starts to conduct his experiments
it’s just too bad that he doesn’t have much time after the person passes to study certain functions of a living human
(so sometimes, he makes exceptions and asks god for forgiveness. easy peasy)
you watch yeosang with a sort of wonder and a little something that resembles fear as he caresses the man’s head in farewell
he asks the man to say his last words, to choose them carefully, to take his time and to make peace with the fact that there is no way out
the sedatives seem to have made the man somewhat placid
the test subject stops resisting to lock eyes with the doctor 
he says something about the regrets he’s had in his life and how he just wants his misery and pain to end now
yeosang’s brows are furrowed in concentration as he listens to each and every word, nodding along as if he aims to fulfil every desire this man possesses 
his hand is gently caressing the man’s head
when the man is done, yeosang tells him that his contribution to medical research won’t be forgotten
he looks at you to find you already staring at him with an unreadable expression
he signals you to get the job done and you inject the medicine meant to stop the man’s heart
you watch the man take his last breath, his face contorting in pain as his heart ceases to function
yeosang has already moved on from the little moment he had, putting on medical gloves and snapping them against his skin rather dramatically
“let’s get to work, shall we?”
you smile in response, following his instructions
soon, you are testing the functioning of the man’s abdominal organs with various equipment and drugs that yeosang has bought from the black market 
you have to work quickly before necrosis begins and hinders you
yeosang is very careful with his methods. his hands are steady as if he has done this a thousand times already 
and though he comes off as clumsy in the public eye, he is anything but here
his eyes are focused, darting between the electrodes placed on the man’s liver to the readings on the screen
it goes on like this for a while, yet another failed experiment as the liver fails to respond as desired to the electric shock and necrosis takes over
it doesn’t disappoint any of you though
yeosang has a strong vision and no amount of failed experiments is going to stop him 
plus, there’s always something you learn even from failure
you begin to clean up when you notice a broken nail lying on the stretcher
you pick it up with tweezers and inspect it- it must have broken when the man was struggling to break free
yeosang catches you looking at the discoloured nail with curiosity and he hums in question
“hair and fingernails are beautiful ornaments.” you ask, “so why do they seem so baleful when they are removed? 
yeosang stands beside you, pondering
“the answer is simple. they are previews of what is to come. of death.”
you look at him to find his eyes twinkling with the knowing glint of someone who’s seen it all
after you both finish recording the data of tonight’s session, yeosang is back to being the cute and clumsy person that you absolutely adore
the man is craving chicken after today’s hard work so you fulfil his wish and take him to his favourite place
you both sit across each other, drinking beer and savouring the juicy meat while talking about casual stuff- just an assistant and her boss
just two friends who met by chance and felt an instant pull towards each other
just two lovers, fated to be together and find solace in each other’s company
as if the stars have aligned for you yet again, a familiar face walks in and sits on the table next to you
you meet yeosang’s eyes and you both stifle a smile
it’s one of the potential test subjects you’ve had in your file, due for observation
and what better observation than to sit next to them in a casual setting and eavesdrop naturally?
yeosang raises his beer glass in toast and you share a knowing smile, raising your own glass in toast 
just two partners in crime. that’s who you are
The Mad Scientist and his Accomplice
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San
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Executioner
choi san works hard during the day
he goes to the school and makes sure his students are in top shape
as their p.e. teacher and coach, he has every student’s physical status on his fingertips
he knows their strengths and their weaknesses. he also knows their desires
so if a student is not a good runner but wants to run better, he would never tell them to give up, he would personally coach them and make sure they know that their body is not the limit
they can be a good runner, a good player, a good swimmer- anything
as long as they are steadfast, they can conquer the world
so choi san is loved and respected by the students, known to be a very caring teacher
but choi san works harder at night. no one needs to know that
certainly not his colleagues who always go about how hardworking a teacher he is
when he is free from the school, he goes to his home and changes before driving to his friend’s place- a warehouse where a few of you hang out
someone programmes, another composes, another works out
just an innocent hideout that you’re all using even in your early thirties
except that you also huddle around to read the new request you receive on your app
“i am a twenty-one year old female. two years ago, the man who dated my older sister killed her, but due to lack of evidence, he did not receive the jail time he deserves. he claims that he is innocent, but ever since he got out, he’s been bothering me because he had to serve his short sentence anyway. he is threatening to kill my family and then me if i go to the cops. i am scared to leave the house because he is stalking me and i can always see him wherever i go. please help me. i won’t go to the cops anyway- they didn’t do anything then, and they will not do anything now.”
san is contemplating if he should accept this request
you look at wooyoung who is immediately weighing the pros and the cons
you look back at san who is still deep in thought and you gently rest your hand on his thigh, bringing him out of his head
“i’ll take it,” he mutters. “accept the request, y/n.”
you nod and go back to the computer to accept the request
you have a phone call conversation with the client where you set up a meeting
it’s you and wooyoung who go to meet with the respective parties. san works in the shadows
the next night, san finds you deep in thought outside, leaning against the worn out wall of the warehouse
he joins you, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans
“i know what you’re thinking,” san begins, glancing at you. “you’ve been awfully quiet since the meeting.”
you shrug in defeat. “i know i can’t change your mind.”
“it’s not going to be the same,” san refers back to the one time you all took a request from a 19 year old girl who was being bullied by her seniors
it got to a dangerous point and had you been a little late, you might have lost the girl
san lost his temper that time, though
and while he couldn’t physically harm the kids who were bullying the girl, he had them locked in a room for one night while he educated them
and funnily enough, san was scarier that night
scarier than every other time he actually wields a weapon
you asked him that night if there were any just people left in this world full of evil
“all people are evil. to believe that you are just, you must believe that someone else is more evil than you”
was his response. safe to say, the girl was living her best life now, but you saw a new side of san that night
a side you had never seen all your life, and that was saying something since you were childhood friends
“we won’t let it get to that point,” san assured, outstretching your hand and you pouted before taking it
he caressed your knuckles, his voice assertive. “i will take care of it. properly. i always do.”
“do you think i only worry about things going wrong?” you finally say out loud, the words that you want to say to him every time he goes out in the field 
san, despite himself, breaks into a smile that would seem so out of character to anyone who has not known him for long
“you can’t smile your way out of this,” you sulk further, snatching your hand away and folding your arms
“baby,” san begins, trying to take your hand again but you’re not having any of it
“i’m worried you’ll get hurt. i’m worried about the pain you’re willing to go through so you can lessen the pain of others.”
san stops teasing then, mimicking your position as he leans against the wall next to you
there is a thick silence surrounding you and you wonder what wooyoung is doing inside- is he napping?
“it’s something i have to do. something only i can do. you know that, right?”
“i know,” you say, almost a whisper. “and that’s what makes this more frustrating.”
because it was originally your idea
on a summer night when you were all about to graduate, a tragedy happened in your town
a man went on a spree, killing and wounding multiple women and children for weeks
you, who knew one of the victims personally, were shocked by the act and disgusted at how lazy the police were being
it turned out that the assailant was a high-profile businessman and the police were trying to cover the case up as per the orders of their superiors
the three of you were hanging out in the warehouse, each burdened by their own train of thoughts, until you finally said it out loud
“what if we were some sort of a private service where we help the victims? especially when the police can’t?”
it was wooyoung who agreed first, and san who disagreed
it took him some convincing to finally agree, and you set rules
you were not going to kill anyone- only maim
if it’s a serial killer, you maim their hands so they can never hold a weapon again
if it’s a bully, you maim their mouth so they think before they speak
the three of you are a team, but san is the executioner
wooyoung is his eyes and feet, and you are the brains
so it is ironic how worried you are about san now, when you gave him this role
“i know that i can get hurt,” san begins, taking a deep breath. “but there is no pain as long as i keep my eyes on the balance scale.”
this time, when he outstretches his hand, you take it. he plants a sweet kiss on your knuckles
“don’t worry about me, hmm?” he tugs you closer so you can rest your head against his firm chest as he embraces you. “i can’t focus when you’re so worried.”
“i can’t help it,” you tell him. “you’ll just have to get used to it.”
san lifts your face with his thumb below your chin, his brows furrowed with concentration and worry as he looks at you
his eyes are sharp as he scans you so you smile
immediately, his body relaxes and the corners of his lips curl in a smile as he pecks your lips- once, twice
and it is about to turn into a deeper kiss when wooyoung claps loudly to get your attention
“alright, lovebirds. get inside. we have a heads-up.”
you scowl at wooyoung who smirks in response but you both immediately join the youngest inside
your client has texted to let you know that she’s about to go out so you can stalk her stalker
you and wooyoung take your equipment to the van and san prepares himself 
he’ll be observing tonight, but he is prepared in case the stalker catches on
just like that, you observe the stalker for a few days, assuring your client that she is safe
you plan a trap to lure the stalker to an abandoned area where san will have a little chat with the stalker 
and when the day comes, all your client has to do is threaten to call the cops on him
he comes after her and that is when san knocks him out with a punch
the stalker finds himself tied to a chair in an empty room when he opens his eyes
there is the stale smell of something resembling death in the room, and that makes the man resist 
from the darkness, san emerges, clad in all black, his face covered with a mask
and his favourite weapon, the dagger, in his hand
you and wooyoung are watching from the camera embedded on his coat
you can see the glint of the dagger as he twists it dramatically in his hand
san circles around the man once as if to gauge the room 
even through the camera, you can tell how thick the air must be feeling
san meets eyes with the man and removes the tape over his mouth, wincing when the man screams his lungs out in hopes that help would come
there is no help, not for miles
“who are you?” the stalker spits on the ground near san’s feet 
san only shuts his eyes in mild annoyance. he is not easily riled up
“you have been found guilty of the crime of stalking. tell me… what should be your sentence?”
the man pales, fresh beads of sweat trickling down his forehead 
“it will be better if you admit to your wrongdoings and give me a fair number. you don’t want to leave it in my hands.”
“what do you mean sentence?” the stalker starts struggling fiercely, almost falling off the chair. “i have already served!”
san grins under the mask, closing in like a cat and stomping on his foot, making the man let out a guttural groan of pain
he leans in to whisper in his ear
“but… that was for murder. and unfortunately, i am not charging you for murder tonight. otherwise… you would not have walked out alive.”
the man gulps loudly, meeting eyes with who has to be the person he has heard so much about in prison
most of the people in prison feared this man- the judge, they called him
the man was the judge, jury and executioner for criminals, feared more than the cops or actual prosecutors
“surely… you’re not him, are you?”
you wince at the fear in the stalker’s voice and meet wooyoung’s eyes
san never confirms if he is that. he simply finishes the job right there
the stalker’s screams are heard for quite a distance, even outside your earpieces
you shut your eyes momentarily and when you open, you can see the blood oozing out of the man’s left leg
san is wiping the dagger with the man’s own jacket as he tells him that he will never be able to stalk people again
the man screams and screams, waiting for something more, but nothing else comes
san’s job is done
he tosses a broken piece of glass near the chair for the man to free himself if he wishes to
when san comes back to the van, the air is sombre, just like after every finished request
wooyoung pats his shoulder in acknowledgement and mutters a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, which works
“they still call you the judge, huh?” wooyoung teases as he drives
“judge, jury, executioner. how scary, choi san.”
san raises a brow at your comment- he can tell what you’re referring to
you’re referring to the first time when he came back covered in blood
and the first time he realised that no matter what he did, you would never be scared of him
and that you and wooyoung would always have his back and guide him
“i think i’m only the executioner. you both are the judge and jury.”
“makes sense,” wooyoung agrees. “but the world does not need to know that.”
Judge, Jury and Executioner
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Mingi
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The Overseer
“the future, pitch black, upside down”
mingi dips his brush into the onyx ink, finishing writing the words on the big canvas
the canvas that is a splash of colours- red for the blood on his hands. white for the innocence he lost too soon. blue for all those nights he spent trapped with only the moon as his friend
and finally, black for the future. the future is the only uncertainty in his life
despite being a leader of a notorious gang, he can never be certain about his future. there are always people after his life
he cannot trust anyone- not one soul-
“sir,” a voice interrupts and he knows who it is instantly
even if he did not hear your voice, he knows you are the only person who would dare interrupt him in the middle of his private time-
“tea, sir. you’ve been cooped up in here for too long,” you say, placing the mug on the table
-for something as meagre as tea
mingi spares a glance in your direction, noticing how you are still dressed in your usual all-black fit
which means you have not gone to sleep yet, even though it’s well past midnight
“and what are you doing up so late?” he asks as he picks up the cup and sips it, finding it exactly to his liking. a flavour only you can nail
“watching you paint,” you confess without hesitation
because in this place, in this room, between the two of you, there may be truths hidden, but there are no secrets
mingi is amused to hear that though he does his best to hide it
“and what do you think of the painting?” he asks, allowing you to take a closer look
you smile at his permission to inspect his art and you inch closer to the painting, now standing beside your boss
you read the words on it in a whisper and cock your head in thought
“isn’t this too dark, even for you?” you question 
mingi shakes his head in amusement and looks down. only you could have made this observation, having been at his side for a solid seven years now
where others would say that his paintings were too ‘colourful’ considering the kind of person he is, you still find them too dark and void of life
you’d know better, because you know mingi inside out
he first found you when he was a street thug in the process of becoming something big
all he had was his raw strength, a strategic brain, a few rusty weapons and some loyal friends
he went on to fight gang after gang, always emerging victorious and merging the losing team with a good deal- it’s how he earned respect around and gained a reputation
every other gang knew not to stand against him unless they wanted to risk losing everything they had
when he first opened his office in the darkest part of the town, he found you purely by chance
you were nearing the end of your teens- a rebellious little girl who cut ties from her family and ran away from home
at that time, you had multiple part-time jobs trying to make ends meet, hoping to find a place to live
and one fateful night, you found yourself in front of a building to deliver chicken, peering up at the light coming from the 4th floor- this must be it 
although… you weren’t sure if the loud sounds coming from the floor were just men having a good time or if something had gone really, really wrong
men will be men, you thought, wanting to get the delivery done with so you could move on
only when you reached the 4th floor, you spotted men lying on the ground and clutching their limbs, blood all around
while every sane part of your brain screamed at you to pretend you saw nothing and go back, you recalled how when you received the order, they promised a big tip to the rider
you could not miss that, could you? you had to find a place to live, and you needed every penny
so you started with the men who seemed to be unconscious. you took any cash they had, being careful to hide your face in the hoodie
you moved to the office, hearing a crashing sound and flinching
you made quick work of grabbing more cash from the thugs- they had to be thugs
they all had guns, for fuck’s sake
you went into one of the neater rooms and placed the bags of fried chicken there
and you froze when a burly man made his way inside, wiping blood from the edge of his mouth
“ah… you must be song’s girl, eh?” he snickered, scanning you up and down
“i- i’m delivering chicken,” you pointed at the table. “i’ll be on my way then-”
“not so quick,” his gaze darkened 
instinctively, you grabbed the nearest object, which so happened to be a mug and chucked it at the man, successfully hitting his head
he clutched his head in pain and you made a dash outside, bumping into another man
the tall man seemed mostly unscathed save for a bruise on his cheek
he held your wrists to steady you and his eyes darted in the man’s direction who was clutching his head no more
“oi, song!” the burly man called. “teach your girl some manners, will you?”
