#i was told by my coworker that he was “surprised i talked to this man for so long’ even tho i felt i had no way out of the conversation.

[gamingbeats]

i truly wish some days being in a fandom paid the bills

[1800-fight-me]

Safety in Your Arms

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: M (Mature but as always-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Cursing, threats of violence, stranger danger i.e. stalking but don't worry Logan saves the day Word count: A bit over 2k Synopsis: Logan protects you from the unwanted advances of another man and shows protectiveness and care you didn't know he had for you. Author’s note: I'm thinking this might need a part two, let me know what y'all think- I hope you enjoy! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Logan Howlett Masterlist Main Masterlist

There was a cold panic that shot down your spine. Fight or flight, you’d learned the technical term, but now experienced it for yourself. 

The five minute walk between your work and your apartment had never felt so long. It all started with a creepy customer- which was a regular occurrence at your job- but this customer took it far beyond creepy. 

He tried to make too much small talk, stared too much, made a few too many over the line comments, and was entirely too pushy when asking for your phone number. Your one male coworker escorted him out and you thought that was the end of it. 

Hours went by, you assured your coworkers multiple times that you were fine and you were safe, and eventually you were the last one left to close and lock up. 

But only one block away from your workplace, you had the feeling of being watched- of being followed. And it was just your luck that your phone was dead and you’d forgotten your charger at home.

You changed your route, taking one that was a bit longer but also more well lit and populated. With a glance back you confirmed your worry, that it was in fact the same creepy guy from hours before. 

Your heart pounded with terror as you contemplated every option for safety. Your apartment building required a code to enter, so you sped your walk, hoping if you slipped into the building and shut the door behind you that it would be enough. 

“Hey,” the man’s voice called out, but you refused to look back. 

Your apartment building was within sight, but the man’s catcalls and jeers were also getting louder and closer. 

“Hey, c’mere pretty lady! I’ve got somethin’ for ya!” 

Your whole body shuddered in fear. Your next door neighbor stepped outside of the front door of the apartment building and you nearly sobbed in relief. 

“Logan!” you called out. 

He looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he saw the stress in your entire demeanor. 

You practically ran to him and threw your arms around his torso in a hug he clearly did not expect. He hugged you back, but you felt him stiffen as he looked behind you. 

That was one thing about Logan, he was extremely perceptive and quick to notice any form of danger. 

“Hey bub, what can I do for you?” he said to the man behind you in a gruff tone that was not at all welcoming as he gently maneuvered you so that you stood safely behind him. 

You gripped Logan’s strong bicep as you peered around his shoulder at the stalker. 

“I was just-” 

“Just nothin’. You better leave her alone,” Logan interrupted. 

“C’mon, I was just inviting the pretty lady to have a good time. Does he speak for you?” the creep asked as he made eye contact with you. The malice in his eyes made your heartbeat spike again. 

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said nervously. 

He glanced between you and Logan as if uncertain. 

“She just told you, she’s mine- so fuck off,” Logan growled. A different kind of shiver went down your spine. 

“You live here?” the man asked. 

“No,” Logan growled before you could even open your mouth. “But I do, and if I see you around here again it’ll be a problem.” 

The man looked at Logan and finally seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, the danger that the large muscled man protecting you could pose. 

He gulped and nodded, yielded a step back as Logan took a step forward- muscles tense and fist clenched. 

The man turned and scurried away. You took your first full deep breath in several long minutes. 

Logan watched the man until he was completely out of view before he turned to you. He placed a large comforting hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

“Princess,” he said in a gentle voice. 

He pulled you into a hug as a tear fell from your eye and made its way down your cheek. You were enveloped in his warmth and woodsy masculine scent and finally felt safe. 

“Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend,” you said as you pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“Anytime,” he said with a smirk. Your breath caught and you bit your lip as you looked up at him and saw such care and concern on his handsome face. 

“Who was that guy?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “Some crazy customer from earlier today, my coworker made him leave, but I guess he came back and waited until I was leaving alone….” 

Logan’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. “That motherfucker,” he growled, “I’m walking you to and from work tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“No, I do. And I’ll do it until I’m sure he isn’t gonna bother you anymore. And if he shows up again…” he trailed off as his claws extended from his fist in an action that seemed involuntary due to his rage. 

A shiver ran down your spine. You had no idea Logan felt so protective over you. 

“Thank you,” you said in a soft voice, “I appreciate it.” 

This was not helping your ridiculous crush on your neighbor. From the minute he moved in with your friend Wade, you had heart eyes for him. 

The Wolverine, he took your breath away without even trying. With his large stature, huge muscles, and handsome face- you were a goner. It didn’t matter that he was older, way out of your league, and generally altogether grumpy. You were head over heels for him, and you were certain he had never noticed you before, that he merely thought you were Wade’s annoying friend. 

But you adored him, you adored the gentle heart you knew he buried under that gruff exterior, and displays of protectiveness such as this only proved what an amazing person you already knew he was. 

“I’m headed to meet Wade at the bar, d’you wanna come?” he offered. 

You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be alone after the stress of the day. 

“Lead the way,” you said with a smile. 

—--------

“Look who I brought,” Logan said as you walked behind him into the bar and approached a booth in the back corner. 

He stepped to the side so your friends could see you. Wade, Vanessa, and Dopinder sat at the table, already laughing and drinking beer. 

Wade gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “Princess Cupcake!” 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you and showed your amusement. 

“Hey Wade,” you replied then greeted the others. 

“What? No comeback? I’m hurt! What’s wrong?” he asked, speaking in that way too fast pattern that was his norm. 

Logan placed a hand on your back and leaned down closer to your ear as he asked quietly, “You wanna sit down? I can get you a drink- what do you want?” 

You smiled and sat down as you were told and told him your drink order. 

Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows at you in a rather suggestive manner. 

“What’s up between you and peanut? Did you finally fu-” 

“No,” you interjected quickly. 

“Wade, she’s clearly upset and Logan is helping her,” Vanessa said as she elbowed her boyfriend. 

You sighed and explained the events of your afternoon. During your explanation Logan came back to the table with two drinks and sat next to you. His large form crowded you into the corner of the booth, but you didn’t mind. 

“That motherfucker,” Wade said in anger at the end of your story. Vanessa gave you a look of solidarity, you knew she had experienced plenty of creepy men in her life. 

“That’s what I said,” Logan replied, clearly somewhat amused. 

“We should kill him,” Dopinder said.

“Calm down wannabe-vigilante,” you muttered which caused everyone to chuckle. 

“Don’t worry cupcake, ole honey badger and I will make sure you’re safe,” Wade reassured. 

You nodded and said, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think he’ll return. Logan can be pretty intimidating, it was amazing - I’m sure he scared him off.”

Logan grunted in agreement, although when you looked at him you could’ve sworn there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and the tops of his ears. 

As the evening stretched on, you were thoroughly distracted from your troubles and amused by Wade’s antics and Dopinder’s stories. 

“So, Princess Cupcake, any luck on the dating front?” Wade asked. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt- a nervous habit, and without looking up from the table said, “Nope.” 

Logan let out a soft sigh of what your aching heart could only hope was relief. 

“I’ve never asked, what’s with the nickname?” Dopinder asked. 

You shrugged and gestured to Wade. 

“When Blind Al and I moved into our apartment this sweetie pie here brought us cupcakes!” Wade explained. 

“Good thing it was cupcakes instead of a pie because being constantly called sweetie pie would make me want to die,” you muttered and everyone laughed. 

“What about the princess part though?” Dopinder asked. 

“Just look at her,” Logan mumbled and you and everyone at the table looked over at him in surprise. 

“She’s got that innocent sort of pretty you only see in big bright eyed animated Disney princesses,” Wade said. 

Embarrassed at the attention you changed the subject immediately. Your constant filthy thoughts about Logan proved you were anything but innocent. 

“But why is Logan’s nickname peanut?” you asked quickly. 

Wade shrugged, “Just fits.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. 

You smirked and said, “I bet we could come up with a hundred nicknames for him that would fit better.” 

“Like what?” Wade challenged. 

You glanced over at the large handsome man sitting next to you as your face warmed. 

Daddy was the first word that came to mind. Wade chuckled in a way that made you momentarily worried that mind reading was one of his mutant abilities. 

The silence at the table stretched on, becoming a tad awkward, before you said, “Nevermind I’m not very good with nicknames anyways.” 

“Yeah, it’s probably best to leave choosing nicknames to the professional,” Vanessa said in a joking tone to ease the tension. You shot her a look of gratitude and she winked at you before she effectively changed the subject all together. 

Eventually, after enough drinks and conversation, you declared that it was time for you to go home. 

“C’mon!” Wade protested. “The night has just begun!” 

“I wish I could stay but I’ve got work in the morning.” 

“I’ll walk you home,” Logan said in a soft but firm tone that left no room for argument as he stood and took a step back to give you room to get out of the booth. 

You nodded in agreement and smiled in pleasant surprise as he offered you his arm. You wrapped your arm around his large bicep and linked your elbows as you followed him out into the cold winter air. 

The city glowed in warm orange light that reflected on the wet pavement. Your breath was visible in frostbitten wind, and you shivered slightly which caused you to burrow further into your coat and move closer to Logan and the heat his body provided. 

He then pulled his arm from yours, causing you to momentarily panic, but just as swiftly he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

You smiled and filled the short walk with endless chatter, you used to worry that your yapping irritated him, but the small uptick of his lips- the ghost of a smile- showed fond amusement and filled you with warmth enough to make you forget about the cold. 

“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” Logan asked as you reached the door of your apartment- his apartment door only a few steps away. 

“Eight o’clock,” you replied as you unlocked the door.

“But really, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll see you then,” he interrupted in a tone that indicated you would not win this argument. 

Then he did something you didn’t expect at all, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You grinned, your smile wider than probably ever before as you said, “Goodnight Logan, see you bright and bleary eyed tomorrow.” 

He chuckled as he bid you goodnight and you walked into your apartment and shut the door only after he smiled at you again before disappearing behind his own door. 

You shut your door and locked it before leaning against it. You muffled your squeal of excitement with your hand- all too aware how thin the walls are. The stressful events of the day completely forgotten. 

[lo1k-diamonds]

Sugar Rush Ride 💜

SX Seoul Series | Yoongi's Entry 💜

PAIRING: YoongixReader

SUMMARY: You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

GENRE: coworkers (mutually) pining to lovers

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: explicit, pwp (porn w/ plot really), drunk fight (but you sober up...sort of), bratty reader, rough but Yoongi is pro at aftercare, fingerfucking, face-fucking, edging, spankings, his hand is on your neck a lot (am I forgetting something?)

(You can also read it on AO3)

A.N. This is based on the song of the same title by TXT 🔥 It was not planned and maybe it has been done before, but it was too good to miss 😁

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Yoongi parked his car underground in a private parking lot before stepping outside into the night in Itaewon. It was crowded as usual, but he paid no mind to the passersby — he had somewhere to be.

He reached the steps that led into a famous club in the neighborhood and entered below the red lines warming up the humidity into steam: SX.

He was giving away his coat when the music from the backroom hit him, the pop music with the codename temptation resonating in the air, and in his ribcage. He stepped towards it confidently, unbothered by the instant boom of noise that hit him once the door opened and closed again behind him. No, nothing would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

He scanned the room attentively, the darkness crossed punctually and rhythmically by the flashes of lights to the beat of the songs he helped produce himself. All but one song that ended up being the main track, the reason why he had rushed to be at the listening party tonight.

He got to the bar and looked around again; he saw lots of people he knew, the artists included. None had seen him yet, so he took the chance to search even more carefully. And finally, his eyes fell on you. You were listening attentively as you held your hair to the side and someone, a man spoke into your ear above the noise. Then you burst out laughing, shoulders and chest trembling with excitement, and your hand landed on the man’s chest. Not in a smack, not to push him away, just subtly placed there in an intimate gesture, or an invitation thereof.

Yoongi was by your side before he knew it. The man with you looked up with a silent question and you flinched and looked back, eyes instantly widening in surprise.

“Yoongi! You’re back!”

You launched your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, and he immediately knew you had alcohol in your system. Despite this, he reacted the only way he could be expected to — he wrapped a protective arm around you and looked straight into the eyes of that dude trying his luck.

“Right on time,” you grinned when you stepped back. “Inhyuk, this is Yoongi, the producer I was telling you about.”

The guy bowed and said something polite, but Yoongi wasn’t listening. You had stepped to stand beside the guy and his hand had comfortably set on your waist. For a second, his sole thought was, Since when? But then he cooled down.

“I see. Well, enjoy the party. I’ll see you later,” he told you with his eyes set on yours and you got the message.

But you didn’t want to worry about that right now, so when Inhyuk pulled you by the waist to talk to you a bit closer, you didn’t flinch. You smiled and agreed to have another drink while the crowd around you listened and enjoyed the album you helped produce. You were proud of yourself, it was the fruit of your first year of work with—

The main track started and the crowd cheered as it did every time it played. Your eyes watered as Inhyuk congratulated you and clinked his drink to yours but as you drank, there was heat building inside of you. It was funny to hear the lyrics you wrote being sung back at you and fit perfectly at that moment. But then you chuckled, as your eyes fell on Min Yoongi. Your thoughts would always stop as soon as he was back near you. That would never change.

Yet you looked up and smiled at Inhyuk, giddy with your drink and with excitement. You made a vow when you decided to let this song be performed and sung — it was you putting your feelings into your work to get rid of them. That was the deal.

Inhyuk smiled mischievously at you as if he couldn’t believe, but didn’t disapprove, of the song's lyrics speaking so openly about desire, about opening locked doors into seeing stars and asking for more. And you kept smiling and drinking. Because you made a deal with yourself and maybe tonight was the perfect time to go into a new direction.

The song was only three minutes long, but it drove Yoongi to a corner. He gripped his tonic water and faced the bar while the music kept calling to him, Come here more, let’s play more.

Just like the first time he heard it and was covered in goosebumps, wild thoughts coming to him that he had to quickly water down. He sighed; it didn’t stop him from flying back as soon as possible to talk to you about it. Confront you, more like.

He turned to the side to find you by the bar having shots with that guy, and that was it. The full album had played, you had your moment in the spotlight as you should, the artists were having a blast alongside everyone else, and he had had enough of seeing you so close to some guy.