the man called song pushed you to the side and a gunfight ensued
you took shelter behind a shelf, observing how the taller man successfully shot his every target
when he thought he was done- and was out of bullets, he looked in your direction and tsked loudly
you were about to come out of the shadows when you noticed one of the supposedly unconscious men take aim of song’s head
your eyes widened and almost instinctively, you grabbed a heavy metal object from the shelf and rushed to the man who was targeting your saviour
to say that mingi was surprised to see a young girl save him from his enemy by nearly crushing the man’s skull?
he knew you were something special right away
you both stared at each other for a long time before he told you to go back to his office, lock the door and not come out until he comes back
he was done sooner than you thought, and while his men cleaned his mess, he found you in his room, sitting rather calmly
“so you’re the delivery girl,” he narrowed his eyes
“i hope the chicken is still warm,” you responded. “if you can just pay me so i can leave-”
“why did you do that earlier?” he asked, voice low and rough that sent shivers up your spine
“i don’t know,” you answered truthfully
mingi paid you more than extra that night and told you to come next time they place an order 
the next time would turn out to be the last time you would ever work a part-time job
mingi offered you a place in his gang, and you took it
you are still not sure what your position in this gang is though- they smuggle drugs but keep you away from the work, so what are you doing here?
personal assistant? chef? manager? all of these? 
sometimes, you are accompanying wooyoung in the field- the gang now has an official base and a few legal businesses
sometimes, you stay in the kitchen with seonghwa and wooyoung to cook
other times, you sit with yunho and hongjoong to plan and offer your opinion on their strategic takes
you aren’t sure if you are qualified for that- you probably aren’t
somehow, though, the gang members respect you for whoever you are
you are the light in their dark life, they joke. you are someone’s friend now, sibling to some, secretkeeper for others
but you still aren’t sure what you are to mingi
whenever you ask him why he took you in, mingi always responds with something different
“you were clever grabbing all that money from our enemies”
“you saved me- though i must say i could have handled it”
“you looked like a lost cat”
“you didn’t report us”- excuses, all of them
truth be told, mingi has no idea what you are to him either
he has a certain fondness for you that he has for no one else. of course, it didn’t happen instantly
he took you in because he realised you had a strategic mind and he could really use that
he insisted the office needed a ‘feminine touch’ even though it came in the form of a cranky teen who wouldn’t stop asking questions
but somehow, the two of you formed an unbreakable bond
he finds solace just being with you in one room, even in complete silence
he loves to hear you talk, even though you mostly question his morals
because he is not a good person, you found out
song mingi is not conventionally good. he is a man of principles, but he does not have the best morals
despite all that, you learned a lot from him. the world is a harsh place, and only he can protect you 
he learned a lot from you too. the world is a harsh place, and only you are his safe space
when at times things get stressful, he comes to seek you. he finds you in the shared residence and sits with you
if he is feeling down, you will have him lay his head in your lap. you will caress his head and let him be
if he wants to talk, he will. otherwise, he will watch you for a long time until he falls asleep, unguarded
when he gets tired, he will seek your arms. all he has to do is show up and you will know what to do
you will drop whatever you are doing and spread your arms
it is his home at this point. that’s how things are like
are you in a relationship? you don’t know
all you know is that song mingi is the most important person in your life
it doesn’t matter if he lives life the way he does
it doesn’t affect you anymore- the blood on his hands or the chaos in his mind
it doesn’t bother you because you know his heart, and that is all that matters
so standing in his private space right next to him, inspecting his painting with a critical eye, you tell him that the painting is not him
he tells you to pick a colour and you reach out for a box, making him chuckle
“really?” he asks
“the future may seem black, but…” you begin. “it doesn’t feel so dark when i’m with you.”
mingi takes a deep breath at your words. you always get him like this, and he is not sure if he can restrain himself anymore
your heart aches when you see him curl his fists, a sign that he is holding back some words or an action
“tell me what you’re thinking,” you request, though it registers like a command in the gang leader’s brain
“i’m thinking that i never should have given you this life.”
you shake your head at that- how many times has he voiced out that he wished you had lived a better, normal life, away from the clutches of the underworld?
“no, you’re thinking something else too,” you comment
“i’m thinking that i want you to stay here, with me, forever,” he responds
you nod in approval. “i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”
“you could get hurt,” mingi says, taking a step closer and closing the gap between your bodies
“i am a big girl now, mingi,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist and hearing his erratic heartbeat
his arms are still by his sides for a moment before he embraces you
“i’m old now, in fact. how much longer will you keep me waiting?”
mingi grows stiff at your question. so you know
of course you do
mingi cups your face and locks eyes with you
“i won’t break,” you promise
“i know,” he smiles, pecking your forehead. “i’m afraid you will break me.”
your lips curl in a smile and he rests his forehead against yours
“are you sure about your choice?”
“yes,” you breathe. “i want you. i’m yours.”
mingi draws back
“i meant your choice of colour,” he tilts his head in the direction of the painting and the box of paint you picked for him
“of course you did,” you laugh at his attempt to distract you
mingi leans in to close the distance between your lips
it is soft and unrushed. you both have waited for the right moment, the right time for years and everything feels absolutely right at this moment 
you go first, asking him to join you in your bedroom and he agrees
he assesses the canvas once again
as a finishing touch, he sprays a final splash of yellow- the colour you picked for him
yellow for hope, for all the light in his dark world
The Overseer and his Shelter
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Wooyoung
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The Maniac
it has always been a cat and mouse game with you and wooyoung
you chase after each other, running in circles with no start or end
it’s almost as if you both have sworn to keep your eyes glued on each other, watching every move, anticipating what is next
someone’s lips curls up in a failed attempt to restrain a smile- a smile that drips with mischief and mockery
someone else’s eyes glint with threat and promise that this is not over, their fists curled in anger
you chase after each other like cat and mouse
only…you’re not sure who is the cat and who is the mouse
sometimes, it is you chasing after wooyoung
jung wooyoung, the son of one of the richest businessmen in town
a privileged piece of shit who is not right in the mind
a crazy bastard who has made it his life’s mission to not only drive you to the edge of the cliff but to push you and laugh in victory as you fall
he takes advantage of you being a criminal investigator 
some people jest that they can’t tell if wooyoung means to ruin your career or lead you to your promotion
with the amount of times wooyoung has gotten himself in trouble (and gotten away with it) he keeps your desk full of cases that you spend most nights investigating
while he keeps your hands full, what frustrates you to no end is that he almost always gets away with his crimes only because of his social standing and his connections
he gets away with petty crimes. he gets away with bloody fights that could very well have him spend one night in the station, cuffed 
he gets away with major crimes such as money laundering and tax evasion
no matter how much you try to investigate, you cannot
there are the warnings of your superiors who threaten to fire you because this is not your worry
and even if you do start to investigate, wooyoung’s team is quick to wipe any evidence of said crimes
you’re pretty sure that at this point, he might be hiding a body somewhere in his house
you wouldn’t be surprised. man once set his enemy’s mansion on fire
to make things worse, he got away with it- even when he was the only one grinning and playing with a lighter on his way out 
while the others scrambled like mice, he sauntered in style
he gets away with anything
you reputation at the station is already in shambles because of it
they call you his shadow at this point, considering how you are always following him
the truth is, you just want to wipe the shitty grin off his face for once
you want him to suffer defeat when you finally put him behind bars
you want him to chase after you like you chase after him
you might come off as delusional, but you’re half convinced that whatever wooyoung does is on purpose at this point- to get your attention
it wasn’t always like this, you and wooyoung
it started with a simple fight that broke out at a party where all the high-profile people were
someone was stupid enough to call the police- but you were more stupid because you went ahead and handcuffed wooyoung
you told him that you couldn’t waste this opportunity because you were investigating another case related to his father’s company anyway
and he? he laughed out loud like a maniac
you soon learned why, going home with the sound of your superiors scolding you still ringing in your ears
here you are, a few years and a lot of chasing each other later
except… you get something out of the chasing now
all he has to do is corner you. all he has to do is rile you up as he tells you why you lost this game yet again
with his burning gaze and honey voice, he pins you to the spot
with his fingers tracing the curves of your face, he tells you how much he loves you chasing after him 
as if he’s all that you ever think about. he might be right
“don’t you think we’re meant for each other?” wooyoung questions almost innocently, licking his lips subconsciously as he trails his finger down the curve of your neck until he reaches the first button of your shirt
“don’t think too highly of yourself, wooyoung,” you respond, your chest rising and falling in controlled breaths
you can not let him know the effect he has on you
however, wooyoung doesn’t need any sort of confirmation
you can try to keep your gaze steel all you want. you can attempt to sound sure and fake indifference, but the fact is that wooyoung knows
all he has to do is take another step forward and fill the gap between you two
his warm breath caresses your face and you gulp despite yourself
he watches you intently and squeezes your neck just a bit, causing you to part your lips for air and then he brushes the tip of his nose against yours
his other hand is slowly but surely unbuckling the belt of your pants and taking it off
you can only thank god in an ashamed relief that you’re in a private space- the space being one of the empty rooms in a random building on a random street because you had been tailing wooyoung
(at least the door is locked)
wooyoung brushes his lips against yours as your pants fall on the ground and pool on your feet
the sound that makes has heat rushing to your face- this should not be happening
you are a fucking detective and wooyoung is your target
but you can’t complain when his fingertips dance along your hip bones
all he has to do is swipe his fingers up your panties
upon finding them soaked (as usual), he smirks and you smack his chest
he catches your fist in his hand, though
“all for me?” he asks
in a matter of seconds, your lips are upon each other, tongues in each other’s mouth as you wrap your legs around him
he picks you up effortlessly and places you on a very dusty table
he gets rid of his clothes all the while kissing you expertly, aiming to please you, dominate you
he sucks on your lips, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on
and when he finally takes off all your garments, he has more places he can get his mouth on
“admit it, detective,” he breathes against your clit. “you’re obsessed with me.”
“get to work before i cuff you and fuck your brains out, wooyoung.”
wooyoung’s laugh echoes in the room as he recalls that night- a night he is sure he can never forget
“does that mean i get to experience that again if i stop now?”
you are moments away from your high- how dare he ask if he can stop?
he gets the hint and gets to work, and he makes sure he does a good job, licking and sucking at your clit until you’re screaming
for bonus points, he dives his cock inside right after and stays still as he starts to kiss you eagerly
this time, you’re the one who loses to him and lets him take control
you let him thrust into you. you let him praise you and humiliate you to no end
truth be told, you’re addicted to him. there is no going back from here
wooyoung knows how to use his tongue and he whispers sweet nothings
he is also surprisingly good at aftercare, even though you don’t accept it from him
well, you try not to, but he is insistent
he takes you home and he invites himself in
you go to the shower and he goes to your room to admire the effort you put into bringing him down
loads of files and a board full of his ‘accomplishments’ staring back at him- nothing he doesn’t know
“you think your daddy will help you if i start to investigate the slush fund you have?”
“which one?” is his response, and he grins widely as you gape at him
he can practically see the gears in your head turning and he adores that
it is a cat and mouse game after all. he must give you something so you keep coming after him
(and you must give him something so he keeps finding you too)
while you’re still processing what he just implied, your phone rings
you flinch when you pick it up, getting an earful from your team leader once again, because where were you?
you were supposed to tail wooyoung to confirm that he is meeting up with a notorious gang member who does his dirty work
the case you’re team is on these days is targeting the gang, and yet again… wooyoung is involved
so what the hell were you doing, your superior asks
“jung wooyoung did not meet up with the gang leader,” you say into the phone, your eyes fixed on wooyoung 
wooyoung has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face
“and how do you know that? i thought you lost the tail-”
“yes, i did lose the tail,” you bite your lips in thought- you can’t tell your team leader that wooyoung has a strong alibi this time-
but wooyoung goes ahead and snatches your phone from you
“detective lee,” wooyoung greets and you mutter a string of curses under your breath
you watch wooyoung charm his way through the matter
telling the detective that he was in a tight spot because of the gang they are investigating
and how it is a shame that a ‘civilised’ person such as himself is being linked to thugs
he tells him that he almost got attacked but you saved him, and you hid him in an abandoned building, being wise enough not to blow your cover 
you can’t tell how he does it, but by the end of the call, your team leader is fully convinced that you did a good job today and he even praises you when you take the phone back
when you end the call, you glare at wooyoung
“what?” he shrugs. “i needed an alibi.”