You were on your fourth tequila shot when you felt an arm extend behind you to reach the bar, and you shivered. Not because it was cold; you were sweating from the drinks and the energy of the crowd. No, it was because you knew who it was, even if the arm didn’t touch you.

“We should go,” his voice was steady near your ear even though your head was spinning a little.

“The night is still young!” Inhyuk said as he grinned and grabbed another shot glass, waiting for you to do the same, but despite your giddiness, you hesitated. 

You looked up to Yoongi and saw his neutral beautiful lines, and you understood what he was doing.

The guy saw he was losing you, so he moved closer to get your attention, “I can take you home.”

He said it with amusement, like a tease, and you grinned. You were taken by the energy between you two; you both knew where that was going. But then a breath being slowly heaved behind you shook your foundations and you looked down. Yoongi was just doing his part of the deal, but suddenly you were fucking pissed. He couldn’t possibly understand that you needed to be with someone, anyone other than him. Desperately, before you’d fucking combust!

But he was your coworker, the genius producer of your label. And despite everything, you didn’t want to burn a bridge. Inhyuk was not that great anyway.

You shrugged almost innocently, “Maybe next time. It was nice meeting you.”

Yoongi pointed so that you’d go ahead to the exit and you did. Yet with every step, something was bubbling up your throat. There was a lump there, blocking you from voicing it while you grabbed your coats, walked the cold night to his car, and got in to be on your way.

The whole ride you argued with yourself that this was for the best. You shouldn’t have sex with someone after so many drinks, that was not how it was supposed to go. But maybe that was what you needed to have the courage to just move on. To want another man as desperately, and not the one driving you home right now. You needed it, you needed to go crazy and do something you wouldn’t normally do. You needed the regret, to stop playing safe, to stop believing your heart knew what was best for you when all it did was set on someone who saw you as nothing but a colleague.

When you arrived, he entered the private parking of your apartment building and parked swiftly. It made your stomach bubble further with anger, he was just so used to taking you home. That was the deal. Well, screw that.

“Thanks, good night.”

You pushed the door open and peeled yourself away, closing it with a bham only to seek support in the car instantly. Your legs were wobbly, the world was spinning and you cursed in irritation. It was fine before, why was it so difficult now?

His door opened and closed, the car beeped as it locked, then his steps echoed to get to you. And everything was like needles prickling your patience. He stood next to you to help you and you didn’t know what you wanted more: to scream at him or to just disappear.

But he placed his hand on your waist firmly, walked you to the lobby and the elevator, and even dialed your code to enter your apartment. It infuriated you — it reminded you of all the times over the last year that he had done his part of the deal. That he had taken you home safe and sound, and still never seen you for anything more while you pined helplessly.

So you tried to reach your living room without his help and stumbled very quickly, yet a firm grip on your arm prevented you from falling face flat. Normally, you would have blushed, thanked him, and let the politeness and decorum dictate your interactions, but not now.

You pulled your arm loose, “I don’t need a chaperone!”

“And I don't need you to fall and break a leg.”

You threw your jacket and purse over your couch finally with a frustrated huff. The world was spinning and annoying you so fucking much. You needed to scream at him once and for all and be done with it, why couldn’t it stand still?

“Why did you interfere?”

“What do you mean?” He was calmly taking his shoes off after hanging his coat by the entrance and his placidness irked you.

“I was having a good time!”

You barely saw the line crossing his face, “He was no good for you.”

“What? Why?!”

“He just wasn’t,” he stated, walking further inside your apartment like he knew it, and he did. He’d normally stay for a chat after bringing you home and made sure you were okay.

“But why?!” You insisted, eyes so wide they looked twice their size, and still the room was shaky. “What was so wrong with him that—”

“He was trying to get you drunk,” he almost scoffed as he reached your kitchen and started looking around for something.

“So?” You tried following him, annoyed that he was not paying attention to you.

He found a cup and right next to it what he was looking for. He took a black coffee capsule and put both things next to your coffee machine. “He just wanted sex.”

He seemed annoyed now as he prepped the coffee and you threw your hands in the air, “I fucking want sex!”

He paused and looked at you, at your wide eyes and red cheeks. And you held your breath, swallowing dryly. Did you just yell that at Min Yoongi? At your genius coproducer?

“You're drunk.”

He pressed the button to draw an espresso from the machine, and you felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m not drunk!!” He didn’t look at you and you gripped your hair with a frustrated scream. “I’m just not only a fucking worker bee, okay?! I have needs, I want things! So what, sex is too much for you to handle or som—”

A look was all it took for you to feel your guts freeze in place. You were so attuned to this fucking man that his slightest hint of disapproval hit you like an icicle. But it wasn’t just that, it was something else. Disappointment?

And you revolted hard against it; he had no right to make you feel this way. “Then what’s the problem?! I can’t want it? Because I’m a woman or something?”

He took the coffee cup and placed it in front of you on the kitchen counter, “Drink it.”

You ignored it, “I didn’t think you were a prude or conservative, but this is me.” You stepped back and fought the traces of the spinning walls vehemently. “I want things. More than just make good music, I’m not just my work.” He was listening, he was looking at you, but all he did was push the cup the slightest in your direction. And you snorted, “Hell, that’s why my music is good. Because I want— I want things.”

You couldn’t look at him, only at his feet. You thought you wanted to scream your frustration at him, but now you realized that was pointless. It wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t into you anyway.

“We’re not talking unless you’re sober.”

You raised your eyes and his coolness hardened you. Right. You’d get a slap on the wrist for getting drunk at the listening party of the album you fucking produced. For wanting to sleep with another producer. For not being professional? Who the fuck knew why. And maybe sober you’d care about losing your dream, but right now you were just fucking done.

“Right, whatever,” you turned to head to your bedroom. “I’ll take a shower, we can talk tomorrow.”

Yoongi saw you walk a bit shakily but firmly toward your bedroom and then he sighed. He considered for a moment to do as you wished and leave, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Selfishly, he didn’t want to wait for tomorrow. He was restless, he needed to talk to you about it. And to do that, he needed you sober.

He grabbed your coffee cup and knocked on the ajar door with his eyes glued to the floor. He called your name and you scoffed.

“You’re taking our deal too much to the letter,” your voice sounded strained and he closed his free hand into a fist. “You don’t need to worry about—”

He heard noises and he didn’t think twice; he pushed the door open and found you almost fallen to the floor trying to take your dress off. You huffed in annoyance; you should have sat on the bed but then how would the dress pass under—

A firm hand hoisted you up as if you were as light as a feather and you came face to face with him. The man in your dreams, in your mind, making you scream in your bed just at the thought of him. Making you crazy. 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking down. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to bring me home and make sure I don’t—” 

Your voice wavered, what were you— 

Your eyes filled with tears, but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen, “Yeah, let’s stop that. Our deal? Let’s end it. You don’t need to bring me home and watch over me. I know I’m a woman in a men-dominated company, but I’m not a child.”

He sighed and stepped away and your heart cracked, leaving you to hide your face with one hand and try to press your chest with the other. You knew that to move on you had to push him away, but damn did it sting and—

The scent of coffee invaded your nose and you raised your hand from over your eyes. He was holding the coffee cup in front of you.

“Stop for a second and drink it. Then, we’ll talk.”

You looked for the sincerity in his eyes, and of course, you found it. So you took the cup and chugged the espresso as if it had been just another tequila shot. Then you lowered your arm and looked at him, trying to sense if that changed anything. It didn’t really, not for you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

His lips twitched, “I heard you, but you’re not hearing me. Sober, I said.”

You shrugged, “You said drink, I did. So now we talk. No more deal. No more keeping me safe, no more watching over me or bringing me home. I need to— I need to let it all out.”

His lips pursed for a second but then he voiced quietly, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you shrugged and almost laughed at yourself. “I told you I want things.”

“You write about what you want.” You hummed. “So what is that main track?”

“What I want.”

You were looking at him, a void in your mind all of a sudden, but he hesitated. You said you wanted sex and the song was about desire. Maybe he was reading it wrong.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a what.”

“Is it a who?”

Your mouth dried, so you nodded. You were staring right at the object of your desire but he looked confused.

He scratched his head and then tried, “Did you— Did you use those words on purpose?”

“What words?”

“What w—” He seemed bewildered, “My stage name. You used my stage name. Sugar? Was that on purpose?”

For a split second, you were frozen, livid, shocked, and then laughter bubbled out of you, “I thought I had been so clever about it. Saying sugar instead of suga.” He was staring at you and his inexpression only led you to push the air out of your lungs, “I know, you don’t have to say it. You won't touch me, even if pigs fly. I know that.”

“That's not true.”

You tilted your head, then laughed some more, “Yes, it is. You don't even see me as a woman, I'm just another producer.”

“That's also not true.”

“Right,” you chuckled. “Let me give you reasons to walk out that door right now. I not only wanted to sleep with you but wrote a whole main track about wanting you. About being dazed, overwhelmed by desire, wanting just more. Give it a listen. You know I struggle with titles, but the name of the song was the first thing I had.”

You chuckled again and turned around, rubbing your face for a moment. It was out. You didn’t care too much if anyone else knew, and if anyone had thought of it, they had been smart enough to stay quiet. But now he knew, and there was no going back. Sugar rush ride. You laughed again. You stood by that tile.

“I—” His voice sounded unsure for the first time and you turned to face him. “I don’t— Was it just a rush? You felt a rush at the thought of me and wrote that?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of a difference,” he insisted, eyes set on you though he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I still haven’t heard you say what you want now.”

“What I want?” You were incredulous, “Are you even listening? I’ve been saying nothing else! What?” He was unmoving, but for the first time, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening, and you were out of filters. “I want to be with you. I want you to fuck me already.” You shivered, the strength of your own words working against you. “I have since the day we met. I forgot I had an ex and was heartbroken to finger myself to the thought of you so many times I lost count.” He opened his mouth but you didn’t let him speak, “Shut up. I know what you'll say. I’ve wasted a year of my life. We're kind of friends and we work together. I know all that,” you huffed, exhausted. “So just leave.”

You turned to get to your ensuite bathroom and this time succeeded in pulling the dress out of your body, letting it fall to the ground with a rustle. You turned to reach the makeup remover over your counter and almost missed the way he was still standing in your room, looking at you. You blinked as you faced him, and your nipples hardened without your control with the goosebumps navigating your skin. You had nothing on, you rarely did in events like those. You used it to boost your self-esteem and feel sexy, and now you guessed he knew it too.

You removed your makeup relatively quickly and were curious to look back, and he was gone. You looked down with tears pooling in your eyes; but of course. Why did it all just have to come out of your mouth like that? Now he knew your deepest darkest secrets and would never want to work together again in the future. Great.

You stepped into the shower and let the warmth wash away your worries. You were not a child. You had feelings and wants. They were perhaps misplaced, but you didn’t harm anyone. You sighed; still, maybe it was best to look for a new job in the morning.

Once you made peace with that, your mind wandered to greener pastures, to more heavenly thoughts. You reviewed the expression he had as you told him crudely what you wanted, and it was good. Tense. In your wildest fantasies maybe it could be even a little possessive. And the thought of Min Yoongi getting possessive over you turned you on like nothing ever could.

Your hand trailed south along your skin and avoided the water. Your undeniable arousal made you chuckle. You had just told him you touched yourself thinking of him, and there you were again, like clockwork. He never told you not to, he didn’t act disgusted or look at you sideways, so suddenly you felt egged on.

You tilted your ass up and out of the water and spread your folds greedily, closing your eyes to think back to his dark eyes while you were naked in front of him. It was as if he wasn’t thinking, he was just looking. You didn’t see his eyes running up and down your body, but you didn’t have to. No way he would not be curious, even if he had walked out. 

His leaving stung but fuck, was he hot. Now he knew you thought of him and what you did while thinking of him. Your heart stung for a second with the thought that you would lose his friendship, but you got back on track. You were horny and he had created that mess. You tried to kindly tell him to leave so many times, it wasn’t your fault that he lingered until you were spurting the deepest truths and stripping naked to shower. 

And now he knew. He knew you didn't like wearing underwear when you had formal events, how sensitive your nipples were to the cold, and that you had a small blue birthmark at the end of your back. Fuck. He knew you were a dirty little whore fingering yourself to the thought of his cock buried deep—

Two arms wrapped around you and you moaned, too immersed in your fantasy to be startled. You were thinking about his arms around you, his chest strong for your back to take support, hands trailing down your body to explore with long fingers ready to spell your demise so easily—

His fingers were next to yours cupping your sex and you gasped, squirming away only to be pressed against his firm chest.

“No, continue,” his voice was a taunt as his free hand seemed indecisive about where to settle on your body. “You want to touch yourself? Go on.”

You stammered his name but his fingers were quickly learning from yours how to trace your heat, spread your slick, and make you tremble. You were shaking, half embarrassed, half feverish, until his other hand finally settled on groping your breast harshly and you moaned. You moaned with a hiss dragging with how much more you wanted, with your ass bucking into him only to rub more to get a better feeling of his hard cock on your ass. He was clothed, you could feel it, but the thought of him wanting this was driving you up the wall.

He was coming to you while you showered, entering it with clothes on just to reach you, grab you, touch you, and make you moan. There was no hiding it now, no possible misunderstanding. He had fingers rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your tit harshly, making your legs weak. Nothing was forcing him to stay, to touch you, to listen to you moan.

You bucked your hips again, you were so close to coming it was unstoppable. Yet a logical thought still tried to push through, “Are you sure about this? We're friends— We work tog—”

If only you weren’t rubbing your ass on his crotch to feel him better, to get tighter, to force his fingers on your clit to chase you.

His reply was a whisper to your ear over your wet hair, “You said what you wanted. You can feel how much I agree.”

Your walls squeezed, you were so ready, “You— You want this?”

His hips pushed into you once and you almost fell apart. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it. I’m asking myself how you never noticed.”

You gripped his hand over your chest and he released the pressure, instantly making you squirm and whine in a complaint. You pressed his hand and he squeezed again, hearing attentively how your moan pitched wantonly. He hummed near your ear, nuzzling your wet skin with a smile adorning his lips. So that was how you liked it.

“No, I—” Your breath hitched with how he was working you and for the second time you thought you would fall apart, but the intensity reeled back to allow you to think. “Not like this. I noticed you treated me differently but I thought it was because I was the only girl in the studio—”

You staggered with a gasp, your body rushing a cold wave under your skin to contrast with the warm water of the shower, but again the sensation eased as the seconds ticked away. And you knew then that it was him, keeping you on the edge and not letting you fall apart. Him with his smooth fingers and nuzzling behind your ear.

“No, not because of that,” his voice was tense as his lips ghosted over your wet neck. “I was… charmed,” he admitted with a chuckle, and when you bucked your hips, he gripped you closer. “But I thought you saw me as a friend.” The thought alone made his lip pull in annoyance, but the slick covering his fingers at your heat soothed him, “I could have done this so many times if you had just asked.”

He bit down on the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck and you screamed, the sting mixing with your pleasure so viscerally that you could have cum on it alone. Only he sensed it too and moved his hand away, dragging yours along so you couldn’t finish it yourself, and you laughed quietly. He was suckling on your skin with meticulous precision and you could only grin widely, euphoric sparks flying out of control inside your belly.

“You could have said something too,” you sounded like you were whining, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was now licking where he had just marked you and you were trembling, legs so weak it was embarrassing.

He let go and nuzzled along your neck to your spine in between your wet hair, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. You either want it or you don’t. I thought you’d say something.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t ever. You should have known.”

He hummed and leaned back ever so slightly to look at the curve of your ass pressed against him. Then his hand trailed up, lashed by the shower while gently feeling and pressing your soft skin. He couldn’t believe he almost missed this.

“We have to work on that, then.”

You were still smiling when you let your head fall back to his shoulder, “If you did as I said—”

“I'd be out of here without ever getting to touch you,” his annoyance was clear in his voice, and even in the way his fingers pressed less gently. “Without knowing what’s on your mind. No, you,” he wrapped his arm across your torso to gently reach the base of your neck and you looked up, giving him more space. “You are not in charge here.”

He couldn’t have known the way you were grinning. You just let yourself fall further into his embrace, his hand settling on the base of your neck in a way you found comforting. Then he turned you gently to the side and your back hit the cold wall. A hiss came out of your lips quickly, but you were still smiling. Even as his dark eyes scanned you for your reaction, with one hand keeping you still by the neck. You were waiting with a familiar ease on your features, and he relaxed. That was enough.

Suddenly, your feet parted and you were surprised. He had used his foot to spread your legs and the way his free hand was tracing your wet body like he owned it shortcircuited your brain.

“I want to know what this dirty mind of yours has been keeping from me.”

You could hear a hint of eagerness and it was enough, “I won't tell you.”

“You will.” His tone was so sure, like he held the world at his beckoning, that you trembled. You were sure then he would hold yours, turn it upside down, inside out, and you’d love every second of it. “You will tell me every dream of yours, every fantasy, every little filthy fleeting thought. Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“Maybe?” You were eager, his hand was at your lower stomach but seemingly chose to ignore where you ached most.

“Maybe. If that's something you want.”

“I do, I want everything.”

His eyes jumped to yours; he needed to know if that was a spur-of-the-moment blurted line, or if you meant it. All he found were eager glistening eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirmed, eyes staring at him like you were seeing stars.

For a split second, he considered that this could not be what he thought it was. Maybe you were still drunk and just talking big, maybe you had no idea what you were saying. But the way you didn’t waver, even as he considered pulling the plug on everything despite being a millimeter away from snapping and making his thoughts come true did sway him. He brushed your jaw once so tenderly and you leaned into his touch. He’d take it easy while he discovered you, there was no rush.

“Alright,” he voiced and lowered his hand. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” You were eager but you were starting to shiver.

“What you do when you think of me.”

“Didn’t you just catch me doing it?”

“You’re going to look at me this time.”

“Look?” You tilted your head slightly.

“Eyes on me,” his eyebrows twitched.

“Only my eyes?”

“And your thoughts.”

You grinned and looked away but his instant grip over your chin made you look up.

“You sure you want everything?”

You huffed with a sly smile and let your head fall back to the wall, “I’m sure.” His dark gaze was skeptical and your grin widened, “Oh, I want everything, sugar. Be sure not to hold back.”

He looked down to follow your movements and you almost laughed. Your hand was rubbing your clit so you could control your pleasure while his eyes roamed your body, the doubt lingering on his features. You could laugh again, but you didn’t. The way he doubted you was funny because he had no idea how crazy you were about him, but then it occurred to you that you also didn’t know the first thing about him. Did he like to watch? Would he guide you or leave you adrift? He had edged you three times already, did he notice? Did he do it on purpose to drive you crazy? 

Would he do it again?

Where exactly was his line? He was quiet now, eating you with his eyes and absorbing every little detail, from the way you breathed to your tongue peeking through your lips, to the way you gathered your arousal to coat your clit. You gasped ever so softly and his eyes instantly jumped to your face, and your lips twitched. You had him. How was it that you had the powerful Min Yoongi?

“What is going on in there?”

His voice was soothing and low, soft as a caress, and you smiled. “You.”

“Me how?”

“You told me to think about you,” your fingers hastened and you grinned.

“I told you I want to know your thoughts.”

You hummed with a smile and eyed him from head to toe shamelessly. You knew what he told you, what he wanted, but what about what you wanted?

Your fingers picked up the pace as your eyes gained a sly glim, and you thought he saw it. If he didn’t, he at least heard the wet sounds echoing in the bathroom.

“Do it slowly.”

You obeyed, so painfully slowly that your eyelashes fluttered, but what truly got you was the soothing of his features. He looked endeared, all because you did as he told you. He looked so sweet, so adorable, so loveable. You wanted to squeeze his precious cheeks.

So you reached forward to touch his face, but he slapped your hand away harshly, “No.” You bit your lip not to smile but his eyes were just hardening. “I’m still waiting.”

“For?”

You couldn’t help your grin as you squirmed ever so slightly against the wall. His precious dark eyes were so focused on you.

“Me how?”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “You right now.”

It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t become impatient, “Just me standing here?”

Your fingers were ever so quicker, “Stiff as a stick trying to control something that isn’t yours yet.”

His eyes glimmed and your tongue peeked out again to hide your laugh. It was fun seeing him being careful, but when would he actually touch you?

“Didn’t I say slower?”

You instantly did, and the recoil of the feeling had you fluttering your eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he sounded angrier now, closer too.

You did open your eyes but pursed your lips; there was still half an arm's distance between you. If he wouldn’t get the hint, then you’d have to do it yourself.

“Strip,” you asked, swallowing dryly.

He scoffed and instantly looked down, “I said slow.”

“If you want it slow, do it yourself.”

It happened so fast you couldn’t process it. Like a rubberband snapping, his hand darted to your neck pulling and pushing hard enough that your head banged the wall but not harshly enough that it hurt you. It did daze you for a second, but your lips just formed a grin until you laughed. 

Two could play that game, apparently, and he looked so fucking hot when he was mad. You loved that his hand stayed put like a necklace, a reminder that he wasn’t touching your heat, but he owned it. Along with your thoughts and your pleasure, he owned you. And that would have been enough to snap you, but what about him?

So you closed your eyes again, blatantly going against what he wanted, and were not surprised when his free hand darted to pinch your hardened nipple. You moaned instantly, facing him with the same challenge, meeting dark eyes that seemed to have given up on making you talk, but not on making you do as you were told.

So every time you blinked, he pinched you. Your nipples, your sides, your ass, earning moans every time, but nothing more, until he snapped again. He jumped on you and you just made your neck more available for him to latch on and bite. Your moan instantly pitched, and it finally seemed worth it. He was squeezing your tits and biting you while you played yourself to his presence, and he finally was involved in it too.

“Don’t come.”

The joke was that you wanted to do as he said, but you couldn’t anymore. Your moans were higher now, just like your daze, and in a second—

He yanked your hand away, “That’s enough.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see what happens when I think of you?”

Your voice was light but your chest heaving gave your state away, and the more he kissed and bit down your neck, the worse it became. You needed him, needed more than just his thoughts or presence. You gripped his shoulders to bring him closer, you needed—

A whimper pushed out of you as you hid in his neck, but he didn’t stop. You were sure that had to be at least three fingers just pushing into you roughly with no preparation other than your repeated edging. No preparation came, whatsoever, because as soon as they were in, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a vicious speed. 

You instantly lost your grip on reality, though not on his shoulders, as even the air seemed to still inside your lungs. The sultry sounds echoing around you didn’t just come from his digits beckoning you closer insanely fast, but also from your whimpers. Because there was a fire burning you from the inside out with every moan as he bit and licked closer to your ear. As your nails sank through his shirt to reach his skin, your legs trembled, and the wall behind you became scorching hot while he pressed you to it.

From deep within your frenzy you couldn’t hear his growl near your ear, or feel the way his drool dripped down your neck or his fingers dag at your skin. He could hear you, pitchy moans quickly becoming an addictive sound, yet this time it was different. Your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice, and the harder it made for him to finger fuck you, the more he wanted to.

“Don’t come,” he grunted right under your ear, but you couldn’t register. You just moaned even more desperately, gripping him to you so hard he thought he’d melt. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

He was trying to hold on to something when he pulled away to look at you, but he could see you weren’t listening. You were flushed and panting hastily, avid with your nerves on fire. You could only see him and you had been waiting too long.

“Please,” you sounded a second away from breaking into tears and he admired you for it at that moment. You were so strong for him. And so pliable.

So he kissed your cheek gently and said your name once, taking pleasure from rolling it over his tongue. “Go on, cum.”

And it was all you needed to snap, tears coming to your eyes as your hips convulsed and searched for friction. You didn’t think you needed it because your walls were tensing, and again and again while desperate cries fell from your lips. His fingers calmed down inside you, his breath the same temperature as your blazing cheeks, and you thought a sweet blanket of lethargy would cover you soon.

Only he never stopped fucking you with his fingers, and so you whimpered and tried to push him away weakly.

“Don’t come down,” he murmured to your cheek. “Stay, don’t let it go.” 

Your nails sank on his shoulder blades again as you squinted your eyes shut. Tears roamed your eyes as you tried breathing and pushing through your sensitivity. You could handle your clit being sensitive, but inside you, that was a whole different story. You felt like you had been pounded to perfection, only to be further kneaded into sensations you had never felt before.

You looked at him, eyes droopy with whines coming out of your mouth. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Give me another one,” he asked gently, but you didn’t answer. 

How could you, he twisted his hand to reach into you deeper and your whole core burned. He was relighting a fire you thought had been extinguished, only to leave you breathless, dripping slick down his hand as you moaned between gritted teeth. 

So beautiful, so tense. He wanted to release you. 

“Look at me,” he asked softly, and you did. His eyes gave you a tenderness that made your heart convulse. How could he act sweetly like that, as if half of his hand wasn’t pounding your g-spot to bits? “You’re so good. Doing so well, giving me everything I want.” Your only reply was your moans, but you were listening. “I need you to focus for me.” He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Focus on the tension. You’re so tight around my fingers. Relax, don’t fight it. That’s it, move with me,” his voice was sweeter, and you softened. It was as if he was in it with you. As if he could feel it too. As if he was fucking you and not just sticking his fingers inside you. “You feel so good,” his whisper felt like the highest form of praise, and your moan pitched, melting alongside your nerves. He was so happy at the sound as he traced his lips down your cheek to whisper to the corner of your mouth, “Come with me.”

You moved with him once, twice, seeing in his eyes how much he was seeing and feeling you before looking at his lips, so close. He brushed yours ever so slightly in the hint of a kiss, moving with you as if you were jumping on his cock and not on his digits, and it was what pushed you. You pulled him closer and he let his mouth fall to yours, and your orgasm instantly started, forcing you to swerve so you could moan and breathe as you disintegrated. 

He let you feel your ecstasy to the fullest, biting his lip and feeding off of your release as if it were oxygen. Your trembling lips, your nails that marked his shoulders, your throbbing walls squeezing and gripping around him in sweet delight. All of you like a charming melody, sweet and utopic. Your moans were music until the very last, and by then, he had to taste it.

His free hand cupped your cheek and coaxed you into a sloppy kiss that you instantly reacted to. You were still not there, though, too dazed from the high to realize it fully; until you did. And you gasped. Yoongi’s tongue was licking at your bottom lip gently as if you were a delicacy that needed to be tasted slowly, and you couldn’t believe it.

You parted your lips to let him in and he pressed you even closer, enclosing you in such a euphoric moment you thought you’d pop like a firework. Like a cocoon filled with dazed butterflies with nowhere to go. He was kissing you and your wildest dreams seemed to have just come true. Tears were still hanging onto your waterline, and when he pressed your lips to move away and breathe, you were scared that it had all been a dream.

“So good, you’re so good.”

His voice was calm and tender, and it gave you the courage to open your eyes. He was so close with his eyes roaming your features swiftly, taking in the smallest detail as if he was finally free to. Then he smiled at your wonder, and you were convinced it was a dream.

That notion didn’t dissipate as he reached to the side to grab a towel and dry you with gentleness, enveloping you in the fluffy material as if it were a cloud. You sniffled, drained from the energy that you had just burned away and woozy from his sweet pats as he tried to dry the excess water out of your long hair.

Not even when he took your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom did the haze recede. Instead, you saw him pull the duvet open for you to get in the bed and you lost the towel and got in without a thought. Once you settled in, you did have your first thought: where was he going?

But he was back soon, and you knew in the back of your mind that he was just making the place tidy: getting the coffee cup from the floor to put it on the table, stopping the shower, and shutting the lights. Then he grabbed your towel from the floor and dried his own hair with hastened movements before throwing it aside. His eyes fell on you and your own picked up on the wet spots on his clothes. He was probably cold too.

“Come here,” you voiced hoarsely, staying in a ball to conserve the heat. He instantly stepped to you, but you pouted, “Clothes off first.”

He blinked and looked down, but then smirked and did as you asked. Of course, he couldn’t make your bed humid and uncomfortable with his clothes. Your eyes were on him, unable to separate from the soft unblemished skin revealing itself more and more. His muscles moved as he bent down, wide shoulders and soft biceps trying to hide the strength he had. But you just observed quietly, tucked in the duvet. You could still feel his fingers inside and all around you, pressing and owning you easily. But you could keep a secret, his power and strength were only for you to know.