“is that why you took me to the building to fuck me? because you needed an alibi?”
wooyoung watches you with mild curiosity
“did you think it meant something else?” he asks
it would have hurt if he really meant it, but that’s the thing
you both know he doesn’t mean what he says, especially about whatever is going on between you two
he has risked his position and even his life far too many times just to get you alone and fuck you
so you only smile and shake your head in response before telling him to fuck off and get out of your sight
(and he does. not before a second round)
when he leaves, you watch his car disappear from the window before going to the board and updating everything you got out of him tonight
everything about his business and his crimes. everything to make your case on him stronger
it’s truly a wonder how much you can get out of fucking someone right and you’re positive you can see the end of this case now
though… you’re not sure if you will ever take this to court. but that’s something you’ll worry about later
for now, you will follow him like a cat follows a mouse
and he will chase after you like a cat chases after a mouse
The Maniac and his Shadow
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Jongho
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The Tyrant
it is always a little too cold in the building for your liking
the building that is choi enterprises, located at the heart of the city, standing tall with numerous floors, laden in luxury
it is a workplace and home to some of the people in this city and a symbol of something untouchable to the others
as you enter the building, accompanied by your secretaries and a guard, you instantly feel the temperature drop despite the warm tones of the interior
the employees that greet you may have smiles on their faces but it’s all an act. you can tell, because you know what a genuine smile looks like
choi enterprises somehow always manages to keep the most calculating people to themselves. it might be why the company has flourished so much in such a short period of time
“to the private elevators, miss,” a man says and you recognise him as one of the ceo’s personal staff
you follow him and tug your jacket closer, wishing you had worn it instead of draping it over your shoulders
you catch your reflection on the golden glossy door of the elevator and straighten, lifting your chin up
you will not be pushed into submission, you repeat for the umpteenth time
however, things are not in your favour this time
in this never ending game of business rivalry, you and choi jongho have never seen eye to eye. you always stand in opposition, defensive or offensive
sometimes, you manage to outsmart him while making a new business deal or scoring a new project. other times, he is a few steps ahead and wins the game
except when you lose, somehow, the loss is much greater and a bit personal
your company always suffers more when you lose, which is why this little meeting you are going to have with jongho is no less than a negotiation- a war, if you must
sometimes, you wonder if jongho has a personal grudge against you. these meaningless battles start to seem like an excuse to see you
if not, then why is jongho looking like he just won the lottery at the sight of you?
“as beautiful as ever,” he says, scanning your figure slowly
you don’t move an inch, pretending those words don’t affect you
the secretaries move to another room, leaving you and jongho alone
jongho gets up from his chair and moves to the middle of the room, motioning you to take a seat
you watch as he pours a drink for you, his muscles flexing through the coat he’s wearing 
you take the drink- you need something to calm your nerves
“i suppose the odds are not in your favour, considering you found your way back here”
an allusion to the time he said that you were meant to find your way back here again and again, that you were just a lost kitten and he was your master, controlling you
at that time, you thought he meant to spite you, but time after time, he proved himself right
you always find your way here, always as the opposition. this time, though… you won’t bend
“if the odds are in your favour,” you begin experimentally, downing the drink in one gulp and then pouring one for jongho. “would you like me to join hands with you?”
now this is new- jongho’s eyes slightly widen at your remark
“ah… how the tables have turned,” jongho started to chuckle lowly
you let him be for a moment, scoffing internally
jongho had earned the right title over the years since he stepped up as ceo of his father’s company
a monster of capitalism
known to be the owner of many questionable businesses, borderline illegal, evading taxes and having slush funds unashamedly, heavily involved in money laundering- the list goes on and on
a true financial villain- a true monster, yet… being able to get away with everything, unscathed. that’s who jongho is
he has bribed every soul who would dare go against him. and those who do not take the bribe? he makes sure they kneel
and you… you’re pretty close to being his next target- he did say you would look pretty on your knees for him
“is business not going well?” he asks, faking innocence. he knows
you are a rival company- seo enterprises. everything that jongho’s company is, but… more legal
your forefathers were once partners, and they created their independent companies without a hint of rivalry
they were the definition of true brothers (and partners in crime)
the difference between the values of your company came when you and jongho stepped up as ceo
you had made it your life’s mission for your company to earn a good reputation and moral image, while jongho seemed to have made it his life’s mission to simply conquer the world, no matter what or who the stepping stone is
“business is well,” you narrow your eyes at him. “it’s about the land in ilsan.”
jongho doesn’t seem surprised to hear that. it is always like this- he knows what moves you will make
“ah, the one where we are about to construct a gallery?” jongho asks
“we?” you repeat. “that land is a shared property. why have you not consulted us before going ahead and signing the documents? how could you begin this project without us-”
“the other option is selling it to the government because of the redevelopment project,” jongho leans forward, “and you know how much i despise the government getting their grubby hands on what’s mine”
you know he is right, and he knows that you are not here to argue about why he started this project without telling you
jongho relaxes back, considering all his options before deciding to strike. “you’re worried about your involvement in that project, is that right?”
“well,” you mirror his position, “i would like to keep my reputation clean unlike yours.”
he chuckles at that, proud of his deeds. “yeah, well, that’s going to be hard, sweetheart. that gallery is going to be an optimum location for storing money.”
you know what he means. the gallery is going to display priceless pieces of arts. those pieces are but a means of illegal transactions for the elites
you swallow your anger, taking a deep breath. “i’d like to have my shares back, then. before construction starts.”
“uh…” jongho gets up, fixing his clothes. “you’re going to have to convince me for that.”
“please,” you scoff, but he only shakes his head, ignoring that because he knows this ‘please’ was wholly sarcastic
“try harder,” he smiles mockingly before turning his back to you and moving to the window, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants and staring down at the city
a tyrant- that’s who he is
he expects to get the maximum output out of anything he set his eyes on, no matter the cost- money or lives
you join him by the window, pointing at a few spots. “that’s where people held protests against your company last week,” you tell him. “apparently, you have been exploiting labourers too.”
“that’s what they think,” he spits. “i gave them more than they deserve. they just never learn to accept. they never get pleased.”
you look at jongho- he sounds like he is saying the truth. he has the art of sounding like a victim at times, thus justifying his actions
“doesn’t all that venom in your heart make you dizzy?”
jongho glances at you, his lips threatening to curl into a smile at your words
“doesn’t it get tiring, pretending to be moral?” jongho asks, trying to read your guarded eyes 
“there’s no pretending. i never claimed that i was full of morals, mr. choi,” you sigh. “i just wish for my business to have a legal foundation.”
“and it will, you don’t have to worry,” he responds, curling a section of your hair that had been resting on your shoulder in his fingers
you don’t flinch at his touch. you’ve known him since the beginning, and nothing he does fazes you anymore- except when he leans closer experimentally, locking eyes with you and trying to read you
“you will get your shares, but you will have to convince me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper
it is a challenge. it is always a challenge with choi jongho
“why are you so obsessed with me?” you laugh this time, swatting his hand away
he joins, and everything almost seems normal for a moment- just two friends with too many inside jokes, except… it only lasts for a moment
“how can i convince you?” you ask, sombre
“you know what i want from you, y/n,” he replies in a similar tone
he wants a true partnership, except his idea of a partnership is where you bend to his will (and so is yours)
“don’t turn this into a legal battle, jongho,” you warn, “i would hate to summon you to court.”
“don’t turn this into a petty rivalry,” he counters, “you will benefit from this project. you reputation won’t be harmed.”
“i don’t want my name next to yours,” you tell him in all honesty and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes
“that is not possible,” jongho declares. “our companies are not mentioned without each other. we are fated like that, you and i.”
that is true. no one dares to touch the two of you, so you two have always been alone
there is no one you both can trust. there is no one next to you 
except the two of you are always together, wherever you go, be it business parties, political dinners, or high-profile events
you can only trust each other, because despite knowing everything about each other’s business, despite being at war with each other
you are always honest with each other- honest about your intentions and purpose
there is no one next to you because you two are always together, leaving no space for someone else
do you hate that? not really. does he hate that? he’s not sure
“you can buy my shares from me,” you start, “or you can shift them elsewhere. i can handle whatever loss comes with that.”
“or… you can let it be and use the revenue for something ‘moral’,” he taunts and silence envelopes the room
“no matter how much you try to maintain a clean image,” he starts, gentler this time, “you cannot undo the damage your forefathers have done to your company, y/n. seo enterprises will always be known as the company that exploited the weak to get to the top.”
you don’t wince at that, though your heart aches to hear that
“just like your company. except you are continuing in their footsteps,” you say
jongho nods, watching how your shoulders are curling inwards
“you are not weak, y/n, stand straight,” he almost scolds, taking you by surprise 
you find yourself straightening at his words, confused to see how conflicted he looks
“you are the strongest person i know,” he tells you, and he means it. “i just don’t get why you are atoning for their sins.”
“i don’t know either,” you smile in defeat. “i just am.”
“well, if you ever get tired,” he gently places his hands over your shoulders, “i am here for you. you can lean on me.”
you lock eyes with him, scanning his face. his smile seems genuine
the way he kisses your forehead makes your heart melt
when he embraces you, you lean on him physically
and you almost give in, except…
“i can lean on you, huh?” you say, soaking in the warmth of his body, taking as much as you can before you continue 
“so you can end my career, merge our companies and crown yourself king?”
you look up at him, finding him smirking
just like you thought
“not a chance, choi jongho.”
“how can you see right through me every time, y/n?” he laughs loudly as you smack his chest and move towards the sofa to grab your purse
“i’m the only person who knows who you are,” you tell him. “you can own the world, but you will never own me.”
his eyes glint almost dangerously
“challenge accepted,” he says
you mockingly wave goodbye before exiting the room
choi jongho never changes, and neither do you
but somehow… it gets more addicting and electrifying to be with him, to compete with him and to stand with him
even though he is a tyrant, and you are everything that he is not
The Tyrant and His Defiant Ally
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hoejosatoru · 2 years ago
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Skill Set - Haikyu men
What body part (hands, mouth, cock) haikyu men are best with. All characters post timeskip.
Can finger you like no one else. One of the few men who has not lost the fine art of fingering. His fingers are long and slender but so strong. They're callused from years of playing, but that only heightens your sensitivity. He finds your g spot easily, pressing into it until you’re soaked and needy. “Hmm, you like when I touch you like that, angel?” He toys with your clit until you’re right at the edge before plunging his fingers back into your throbbing pussy. Loves how easy it is to tease you like that. How fully in control he is over your pleasure with just a few touches. It’s such an ordinary part of the body, the hands, and yet his can pull the sweetest moans out of you like it’s nothing. “Go on and cum all over my fingers, baby. Wanna feel you squeeze ‘em real good.” Will literally play with your pussy for hours and absolutely will. 
Tendou (loves making you watch in the mirror), Kageyama, tsukki (particularly loves teasing & is a lil meanie), Yamaguchi (got all his tips from tsukki), oikawa, kita, goshiki, semi. The way its almost exclusively setters lmao truly no one is better with their hands.
Loves eating pussy so much. Does it for his own pleasure as much as yours. Does it in all different positions - missionary, face sitting, from the back. Literally doesn’t care as long as he gets to eat you out. He presses his tongue into your tight hole, wiggling the warm, soft muscle inside you. “Mmm, tastes so fucking sweet.” Sucks on your clit until you’re squirming away from him. But don’t think you’re going anywhere. He’ll grip your hips tight, flicking his tongue over your aching clit until you’re gasping and shaking. He loves when you get lost in it, rutting your pussy against his tongue. “Yeah, baby, fuck my tongue just like that.” He’s not happy until his face is covered in your slick cum.
Tanaka, Nishinoya (regularly cums himself while eating you out), Sugawara, Kenma (loves face sitting bc all he has to do is lay down and move his tongue), Suna (Almost made him a hands guy, but I get the vibes he’s so fucking good at eating pussy. The biggest tease and makes you beg for it), Terushima (the tongue ring alone tells you all you need to know)
Gives the best dick. He’s nice and big, making your pussy stretch pleasurable every time. He knows exactly where to angle himself to get you seeing stars. Loves pressing your knees up to your chest and getting himself so deep inside you. “Feel that baby? Feel me in your tummy?” A weaker man would bust when he felt your pussy squeezing him like a vice, but he has unrivaled restraint. He knows how to perfectly work you up with, slow, long thrusts, then finishes you off fast and hard snaps of his hips. He’s so strong and can put the most delicious weight behind each pounding thrust. “Fuck princess, feel so good cumming on my cock.” Expect to go multiple rounds.
Ushijima (he has the biggest, thickest cock), Asahi, Hinata (energizer bunny level stamina and will literally rut into until he physically cannot cum anymore), Sakusa, Aran, Atsumu (he’s so fucking cocky about it. pun not intended), Daichi
BONUS - The men who can literally do it all. Can finger you senseless, will eat your pussy for hours, and will fuck you until you can barely walk. All above applies to them
Bokuto (the best partner literally lives to pleasure you), Coach Ukai (look at this man and tell me he doesn’t know how to fuck. I dare you), Iwaizumi, Osamu (you just know Atsumu mad he is here over him), Kuroo
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sexy-monster-fucker · 9 days ago
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Santa, Baby
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Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT
Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.
cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,
a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao
~~~
It was the Saturday before Christmas.
Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.
Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.
The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.
As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.
His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.
“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.
What was wrong with him?
You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.
The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.
The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.
There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.
White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.
“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.
You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”
The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.
“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.
He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.
“Is that your name?”
Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.
His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.
Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.
You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.
Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.
Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.
He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.
You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.
Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.
Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.
The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.
Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.
“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.
He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.
You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.
Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.
Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.
Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.
He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.
But that would not satisfy him.
Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.
Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.
Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.
His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.
Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.
Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.
Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.
His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.
Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.
Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.
You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.
Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.
You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.
~~~
[END]
// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //
{tags}
@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids
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worldlxvlys · 9 months ago
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ANNA. GIRL. I HAVE THE BEST IDEA EVER.
ok, so I was just listening to one of the girls by the Weeknd and I need the filthiest, most pantie soaking, mouth watering, sheet gripping smut about chris based off that song. only if you want though LMAO. also probably really unpopular opinion but chris is most DEFINITELY the dominant one during sex. anyway love you pretty girl!!
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one of the girls
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fwb! chris sturniolo x reader
warnings: smuttttt, semi-public sex, roughhhh sex, choking, slapping, spitting, degradation, dumbification, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, squirting, fingering, overstimulation, humiliation, recording, cursing
a/n: have your holy water on standby y’all
lock me up and throw away the key
he knows how to get the best of me
chris and i’s friendship was anything but normal. to some, it may even be perceived as toxic.
but me? i loved it.
i trusted him enough to do whatever he wanted to me, no matter how extreme.
tell nobody i control you
i broke you just to own you
they can’t tell that i love you
‘cause you’re loyal, baby
he was possessive, but it was hot. we weren’t actually together, but by the way he acted when other guys approached me, you would think we were.
he didn’t want to see me with anyone other than him, and i felt the exact same.
nobody else made me feel the way he did, anyway.
nobody else understood how to test my limits without going overboard.
i love when you’re submissive
love it when i break skin
you feel pain without flinching
i allow him to do whatever he wants to, and in return he he gives me a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.
he constantly pushes me to my limits, it’s almost gratifying to know that i can handle more than i think.
though my masochistic ways can be alarming to some, chris understands. he never judges or questions the things that bring me pleasure.
all it takes is a simple, “i need a distraction” and he has me pushed up against the door, his hand wrapped around my neck.
his fingers wrap around my throat, constricting my airway enough to stop my breathing.
he waits until i look like i’m about to pass out to loosen his grip.
we don’t gotta be in love, no
i don’t gotta be the one, no
i just wanna be one of your girls tonight
it doesn’t matter who he fucked yesterday, or who he’s seeing tomorrow. all that matters is right now.
and right now, we’re at a party, where he has me bent over a chair on the host’s back porch.
“you forget who the fuck you belong to? letting him undress you with his eyes like that?” he struck my ass with the palm of his hand over and over, making me cry out.
“how do you think he’d feel knowing that i’m fucking you on his porch?” he asked as he thrusted into me roughly, pushing my hips into the wooden chair harshly with every movement.
i moaned uncontrollably, gripping onto the chair for dear life as he pounded into me.
deciding to play with him, i looked back at him and spoke, “bet he could fuck me better than you ever will”
we both knew it wasn’t true, but chris stopped his movements immediately, making me whine out.
“think we should go find him? let him watch me fuck your brains out?” he asked as he pulled me to stand up.
“no, chris! please, just-” he cut me off by smacking my ass.
suddenly, he spotted a camera that was aimed at a short table in the middle of the porch.
“hmm, looks like he keeps his home secure, baby. you think he gets alerts when there’s movement on his porch?” chris raised his eyebrows at me, pushing me to the table that the camera was aimed at.
“he’s gonna watch this back and see you get fucked like the dirty little cockwhore you are" he rasped into my ear as he placed me onto the low table on my hands and knees.
he held my arms behind my back as he began to fuck me from behind again.
a cool breeze filled the air, making my nipples hard and sending a shiver down my spine.
he gripped my jaw harshly, turning my face to look at him, “open” he spoke.
when i opened my mouth, he gathered his saliva in his mouth before spitting into mine.
i immediately swallowed, making him slap my cheek lightly.
“now look at the camera” he said as he gripped my jaw, angling it so i was looking straight into the camera.
he pushed my body down, holding my shoulder down as his cock continued to stretch out my tight walls.
“you better make a fucking mess all over this table, make sure he knows how good i made you feel” his mouth found its way to my neck, biting at the skin roughly.
“f-fuck, chris” i moaned as his fingers brushed my hard nipples, before squeezing them firmly.
he suddenly grabbed my throat with his hand, pulling me closer to him.
my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the feeling of his hand squeezing around my throat.
he circled my clit with his free hand, and my head fell back onto his shoulder in response.
“such a fucking slut, you love being fucked out here in the open, huh?”
“good, good, so fucking good, holy shit” all i could do was chant those words, not being able to concentrate on chris’s words.
“look at you, going dumb for my cock” he spoke as he continued to fuck his hips into mine.
i mumbled a string of incoherent curses in response, grabbing his bicep as i felt my orgasm approaching.
“you gonna cum?” he asked as he felt me clench around him.
“yes, yes, yes, yes” i chanted as my eyes rolled back and i released on his cock.
“fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up” he groaned before he did exactly that, shooting his seed deep inside of my walls.
he pulled out, quickly replacing his dick with two fingers.
“chris!” i moaned in surprise as he fucked his fingers into me.
“wanna see you squirt all over this fucking table” he growled into my ear.
his fingers moved so quickly inside of me, i could barely keep up.
i reached down to move his hand, but he wasn’t having it.
he pushed me forward, pressing my face into the table.
“it feel good? you like being fingered out here where anyone could see?” he asked as he added another finger.
“yes, yes, oh my god” i cried out as i felt another orgasm coming.
“yeah? then fucking take it” he said.
“chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled as my body shook violently on the table.
“oh my god” i yelled as my juices shot out of me.
“i know you have more, ma. give it to me”
he continued to move his fingers inside of me, watching as the liquid continued to pour out of me, making me scream.
“fuck” i breathed out when his fingers stopped , allowing me to catch my breath.
chris helped me off of the table, helping me to fix my dress so i was covered again before fixing himself up.
he left for a second, coming back with paper towels to clean up our mess.
“hey, you good to get home by yourself? i got something to do” he said, looking down at his phone.
more like someone to do.
“yeah, go. have fun”
with that, he kissed my cheek and left.
we don’t gotta be in love, no
i don’t gotta be the one, no
i just wanna be one of your girls tonight
💋💋💋💋
masterlist
tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07
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sunahsvt · 2 months ago
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—FLOWERS FOR YOU.
kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader
+ angst and fluff, childhood friends to lovers (guess how it ends lmao)
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other tags: just mentions of love making (idk im bad at these), small cases, not entirely canon
word count: 2.2k
note: came back from writing after a good 3 years. this is NOT proofread and was written within 6 hours so it's just word vomit TT
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DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS
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you love receiving flowers.
at first, you thought it was a such a waste of money. this thought rooted from the fact that you're not from a wealthy family. you weren't poor either. middle class, they would say.
you just turned 8 years old when you realized money doesn't grow on trees. when your parents bought you cake, but when your classmates had their birthdays, they would throw princess parties— cake, flowers, toys, and all.
you didn't want to sound ungrateful, so with a smile, you blew the candles and thanked your parents as they hugged you. regardless, you were grateful with what they can give you.
kuroo was the first one to give you flowers— or should you say, a flower. it wasn't a bouquet, but it was, in fact, a flower.
you both just met at a playground. his family just moved in the neighbourhood yesterday, and thanks to the soft chatters of your mom's neighbour friends, you heard he's the same age as you. the shy person you were, you sneaked out of your house to play in hopes you'd meet him there. (you had no idea what he looked like or what his name was.)
you were on the swings. you've been waiting for a solid hour. at 4:30pm, your parents would have realized you weren't in your room. it was almost dark out and dinner would be ready.
at 4:50pm, you decided maybe he has no interest in playing at the park. you were about to get up when a boy with spikey black hair came running towards you. you took a few cautious steps back before he could reach you while you also noticed the rose in his hand.
"hi! im tetsurou!" he exclaimed, attempting to hide the rose behind him. he sure can't hide things, you thought.
"i just moved here," he swiveled his body just to point where his house was. "it's that one with the white roof!"
although you already knew which house he moved to, you were trying your best to look for it from where you stood. he was much taller than you for someone of the same age.
distracted, the rose that he tried his best to hide from you earlier was now right in front of your small face.
"a rose for you!" he said as he smiled so brightly you almost squinted. hesitant and confused, you took the rose from him anyway.
"y/n," you muttered.
"i saw a rose on the way here and thought maybe i could give it to someone," he explained. "you're the only one here so maybe it's destiny!"
a small smile formed on your lips, fidgeting the rose's torns. maybe it is destiny to wait for you for that long. you're careful not to prick yourself.
you played together for a while because at 5:00pm, the sun was already setting and you thought maybe receiving flowers wasn't so bad after all.
since then, you and tetsurou were inseperable.
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tetsurou gave you another flower shortly after that. he had surprised you with a small makeshift bouquet with three roses wrapped in colored paper.
unlike last time with smiles and bright energy, he gave it to you in a sheepingly manner while muttering a "happy birthday". he added that he kept a silent promise to himself that'd he'd get you at least two flowers, better than last time.
you smiled, your smile reaching your eyes. he was so proud of himself from your reaction. you also noticed the torns were scrapped off. this made your heart swell even more with joy.
"where have you been getting these though?"
he scratched the back of his head, "you know that garden next to—"
"i knew it!" you laughed. you told him to stop stealing your poor neighbour's garden of roses before he gets caught. that lady had the nastiest attitude, you warned. all he did was pout.
a month later, tetsuro got caught stealing roses from your neighbour's garden, and he never attempted to steal the roses ever again. that lady has a nasty attitude, he went to you right after he was scolded by your parents. you shook your head, trying your best not to laugh and tell him "i told you so."
after that mishap, he decided he'd get creative instead. so the next time he gave you flowers, it was purely made out of colored paper. the kuroo tetsuro, at 9 years old, did arts and crafts all on his own and at his own will at that. it took him a whole month just to finish 12 paper flowers.
"why do you keep giving me flowers?"
"i like you, silly."
at 9 years old, you realized you loved receiving flowers.
if the paper flowers wasn't creative enough, tetsurou had given you flowers made out of all sorts of materials: crepe paper, post-it notes, clay, satin ribbons, pipe cleaners, papers from books (don't worry, not out of his text books), and so much more. all of them were so beautiful.
at 10 years old, he gave you a bouquet of flowers made out of crochet yarn. he even told you it took him months to learn how to crochet, master it, and finish the entire thing. little did he know, whenever you visit his house, you could see the crochet yarns, results of failed attempts of crochet flowers, and crochet tools hidden away in one of his cabinets left slightly ajar. he sure can't hide things, you chuckled to yourself.
flowers of all types made out of all kinds of materials were given to you, and all of them you happily received from tetsurou. until at 15 years old, when he had saved enough money for all the years he had given you diy flowers, he surprised you with a bouquet mixed of all types of real flowers after your first day of high school. this is why you can't seem to have a favourite flower, he noticed that too.
"you sure you don't have a favorite flower?" he asked again.
"i'm really coming out blank," you were carrying yet another bouquet of flowers and crochet coin purse he made, walking home together after his volleyball training. "i love all of them the same."
"how about me?" he teased.
you giggled, "but you already know that i love you!"
"we'll make it official someday," he promised.
you nodded, contented. i may not have a favourite flower, but "just because" flowers from you are always the best.
after the both of you turned 17, you two made your relationship official, deciding why wait when both of you were certain you have the rest of your lives to love each other plus bragging rights for that.
on his last year as nekoma's captain and middle blocker, you watched from the sidelines how nekoma lost against karasuno, concluding his last game in high school.
at 18, you gave him a bouquet of flowers of red roses wrapped in mixtures of black, red, and white cellophane. touched, he cried yet again in your arms. kenma and his other teammates watching the two of you from a far, smiling with tears in their eyes waiting to spill.
at 19, you both got accepted to your dream universities. you also got accepted at a cafe for a part time job, whereas tetsurou got accepted in his university's volleyball team. all is well.
on your 3rd anniversary, you both celebrated at an art cafe museum. he had given you a promise ring (soon to be engagement ring, he teased), a handwritten letter, and of course, a bouquet of flowers.
three down, a lifetime to go, part of the letter says. the whole night you both expressed just how in love you were with each other. you actually saw the shreds of the receipt of the ring he purchased under your shared bed. he still can't hide things, you chuckled.
at 21, when both of you graduated uni with flying colors and when he decided to go pro, things started to change.
when the flowers you would receive weren't personally given from tetsurou in the flesh, and instead, they were delivered at your office or at your shared home. when the "just because" flowers turned into "i"m sorry" flowers— "i'm sorry i was late last time" flowers, "i'm sorry i'm never home nowadays" flowers, "i'm sorry i can't update as much", "i'm sorry i can't make it" flowers.
it all became too much.
you were starring at the engagement ring on your finger— one of tetsurou's 5th anniversary surprise— when the doorbell rang. you dragged your feet to the front door, already know what to expect.
by the 10th flowers you received via delivery, you stopped counting. sometimes when tetsurou disappointed or upset you, he would either facetime you, give you flowers, or in rare times, he would be radio silent— not a single text or message or call. because how can he notice you were slowly fading away when he was so busy all the goddamn time?
this cycle repeated over and over again for 2 years. you can tell he tries so hard to keep communicating with you. he loves you that much.
it was 4:50pm, the sun was almost setting and you were in your car waiting for him at the airport. his team was miraculously given a month off to rest from the constant training and leagues. he kissed you as soon as he got inside, putting his things at the back seat. he handed you a single rose made out of paper which was colored with, as you can tell, a red marker.
this was the first time in 24 years that he gave you a lone flower instead of a bouquet.
"i bought you a lot of things! i remembered you mentioning them!" he beemed.
before you could say "you didn't have to" he pecked your lips, wiggling a finger at you. "i missed you. let me you love you just how i have been doing so for the past 24 years."
so for a month, he did. he made it up to you so well, showering you with kisses the moment you wake up and the moment you fall asleep, making love to you in every part of the house, telling you stories and becoming such a loser in love when he expresses how much he loves you all the while rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand, or you being wrapped up in his arms. not a single milimeter of space between the two of you. most of the time, he would do everything, from cooking to cleaning.
when you would eat out together, he would always give you the princess treatment. you barely lifted a finger during the whole month of his stay.
on his last day before he had to leave for overseas again, you wondered when will you ever get married.
and so when he made love to you that night, when he kissed you goodbye, when he texted again that they just landed, you had a sickening feeling in your gut.
for a few weeks, everything was fine until he gradually became radio silent again. this time, he rarely delivered flowers, or called, or texted. this time, he was mostly a ghost.
the first message from him and flowers via delivery was given to you a day late on your birthday, and that's where you decided you just can't do this anymore.
you prolonged it for weeks, even after he said he won't be having any oversea activities for a while. it just wasn't the same anymore. he was still never home.
"i love you," he said out of the blue, his eyes downcasted. all these years, he's still bad at hiding things from you.
"i love you, tetsurou," he turned his head to look at you, dreading what you would say next, "but i think we should break up."
he tried. you both tried, but it just didn't work anymore. maybe it was destiny to wait for you for so long— but that doesn't mean it works. for 24 years, you loved each other so much— but that doesn't mean it works.
after crying in each other's arms, he let you go.
you had the rest of your lives to love each other— but from afar.
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a year and a half after the break up, you were sitting at a cafe, waiting for the blind date your friend at work set up for you. kenma was against the whole idea, but he realized you had the right to move on from kuroo. you and kuroo both did. the two of you were his best friends after all. it was just sad how he had to witness the both of you barely functioning after the break up, all the while doing his best not to talk to you or kuroo about each other.
so when a boy with dark brown hair went inside, quickly approaching you, you thought this was a bad idea.
"are you y/n?"
you nodded slowly, eyeing what he was holding. your heart was in your throat.
his eyes shone, handing you the bouquet— yellow daffodils and red roses.
at that moment you thought:
you hate receiving flowers.