He lowered his pants and boxers and your eyes glued to him like a magnet. He was hard and pretty, with protruding veins on a thick length that had your imagination doing cartwheels.

Your thoughts were interrupted quickly when he opened the duvet to get beside you and you shivered. You opened your arms and legs to welcome him, and in your haze, you suddenly thought that it all felt so domestic.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away to tell you he wanted to lie behind you and you agreed instantaneously. His arms wrapped around you just as fast as you rubbed your ass to his crotch, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“You must be tired.”

“No,” your voice was a low whimper as his warmth relaxed your nerve ends.

“No?” He sounded amused and soft and you had to admit that his chest was the fluffiest pillow.

“No…”

You didn't want to, but you were slowly dozing off. Slowly, and a bit more with every soothing breath you took together.

You shook and forced your eyes open, “I don't want to fall asleep.”

“Why?”

Your heart beamed and your lips curved; he was still holding you with his mouth to your head.

“Because… it will end,” you admitted, falling deeper into his touch as he nuzzled your hair. Suddenly you realized his boner was half gone. “You didn't come, I haven't touched you yet. I don't want to miss the opportunity.”

“We have tomorrow.”

“You might change your mind.”

“So can you.”

“I won't,” you insisted with a hint of annoyance as you twisted to look back at him.

“I won't either,” he promised calmly, glistening eyes set on you.

Your eyes were closing, the comfort and lethargy were pulling you away. Still, you focused on his lips, “Kiss me.”

He met your lips with no hesitation and you let that sweet touch soothe you. When he pulled away and kissed your nose, you slipped asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, two things made you alert: your soreness and the lack of space. You groaned with the sweet throb between your legs but frowned because something was over you. Turning back, the most precious image graced your vision and made stars twinkle in your eyes.

Min Yoongi was sleeping as quietly as a mouse with an arm around your shoulders as if to keep you tucked in. You brushed his hair aside and his nose twitched, making you instantly melt. Why did he look so sweet asleep? How could he be such a beast as a musician, a genius producer, and a darling in private?

You kept brushing his hair soothingly, thinking that intimately he was not a darling. No, not cute, not sweet. If that throb between your legs meant something, it was that Yoongi was the kind that owned. He owned his music, his process, the studio room, and you, for all you cared. Your finger trailed his cheek as you recalled your words the night before. He said he wanted you, the same as you, and he said he wouldn't change his mind, but what if he did? What if you lost your opportunity the night before?

Maybe you were still half asleep; otherwise, the fact that you were both in bed naked would have meant something. As it stood, you were anxious about what reality could bring. So when he opened his eyes and saw you, your instinct was to kiss him.

You brushed his lips gently but surely, giving him more than enough time and place to push you away if he wanted to. So when he didn't, you became bolder. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips and your hand roamed his chest, and as you got lost, you became vulnerable. 

He waited as long as he could. He let you kiss him, let you press, let you push him a bit back into the pillow, let you cup his jaw, but you never moved away. Never stopped, and never changed your mind. You did say you wanted everything, and he thought he had given you enough time to take it back.

So he grabbed your hair and rolled over you to get on top, pushing his tongue past your lips without asking. And you moaned, instantly weak to him taking something that in all that concerned you belonged to him anyway.

You thought that meant a green light to explore him just as he was doing, passing his hand down your side to your waist, but no. You palmed the expanse of his chest and he interrupted his mission simply to grab your wrists and pull them down. He pressed them once to the mattress, then released one to pass his slender fingers between your breasts and you took the opportunity again. Your hand sneakily went under the sheets to scratch his hip up to his ass, feeling how firm he was over you, yet he caught you before you could squeeze him.

“Stay still.”

He could have been saying good morning, yet you puffed, “Let me.”

“No.”

“But I want to,” you pouted and he nibbled down your neck.

“Too bad.”

You wanted to be good to him; you liked him touching you and his hard cock ever so close to your core did make you hazy with want. But as he kissed and licked and palmed and pressed you from head to toe, you grew impatient. Incredibly so when he turned you belly down to do the same down the length of your spine as if he had all the time in the world. Even more when he raised your ass and spread your legs, nibbling at your ass cheeks and squeezing them roughly. Aggravatingly so when he noticed your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and made it his pastime to try to reach it with his tongue.

“Yoongiiiiii,” you whined at the end of your patience, waves of goosebumps driving you insane as he spread your asscheeks more to reach your wet inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he was having way too much fun.

“Let me touch you too.”

And ruin the fun? “No.”

You whined again, “But I've waited.”

“Not enough.”

“Why not?” You were sulking despite your spasms around nothing. He could feel them without directly touching you, and it drove him to bite and kiss harder. You squirmed at his lack of reply, “How long more?”

“Until I say so.”

You shook your ass half in annoyance half in desperation, “I've waited enough. At least fuck me.”

“No.”

It was as though he was shooing a fly.

“Come on,” you dragged. “Get to the good part.” He snorted but didn't move. “Fuck me, come on.”

“No.”

“But you'll feel so good.”

He sighed with your taste on his tongue, “I know.”

“So do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

You thought there would be progress as he touched your core ever so lightly. But you waited and waited for what felt like an eternity. And although the tip of his fingers explored every nook and cranny slowly and gently, even the embarrassing ones, you were still not closer to what you wanted.

And so you snapped, “I asked you to fuck me.” He hummed, but your tone was assertive, “I won't shut up until you do.”

He changed absolutely nothing, wet fingers dragging to your nipples lightly.  And so you insisted.

“I'm waiting. How long will you keep me waiting? Should I do it myself?”

Your hand moved and he put it in place instantly.

“I can show you how it's done,” your tone became mocking. “In case you’re lost.” His teeth brushed the back of your thigh and you smirked, “If you never used your cock before—”

A slap to your asscheek echoed and you grinned. It was firm, a warning, but what could you do? You always liked to talk big in bed, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity to rile him up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of— If you don't know where to go or what to do— Should I take over?”

Every slap felt like a win and that last one wasn't any different. He gave more of him when he did it, and you felt it in the sting, the touch, the attention. When he grabbed your asscheeks and squeezed until you cried out, you thought that he might be holding back.

“You talk too much,” he said quietly.

“And you fuck too little.”

He pushed you harshly to fall with your belly up and grabbed your head firmly in place, using his body over you to fully press you down the mattress.

“I like to fuck people who indulge me.”

“Liar.” It escaped your lips before you could think. You were too horny to think, but then you laughed, “Fucking liar. You're rock hard, you want to fuck me so bad is not even funny.”

“Your point?”

“You like it,” you whispered, raising your head to reach his lips, which he didn't let happen. You looked into his eyes, “You like what I'm saying. You adore every spank and every little reason I give you to do it.”

His expression didn't change except for the laughter in his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Is it a problem?” He seemed cautious. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed. “I said everything.”

His lips finally showed a smile as he got on his forearms to look at you with new eyes.

“But Yoongi,” you called with a pout. “I did wait long enough.”

He grinned widely, so endearingly you wanted to kiss his entire adorable face. So loveable you wanted to drive him crazy.

“You'll wait as long as I tell you to.”

He seemed happy now as he leaned to kiss and play with your chest, pink tongue messing with your perky nipples to the point you squirmed. And it felt good, so good your legs were restless under him, opening but struggling to get him to align. He tortured your nipples, suckling and biting only to smile at your fussiness. You could only take so much.

You squealed, “If you don’t put your cock in me soon I’ll fucking scream.”

“Scream?” He was amused, barely separating his mouth from your breast.

But you sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of your lungs. Only for a second though; his hand covered your mouth and forced you to look at him.

“Shut it.”

He raised his hand carefully with your eyes locked, and all you did was roll your hips to get his cock near your dripping core. You thought he had learned something, so when he moved too but against you, keeping what you wanted purposefully at bay, you decided that holding back was not getting you anywhere.

You threw your head back and screamed again, and when his hand darted to muffle it, you bit it.

You took another breath, but before you could scream his hand wrapped around your neck firmly. You looked into his eyes as lightheadedness relaxed your neck and shoulders. He was so careful, but you were at such ease.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

His fingers were perfect around your throat, “I want to cream your cock so bad.”

Your voice was a wanton whine as your glistening eyes focused on him. You couldn't describe how much you were melting, how much he relaxed you only to tense you up the next second if he so chose to. How much that drove you to want him like crazy.

“Is that a dirty thought?” You nodded once, pleading with your eyes. He nuzzled your nose sweetly, “Not yet.”

“Then I won't be quiet.”

Your voice was gentle like a breeze but carried consequence, and when he nuzzled you further, you knew everything went both ways. He knew it too, and he wasn't stopping you.

You tentatively tried a scream and his hand wrapped firmer, observing you with sparkles in his eyes.

You huffed, cheeks becoming hot, “Why won’t you just do what I want?”

“Why won’t you quiet down?”

“And do your job for you?” 

You could see the smile in his eyes — he knew you were embarrassed. He was just seeing how far you’d go in your brattiness, but you were so horny you were lost. 

“All I’m asking for is your cock, don’t you have one?” He raised an eyebrow at your taunt; you could both feel his hard shaft pressed to your thigh. “So why don’t you shut me up? Do you need me to tell you how to use your dick?”

“Just because you’re needy and desperate, it doesn’t mean you should get what you want.”

The burn traveled to your chest; he was scolding you and it was like you’d been shaken. Of course, he’d answer you and deal with your attitude. You never thought he’d be the type to let it fly but to actually have him doing it was burning you from the inside out.

“But what I want is you,” you sighed, batting your eyelashes flagrantly. “Let me get on my knees, I’ll do whatever you like.”

He took only a second, “No, I like where you are.” You grinned in absolute joy; you also loved being under him with his hand around your neck. You felt taken care of and grounded, even as your mind became chaotic in the hazyness. “And there goes another dirty thought, hm?”

You bit your lip, “In my fantasies you always give it to me so right.”

“This isn’t a fantasy anymore.”

You grinned, “No, thank fuck. You look so much better pissed off in real life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You want to piss me off?”

You almost laughed, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I never said I wouldn't,” he adjusted his hips but purposefully made it impossible for you to have him, and you squinted. He was smiling, “I just told you to wait.”

“And I told you I’d scream.”

You were snappy and he grinned, “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

His lips ghosted you and your chest burned again, “Nothing civilized about the way I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Your voice was wanton, bordering a moan as your hips rolled just to feel the tease of his cock near your core, and he kissed down your chin, “So you’ll scream?”

“Like hell.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Fuck no. Stop stalling,” you whined, moving your spread legs in the hopes of catching him, but he only chuckled.

“Go on, then.”

He got off you and you huffed in annoyance and screamed. It was short and you opened your eyes to see him just observing you with amusement. Why was it so funny to him when you were getting upset?

So you took a deep breath and screamed again and this time your lips pulled in a smile because what the heck were you doing?

“That’s it?”

His taunt had you take a deep breath and scream again, only to fall short. You covered your eyes and stifled a laugh. It reminded you of how you screamed on roller coasters.

“You must not have enough reasons to scream yet.”

You bit your lip, imagining the reasons you could have, the ways he could make you scream. The bed dipped next to you but you stayed in your reverie. In it, Yoongi touched you. He slapped your cunt with his cock and promised to use you. He grabbed you by the neck while he pounded into you so hard you saw stars.

You huffed in impatience, neediness making you bold; you were about to sit up and do something when you stopped. He was throwing his leg over you and his cock was so close your eyes nearly crossed. He grabbed your head in place, but you were staring, fixed, jaw falling open and lax instantly. You could pretend you wanted to scream more but you were just salivating, so when he aimed his cock at you, you just met him halfway.

His taste hit your buds quickly and moved to reach your throat, and you lost it. Your eyes rolled as you closed them, the salty traces leaving you dizzy, and the way he pushed himself down your throat made you squirm in waves of pleasure. It felt hot and intense and wild as he did it again and again, each time getting a better sense of how much you could take. You barely cared about breathing; he was finally using your mouth, fucking you, showing you how much he wanted you without holding back, and with each push, he made you feel better than the last. Elated, special — he was groaning and getting riled up down your throat because you made him feel that good.

Suddenly, he pulled back and you followed him as long as you could before he grabbed your arms and raised them above your head to stop you. He had heard you choke so he was probably worried, but you only sighed in impatience.

“So greedy,” he taunted, pressing your wrists down firmly. But he had a glint in his eyes — he was paying attention to you. Not worried, just caring.

“Aren’t you learning?” You said as you tried not to melt, but it was too late. He chuckled and his smile made you happy. “Keep going,” you asked softly, despite the tears running down to your hairline. “Please.”

He brushed his thumbs on your wrists for a second with his eyes set on you. You were such a handful and he couldn’t love it any better. Asking for him like that secretly drove him crazy, and made him want to give you everything you could ever wish for, no matter what. So when you leaned back and opened your mouth, it was his pleasure to stuff it with his dick. He grabbed your wrists more firmly and supported his weight on them to help him lean forward and give you the fucking you craved.

Time and time again he snapped his hips to get his cock down your throat, and it was challenging. His muscles were burning, but so were his lower stomach and balls as he tried not to come. You moaned and choked and bounced as he fucked your head into the mattress, and yet you were totally relaxed. Your arms and hands were still, calm as you got used and loved it. And he loved it too, but for your first time together and after skipping it the night before, he thought this time he wanted more.

He pulled away from you and it took you a second, but you instantly sulked. He settled between your legs as you cleaned the drool, “So I’m not going to swallow the sugar rush?”

He chuckled, “No, not this time.” You pursed your lips and were about to whine about him stopping so soon when he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

Your eyes widened and you instantly scrammed to conjure up one. Shit, shit shit, you thought as you turned your room upside down, then your toiletries, then your bathroom. Why the fuck didn’t you have one? Well, sure, you knew why, but you were so angry now. You could not miss this opportunity!

You turned to your kitchen, desperate at that point until you gasped. You searched for your first aid box and dug until you finally found a lost wrapper. You waved it victoriously as you strode back to your room and to bed, and Yoongi was there to receive you with a look you couldn’t identify. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the bed before pinning you down from between your legs and kissing you till you lost your breath.

If he wanted to fuck you before, now he wanted to screw you so hard you’d only ever remember his cock. To think you said you wanted to be with him the whole last year, and that you hadn’t been with anyone else because of it made him wild. Why had you both played it so safe? He had been to your apartment so many times, set you to sleep on that very same bed, and yet never once did he get the inkling that you wanted him. Not as he wanted you. But just now, you were dripping with how much you wanted him, squirming, begging for him to fuck you, and trying to rile him up so he would. You jolted at his fingers in your folds, rubbing your chest to his for any hint of a touch, moaning when he pulled your head back by your hair. You wanted him bad and he was going to give it to you.

He pulled away from you and you almost screamed in frustration, but seeing him putting the condom on cooled you just enough to stay quiet. Your hands even stayed above your head voluntarily as you waited patiently, thinking he wouldn’t waste that condom, he’d surely fuck you finally.

You moaned suddenly and looked down, confused for a second, but you weren’t dreaming. He was grabbing his cock and slapping your cunt with it right over your clit. You squirmed with need, but he kept doing it harder and harder, wet sounds echoing with your excitement.

“Fuck, I just knew it,” you mumbled, clenching around nothing right before his eyes.

“Knew what?”

“That you’d do that,” you moaned, hands tightly gripping each other so you would stay put.

He hummed as he did it quicker, seeing your slick connect to his cock, “That so? What else do you think I’ll do?”

You were burning all the way to your shoulders, trying to move with him so that his cock could give you friction, and he didn’t stop you. So you answered through gritted teeth, “Stick it in, get deep, fucking use me until I’m stuffed with your cum.”

Your voice disappeared with the lack of breath; he was dragging his cock over your clit now and it was the sweetest reward. 

“Filthy thoughts you’re having, hmm?” You were lost in your motion, rolling your hips to earn that friction so you gasped when he pushed his cock inside you, loving the burn as your core split to accommodate his girth. “Read my fucking mind.”

You screamed when he bottomed out, biting your lip with the way he was forcing himself inside you. Then you opened your eyes to see him and instantly clenched around him, and he smirked. 

“Been thinking about fucking me, huh?” You could barely hold a thought, but the opportunity to tease him was too sweet.

“It has crossed my mind,” he said and snapped his hips, and you didn’t know whether to gasp or moan. He’d hit you deep and hard, you knew he would, and it made you even tighter. His nails dag at your hips, “So many times.” He was starting slow but deep and you could do nothing but moan. “How you would moan, what you would want, how you would give in and let me take you,” every wish was pointed by a deep thrust. “Now look at you.” You looked down: your tits were bouncing with every hit, gushing sounds echoed along with your moans from how wet your heat was, and the sight of his thick cock pushing between your slit to enter you was the cherry on top. It was the can of cream about to blow you full, and you wanted to get filled. “Almost cuming even though I’ve barely started.”

“Cause you feel so good,” you breathed in a moan.

He leaned to grope your taunting tits, “You told me to use you.”

“Fuck, please.”

He gritted his teeth and adjusted you better so he could pick up the pace. And what a vicious pace it was, fast and steady, leaving you so hazed and lost, that you had no words. He slapped your tits around and you clenched, tears roaming your eyes with how good and sweet it was. It didn’t hurt, every touch sparkled pleasure in your veins, and the sight of him hitting and scratching, his squeezes on every bit of you only made you even more sensitive. More elated and euphoric, so much so you were mumbling more with every moan involuntarily. He was slapping and roughly marking your chest as you asked, and suddenly you threw your head back and looked at him.

“Harder,” you asked out of breath, and he slapped your tit so hard you screamed before moaning deeply. “Just not my face.”

You thought to tell him from within a glimpse of logic, and he nodded and took note of your limit. Instead, he leaned forward and groped both boobs again and you squirmed desperately.

“Squeeze,” you breathed, your moan pitching. He did, but it wasn’t enough, “Please!”

He did, a bit harder with every thrust into your messy cunt. It was maybe selfish, but he wanted to see how you unraveled. How you wanted those strong sensations, how you craved something more intense each time and with every bit of strength, you transformed it into a beautiful pleasure that had you bursting.

He saw you coming again, writhing around thoughtlessly with the intensity of your pleasure, so hard he didn’t have to look down to see you throbbing around his cock. He still did though, mesmerized by it, only to chuckle. You had left a ring of white around the base of his cock; you just had to have your way in the end.

He leaned in to kiss you through your haze, slowly sensing with his lips the condition you were in. At first, your reaction was delayed, the brush of your lips falling behind as you recovered. But then you reacted and pushed back against his tongue, and he knew you were good.

He pulled back and turned you around, and you helped and got on all fours instantly. He didn’t wait, he aimed his cock at you and entered your velvety embrace as soon as he could. You arched your back for him and pressed back into him a couple of times to feel him deeper, and he grinned.

“Finally. So obedient,” he taunted, squeezing your ass cheeks to spread for him.

“You’re finally fucking me senseless.”

Your voice was a whisper, and he smirked. You asked him to use you, and he was doing a good job at it. But now he wanted to make you scream, to mark you so hard you’d never be anything but his. He couldn’t help it; now that his cock was shoved deep inside you, he didn’t want anything else. Now that he knew what you tasted like, what you sounded like, and how filthy your mind and mouth could be, he wanted nothing else. He saw you trying to get him deeper, huffing and puffing as you swayed with him, and his chest tightened. The possessiveness you were inspiring in him was raw and dangerous, but he didn’t want to fight it.

So he gave you both what you wanted: he smacked your ass as he pounded into you, seeing the way it bounced in either direction until he couldn’t focus anymore. Until he was desperate to own you, to hear you scream, to know you’d beg for him forever. It wasn’t enough; no matter how hard you screamed, he wanted more and he wanted it to last. 

Grabbing your hair to pull it into showing the beautiful curve of your neck was a mistake, though. Suddenly he saw how beautiful you were, vulnerable and immersed in every sensation he gave you. He wanted you to be his, and suddenly it hit him that you already were. And you loved it.

And it snapped his senses, overthrowing his strong grip on his pleasure as if he had never had any. He became sloppy but still held on to your hips to sink and cum as deeply inside you as he possibly could. He groaned with every peak, jerking to milk the sensation between your tight walls as best as he could until he stilled. Fuck, how the hell did you do that to him?

He noticed then you were trembling and his priorities immediately surfaced, “Are you okay?”

You hummed, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled out despite your whine and helped you to softly lay on your side. Then he hopped off the bed, dealt with the condom, and searched around for water and a snack.

You were still stunned, out from the intensity of the emotions that had tensed and relaxed your body simultaneously. Your soul didn’t know how to handle what just happened, and the only thing that occurred to you before he came back was that you had totally surrendered. You didn’t force yourself to be tame and quiet, or said and did what the other person wanted so you wouldn’t ruin it for them. You were yourself, through and through, and Yoongi fucking ate you up like dessert.

The bed dipped behind you and you turned to him, sighing happily when he pulled you in to snuggle.

“Here — water and chocolate.”

You glanced at the bottle and bar and smiled widely. Your heart was right all along, and although you knew it was definitely too soon, there were special words at the tip of your tongue trying to get out.

Instead, you let him insist and sit you up to take a sip of water and a bite before letting you fall back into his arms in a sweaty embrace that you wanted with all your heart.

He was kissing your head and tracing your arm quietly when you decided to tell him, “Next time cover me with cum.”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, and you pouted.

“Just… You wanted to know what I think about.”

“You think about that?”

“Sometimes.”

He smirked and squeezed you inside his arms, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed.

You were melting and relaxing into his touch as he pecked your head when he whispered, “Are we bad?”

Your heart hurt for a second, what? But then you realized what he was saying: your song. When you wrote a conversation you once imagined you both could have had:

You're bad, you liar. 

It's me who's bad, I know this bad desire, sugar.

So you chuckled and sang along to the melody, “What did you do to me, sugar?”

[allfearstofallto]

Maids, maids…and even more maids

Being the Maid at a Yandere's Estate

FT: Kamisato Ayato, Childe, Diluc, and Scaramouche

Master Kamisato Ayato is quite the funny man. That's what you'll tell the other maids in quick bits of gossip. He has a surprisingly good type of humor that just falls from his mouth and a very very soft laugh, but of course, you can barely gossip as long as you want to. A ringing of a bell signifies that the master has called for you again, something he's been doing regularly these past few months.

“You're the only one I can trust to clean my quarters,” he told you once before. His quarters being his office and his bedroom. Even though he says that, he never leaves the room while you're cleaning. Rather he's there, pretending to be doing other tasks as you dust his shelves and sweep the floors. You wonder if he thinks that you can't feel his eyes on you? The second you look down, he's looking right at you, practically burning a hole through you with his gaze. It wasn't noticeable at first, but it grew worse the more that he insisted that only you could clean for him personally.

Your daily cleaning for him ends with him patting you on the back, his arms lingering around your waist for a little too long.

“You did incredible, as usual,” he'll praise you, “But don't be shy to come and see me outside of work hours.”

Master Ajax, or Childe as he's referred to by others, is rarely home. You wonder if that humble manor he has in Snezhnaya is just for show. Of course, you seldom get to see it too.

Whispers amongst your fellow coworkers told you that before you were hired, Childe didn't bring anyone with him on his trips. It made you question why you needed to pack your bags every time he was taking a trip to another city, as he insisted that you would come with him and be his personal maid for the duration of it.

He never treated you poorly and never took you anywhere dangerous. You were usually the one just holding down the fort and tidying at whatever inn he decided to stay at. But even you acknowledged the fact that you felt like you were a little too close to your employer. He'd take you out with him, you'd try to trail behind, but he'd make you walk closely at his side. And never once did he correct people when they assumed you were his wife. Actually, if you looked at his face after someone made the mistake, you'd see a smirk forming.

“What's wrong with being married to me?” He would joke, although his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, “I think I'm a pretty good catch. Don't you?”

Master Diluc doesn't leave his office often. The other maids talk in hushed whispers about how they worry that he may be working too much. Seeing him roaming the halls is like seeing a ghost. This also means that he partakes in most of his meals at that desk as well.

He invites you to sit with him one day, saying that he doesn't enjoy eating his meals alone and seeing as he is your boss, you agree. One day turns into nearly every day of your work week, and when asking your coworkers about it, they seem surprised.

“Master Diluc barely speaks to me when I deliver his meals,” one girl says and the other's agree shortly after.

It seems strange to you as you also slowly eat your food across from him. You'd taken to eating your meal as well, even though it wasn't you designated meal time. He assured you that you were still being paid for the moments you sat with him. When you question why you're the only maid that he shares his meals with, a slight grimace crosses his face.

“Does it matter?” He asks you, almost a little too harshly for the gentle Diluc you know, “I'm paying you to spend time with me. Only you.”

Lord Scaramouche who only needs a couple maids. He's rarely home anyways and when he is he doesn't leave his room often, doesn't take to meals, and doesn't call for anything more than a cup of tea. Although even you're surprised when less and less maids show up for their shifts, until it's only you that resides within the walls.

It's rather lonesome when you realize that your only company is now the quiet lord Scaramouche, who barely meets your eyes most days, and when he does speak, he says some form of insult. It's only when you're out for a grocery run that you run into a previous maid of the manor, chatting happily with the first person who'll talk to you.

When asked why they all decided to quit, she tilts her head in complete confusion, “We didn't quit. We were fired, all of us.”

It's a short sentence that confuses you even more. And your walk back to the manor is filled with thoughts. Bringing lord Scaramouche his meal that night, you decided to ask why you were the only help left in his lonesome abode. Assuring him that you're not complaining and that the job isn't too difficult.

“Must you always ask stupid questions?” He spits the words out, “Your presence doesn't bother me like the others so you get to stay. Don't take it for granted.”

[nicname]

”Oh if we didn’t have xenogenders/GNC trans people/neopronouns/MOGAI/etc etc etc then transphobes would respect us.” Untrue. Most transphobes are so insanely vitriolic that you could be the most standard, decent, agreeable trans person, and they would still hate you.

I’m a fairly basic trans man, online and off. I tone my gender down even more for work. I have short hair, facial hair, I wear pretty standard non-fitted pants and t shirts with some manner of compressive undergarment underneath, and I go by my fairly basic, common masc name. The only difference between me and my cis coworkers is that I openly engage in good-faith discussions about my being transgender when brought up, and I have a “he/him” pronoun pin I like to wear.

I have one coworker who I’m well aware has never gendered me correctly. I have assumed it was an intentional, bad-faith decision (because of other, unrelated-to-me conversations he has had with coworkers), but I’ve never really cared enough to bring it up to him. I figured, “if this is intentional, that’s his issue. I’m not interested in trying to change his mind.” I’ve reached a point in my transition to where I don’t really care that much if some random person doesn’t respect me or my gender, because I don’t need every stranger’s approval to be happy with myself.

With all that being said, I’ve treated him the same as I have every other coworker. I’ve been civil, I’ve been agreeable, I’ve still been friendly to him and haven’t gone around the workplace intending to smear his name. (Yes, I have discussed his behavior to those close to me who have asked, but I’ve kept it very private and said that as long as he doesn’t say anything outwardly malicious, I don’t really care about his behavior.) He has been outwardly friendly to me, too, telling me about his past careers, showing me pictures of his family, we’ve talked about our hobbies and other things we enjoy.

Still, after all of this, he has given up the ghost and decided to gossip about me negatively to coworkers. I won’t go into detail about what I’ve been told he said, but it was all explicitly transphobic and pretty aggressive. I’ve never gone out of my way to make him mad, relating to my gender or not, so it’s a little out of nowhere. I’m not particularly surprised by this, but I’m more surprised that he would be bold enough to say everything out loud when working for a company that has explicit protections for trans people in place. He was reported fairly quickly, without me ever knowing what occurred. The only reason I found out about everything is because I overheard a manager discussing it with a concerned coworker from my department.

So, if you take anything away from this, let it be that no amount of friendliness, gender-conformity, or civilness with stop a transphobe from taking their transphobia out on you, and it’s not your fault or any other trans person’s fault. Don’t victim blame trans people who become the subject of someone’s transphobic hate, because a transphobe is dedicated to harming trans people regardless of whether they blend in with cis people or not. Don’t use a transphobe’s needlessly malicious behavior as a reason to harass other trans, GNC, nonbinary, or otherwise gender diverse people.

[luveline]

WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer

ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k

Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself. 

But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks. 

You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you." 