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general masterlist | haikyuu masterlist
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS. feedbacks, comments, and rbs are appreciated!
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squiddy-god · 2 months ago
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If asks are still open can I request savanaclaw with a bf who is quite literally a golden retriever? (Their a golden retriever beastmen) make it nsfw if you want but that's up to you.
I decided to keep this as cute and fluffy but i really like the idea, i was torn between having reader be a member of savanaclaw  or themes till being the ramshackle prefect who happened to come from a world with similar beastmen. I left it ambiguous but yeah ♥︎REQUESTS OPEN♥︎ cw : none, fluffy, male reader!,
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Leona 
At first he thought you were an annoying dog because like, cats and dogs haha
But he warms up to you, his silly puppy
The real grumpy x sunshine trope over here, honestly you can be a bit rambunctious sometimes but he just wants to cuddle 
You seem to just have a 6th sense for finding where he is lol like you can just automatically know where he is 
Will never admit it but the happy look in your eyes when he calls you a good boy for doing anything kinda makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside
Same with when he sees your tail wag when you see him 
You can pry that from his cold dead hands tho
He really values the loyalty that you have 
He is not immune to puppy dog eyes so use that info however you want 
Claims that cuddling when you let him scratch behind your ears helps him sleep better, he's a dirty liar and just wants to pet you 
Has never gotten used to you basically pouncing on him when hes napping but makes you pay in cuddles so its fine
Thinks its really cute if you do the thing dogs do when they sleep and chase things in their dreams 
He calls you “puppy” and “mutt” affectionately but if anyone else was to call you either he will be having words (read : hands) with them. 
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Ruggie 
He loves this actually 
He ends up roping you into all of his schemes because you two always seem to be together, where one of you is the other is close behind 
He loves how sweet you are, and he often makes you food as a little treat
I think he would like having little matching charms, his being a golden retriever cham and yours being a hyena because obviously 
Favorite activity is flopping your ears because you are too adorable really 
He loves when you get all excited and run up to him and almost tackle him with a hug 
Yapper x yapper 
Teaches you the true ways of the puppy eyes so that you and him can tag team leona lmao because again he is not immune to puppy eyes
You become his little helper for everything and he loves rewarding you with treats and cuddles because you are in fact his goodest boy 
I think his nickname for you would be goldie because ya know golden retriever 
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Jack
The two goddess boys 
He thinks you are so cute because he is a wolf beastman and you are just a doggy lol, 
He would never admit that but its super obvious with the way his tail is wagging furiously 
Its cute because when you two hug or kiss both of your tails are going absolutely bonkers 
I think he likes to play wrestle like dogs do, but the whole time hes trying to be gentle because again he's a whole wolf lmao 
Can't hold your hand without his tail going nuts because he sees your tail going nuts and he gets embarrassed 
Another one where you can tackle him with a hug, but unlike ruggie he will just catch you lmao 
If you try to be intimidating he secretly thinks its also cute because he really sees you as too cute
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dear-ao3 · 3 months ago
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hey wait im also new to f1 but i saw the other ask and i was curious abt what you meant when you said no one will ever do it like nico rosberg?? also retiring after your first championship win is insane lmao what a power move
nico rosberg is just. he’s insane. he’s cunty. he’s wonderful. he possesses sass and audacity unlike any other. we unfortunately do not have time to get into his whole story (my lunch break is only so long) but here’s some highlights:
-technically he’s a nepo baby. his dad, keke rosberg, won the world championship in 1982 and they remain one of the Few father son duos to both win a world championship (don’t ask me who the others are idk but i know they exist)
-he and lewis hamilton met when they were kids in the late 90s sometime and were gokarting teammates at some point in i think the early 2000s? (not fact checking i don’t have the time rn) and they were Besties. they’ve talked about this before, mostly in older interviews, but the gist is that both of them were outcasts from the other karting kid in opposite ways (nico was the son of a champion and rich and lewis was from nothing and pretty much the only poc most of the time) and that drew them together and they were Menaces according to legend. everything was a competition and they trashed hotel rooms and ate pizza and ice cream and kellogg frosties and went to greece and dreamed of being in f1 together
-nico signed with williams in 2006. his teammate was mark webber. and nico had long flowing blonde hair (this is important). he crashed at one race and mark webber said “britney’s in the wall” cementing the nickname britney, like britney spears. jenson button (another driver) said later on that they called nico britney because he was “very pretty” (do with that what you will)
-he was just. insane. cunty. constantly looked like a european bond villain. wore god awful shoes. whole bit. once he stayed in his car when it got craned off the track cause he didn’t want his hair to get wet. which is insane cause he’s wearing a helmet it would have gotten equally as not wet had he gotten out.
-anyway, lewis made it to f1 in 2007 and they had their first podium together i think that year (?) and it’s cute and fun and oh boy you’re not ready for what these two have coming
-lewis won the championship in 2008 (but he almost won in 2007, his rookie year) at mclaren.
-nico went to mercedes when they recentered the grid in 2010. his teammate was michael schumacher, who was fresh out of retirement. (yes the michael schumacher, 7x world champion). michael fucked with nico endlessly according to legend, including making him piss in a bucket pre race because he would hog the bathroom until the last possible second. nico still out preformed him most of the time, and the car was mid as hell.
-michael retired part 2 at the end of 2012. and who replaced him but lewis hamilton
-so the two of them were teammates again. the cards were absolute Stacked against them. because yes they were besties yes they’d known eachother forever but the first person you’re judged against is your teammate. and you’re trying to beat your teammate. and lewis already had a championship. nico wanted a championship.
-2013 was relatively chill. the car was kinda mid. they did well but not fantastic and did some fuck ass pr (highly reccomend looking those videos up)
-2014 they had a car that could win. and they started fighting eachother for wins. they played all kinds of mind games against eachother and withheld stats and nico ran illegal engine modes (supposedly) and lewis said they were no longer friends after nico supposedly wrecked his monaco qualifying one year but they claimed they still supported eachother and were friends off track. lewis won in 2014 and in 2015. but nico was right behind him and he wanted to win a championship, he didn’t want to be a number 2 driver
-so in 2016 nico did some insane shit. he stopped sleeping with his wife so that he could get better sleep or something, he did weird things to cut weight, he basically did everything and then some to win. and then he did. he won the championship and then at the prize giving ceremony announced he was retiring. he didn’t tell lewis this.
more after i get off work :)
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ketaundkrawall · 6 months ago
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Licky ☽。⋆ Joost Klein
Summary: Joost knows you reposted that edit.
Warnings: smut, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), female masturbation, voyeurism (blink and you’ll miss it), sub!reader, fluffy ending, cuddles with Joost okay I need that 🥺, no use of Y/N, afab!reader
WC: 1.3k
A/N: so here it is, my second fic 🥹 hope you guys like it lmao. Also this man and THIS FUCKING EDIT have a chokehold on me 👹 Also I will probably do a part two of Keta und Krawall :p
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18+ under the cut!
Sundays at home were the best. And they were even better when your boyfriend was at home and not somewhere out on tour.
Joosts head was resting on your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso as you listened to his slow, steady breathing.
It was still very early, the sounds of birds chirping outside and the soft tapping of the rain against the window had a calming effect on you.
Giving up on sleep, you turn to grab your phone and open TikTok. Turning the volume down, so you wouldn’t wake your sleeping boyfriend, you start to scroll through your For-You-Page.
Liking some trends people were doing and watching tons of those little John videos with his galvanized steel wood veneers, you soon got bored.
Just as you scrolled again, you thought it was just a simple edit of some actor you liked, your eyes widened.
That wasn’t some actor. It was your boyfriend who was flashing before your eyes on your phone screen. And he looked absolutely stunning.
Biting your lip softly you clicked the little save button in the corner before watching the edit a few times more.
Joost was stirring on your chest slightly, opening his eyes slowly. As he looked up at you they were still heavy with sleep.
A soft sigh escaped your lips. “Didn’t mean to wake you sorry.”
Shaking his head he softly looked up at you. “You didn’t m’en meisje (My girl).”
The nickname made you smile. You loved when he talked Dutch.
“Good.” Leaning forward you pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Let’s take a shower.”
Getting out of bed you watched him stretch and pulling the covers off himself. He was only wearing some boxers to bed and they didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Wanna take a picture?” He grinned as he got up. Snapping out of your daydream you rolled your eyes. “I don’t need a picture. Having you home is enough for me right now.” A soft smile played around your lips as you wrapped your arms around his middle looking up.
His arms wrapped around you, finding the small of your back and pulling you slightly closer into a loving hug. “Ik hou van jou (I love you).” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
Being with him for quite some time now, you understood some Dutch. Not everything, you still needed some help and practice. But hearing that sentence almost everyday, you knew what he said.
“I love you too.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling away. Taking your hand he pulled you into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.
Few moments later both of you were naked and standing under warm flow of the water. A few kisses were shared every now and then.
You were just so happy Joost was home again.
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Later that day, Joost was running some errands, you cuddled up onto the couch and opened TikTok again. That fucking edit didn’t leave your head the whole day. Clicking on your saved videos you clicked on the one you saved.
Groaning you closed your phone and covered your face with your hands. Starring at the ceiling for what felt like hours your hand slowly found its way down your body.
You could already feel yourself getting wet.
Soon enough your fingers brushed over your already soaked panties. The thought of Joost touching you made you moan softly as you pushed the fabric out of the way.
Imagining it were his fingers circling your clit you arched into your touch, your other hand finding your throat, squeezing it softly.
Being so lost in your own pleasure you didn’t notice the door open.
Leaning against the wall Joost watched your fingers pump in and out of your pretty little pussy, grinning to himself. His jeans instantly tightening.
“Enjoying yourself I see?”
You insanely froze in your position on the couch, eyes widening in shock as you looked into your boyfriend’s blue eyes which were clouded with lust.
“I-“ Your throat suddenly felt very dry.
Closing your legs you were quick to get up. As you tried to walk past him he held you back by your arm.
Leaning down he kissed just right under your ear. “I want you to get naked and wait for me on the bed, got it?”
A gulp and a nod. “J-ja (Yes).”
You had no idea what would happen next but you did as you were told. Walking into your shared bedroom you were quick to take off all your clothes. Sitting on the edge, you waited for Joost.
After 5 minutes or so he finally walked in, eyeing your naked figure up and down. “Schitterend (Stunning).” He mumbled.
Blushing you looked down at your hands. As you heard his belt snapping open you looked up again and there he stood butt naked and absolutely ravishing.
“Open your mouth.” He whispered and grabbed your jaw softly. “Wanna feel your pretty lips around me.”
With a desperate whine you did as you were told. Holding your head in place Joost softly pushed himself in the wet and waiting warmth of your mouth, groaning in the process. “Fuck that’s my good girl. Making me feel so good.”
You could basically feel your pussy dripping with need at his words. Looking up at him through your lashes you wrapped one hand around his shaft and started to bop your head up and down his length, working the rest that didn’t fit with your hand.
Eyes watering your gaze met his. He softly pulled you off his hard dick. “Lay on your back. Need to fuck that pussy now.”
“Fuck yes please I need you so bad!” You whined as you laid down. In no time he was on top of you, teasing your entrance with his tip.
Wrapping your arms around his neck you looked deeply into his eyes. “Ik hou van jou (I love you).” You whispered and brushed some hair out of his eyes.
Leaning down he captured your lips into a sweet and passionate kiss before pushing himself all the way inside you, making you moan into the kiss.
Pulling away, Joost started to kiss down your jaw while fucking inside of you. His hands found your breast, pinching your pebbled nipples and making you arch more into his touch.
Grinning against your skin his hand wandered further down your body, rubbing right circles on your swollen clit.
“Look at mijn mooi meisje (My beautiful girl).” Joost whispered. “So good for me. So close.”
Your foggy mind couldn’t really comprehend what he just said so you just nodded, a soft “close” coming across your lips.
Your boyfriend gave you a cheeky grin. “Cum mijn hart (my heart).”
That’s was all it took for you to come undone unter him. Squeezing his cock tight, as your slick coated it.
His thrusts got slower as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, here it comes.” He said releasing everything he had, painting your walls with his cum.
A warmth spread across through your abdomen, making you shiver.
Giving you another kiss he pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact.
Laying down beside you he pulled the covers over you, pulling you into his side.
“That was amazing.” You said and looked up at him. “I missed you.”
Joost smiled down at you. “I missed you too.”
Pressing a small kiss to his chest, he takes your left hand in his, playing with your fingers.
“Jij bent de liefde van mijn leven.”
Your head turned to look at him. “What does that mean?”
Kissing the tips of your fingers Joost gaze softened. “It means you are the love of my life.”
“Really?” Your cheeks flushed. He gave you a nod.
“Oh and you reposted that video by the way. I saw it on TikTok.”
-
A/N: thanks again for reading to the end :p also my requests are open so pls don’t hold yourself back ✨
758 notes · View notes
frudoo · 4 months ago
Note
Somehow managing to tie Ghost to a chair, you just wanna play with your Lt's dick. Too bad(?) for you, he's good at breaking ropes.
I would love to be utterly wrecked by him
Warnings: Ghost is sick of your shit. SMUT, slight degradation, unprotected PIV, fem!reader. Overuse of italics lmao. MDNI.
It wasn’t easy, getting the Ghost to submit to you. It took months of breaking him down, getting him to trust you, to love you the way you love him. But now, with his wrists bound behind the chair he’s sitting on with those darkened brown eyes glaring at you through the mask, you can genuinely say it was worth it. Absolutely, most definitely worth it to see this huge man trembling beneath your gentle touch, whining when you refuse to give him attention where he needs you most. 
     “Fuckin’ ‘ell, love, just fuck me already,” he grits his teeth when you run your the tip of your tongue along the dimple between his bare pectorals, purposefully avoiding his puffy nipples. “I can’t feel m’arms.”
     “Do I need to gag you, Lieutenant?” You raise an eyebrow, dragging your tongue down his tensing stomach, dipping it into his navel to hear him gasp ever-so-slightly. 
     Ghost huffs in annoyance, bucking his hips up against your palm as you press it against the bulge in his jeans. He’s twitching, throbbing into your touch, precum already leaking through the layers of fabric. You’ve been teasing him for the better half of an hour, ignoring his pleas, but his entire neck and face has now turned a bright, vibrant red. It would be cruel not to give him some kind of relief at this point. 