"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin." 

For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him. 

Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place. 

Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room. 

"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!" 

Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see." 

"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely. 

"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks. 

"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that." 

Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking. 

"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.

Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made. 

"Morgan," he says reproachfully. 

Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you. 

"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly. 

Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to  know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away." 

You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.

"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away." 

It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet. 

Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind. 

"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?" 

Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N." 

"Partner?" Derek asks. 

It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables. 

You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.

"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you. 

"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius." 

"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?" 

"What took me so long?" you ask.

"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?" 

"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?" 

Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I thought maybe she was flirting with you." 

Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?" 

Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."

Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?" 

Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender. 

"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.

"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.

"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders. 

You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour." 

"You cannot keep bringing that up." 

"Why not?" 

Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved. 

[ddejavvu]

Doctor's Note - Sodapop Curtis x Reader

summary: you stand soda up, accidentally

contents/warnings: soda is somewhere around 18-19, mentions of his failed relationship w sandy, distrust/miscommunication, angst -> fluff. based on my very painful experience this morning with crippling back pain

send me requests for the outsiders!

Selfishly, sometimes you wonder what it would have been like to date Sodapop before he'd met Sandy. When he was more carefree, when he wasn't glancing at any man you talked to just a second too long. He's not possessive- and even if he is, he doesn't enforce it. But you know he's wary, and you know it's her fault.

Darrel had warned Soda to stay away from girls for a while, to give himself a break. And he had. Two long years later his hiatus was broken when you'd come into the DX fiending for a coke, and when you'd asked, 'Do you know where I could find a soda 'round here?' his eyes had glimmered with opportunity, and he'd pointed proudly to his nametag.

"Right here, ma'am. No caffeine in me but I could keep 'ya up all night if you want me to."

It had been so wildly crass, so insanely audacious that you'd burst out laughing, both from the absurdity of his name and the brashness of his comment. He'd apologized for it, too, twenty minutes into your conversation that lasted an hour.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier. I mean- I don't usually come on strong like that. Couldn't stop myself- prolly got it from my friend Two-Bit, he's always crackin' jokes like that. Hope you didn't think it was greasy."

"I think it was very greasy," You'd laughed, tilting your chin towards the tin of hair grease abandoned at the other end of the counter, "I thought that was the whole point."

"That's my buddy Steve's", Soda had told you, light dancing in his eyes as he readjusted his elbows on the counter to lean further towards you, "He does these real fancy swirls in his hair, and I've been able to do 'em a few times, but mainly I just slick mine back, and half the time I don't even grease it anyways because I'm just bummin' round the house so there's no need. My other friend-"

He was a natural-born talker, and you'd been just as caught up with talking yourself as you were with listening to him. It had taken the reappearance of his aforementioned coworker, Steve, for you to glance at the clock, and realize that you were 40 minutes past the time you should have been back at work from your lunch break.

You're surprised you hadn't scared Sodapop off with your swearing alone, but you'd managed to scribble your number onto his hand before you'd left. You hadn't even remembered to buy a drink, but he'd brought you one when he showed up for your first date.

Now, three weeks later, you're getting ready to show up to his house. This is a big thing: you're meeting his brothers. He's told you so much about them you feel like you know them, and he's also given you your fair share of warnings, too. Darry's too stern sometimes, and it might take a while for him to warm up to you. Ponyboy's an awkward teen, and on top of it, he'd trusted Sandy- they all had. You know you've gotta prove yourself better than her, and you're starting with some sweet perfume and a bundle of flowers for their dining table.

--

"Get your bum ass off the couch and vacuum," Soda's hands shove roughly at Ponyboy's thighs, "She's gonna be here in thirty minutes!"

"Jeez, Soda, she's not my girlfriend," Ponyboy grumbles, but he stands and heads for the closet where the vacuum lies all the same, "Don't understand why I have to be the one cleanin'."

"'Cause Darry's the one cookin'." Soda glares at him, "And I'm cleaning too. I've been cleaning for days."

"Bathroom looks good, little man." Darry voices his approval from the kitchen, "Thought I was gonna die of shock when I realized you'd scrubbed down the toilet."

Not much conversation is heard over Ponyboy's aggressive vacuuming, but Soda calls the cleaning at five minutes to your arrival time.

"Okay. Rules again?" He looks expectantly at his brothers, and Darry looks irritated that he's being grilled this time.

"No judging." Ponyboy grumbles, but he doesn't think it's fair, because Sandy had seemed so nice and sweet, and she'd run right out on Sodapop. So he feels like he has to judge, because maybe Soda's gonna get hurt again. He doesn't want that.

"No grilling." Darry continues, equally put-out by Soda's request. He wants what's best for his brother. Sodapop's two-year long relationship drought was refreshing, and he's seen the boy blossom into a wonderful man. Still, he can't help feeling some lingering resentment towards Sandy, and he knows it's not fair to attach it to you, but he doesn't know what else to do with it.

"And no arguing at the table." He glances between Darry and Pony both warily, "I mean it, this isn't the night to discuss grades or curfew or chores. Just- be nice to her. Treat her like a real guest."

"Alright, little buddy." Darry secedes, squeezing Soda's flannel-clad shoulder slightly, "Now, you gonna go wait by the door for her?"

"No! I'm not that desperate." Soda scoffs, but Darry notices the way he flops down into his eldest brother's armchair, the only seat in the house with a view of the front walkway. Ponyboy settles himself awkwardly on the couch, watching cartoons even though there's an anxious tension in his skinny shoulders.

You're set to arrive in two minutes, and Soda's practically vibrating out of his seat. There's no sign of the cute little sundress you said you'd wear today, but that's okay, because he thinks it's so considerate of you to show up punctually versus early. if you'd come fifteen minutes earlier you would have seen him near-tears over the spot of chocolate that wouldn't rub out of the wall behind the television. Ponyboy had pointed out that there's no way you would have seen it unless you'd been wedged between their tv and the wall, but Soda was not going to invite you into a messy home.

One minute goes by, and Soda's cuticles hurt from where his nails tear at them. He tries to stop himself- after all, you wouldn't want to hold his hand if his was bleeding. But his next nervous habit becomes fiddling with the hem of his shirt, which isn't nearly as satisfying for his fingers.

He waits for what he's sure is more than a minute, which means you're due to flounce up the stairs in seconds. But he doesn't see you, and he knows Pony's watching him crane his neck every three seconds to look for you. So he tones it down- after all, he's got a 10-minute grace period at the DX for his shifts. If he can clock in at 8:10 and still be 'on time', you can show up a few minutes late.

"Any sign of her?" Darry pokes his head out of the kitchen, seeing the front door still shut. Soda shakes his head- then he catches a glimpse of your hair color outside the window. Upon further inspection, it's a stray cat. Ponyboy snorts at him, and Soda sinks back into the recliner.

Okay, so you've used up your grace period. But Soda gets it- you probably sang one too many love songs about him in the shower, and now you're tripping over your own feet trying to run to his house. Or the bus was late, or you missed it entirely, and you'll show up before the food goes cold.

Fifteen minutes go by, and Darry hovers over the finished meal, wondering whether he should plate it or not.

Twenty minutes go by, and Darry considers removing one plate from the table.

Thirty minutes go by, and Darry turns off the stove.

An hour goes by, and Pony retreats to his room for some homework time. Darry's meticulously cleaning the kitchen, but Sodapop thinks it's more because he doesn't know what to say than because he thinks you'll judge them for a grease stain on the wall.

When Darry's scrubbed the kitchen raw nearly an hour later, he pads softly over to Soda where he still rests in his armchair.

"Soda, I- listen, I don't think she's comin' tonight."

"I told her today." Soda's got his fingernail pinched between his teeth, his leg having long-since stopped its nervous bouncing, "I- I know I told her tonight, and she said she'd be here, but I-"

Darry's hand squeezes his shoulder again, this time tighter, and something awfully familiar resurges in Soda's chest where it's laid dormant for two years.

"C'mon, little buddy." Darry urges him up out of the chair, "Let's turn in early tonight."

--

Soda's not doing his best work despite having gotten eleven hours of sleep the night prior. He's sluggish and mopey, and Steve sticks him on the register so that no one risks a foolish mistake to their car. Soda stares at a knot in the wood grain, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and doesn't look up even when the entrance bell dings.

"Soda-" He hears a voice, one that he'd been waiting since last evening to hear, one that exacerbates that sickly feeling in his chest. He hasn't been able to shake it, and your face had blended with Sandy's in his nightmares last night.

"Soda, I'm- I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you show?" He barely has the courage to look up at you, but he does, because last time he'd groveled. He'd begged, pleaded, bargained with her to stay with him, and he wasn't going to do that this time. He was going to be the man Darry wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry." You repeat, clutching a paper in your hands, brows permanently furrowed, "It was an emergency. I was getting ready, and- and all of a sudden my back started hurtin'. Real bad, Soda, I- I had to lie down on the ground."

Soda watches, interest piqued, as you stagger towards the counter, clearly limping. Sickness is replaced with worry in his chest, and he watches as you brace yourself against the register.

"My folks didn't get home for hours. I was just laying there, I- I couldn't reach the phone, I couldn't move my legs, I was just stranded there." Your voice thickens at the memory, and you sniffle absentmindedly, "Soda, I would have called you, I just- I couldn't move. I swear. I tried, Soda, I swear I tried to get to the phone, but it was so painful. And then when my parents got home they had to carry me to the car 'n all, and the emergency room took forever, and- and we didn't get home until three in the morning, and I knew you'd be sleepin' so I didn't call, and I felt so bad because I knew you'd be waiting on me, and- and I'm so sorry, Sodapop."

All at once yours and Sandy's faces come undone in his mind, and hers is cast aside as he studies yours. There's tears, big shiny ones lining your eyes, and your chin trembles slightly. You're still clutching the paper, and when you realize he's glancing at it, you gasp.

"Oh! I- um, I got you a doctor's note. I didn't want you to think I was lyin'."

You push the page towards him on the counter, and he takes it with trembling hands.

'Patient Y/N Y/L/N admitted to emergency services at 8:49 PM Wednesday, 30th July. Diagnosed with severe lumbar muscle strain. This patient is placed off of work from 7/30/1968 through 8/05/1968.

Patient would like to add that she did not intend to stand up her date with one Sodapop Patrick Curtis on Wednesday, 30th July. Patient would like to reschedule for another night. Doctor prescribes a calm, laid-back dinner date until patient recovers.'

"Had one hell of a time trying to get him to put that in there." Your sheepish voice pipes up from where Soda's reading the last words on the page, "But I told him you were a nice boy and he said there's not many of those around here. I'm sorry, again. I'm so sorry."

Lumbar muscle strain rings a bell in Soda's head. It's something Darry's definitely mentioned before, the few times they've bullied him into seeking medical attention for all of his blue collar aches and pains. He's sure if you're hurting the way Darry does sometimes, that you weren't lying about not being able to move.

You're staring at him like you're worried he'll send you away, and the piece of paper in his hands is the only thing stopping him from doing just that. But he glances down at it again, and takes a deep breath.

"It's okay. I believe you. My brother Darry, he- he pulls muscles sometimes. Don't usually see him cry, but I do when that happens. Are you okay?'

You visibly relax at his words, but something in your back must have protested the movement, because your face pinches up again.

"Um- yeah. Mostly. It hurts when I move too much." You admit, "But I had to make it down here to see you. I'm so sorry. Were you- were you angry at me?"

He doesn't think so- he was offended, he was disappointed, but most of all, he's pretty sure he was beating up on himself more than he was beating up on you. It felt like it did the first time, and he was the common denominator in both.

"No." He answers honestly, "But- uh, I think Darry probably is."

You wince, and he doesn't blame you. But he holds the note a little tighter, "But I'll tell him what happened. Like I said, he knows what that feels like. Don't worry about it, honey. You- uh, did you want to still meet them?"

"Of course! Of course," You nod eagerly, bracing your weight against the counter, "Do you still... want me to meet them?"

"Of course." He echoes, finally breaking his stoicism with a grin, a shy one as he reaches for your hand over the counter, still clutching the note in his other hand, "Can't argue with the doctor's orders."

[miharuki]

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕶𝖆𝖋𝖐𝖆 𝕳𝖎𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖔'𝖘 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

Fem reader

Imagine being Kafka Hibino's younger sister. When he mentioned having a sister, you, to his coworkers, he might say he bitterly regrets it. It's not because he hates you or anything, but he just can't stop being irritated. His coworkers always ask, "Is she single?" "Give me her contact info." "How are you the brother of such a precious thing?" With his brotherly jealousy, Kafka can't stand the idea of you dating, especially not a colleague of his. He thinks you're not ready.

When Reno starts his internship at your brother’s workplace, he barely arrives before overhearing one of Kafka's coworkers say, "Hey Kafka! This is Reno, he wants to join the Defense Force!" Kafka might show a bit of surprise before getting angry at the next comment: "Reno, this is Kafka. He also dreamed of joining the Defense Force, but he gave up and now works here, unlike his sister."

"Kafka's beautiful sister works there!" Just mentioning you makes Kafka irritated. He gets annoyed because his coworkers won't stop talking about you, always trying to provoke him by talking about how they’d like to date you, maybe go out and hook up. "Keep my sister out of this!" Kafka mutters before turning to Reno, who looks at him confused.

"Now I understand what the cleaning staff was talking about," Kafka realizes his mistake. Now his friend Reno Ichikawa, who inspired him to try for the Defense Force and succeeded, is watching you present yourself. Kafka can only sigh in exhaustion, asking Reno to keep it a secret or just not point out that the leader of the third division squad is nothing more than Kafka's precious sister.

Although it’s already too late, now in the bath with his teammates, he not only mentions Mina but also you. This makes everyone extremely curious. But Kafka learned that if he opened his mouth, he’d be teased for having you as his little sister, so he avoids the subject, though he ends up talking about Mina, with his colleagues pressing him for more details.

But one thing Kafka can say is that he prefers a thousand times over for Reno Ichikawa, his friend, to date his precious sister rather than the vice-captain of the third division. He really didn’t know that Soshiro Hoshina had been eyeing you for a long time, only finding out when Soshiro openly mentioned it.

"So you're (name) (middle name) Hibino’s brother? What a strange way to meet my future brother-in-law," Soshiro said. Strange? Kafka felt not only anger but also surprise at that moment. "Future brother-in-law?!" As if that wasn't enough, Soshiro knew Kafka wanted to fight alongside his captain Mina Aspiro. It annoyed Kafka that Soshiro wanted to take his place as vice-captain, so it was a nice surprise to find out that the brother of his crush was here. He could not only tease the old man but also irritate him.

"By the way, your sister says hi," Soshiro's smile was enough to make Kafka mad.

“Reno,” Kafka said.

“Yes?”

“Know that you have my blessing.”

"W- what do you mean, Kafka?!!" Reno looked shocked and blushing at Kafka, who only had an expression of anger and seriousness. Kafka had just said he didn't mind if Reno dated his sister; he preferred that over the vice-captain.

“50 push-ups!” Kafka could only cry in sadness at his vice-captain’s remark. He knew Soshiro probably told Reno he preferred him over Soshiro dating you.

"Captain, have you noticed that the vice is acting really strange?" You ask Mina, and Mina can only sigh. If there’s one thing you and Kafka share, it’s the slowness in understanding others’ feelings, especially when they’re interested in you.

[onecheerfulmoron]

🤴God / 🫅Goddess Appeal

<Applies to both Male & Female>

*Personal Observation / Experience*

What do I mean by god/goddess appeal?

Well, I believe individuals who have certain aspects, placements, or signs (which I have listed below) enforces others to view them in a positive light or show admiration. The explanation as to what causes that positive outlook can be better understood by knowing the roles of the planets or signs. You can use the examples of the planet's role from my sex appeal post to help better understand. I’m just a bit lazy sometimes, lol.

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Venus conjunct Neptune

Sun/Rising/Moon/MC/Mercury/Mars/Jupiter/Neptune conjunct Venus

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Venus conjunct Mars

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury/Mars conjunct Saturn

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct Juno

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Nymphe #875

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Psyche #16

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Eros #433

Sun/Rising/MC/Mercury conjunct asteroid Aphrodite #1388

*Personally I think when it comes down to asteroids in conjunction to Venus, there’s a 50/50 chance that it’s attention towards you (why people want to be in a relationship with you) or it’s all about your nature in a relationship. That’s why I didn’t include Venus for the asteroids. I never seen its effect on these asteroids. If any of y’all have, please let me know :)*

Any of those planets in Pisces, Cancer, Libra, Taurus, Capricorn and Aries.

*Personally, I find Capricorns hot and cold. So I included them in this and my sex appeal post. They carry a very dominant yet mature vibe and can be seen as hot and cute. They are the Gemini’s of appearance because of their capability to shift from being hot to cute. Example: Jennie (Blackpink), Timothée Chalamet, Zayn Malik, Kim Tae-hyung (BTS), etc.*

Any of those planets & asteroids in the 1st, 5th, 7th, 10th, and 11th house.

Trines/Opposition/Square/Sextile also apply. Conjunctions are the most powerful and/or tighter the orbs of the aspect. Orbs (0-3), the more prominent it plays out in your life. Orbs (4-7) is somewhat in the middle.

Examples:

People with Sun and/or Rising conjunct Neptune or in Pisces literally act like the Geminis of the water sign with the mindset of Libra or some. They know how to get their way around shit and don't like problems, so instead of siding with their opinion, they just go along with whatever the other person says to keep the peace. This is one of the zodiac signs I have seen as the most mutable after Libras. I never heard people saying shit about Pisces. They are usually welcomed in any type of friend groups.

Any planet in aspect with Neptune makes the individual dreamy, ethereal, and magnetic for whatever that planet represents. Ex: Sun conjunct Neptune their personality, Rising conjunct Neptune -> their features and sense of style, etc. These people are like Libra’s, but the emotional version.

Mercury conjunct Neptune individuals better sing their asses off. Many celebrities who have this are known for their voices and how beautiful they sound. Ummmm hello Ariana Grande & Jennie from Blackpink….. These people possess a voice that can influence and attract others. For instance, people with Mercury conjunct Pluto have a unique conversational style, but people with Mercury conjunct Neptune have a unique tone and voice. There was this one time I ordered pizza over the phone and man I was getting butterflies over the man who took my order. The tone of his voice was such a turn-on. I won't be surprised if he had this aspect.

I have Nymphe conjunct my Rising in the 12th house. Since nymphe is in my 12th house, the effect on others usually takes place when they get to know me, are around me, or when they talk to me. I get called adorable a lot by men and some women. I have been told by one coworker that I’m so naive and that it’s adorable. Yes, I have been a very sheltered female, lol. One day at my corporate job my coworkers were talking about Greek people, and I was like “Oh I didn’t know they still existed”. They burst out laughing and one of my coworkers yelled out “You’re so adorable…that was so cute”. Mind you, my director was behind them. I was scared I was going to get fired for being stupid. If Indians find out about me and my stupidity, they will not claim me, lol. Even when I had to take gym class in high school, I was so embarrassed to run and still am because I didn't want to look stupid. My gym teacher would always hype me up like a father. Everyone in that gym class knew our gym teacher had a special spot for me. I'm seen as a kid to adults, tho I'm 23. I honestly think because of that, I attract pedophiles. When I used to work part-time at a restaurant, a female manager (40-50yr old) who I think could be bisexual told me to make OnlyFans. She randomly told me her daughter does and she watches them. And kept pushing me to. The bartender kept telling me she has a thing for me. I also had older men (40 and up) sexualize me. A grown man touched me on my back when I went grocery shopping. The crazy thing is he did it when his son walked away somewhere. Despite being adorable and childish, this aspect has the potential to attract pedophiles. I know I'm not a kid, but my innocence and naiveness draws predators.

I have Psyche conjunct my Rising in the 1st house. I have a way of getting out of trouble, lol. It’s like people can tell I have good intentions and go easy on me. All I have to do is make eye contact, and people feel connected to me soulfully. I usually get along with men more, and they respect me more than females. If y'all know the story of Psyche dealing with jealousy from her sisters and Aphrodite. That shit ain’t wrong. I always felt as if females didn’t like me, like they were jealous. For instance, I was shocked when I found out that this girlfriend whom I had been friends with since middle school tried to copy my facial feature. She slipped up and told me on a phone call that she showed a picture of my face when she got her chin done. She said even the surgeon was shocked that my cheekbones and chin were natural. Like WTF! That's creepy man. I would never show a picture of my friend if I was trying to get something done on myself. The girl been jealous of me the entire time of our friendship and released it by getting work done. I’m not close to her like that anymore. A positive example of this aspect would be me only getting warnings from cops. One day I sped through the school zone and got caught. I pulled over, and the cop asked me what do you think will happen now. I told him my car insurance will go high. The crazy thing is I left my wallet and DL at home. I was thankfully able to find a picture on my phone and yes he let me go with a warning. Another time a police car was behind me at the traffic lights, and it was red. When the traffic light turned green, the police siren went off, and I thought there was a criminal before me. I did the same shit the guy before me did and pulled over to the grass on the right. Next thing you know I was the criminal lol. The cop asked me why I didn’t let him cross. Apparently I was supposed to because his lights were on. Yep, I used my Psyche magic trick. I made them eye contact, and I was let go with a warning. There were worse situations I got away with other people wouldn’t have, but I don’t want to get in trouble by saying it lol. This special effect affects anybody I make eye contact with when I’m in an emotional state. A blessing in disguise for sure.

Yep, I also got Eros conjunct my Rising in the 1st house. This aspect is supposed to exude sensual vibes. I have other asteroids and placements bringing in crazy shit to my life lol. I have come to the realization though that when I attempt to charm someone, my Eros emerges. I know it’s my Eros because with the other aspects and placements, they are apparent when I’m being myself, as my situation resonates with their description. Back to Eros topic-> men usually stiffen up from the tension they feel from me. I could tell from that eye contact. I know this sensation because when I was in high school, I had a crush on this dude. I would purposely turn on this innocent charm of mine, but to him, it was sexual. He got a boner in class. I can make others feel sexual around me. I don’t want to think about it, lol. Although the impact of this asteroid tends to be more sexual, it tends to be more positive and not abrupt. To simplify, I have never had a negative reaction from this aspect, but if anything, it strengthens my influence. When people feel a sense of sexual tension, they respect my space.

A girl who had Sun conjunct Venus aspect worked at my workplace briefly. Man, she drew everyone’s attention towards her. Shit, even I liked being around her. It was honestly so hard to judge her. It’s like you automatically accept people with this aspect and their energy. I’m the type of person who likes to intuitively feel out a person and can tell who I should cut off or maintain a relationship with. It’s so fucking hard to do that with people who have Sun conjunct Venus man. They can probably commit a crime and people will be like “I understand”. Crazy! People with this aspect can be celebrities and have people worship them for their identity/personality. Like Lisa Manoban (Blackpink), Tyla Seethal, Robert Downey, Dylan O' Brien, etc.

Capricorn Sun & Rising individuals have this aura about them where you got to respect them. They give off this persona of self-confidence. My cancer ass only wishes, lol. These individuals are usually the ones people be like “She comes off as bitchy” or “He must be a fuck boy”. You know how Gemini’s have this dual personality shit, and people know to stay away bc their behavior screams fake. Well, the thing is, that’s how you can describe a Capricorns appearance. They come off as cold, but when they want to, watch out for that cuteness and childlike expression. Yes, I have fallen for Capricorn risings *twice*. I also had a Capricorn friend who can pull in men that fall for her dual persona. I witnessed it first hand. She's seen as cute, but holds quite the flame.

Any planets aspecting Mars screams dominance and assertiveness. If the aspect is with the Sun then they got daddy personality, Rising then they got some manliness features or dressing sense, Mercury will be their dominant communication skill, etc. My feminine self wishes to get me some mercury conjunct Mars or MC conjunct Mars man. What a turn on. Need to stop daydreaming, lol. But seriously tho, it has Alpha effect.

[midnightorchids]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

[tragikomizm]

art student!touya headcanons bc why not can you tell that i love artsy people?

tw: smoking and getting high, touya is a loser but we all already know that

──────────────────────

touya had no idea what to do with himself after high school. he chose studying art, because it seemed to be easy lmao he also really wanted to piss of endeavor

after college he wants to be a tattoo artist (who’s surprised?)

touya who’s working at your local record store and always trying to start a conversation with you about the albums you buy. in his head, he has a whole ass plan to make you swoon but, in reality, all he manages to do is asking you if you like this band and recommending you some new music he thinks you might like

you giggle everytime he stumbles over his words and thank him, assuring you’ll check out his recommendations. and oh boyy he’s whipped. he even started thinking that maybe you are trying to seduce him

he literally doesn’t know the difference between being simply friendly and flirting. he’s delusional, he’s stupid

(he rejected so many people that were hitting on him, because he thought they were just being nice to him. but with you, oh that’s a different story)

you and touya met through keigo who was done with listening touya talk about his pretty customer. you’ll probably never forget his face when he realized his best friend is also friends with his crush

after that you two started talking more. he’s still so painfully awkward, because this man has no idea how to talk to you

bold over text, super awkward in person. that’s it

before keigo introduced you to him, touya only annoyed takami with his constant monologue about you. but now? everyone falls his victim. his roommate? shigaraki got too many warnings about way too high volume on his headphones and he still can hear touya’s yapping. his family? shouto and natsuo start throwing at touya every object that just happens to be near them, whenever your name leaves their big brothers lips. fuyumi just asks him when he’s gonna ask you out and he shuts up as fast as he opened his mouth. and his coworkers? spinner daily fights the urge to get high before work but he doesn’t want to get fired, so he’s forced to keep up with touya sober. the only person that enjoys his yapping is toga, which isn’t very surprising, really. she forces touya to listen to her talk about ochako in exchange tho

and don’t even get me started on his drawings. his sketchbook is filled with you. every. single. page. he doodles you every time he gets ahold of something that can write

“todoroki, for the love of god, could you stop drawing your girlfriend on my desk?” keigo showed you that doodle. at some point he also told you about touya’s crush on you. he’ll complain about touya’s constantly running mouth, but he’s a noisy bitch as well. a match made in hell

you often bump into touya at random parties keigo or rumi take you to. and everytime that happens you two decide to leave your friends and go on a side quest. later you need to explain to your friends why they can’t find you anywhere at the party. you should’ve informed them beforehand but in touya’s presence it’s easy to forget about the surrounding you world

especially, when he finally gets comfortable with you. there’s so many topics he wants to discuss with you, he literally can’t shut his mouth. you might never get a chance to kiss him

takes you with him whenever he goes making graffiti. cmon he would do that

touya secretly wishes you would model for him. but he will never admit to that

deep late night talks while sharing a cig or blunt? god please. all you have to do is text him that you found this new spot with a cool view and he’s already under your window

he invites you over to listen to the new cd he bought. he collects cds argue with the wall. he’ll be also very offended if you don’t invite him over to listen to the album you bought

don’t worry he’ll get over it quickly, he’ll be very petty about it tho

at first, when you asked him if you could see his art he refused. he’s shy yk. especially considering the fact that most of his sketches are of you. touya eventually showed you his art when you told him about that doodle on keigos desk. he ghosted you for hours after that, because he thought you’ll make fun of him </33

has like 5 different playlists made for you. all consisting different music genres and for different occasions. one is full of songs you recommended him. other is filled with songs that remind him of you. you guys also share a playlist, which is a mix of your favorite songs and is a total chaos

touya doesn’t have a license or his own car (duh), so when he asks you if you’re up for a ride it means that you’re going to drive and he’ll just sit there, looking pretty and play music

getting high with touya is… interesting. he gets really clingy and all philosophical. so many what if questions. rumi has a couple of videos of your conversations from the times you two got high at your place. she says she’s going to play them at your wedding