     “You want me to let you out, baby? Hmm?” You coo, a faux sympathetic pout curling your bottom lip downward as you allow your fingertips to slip past the waistband of his boxers.
     If he was a dog, his ears would have perked up at your words. His broad chest starts heaving as he nods frantically, trying his hardest to hold back his desperate whimpers. 
     “Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me,” Ghost hisses, fists clenching behind his back when you remove your hand from his body altogether.
     “Mmm, not very nice, Lieutenant,” you tut mockingly, crossing your arms beneath your naked tits to push them together, showing off the cleavage he’s aching to lick. “Say please.”
     His jaw tenses, but he’s not one to turn down a direct order. 
     “Please.”
     “That’s more like it,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the chin of his balaclava while your nimble fingers work to unbuckle his jeans. 
     Finally free from its suffocating confines, his heavy cock bobs wildly as he lifts his hips to aid you in pulling off the rest of his clothing. His tip is so irritated it’s nearly purple, and you almost feel bad. Almost. You shimmy closer to him between his spread legs, taking his fat dick in one hand and resting the other on his muscular thigh. You run your teeth along the length of it before wrapping your lips around his entire girth and bobbing your head rapidly.
     “Fuuuck,” Ghost groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he throws his head back. 
     You hum around his sensitive cock, hollowing your cheeks to give him better suction. His legs are already trembling, sweat dripping down the entirety of his wide body as he bucks his hips up, trying to push himself deeper into your tight throat. You work him up until he’s right at that blissful edge, but before he reaches his peak, you pull your mouth off of him with a wet pop. A furious sob escapes Ghost’s throat and this time, you really do feel bad. 
     The remorse doesn’t last for long, though. You barely have time to scramble out from between his legs before he’s breaking free of his restraints and standing at his full height to tower over your frozen figure. He cracks his neck as the ripped rope slips down his bulging forearms and falls to the ground. He approaches quickly but silently, grabbing your waist and manhandling you onto all fours. 
     “Little fuckin’ minx,” He rasps, positioning himself behind you and running his cock through your already slick folds. “Think it’s fun teasin’ me like tha’? Huh? Struttin’ around with nothin’ on, shovin’ your tits in my face while m’all tied up an’ can’t touch you.” 
     He smacks the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, snickering at the way you yelp and push your ass further back, enticing him. He clicks his tongue, holding your hips still. 
     “Greedy, greedy,” Ghost teases, giving each of your asscheeks a sharp slap. “Why should I give it t’you, hm? Think y’deserve this cock after torturin’ me?”
     “Please,” you whine, “Ghost, please, I’m sor- ah!”
     Your plea is cut off when he feeds his entire length into your drooling pussy, stretching you out painfully but filling you up so, so full. It’s too much and yet not enough, the way he lets his tip hit the plug of your cervix before pulling out until you’re empty. He repeats this a few more times, spanking you in between each pump. 
     “Aw, wha’s wrong, baby? Need me t’fuck you?” 
     Pitiful babbles of yes, yes, yes spill from your lips, and finally, Ghost pushes inside and stays there, pulsing in sync with the clenching of your needy walls. 
     “Say please.”
     Fuck, you’re in for it now.
723 notes · View notes
gureumz · 1 year ago
Text
liar, sweetheart
rating: explicit
member: sunghoon
premise: your best friend, benj, is a twin but he's the complete opposite of his brother. his brother, sunghoon, is all kinds of sleazy, or so you've heard. knowing about your big fat crush on your best friend, this sorry excuse of a twin brother agrees to put in a good word, in exchange for a good fuck, of course.
notes: fem!reader, dom!sunghoon, sort of rivals-to-lovers, unprotected sex, slight breeding, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation, praise, clothed sex, accidental voyeurism, sunghoon is two people here lmao, lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: fifth entry for my 1k follower special! we're in the endgame now, people. one last after this and my 1k event is ending. how did that happen :') anyways, i really got back into my writing groove for this one so i hope you all enjoy!
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"what do you think of sunghoon?"
your ears perk up as you turn your head to give your best friend a look.
oh, benj. sweet, sweet benjamin park.
awkward but in a cute, boyish sort of way, tall almost to the point of gangly, but handsome in the way supermodels were.
benj is a figure skater, a very good one at that. he's at the level where if he did well enough, he'd be international news tomorrow. you've seen him skate and to you, it was nothing short of mesmerizing.
oh, you. clueless, utterly clueless you.
honestly, it was all so predictable.
a situation right out of booktok's latest favorite friends-to-lovers novel by some up-and-coming author. the comfortable silence, the memorized starbucks orders, the pining, oh, the pining. booktok lives for the pining.
sitting here in benj's room as he casually games, fingers lazily moving over his ps5 controller, you realize just how utterly shortsighted you were.
of course you'd fall in love with your best friend. it's law. it's fate. a canon event, as the kids say.
but, you're getting out of topic here. right now, benj is asking you about his twin brother.
"what do you mean?" you ask, swiveling around in the office chair by benj's desk. benj is perched on his bed, leaned up against his headboard as he plays.
"like...what do you think of him...?" benj repeats, as if in an attempt to rephrase his question but ultimately failing.
your forehead creases even more.
"you have to be more specific than that," you chuckle.
benj pauses the game, setting the controller down. he shifts on his side so he can get a better look at you.
"do you like him?" benj deadpans, raising an eyebrow.
you nearly choke on your own saliva.
sunghoon. benj's twin brother.
the younger twin, as benj always reminded. your thoughts drift to the other park brother, complete in all his dark clothes and equally dark hair.
while benj afforded himself the preference of dying his hair an icy blonde, sunghoon kept his own hair jet black. benj wore sweaters and cardigans and loose-fitting shirts, but sunghoon wore button-ups, with the first three buttons popped open, paired with jeans ripped to the heavens.
benj is the shining star in this family, a star figure skater, an overachiever. sunghoon battles his way around ice hockey, dabbles in dance, keeps his triumphs to himself.
benj is the sun, while sunghoon is the moon. yin and yang.
you get the picture.
oh, and sunghoon is a complete asshole. benj is not.
"he's okay," you finally answer. benj looks at you like he's waiting for more.
"that's it?" benj asks after a second.
you roll your eyes. "i don't know what you want me to say. i barely talk to him since i spend most of my time with you."
benj cocks his head to the side, as if curious.
"weird," he says. "he asks about you all the time."
this piques your interest.
"he does?"
benj shrugs, returning his attention to the tv. he picks the forgotten controller back up, resuming his game.
"yeah. asks if and when you'll be coming over," benj explains. he shoots you a quick side glance.
"you're not hooking up behind my back, are you?"
you physically recoil at benj's words, the idea initially repulsive to you.
"absolutely not," you practically spit out. "he's not my type."
benj bursts out laughing, his eyes forming cute crescents as he does so.
"you basically just called me ugly with that," benj points out, eyes unmoving from the tv screen.
you stutter for a second. "that's not what i meant. it's just—well we're not close, at least not like how we are and—"
you sigh, cutting yourself off. you've embarrassed yourself enough, you think.
benj shakes his head, one side of his mouth turning up in a half-smile.
"okay, no need to explain, ______. i was just asking," benj says. "but the way you're so defensive about it is raising a few questions, not gonna lie."
you rub exasperatedly at your temples.
"i am not sleeping with your brother."
---
"hey."
you nearly jump a foot back in surprise. looking up, you're met with the stern gaze of sunghoon, black hair falling over his eyes. he's wearing one of those compression shirts, ridiculously tight against his toned upper body.
you turn away before it gets weird.
"oh, sorry, is benj home?" you ask, peeking momentarily past sunghoon.
"he's at training," sunghoon informs. "didn't he tell you?"
you glance at your watch. "he said he'd be done by now."
sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "well, he's not."
your mouth falls open, your mind momentarily going blank. you shift your expression to one of stony resolve.
"you know what, i'll just come back. sorry to bother you," you say, already turning away.
"i didn't tell you to leave, did i?"
you turn back, giving sunghoon a look. you stare hard, noticing just how much he resembles benj. but some things differ, naturally.
an extra beauty mark. the slightly sharper upturn of his nose. the seemingly eternal frown on his face.
"you can come in," sunghoon says with a sigh, stepping aside. you duck your head as you cross the threshold.
"and don't be so uptight next time," he adds. you can practically hear the smirk as he says this.
you glare daggers at sunghoon and he's still smiling as he closes the door behind him. he crosses his arms and studies you.
he leans back against the door and you straighten yourself up as much as you could.
"what's your problem, sunghoon?" you ask, planting your hands on your hips.
"what's yours?" sunghoon replies. you feel a twinge of annoyance spark in your chest.
"nothing," you emphasize. "and that's exactly it. i don't have a problem but if you don't stop acting like that, i might just have one soon enough."
"acting like what?" sunghoon questions, tilting his head to the side.
you swallow. you rack your brain for something to say, and don't be mistaken, you have a lot, but it's like your train of thought has halted altogether.
"like...that," you say, gesticulating vaguely with your hands.
sunghoon laughs, a hand coming up to run through his hair. you watch him, observe as his muscles shift beneath that stupidly tight, stupidly attractive shirt.
...what?
"are you this jumpy with my brother?" sunghoon asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his grey sweatpants.
"i don't follow," you say, taking a step back. being close to sunghoon seems suffocating now, as if the air is stuffy with something you can't quite put your finger on.
"of course, you don't," sunghoon mutters under his breath.
it takes everything in you not to punch him square in the jaw.
"you like benj, don't you?" it's more of a statement rather than a question and it's so unexpected to you, you nearly stumble back in surprise.
"what?" is all you can say.
sunghoon snorts as if your confusion is oh-so-amusing.
"no need to deny it, _______," sunghoon reassures. "everyone with one working eye can see it."
you decide to stay silent. maybe if you don't react, sunghoon would drop the subject.
sunghoon seems satisfied with himself as he grins, nodding to himself, probably mentally patting himself on the back for his 'detective work'. he brushes past you and you get a whiff of his perfume and what you can assume is his body wash.
fresh. powdery. clean.
you wait a second before you hear his bedroom door close.
you let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding.
your phone vibrates with a notification and you're relieved to see it's a message from benj.
'are you at my place yet? i'll be home in a few. sunghoon will let you in. sorry, love u!'
you smile to yourself as you lock your phone.
---
you couldn't stop thinking about it.
were you really that obvious? or is it just some twin telepathy that's why sunghoon could tell? could benj tell?
you sit up, careful not to jostle anything in your immediate vicinity. you peer up at benj's sleeping figure from where you're situated on his spare mattress, positioned on the floor right next to his bed.
he seems to be deep in slumber, shoulders rising and falling steadily. you swallow, realizing how parched your throat has gotten. you get up on your feet, treading carefully around benj's room to get to the door.
you exit, walking down the hallway of the parks' penthouse apartment, trying to make as minimal sound as you can. you round the corner to where you know the kitchen is and you immediately stop in your tracks.
"shit—" you curse, startled by the figure standing by the kitchen island.
your eyes adjust to the dim lighting and you realize you've come face to face with sunghoon.
"hi, _______," sunghoon greets. "fancy seeing you here."
you huff, approaching the refrigerator. "ha ha. you scared the shit out of me."
you hear sunghoon laugh quietly from behind you.
you take the ice-cold pitcher out of the fridge, setting it on the counter before walking over to the cupboards where the parks keep their glasses.
you can feel sunghoon watching you, aware of the burning attention. you can feel your neck prickle with it.
you pull the cupboard door open and it's only now that you realize you can barely see. afraid to just reach in and possibly knock over and break something, you pause, willing your vision to adjust even more to the low lighting.
"hey, can you turn on the—"
your words are cut off when you feel warmth press up against your back. you flinch, watching with wide eyes as sunghoon's arm braces itself against the countertop in front of you. he reaches over you, his breath tickling the top of your head.
you shiver involuntarily.
you turn to face him, pressing yourself fully against the granite behind you. sunghoon pulls a glass down from the cupboard, handing it to you. his arm is still planted firmly to your side, half caging you in.
"here," sunghoon says.
you can just make out his face in the low light, his scent invading your senses once more. you take the glass from him and he steps away, freeing you.
you wordlessly return to the center of the kitchen, pouring yourself the water you desperately need. and boy, do you need it.
you gulp down mouthfuls of it, unsure why your legs are suddenly weak, your knees threatening to give out.
"hey," sunghoon calls out. you pause, turning to where he's still standing by the cupboards.
he has the same easy stance he had earlier in the day. leaned back, arms crossed. even in the dark, you can feel him staring.
"what?" it comes out a little more harshly than you'd like and you wince.
"do you hate me or something?" sunghoon asks brusquely.
once again, you find yourself rendered speechless by sunghoon.
"no," you answer simply, setting your glass down.
"then why don't you hang out with me like you do with benj?" sunghoon asks, approaching you.
"because benj is my best friend, you're not," you respond. sunghoon stops right in front of you and you have to crane your neck to meet where you think his eyes are.
"your best friend that you're in love with," sunghoon says, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"that's not true," you deny.
sunghoon snickers. "sure, keep lying to yourself, sweetheart."
you inhale at the term of endearment.
"you know, i never understood why you got closer to him but you stopped spending time with me altogether," sunghoon muses. "the three of us grew up together, remember?"
you do.
the afternoons spent in the local playground. you and benj sat on the swings while sunghoon pushed. you and sunghoon on the seesaw while benj attempted to balance in the middle (much to their mother's horror). the twins hiding while you played seeker.
a smile tugs at your lips at the memory. and then it falters just as quick.
"you were the one who stopped hanging out with us," you say, a little accusatory in the way you did. "you had newer ice hockey friends and when middle school rolled around, you decided those girls were worth your time more than us."
'more than me,' is what you wanted to say. but you swallow it down.
sunghoon stays silent at this. after what you estimate is a minute, he sighs.
"sorry," is all he says.
you shake your head. "it's okay, we all drift apart from our childhood friends at one point."
sunghoon steps even closer. you can feel him now. a strange crackle of electricity tickles your fingertips.
"that's not the case with you and benj," sunghoon observes.
it's your turn to say nothing.
"i can help you," sunghoon suggests. your head snaps up as you try to process sunghoon's words.
you can see him now, illuminated by the faint hallway lights behind you. sunghoon's looking at you, expression unreadable.
"help me?" you parrot back. sunghoon nods.
"i can help you get with benj, if that's what you want. plant the seeds, so to speak," sunghoon explains. "he is my twin brother, after all."
you consider this for a moment. there's no denying the giddy feeling you get in benj's presence. the comfort it gives you when you spend the whole day together. the butterflies in your stomach when he beams at you, all bright and shining.
this should be an offer you can't refuse.
"i just have one thing to ask of you," sunghoon cuts through your thoughts.
"what?" you ask.
sunghoon pauses, turning away as if gathering his own words.
"do you ever feel that there's this weird...thing between us?" sunghoon asks.
your whole body seems to stiffen. your hands turn cold, clammy.
"like tension," sunghoon elaborates. "something you can't really explain."
"no," you answer a little too quickly.
sunghoon chuckles. "there you go again, lying."
you avoid sunghoon's gaze, staring hard at a spot behind him where his shadow dances against the cabinets.
"if you agree to...try this thing with me just this once, i'll help you get together with benj," sunghoon concludes, bending lower so he's in your line of sight.
unable to avoid him any longer, you look into sunghoon's eyes. he's much clearer now, your eyes well-adjusted to the dark. he's looking at you, expression soft, unlike the other times you've come face-to-face with him.
"so, you're offering to be my wingman, but only if i let you fuck me?" you string your words out carefully. "is that it?"
sunghoon sighs, shrugging. "basically, yeah. sounds fucking weird but you can always say no."
"it is weird," you confirm. you cross your arms as you narrow your eyes at sunghoon.
"can't we just skip the part where we fuck and go straight to the part where you help me?"
sunghoon grins down at you, dipping even lower so you're eye level with him.
"it's as if you don't know me at all, _______," sunghoon says lowly. "that hardly seems fair, sweetheart."
you grit your teeth.
"besides, do you want to skip the part where we fuck?" sunghoon presses on the last word, holding your gaze as he said it. you feel a warmth spread all over your body.
you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. your mind is at war with itself, warning you that this is a bad idea. if you get together with benj after, what then? take the secret that you fucked his brother to your grave?
"just this once, and when we're done, you'll help me, correct?" you say, raising a brow at sunghoon.
sunghoon nods. "exactly."
you pause. you want it. what 'it' is, you're not so sure.
you reach your hand out.
"deal."
sunghoon grasps your hand in his, squeezing firmly. his fingers envelop yours easily, your palm almost cartoonishly smaller than his.
and he's warm. so warm.
your eyes meet his and it's like something snaps.
you feel sunghoon grasp at your waist and your own arms come flying up to wrap around sunghoon's neck. he kisses you fervently, harshly, desperately. you respond with the same enthusiasm, pulling him closer to you.
sunghoon pushes you against the fridge, the contents rattling within. you gasp as the cold metal presses through your thin pajamas, but sunghoon drinks in any noise from you with his mouth.
"fuck," sunghoon mutters softly.
"god, ______," sunghoon continues, hands splayed against your back, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck.
"sunghoon," you whisper, clutching onto his wide frame. you mewl softly when you feel him suckle on a spot just above your collarbone.
you pull sunghoon away from your neck, guiding his face back to level with yours. you kiss him some more, a strange feeling bubbling within you.
it's making you want more of sunghoon, as if your whole being craved him.
you hear a soft click of a door opening somewhere down the hall and your eyes fly open, your hands forcing sunghoon off you. he jumps back as well, a panicked look on his face.
footsteps echo in the hallway and a voice immediately follows after.
"_______?"
benj. it's benj. his voice is thick with sleep and you look over at sunghoon, eyes wide with alarm.
"i-i'm in the kitchen," you call out. "just needed a drink."
you rush out of the kitchen and into the hall, running right into benj's firm chest. he catches you before you stumble and he holds you at arm's length, looking at you through half-closed eyes.
"there you are," benj says with a laugh.
you let out a nervous giggle of your own, gently pushing benj back towards his room.
"i'm right here," you assure him. benj rambles on about hearing noises from his room and you quickly dismiss it as you just messing around in their kitchen.
just as you herd benj back into his room, you look back down the hall and see sunghoon sauntering casually towards his own door. he catches your eye and winks, stepping quietly into his room.
---
"i know what you were doing last night."
you stop dead in your tracks, hand frozen in midair just as you're unwrapping your hair from your towel.
you had just stepped out of the bathroom adjacent to benj's room, dressed in his shirt and your shorts from yesterday. it's the morning after your little tryst with sunghoon and you were nearly a hundred percent sure you had successfully lied your way out of an explanation to benj.
it turns out, you haven't.
"you were hooking up with sunghoon, weren't you?" benj says, looking at you expectantly.
you put on your best attempt at an appalled expression, eyes wide an lips turning down into a frown.
"no, i wasn't," you muster up with as much disgust as you can.
benj just laughs. "i've lived here for nearly half my life, ____. i know the sounds of this house better than you."
"well, you thought wrong," you argue, busying yourself with brushing through your hair. you keep your eyes trained on the full body mirror in front of you, setting your sight on your own face.
benj comes up behind you, looking at you as if he could see right through you.
you think maybe he can.
"you're such a bad liar," benj accuses.
"i would never hook up with your brother," you protest, raking through your hair aggressively. you're getting antsy and you pray that benj would just drop the subject.
"why not?" benj questions.
you look at his reflection, scowling. "i don't like him like that, benj."
"hooking up with him would feel like hooking up with you," you add. 'a red herring, yes,' you think. 'distract him, make him feel weird for even asking.'
benj gives you a look. "what's so bad about that?"
you stare open-mouthed at benj. a million thoughts are flying through your head and something pinches at your chest.
"you're my best friend, benj," you try to reason. "that's weird."
"and hooking up with my brother isn't?"
you groan, letting your head fall into your hands.
"i didn't hook up with sunghoon!"
benj nods, pouting as if not fully convinced. "okay, whatever you say."
he steps out through the door, leaving you in his eerily quiet room.
you sigh, turning back to your reflection.
"not yet," you whisper to yourself.
---
"aren't you leaving yet?"
you look up from your phone and you're met with sunghoon peeking through benj's door. his hair is damp and you can smell his aftershave from where you're sprawled out on benj's bed.
"nope," you reply curtly, turning back to your phone.
"you've been here two days," sunghoon points out, stepping into the room. you ignore the jolt of excitement in your gut.
"i'll leave once benj comes back from training," you say.
"oh sure, then the two of you will get caught up again in whatever nerd things you do, and then it's the evening and you'll stay another night, walking around in your skimpy pajamas," sunghoon rambles sarcastically.
you narrow your eyes him as you sit up. "what's wrong with my pajamas?"
"they make me impossibly hard, _______. that's what's wrong," sunghoon admits, expression unchanging.
your eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. "that down bad, huh?"
"nah," sunghoon replies nonchalantly.
"whatever you say, sweetheart," you say, throwing the pet name back at sunghoon.
sunghoon lets his eyes travel over your body, expression darkening, and you feel every hair on your skin stand up under his unrelenting gaze. you shift around, unsure of what to do with sunghoon's undivided attention.
you watch as sunghoon approaches, his jaw set as he pauses right before benj's bed. he meets your eyes and before you know it, sunghoon is crawling over you, stopping once he has you caged in between his arms.
"you're seriously not thinking of fucking me on your twin brother's bed, are you?" you whisper. you're nearly nose to nose with sunghoon now.
"i am," sunghoon answers simply before kissing you, effectively driving you back against the plush mattress.
the same bubbling feeling reappears and you grab at any part of sunghoon that you can, hooking your legs around his waist. he grunts against your mouth and you feel him harden against your core.
"this is my shirt by the way," sunghoon grins against your lips. "benj stole it from me a while back."
you moan at the thought of it. you feel sunghoon reach under your—his—shirt, chuckling when he feels the absence of a bra. he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading as he continues his assault on your lips.
"lose this," sunghoon commands, his other hand tugging your shorts down harshly. you oblige, reaching down to discard the piece of clothing along with your underwear.
"but keep this on," sunghoon adds as he kisses along your jaw, referring to the large shirt swallowing your frame.
you kick off your shorts and underwear the same time sunghoon pulls back to undo his own joggers. he throws them off to the side unceremoniously before hovering back over you, his eyes scanning every feature of your face.
"if you're so in love with benj, why are you about to sleep with me on his bed?" sunghoon asks, his fingers trailing down delicately from your chest down to your stomach. you flinch, fighting the urge to curl into yourself at the ticklish feeling.
sunghoon continues down towards the space between your legs, wasting no time swiping through your folds. you gasp, back arching as sunghoon rubs up and down, finger circling teasingly around your entrance.
"you talk too much," you counter, voice shaking. "are you gonna fuck my brains out or what?"
sunghoon sneers, shoving two fingers in without warning. you yelp, turning to bury your face in benj's pillow. it smells like him, but you barely register that, seeing as his twin's fingers are knuckles deep in you.
"go on, run your mouth like you always do, slut," sunghoon taunts. you involuntarily clench down at his use of such a degrading word and sunghoon notices, of course, his mouth curling into a smirk.
"should have known you were into that," sunghoon wonders out loud. he moves his fingers in and out of you, pumping his thick digits into your wanting hole.
you clamp a hand down on your mouth, suppressing every noise that threatens to escape you.
"let me hear you, pretty, come on," sunghoon coos, prying your hand off your face. "it's just the two of us here."
you bite your lip but let yourself be heard as sunghoon continues to fuck you with his fingers. he curls them up inside you and you thrash about, the pressure building within your abdomen.
"gonna cum already? you're so fucking easy," sunghoon comments, leveling his face with your cunt. he blows softly against your clit and you cry out in pleasure.
you feel the wet heat of his tongue press against your bundle of nerves and coupled with sunghoon's fingers, you can't help but curse loudly at the sensations.
"shit, sunghoon!" you whine. "yes, just like that, please."
sunghoon wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and running his tongue over it alternately. you feel like you're about to lose your mind. you're seconds away from orgasm and you barely have any time to warn sunghoon.
"i'm gonna cum, sunghoon i'm gonna—"
you're cut short by your own loud moans as you feel yourself come undone, your whole body seizing up. you grip at the sheets beneath you with one hand while the other reaches down to thread through sunghoon's hair. you hear him grunt against your pussy as you tug at the strands.
eventually, you relax, easing up on sunghoon's hair. he comes up to face you, his mouth glistening with your release. he licks his lips, smirking at the way you watch him with awe.
"you still with me?" sunghoon asks with a raise of his brow. you nod weakly, hands coming up to cup at his face.
sunghoon leans down to kiss you tenderly and you moan as you taste yourself on his lips. he moves his lips against yours slowly, savoring each pass of your tongue over each other's, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away.
you peek down and see that sunghoon's cock stands red and angry against the black of his shirt.
"fuck me raw," you say before you can stop yourself.
sunghoon's eyebrows shoot up.
"are you sure?" he asks.
you nod, angling your hips up. restraint be damned, you want sunghoon and you want him now.
sunghoon chews down on his bottom lip as he lines himself up against your dripping hole. he coats his tip with your juices and you throw your head back as he teases you with his leaking cock.
"please," you whisper.
sunghoon presses a kiss on your cheek. "i got you, angel."
you feel him push in, stretching you out more than you anticipated. your mouth falls open in a silent moan as sunghoon slowly but surely bottoms out. your heart races and your mind loses all coherent thought. all you can register is that sunghoon feels like he's splitting you open with his dick.
"fuuuuck," sunghoon drawls into your ear.
"so fucking tight and so fucking good," he continues, bracing himself on either side of you. he moves his hips experimentally, pulling out then thrusting in and the two of you moan at the same time.
"give it to me," you pant, pulling sunghoon closer. "don't you dare hold back."
sunghoon grunts as he snaps his hips forward. you whine and moan like a whore as sunghoon fucks into you with reckless abandon. he keeps his eyes on your face, observing every expression that passes over your features.
"look at me," sunghoon orders as you let your eyes flutter close. "i said, look at me."
you obey, peering up at sunghoon through your lashes. he grabs your jaw as he hammers even harder into you. you cry out brokenly as you feel him deep within you. he's like a man starved, eyes wild as he takes you like this. rough and uncaring and oh so desperate.
"waited so long for this," sunghoon grunts. "to have you moaning and begging under me."
you feel tears prickle in your eyes, half from sunghoon's sharp nails digging into your cheek and half from the way his cock repeatedly punches against your cervix. it hurts but it's a pain you'd like to savor.
"god," sunghoon says, his face scrunching up in pleasure. he momentarily closes his eyes as he moves his hips even faster. he turns back to you, and by this time, your tears have escaped, streaking your face.
"fuck yeah, cry for me," sunghoon curses. "my pretty slut, weeping over my dick."
"oh, fuck—"
it came so suddenly, so unexpectedly that you can physically feel your body jolt. your second orgasm of the day rips through you, brought about by the filthy words escaping sunghoon's mouth. you hear him practically growl above you as he stills, your cunt clenching down so hard he's unable to move. you feel him twitch inside you and a second later, the warmth of his cum follows, shooting deep inside.
you're full-on crying now, mind hazy from pleasure as sunghoon catches himself before completely crushing you with his weight.
you wrap your shaky arms around sunghoon's shoulders, stroking his hair as the two of you calm yourselves down. sunghoon pulls out a minute later and you wince, immediately clamping your legs together to keep all of him inside you.
sunghoon plops down next to you, breathing heavy as his eyes stare at the ceiling. you hug your knees to your chest, hoping that nothing stains benj's sheets.
"fuck, that's a good girl, keeping all my cum in," sunghoon says through breathless chuckles. you groan, swatting at his chest.
"get tissues or something," you demand weakly, rolling over to your side. sunghoon pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.
"later," he murmurs, kissing you on the forehead. "just wanna hold you."
you hum in agreement, letting your eyes droop close. the two of you lay there, unmoving for a few minutes.
you initially think it's your imagination but you can hear faint footsteps coming down the hallway from outside benj's room. just as your eyes fly open, a loud knock thunders against the door.
"are you done?" comes benj's muffled voice from the other side.
"as much as i wanted to stay and watch, that might not be something you guys are into, so i gave you your privacy," he continues.
you and sunghoon look at each other, clearly panicking.
"but please, for the love of god, don't do it on my goddamn bed next time!"
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javierpena-inatacvest · 8 months ago
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Haircut
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Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.
Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)
Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)
A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!
Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist
“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers. 
“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair. 
“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface. 
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.” 
“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.” 
“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.” 
“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?” 
“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. 
“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. 
“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.” 
“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion. 
“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip. 
Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth. 
“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.” 
Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago. 
“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.” 
“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair. 
“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised. 
“Do your worst, Peña.” 
That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds. 
While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life. 
The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more. 
“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 
You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 
“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 
“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you. 
“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke. 
“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure. 
“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.” 
“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?” 
“M-me.” 
“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart. 
You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him. 
At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice. 
“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” 
“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).” 
Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.
“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 
Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.
After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 
“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him. 
“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.” 
The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you. 
“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.” 
“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.” 
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taglist:
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lixiesfreckless · 9 months ago
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Into It | b. c.
➸ synopsis: the california sunset looks pretty damn good when you're on the hood of Chan's car.
➸ starring: bang chan x female reader
➸ word count: 3k
➸ general content: best friend!chan, car sex, drunk sex, chan is lowkey obsessed with you, mutual pining, dirty talk
➸ warnings: lots of swearing, sexual content, alcohol consumption, mentions of california(LMAO east coast on top)
➸ rating: 18+ MA
➸ author’s note: another oldie but goodie! also I don't even bias chan but I literally went insane writing this so what does that mean-
♫ into it- chase atlantic
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Far away.
You feel like your mind is so far away.
The engine roars in your ears as you and Chan zip around the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, convertible top down to let the wind whip through the vehicle. 
Your hand dangles outside the car door, lazily twirling a half empty bottle of beer in your fingertips as you fully sink into the car seat. Your thoughts are fuzzy, his music is loud, and the breeze is enough to keep you from getting too hot. 
This is as close as you can get to bliss.
Palm trees lining the road, orange and magenta in the sky, hell— if heaven didn’t look like this, did you even want to go?
The car slows down enough for Chan to make a right turn, angling the two of you to a desert close to where they host raves and concerts every summer. By the time the current song stops playing, Chan is pulling the convertible off the road, driving over hardened clay and rocks until he’s about 50 yards away from the asphalt.
“Pass me one of those,” he says, putting the car in park and slumping into the seat. You reach down to the six pack of beer near your feet and pass one to him, bringing your own bottle up to your lips as he takes it.
The guy sticks the cap between his teeth, cracking it open with a sharp twist of his arm, and flicks the cap into the cup holder.
“That’s one way to crack open a cold one,” you chuckle, taking another swig.
“Too bad I’m not with the boys…” he sighs, narrowly dodging a swat from your hand as he laughs.
“Hush, I’m better than the boys.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the troubles of the week dissolve under the tangy taste of the alcohol and the bass from the speakers.
You can’t remember exactly when you started spending your Friday nights like this, driving to random places in the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Usually you’d prefer to spend your nights indoors, but with him, it was never overwhelming. He was your weekly dose of adventure, and you became addicted easily.
But how could you not when he was so…Chan?
He always knew what songs to play, what you felt like talking about, what kind of view would cheer you up— he became someone that knew you better than your best friend, even.
And there was something so disarming about his vintage band tees, beat up converse, blond curls and dimples— especially his dimples. They were a weapon and he used them.
And they reappear right as you notice you’re staring at him. Serves you right for zoning out in his general direction.
“Something on your mind?” He chuckles, and you pop the passenger door open, shaking your head.
“Nope. Just need to stretch.”
You walk around to the front of the car, and the shell dips slightly once you perch on the hood.
This beer is defective, you decide. Alcohol is supposed to blur your thoughts, not sharpen them.
And yet all you can think about is the man moving to lean against the front of the car, standing just a foot away from you.
Your mind pretends not to notice the way Chan’s gaze lingers on your lips, almost glazing over every time you take a swig from the bottle in your hand. Your body however, burns. Reacts like water on hot oil. It feels like every cell is dancing in the remnants of the sunset when he looks at you. 
It might just be the alcohol though.
You lean back and lie on the hood of the car, using your hands as a makeshift pillow behind your head as you watch the sky turn an even deeper shade of pink. Chan takes one glance at you and takes a long sip of beer as he quickly looks away, pushing the sight of your shirt riding up your torso far back into his mind. The…things he could do there-
“Shit, how many of those have we gone through,” you mumble, lazily shifting your eyes up to the sky.
“Uh, four?” Chan glances back at you, mentally cursing at the way your face matches the sky above, dusted with pink. He doesn’t know it’s from you staring at his arm veins. “We have water in the back if you want some-”
“No, no I’m good.” Your voice sounds like honey to him; maybe he should pass the bottle back to you, just so you’ll stay quiet. “Just feeling more than a little buzzed.” 
“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, and the huskiness in his voice practically pokes you in the side. “Now would be the best time to do something crazy then.”
“Something crazy?” You laugh out loud, then sit up slightly on the hood, leaning back on your elbows. “There’s nothing but desert for miles. What are we supposed to do-”
Your sentence stops dead in its tracks as your eyes meet with Chan’s, the heat rushing to your gut all at once as the wind blows his blond curls into his eyes. He doesn’t even hesitate this time; his eyes wander lower and lower on your face until they land on your bottom lip, trapped between your teeth. 
“God, why do you always do that…” he whispers, shifting his gaze back to the road.
…What? 
The wind whistles in your ears as you feel them growing hotter, unsure what to make of his sudden statement.
“Do…do what?” He looks back at you with tortured eyes, as if you’re the only water in the California desert.
“Bite your lip like that; it makes me think-” he stops and drains the rest of the bottle in his hand, then leaves it on the hood and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m gonna turn the music up.”
Your eyes follow him as he trails along the side of the car, and you feel a certain window of opportunity beginning to close. Summoning most of your courage, you jump off the hood and walk up behind Chan, waiting for him to finish messing with the stereo before tapping him on the back.
“Yeah?” He turns around and barely has any time to think before you’re pressing on his shoulders, pulling him down slightly as you crash your lips onto his. He immediately catches your waist, letting out a surprised muffle that dissolves into a sigh as he pulls you against him.
You break apart after a moment, lips still tingly and buzzing with excitement, but you wonder if you’ve made the right decision as you look up at Chan, who still has his eyes closed.
“You’re drunk,” he whispers, finally looking down at you with a flushed face.
“Not drunk enough.” You twist the shoulder seams of his shirt between your fingers in consideration. “I’m sober enough to know that look. And if you don’t do something about it, then I-”
“You want me to do something about it?” He pulls your hips tight against his, and now that you’re leaning on him, you can feel the bass from the car reverberating through both of you. That combined with the buzz of the alcohol and his hands on your bare midriff nearly sends you over the edge, but you keep your composure.
And by that you mean you pounce on him— you love his voice, but you’re tired of talking about something you could be doing.
If you both were a little less tipsy, the kisses would probably be less frantic. But neither of you seem to care, hands grabbing at each other desperately as you search for better ways to pull each other closer.
“You have no idea,” he pants between kisses, “you have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” You shudder into his lips, raking through his blond locks and tugging at the ends as Chan’s grip tightens on your hips. He takes a sharp inhale before picking you up, waiting for you to latch your legs around his torso before he slides his arms under your legs. As he walks around the car, you both never separate; you’re actually surprised when you feel the cool metal of the hood come into contact with the backs of your thighs.
He nestles himself between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs and tracing the distressed hem of your denim skirt as the bass of the song picks up. You’re lucky you’re on the hood and not the trunk; the subwoofers vibrating against you would have been too much for sure. 
He pulls away from your lips, dipping his head to catch his breath as he pants into the crook of your neck. To him, this is insane. He has you on the hood of his car. He has you on the hood of his car.
How is a man supposed to think straight in this situation? 
Meanwhile, his hot breath on your neck is driving you to the brink of insanity. Just a raise of your shoulder and he’d be kissing it. Shoot, he could make you crazy with his fingers just an inch higher too.
“Chan,” you whisper, not realizing how close your breathy voice was to his ear, and the last of his resolve practically evaporates off of him.
“Y/n…” his nose follows the curve of your neck as he makes his way up to your face, “tell me if I need to stop, I just…”
He hooks his hands around your knees and pulls, effectively pinning your hips together in a casual display of strength, and you gasp before he seizes your bottom lip between his, sucking and biting until a soft moan slips from your lips.
“Fuck, make that sound again,” he groans, hands sliding back up your thighs to the hem of your shirt. You relent, no longer keeping your sighs and sounds of pleasure to yourself as his hands slide under your crop top, around to your back.
He makes quick work of your bra, releasing the tension around your ribcage before sliding his thumbs along the underside of your breasts. Just thinking about all of the things he could do to you has both of you buzzing with anticipation, panting against each other’s mouths.
His thumb just barely grazes your nipple and you swear you see the world begin to tilt.
You don’t know what it is; normally a gesture that small wouldn’t elicit such a reaction out of you, but the alcohol in your veins and the bass under your thighs seem to bring every motion of his straight to your core. And usually you’d be embarrassed at how loud you are, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he continues just like that, both thumbs barely putting any pressure on the peaks under your shirt.
Your head lolls back slightly, and Chan wastes no time in licking a thin stripe up the column of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.
“Ideally, I’d want to take my time with you, but right now…” his voice is thick with lust as he flicks both of your nipples, and you jolt forward. “I don’t think you’d want me to.”
“Chan, please,” you gasp out, wanting to press your thighs together, “get on with it already.”
He obliges you, hands sliding down to your skirt and then back up under it, looking for the edge of your panties. Once he has them, he pulls them down and over your Nike blazers, tossing them into the convertible onto the passenger seat.
He then reaches behind you, pushing two empty bottles off the car as he presses you flat against the hood. The sound of the bottles breaking against the rocky terrain is barely registered by you though, you’re more focused on Chan’s free hand snaking back up your skirt.
Curses slip out of his mouth once his thumb brushes across your clit; he’s more than shocked to feel just how soaked you are, but you shake your head vigorously, catching his attention.
“Skip it,” you say breathlessly, looking directly into his eyes. He understands instantly, coffee colored eyes practically turning coal black seeing your desperation.
The sky seems to swirl different shades of purple and pink as the wind feathers over your body, and just past the contrails in the sky, you can see the stars beginning to poke their faces into the rosy backdrop.
There is a very real possibility that you are dreaming all of this.
But the sound of his zipper being pulled down snaps your senses into focus, and the possibility of Chan fucking you under a sky like this seems more urgent.
The next minute flies by, and before you know it Chan is lining himself up at your entrance, checking that the condom is on properly before lifting your skirt to your hips.
His eyes flicker to yours momentarily, and you nod before relaxing fully, letting your head rest against the hood as he holds onto your hips tightly.
And then you instantly tense up once he starts pushing into you.
It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to slide in without really touching you, but the hiss he draws between his teeth tells you he’s not really focusing on that.
You’re focusing on how you didn’t catch a glimpse of him before he put it in, and now your entire lower abdomen is tingling in excitement over just how much of him there is. Silly how you were trying to sober up for this moment, only for you to feel high all over again with him fully inside you.
“I- shit, okay wow,” he hisses, dragging himself out and back in slowly. “You’re so warm, god-”
You can’t even respond, you’re so occupied by the feeling of his ridges along your walls that your fingers are already looking for something to grab onto.
Somehow in the haze of it all, you still want to urge him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his waist and watch as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed mid-thrust.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, picking up the pace and holding your hips tighter as you whine, feeling him finally start to brush one of your sensitive spots.
Chan cannot process the scene playing out in front of him. You’re draped over the hood of his car, taking what he’s giving you so easily, face flushed and hair falling over your face from the wind. Your shirt is halfway up your torso, but your skirt is up six inches too high, high enough to see where he's sheathing himself inside of you. He couldn’t make this up if he tried.
The pressure building inside of you jumps to the next level once his hand slides up your shirt again, gently rubbing circles over your nipple as opposed to the faster thrusts down below. Your back arches into his hand as you gasp, squeezing your thighs around him tighter as you do so.
“Chan,” you whine, scratching your nails against the car, and a few more curses tumble out of his mouth as he stares down at you. 
“You’re so good y/n,” he pants, snapping his hips against you now, “better than I- ah, I imagined.”
“You’ve thought about this before?” You’re cut off by another moan; it’s a miracle how you can even speak.
Chan doesn’t reply; instead, he hooks his hands under your knees and drops them on his shoulders, then scoops his hands back under your hips and pulls them to his with a quick snap.
“I’ve thought about this before,” he says with a wicked grin, hitting you at just the right angle to pull a sharp gasp out from your lips.
“Oh my god, there-” you moan breathlessly, pressing your hands flat onto the hood of the car as he pounds into you relentlessly.
The sky is spinning. Your heart is pounding. You wish you could focus on something, anything other than the spongy part of you that Chan is hitting to the beat of the song under you, just so you could last a little bit longer. 
But the sight of him with your legs around his neck, eyes closed with strands of gold wisping across his face, the look of pure ecstasy painted across his cheeks, ensures that you have close to three seconds before the knot in your stomach unravels.
“Shit, don’t stop,” you say as you feel yourself coming undone, back arching into your release which only makes Chan pound deeper, heightening the intensity tenfold.
He cries out once you clamp down around him, spitting out random strings of curses until he’s emptying his restraint into the condom, slowing down his thrusts as he finally opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you.
He looks nothing short of ethereal with the now purple backdrop of the sky, framing his blond locks with lilac clouds as he slowly pulls out of you, doing his best not to overstimulate you. You almost tell him not to; being that full was nice, something you’d probably never admit unless you were actually drunk.
“Wow,” you breathe out, watching him lower your legs down to the hood. “That was…”
“Crazy, I know,” he laughs, still trying to calm his breathing as he looks at you. “But you were amazing, holy shit-”
“…better than the boys?” You tease, smirking up at him. 
He gives you a knowing look, picking up on the funny way you worded the question. But instead of getting flustered, he leans over the hood, caging you against it with his arms.
“Hmm…I don’t know. I think I’d have to try this a couple of times before I can give you a definite answer.”
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