“hear me out on beetlejuice” high off his ass touya, after you came up with a genius idea of watching beetlejuice

touya keeps complaining about you spending more time at the store and distracting him but we all know he doesn’t mind. maybe expect those moments when you talk shit about him with toga and spinner

you also have a bet if those two teenagers that keep having dates at the store will end up together. you think that the blonde boy has a chance, while touya well… he says that the girl’s to cool for this guy

if you two can’t meet, he’ll just call instead. probably on some ungodly hour, because his sleeping schedule is nonexistent. will insist on not hanging up when you want to go to sleep. he promises that he’ll end the call, since he’s going to stay up a little bit longer. and he always forgets about that. one time you got woken up by rei, trying to get touya out of bed

he definitely had planned the first kiss. the thing is — he never had a chance to use his plan. mostly because he was waiting for the perfect moment. you were the one who kissed him. during one of your many late night rides, while you were sitting in your car in some empty parking lot. he was talking about something, you can’t remember what it was, his eyes shining as he was explaining, streetlamps light falling on his face and making him look even prettier then usual. if it was even possible, because it’s touya we’re talking about, the pretty boy cmon. you almost felt bad about interrupting him. but he didn’t seem to mind when he practically crushed you between him and your cars door

after that he thanked you, like he didn’t took your breath away a second ago

so many handmade gifts !!!

art museum dates. holding hands, talking about your favorite artists and pieces, standing in front of the artwork and discussing its meaning, touya explaining you different techniques. either that or pointing at the weirdest medieval animals and saying “you”

i said that once and i’ll say it again. he’s your trained photographer

he’ll also gladly turn into your editor

will touch you on purpose if his hands are dirty from painting. annoying bastard

definitely will become your human canvas if you’ll get bored and want to draw on him. touya will try his best not to wash it down during shower. he might even skip shower, who knows

obviously, touya has piercings and tattoos because it’s touya

and yes, he lets you color his tattoos, duh

──────────────────────

no way i finally wrote sth (nobody gives a shit girl)

im working on sth a little bigger i promise

yes i sneaked a little togachako here can you blame me?

and yes thats jirou and denki, they have record store dates

projecting as always im trying to manifest a bf thru this silly posts

or a crush at least

btw touya and keigo definitely made out at some point im just sayin

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐱𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 – 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 ⊹˚꙳⁺⋆₊･*❅

coworker!jungwon x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: fluff, coworkers to lovers (?) | words: 1.5k | cw: a little angst but trust the process!! ୨୧

₊☃️‧₊˚❄️˚₊‧🌨️˚ ⋅

of course you'd be the one to organize your company's christmas celebration. and of course, out of all the people who could have teamed up with you, it just had to be jungwon.

the sweet, bubbly coworker, the sunshine of the team, who got along with everyone but you. you'd thought about it again and again but you couldn't pinpoint a specific moment when things might have gone wrong between you.

from the beginning, you'd been nothing but kind to him, and at first he had been the same. but somewhere along the way, something must have happened that made his responses shorter, his tone sharper and his presence around you rare.

it honestly made you sad. you hadn't just admired his work, you'd genuinely liked him as a person. he was someone you'd looked forward to seeing around in the office, until one day, he wasn't. he seemed to be the kind of person everyone felt comfortable to be around. just not you.

maybe that was why you hesitated as you stood in front of his office, telling yourself you would knock after mentally counting to three – except you had already counted to three at least five times and still hadn’t moved.

just as you raised your hand to finally knock, the door swung open, revealing the man in question who almost ran into you before he could stop himself.

"um... you need anything?" he asked, the cool tone of his voice contrasting his otherwise soft appearance.

he was wearing a loose sweater instead of his usual button-up shirt, his bangs softly falling over his eyes as he blinked at you in confusion.

you snapped out of it only when he awkwardly cleared his throat and took another step back to create a bigger distance between you.

"no, i was gonna," you started, only to hesitate again, not quite sure anymore what you had even come for. he raised an eyebrow, his expectant gaze making you feel like your silence was nothing but a big waste of his time.

"about the christmas event," you finally continued, "i was thinking we could, like, start to plan? or maybe decorate, i already bought everything. only if you have time of course! if not, i can totally do it alone and–"

"now is perfect," he interrupted, a little softer but still firm.

"yeah, no worries, i'll just let you know when–" you started, not having expected him to actually agree until his words finally settled in. "wait, what?"

the corners of jungwon's lip twitched slightly, almost as if he'd start to smile, but he didn't.

"i said now is perfect," he repeated. this time, it wasn't only his words that surprised you, but the sudden softness in his voice, almost the way he'd used to talk to you before whatever had happened.

you blinked at him, your expression blank, as he just wordlessly pushed past you and lead the way to the conference room.

by the time you caught up with his fast steps, he was already inspecting the boxes of decorations you'd hauled in earlier.

"do we really need all this?" jungwon asked without looking at you, as he carefully pulled out a garland and eyed it.

"absolutely!" you said defensively

absolutely not. you'd bought way too much stuff, a lot that you knew you wouldn't necessarily need but your childish side had told you otherwise.

as jungwon stepped on the small ladder and started putting up the garlands, you rummaged around in one of the boxes untily your eyes landed on the bottle of glitter that you'd (unnecessarily) bought to decorate pinecones with.

jungwon glanced at you from the corner of his eye once he stepped off the small ladder to grab another garland.

"careful with that," he said causually before turning around again to attach the next garland.

"duh," you replied as you kept on struggling to open the bottle, "careful is my middle name."

with one final tug, the lid popped off abruptly, the sudden pull causing at least half of the glitter to land in your lap and all over your blouse.

jungwon turned around as he heard the 'plop' and let out the tiniest chuckle at the sight of you half covered in glitter.

"and i was gonna say you might ruin your shirt with it," he said with amusement.

"too late," you murmured back, putting the now half-empty bottle on the floor and trying to rub the glitter off your shirt with a tissue – only to smear it even more.

jungwon hopped off the small ladder with a sigh, quickly pulled his sweater over his head to reveal the black tshirt he was wearing underneath, and handed you the sweater.

"you can wear that, or you can walk around like a shiny ornament for the rest of the day," he said when you hesitated to take it.

you took it, waiting for him to give you a reassuring nod and quickly went to the restroom to get rid of your glittery blouse and pull on his sweater instead.

when you went back to the conference room, jungwon shot you a quick look, his expression softening a little at the sight of you in his clothes.

the two of you continued to decorate and plan and you started to feel more comfortable as time passed and your conversation flowed more easily.

you didn't even realize how much time had passed until a sudden loud whistle of wind drew your attention to the windows. outside, the snowfall was so heavy that you could barely see beyond the endless flurry of white flakes.

you exchanged a quick glance with jungwon and grabbed your phone to check the time, only for it to ring with an emergency weather alert.

"guess we're stuck here for now?" jungwon asked after reading the message on his own phone.

you shrugged with a sigh, "i guess."

"i'll go make tea, you want some?" he asked, waiting at the door and heading to the kitchen after you nodded.

when he came back just moments later, his fingertips softly brushed against yours as he handed you the cup. you were both sipping in silence, the only sound the whistle of the wind and the steady hum of the heater, until your thoughts slipped out.

"what did i do that made you hate me?" the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them.

jungwon looked up from his mug in surprise. he blinked at you for what felt like an eternity, until he finally replied, "i don't hate you? never did."

your eyebrows creased. "well, certainly something went wrong. else you wouldn't be like, i don't know. like this."

jungwon sighed, taking a long sip of his tea and staring at the half-empty mug in his hand.

"it's not that i don't like you," he began, adding an almost inaudible, "it's the opposite, actually.

"i guess, i felt–" a loud click interrupted him, followed by sudden silence as the heater in the corner stopped humming.

"great," you mumbled, instinctively tightening your grip around the warm mug.

"we can go back to my office, it should be warm there," he said, standing up and walking toward his office without another word.

he sat down on the small sofa in the corner and motioned you to sit next to him.

"y/n, you're great... at what you're doing," he added the last part awkwardly. "you didn't know they started comparing us? saying you're more efficient, more likeable. that you're the better version of me, basically."

your eyes widened slightly at his words. "who says that?"

"doesn't matter," jungwon replied quickly, "but i guess... it made me feel insecure. i know it's childish to let it out on you, but..."

he stayed silent for a while, before continuing, "no, actually i don't have any excuses. i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or like i hate you. i like you, really. like, a lot."

you looked at him in surprise, and for a moment, you didn't speak. the snow outside was relentless, the chill creeping into the room despite the warmth of his office and the sweater he'd lent you.

“you’re cold,” he said suddenly, noticing the way you’d pulled down the sleeves to cover your hands fully.

you shook your head, but he frowned, standing up and pulling a blanket out of one of his drawers. "i keep this here for when i stay late. here," without giving you a chance to argue, he shifted closer to you and pulled the blanket over both of you, his arm naturally settling around your shoulders.

only the gesture and his closeness – so close you noticed the soft scent of his shampoo – was enough to send a rush of warmth through you.

“better?” he asked, his voice tender.

you nodded, leaning into him just slightly.

the two of you sat like that for a while, and you just let him hold you close, his fingers tracing soft circles on your shoulder

“jungwon?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“hm?”

“i like you, too."

his arm tightened around you, just slightly, but enough for you to notice. he tilted his head down to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“yeah?” he asked softly, the corners of his lips curlig up into the faintest smile.

“yeah."

part five of my xmas special. tap here to get to the other members!

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

join my taglist here | masterlist

❥ perm. taglist: @sudi109 @woniesun @leov3rse @simpjay @beebrightness @jayparked @simjaexy

[biahouse]

Perfect for him, Gregory House x Reader

You're House's girlfriend. Wilson doesn't like you, but... 3 times Wilson realized you were the perfect person for house, +1 time he finally admits it

There was something about you that James Wilson made to hate you.

Maybe it was the way you were the silliest nurse at the hospital, and always fell for the patients' stupid conversations.

Or because you always do your coworkers' duties.

Or the way that in every surgery he performs, you insist on being an assistant nurse and talking to her throughout the procedure.

Or maybe he hated having his best friend stolen.

Wilson didn't hate people. That was House's job. It was even comical that in your situation, House adored you and Wilson hated you with all his being.

Don't get me wrong, you weren't a bad person.

He just doesn't like you.

1

The first time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was at lunch. Since the beginning of the relationship between you and Greg, the doctor in question used to have lunch with you in his office.

But on that particular day, you were very busy in surgery. So with no other alternative, House had to have lunch with Wilson.

It was a surprise for James to see his friend entering the room with a packed lunch. House was known for eating junk food with all his meals. So Wilson assumed that if that hadn't changed with your relationship, he was wrong.

"What is that?" Wilson asked with an incredulous look at the lined pots that Gregory placed on the table.

"Food?" House responded as if it were obvious and mocked his friend.

"Okay, I know. But, I mean... you don't usually eat that."

"I know" House threw himself into the chair and opened one of the jars and started poking a carrot. "Carrots are a horrible thing, you know?"

"House" Wilson called his friend carefully. "Is this some kind of diet for addicts that I don't know about?"

"No. Y/n told me that I should eat more vegetables if I wanted to live longer" The doctor rolled his eyes when he remembered the argument he had with his wife a few weeks ago and since then she usually makes him lunch. "So I'm pleasing my girl" And with that he stuffed the orange vegetable into his mouth with a grimace.

Wilson could only look at his friend in shock.

For years he had tried to get House to eat a healthier diet, and you had achieved it in just a few weeks. Wilson had to admit, he liked you a little more now.

2

The second time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was a week after the lunch incident. He and House were bowling, like they did on Wednesdays.

However, there was something strange about House. He was limping and in more pain than usual.

"What is it? Are you afraid of losing to me or did you forget the Vicodin at home?" Wilson mocked his friend as he threw the ball into the pins.

"Neither" House limped closer to the track when it was his turn to play.

"Is the pain getting worse?" Now James asked worried that Greg's leg was getting worse.

"No"

"Okay House, you win. Why are you in pain?"

"Because I'm trying to taper off the Vicodin" House replied with a shrug and celebrated without a strike.

"What?" Wilson raised his voice making people look at him. Which made him apologize immediately. "You. Gregory House, are you trying to stop Vicodin?"

"Y/n said it's going to kill me. She didn't suggest I stop taking it, but she was upset that I took so many. So I'm trying to cut down."

Wilson opened his mouth in astonishment.

Who was that man?

Gregory House would never cut down on your daily Vicodin cocktail.

But he did, for you.

Only for you.

3

The third time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was on a random day at the hospital a few months after the second time.

House entered his office as he always did, without knocking and suddenly, which made Wilson jump out of his chair every time, even though he was used to it. But something felt wrong that time.

The way House for the first time looked nervous and really confused. For a while, James watched his friend limp around the room as if he was begging for something very deep in his own mind.

Wilson waited, he knew that like every other time House would start telling him about his doubts and he would give him one of his beautiful pieces of advice, which House would probably never follow.

"I want to ask Y/n to marry me" House blurted out and looked at his friend nervously.

"What?" Wilson blurted out the question with a laugh. "Marriage?".

"Yes" Greg said, shaking his head and plopped down on the armchair in his friend's living room. "I thought about it all week"

"All week?"

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say or are you going to tell me your opinion on this?" Greg scoffed at his friend and adjusted himself in the chair, his leg hurting a little.

"What do you want me to say House?" Wilson asked and looked through his patient's files once more, before closing the folder and focusing fully on the matter at hand. "I thought I would never get married"

"I know" House passed his hand across the gap in his forehead. "I don't know why I want it. I just want it."

"Gregory House doesn't know why, that's something I never thought I'd hear" James smiled playfully.

"For the first time I want something more. I want her to be my wife. Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Wilson answered honestly. "It just means you're better House."

"Does that mean you'll help me pick out a ring?"

"As long as you don't make me pay."

Wilson would never understand his relationship with House. Or how two very different people could do such great things together.

Wilson didn't hate you. He understood now. It was just jealousy that you achieved everything he always tried to do. Improve House.

He didn't hate you. Now he respected you.

+1

“Hey Y/n” Wilson called out your name when he saw you walking down the hall with a clipboard.

"Wilson, hi!" You waved at him enthusiastically. It was the first time he willingly spoke to you.

"I just wanted to say thank you" James said making the woman frown in confusion.

"What are you thanking me for? I don't remember helping you" Y/n questioned.

"But it helped, with House" Wilson explained. "I'm sorry for treating you badly all this time."

"You didn't treat me" Y/n shrugged with a smile. "I stole your best friend, it makes sense that you don't like me that much. But it means a lot that you like me now."

"I think you two are perfect for each other," Wilson admitted for the first time out loud. "I can't wait to be the godfather."

"Godfather?" Y/n asked.

"You'll see" Wilson smiled knowingly. “I’ll see you around Y/n.”

[leviathxn]

So I have a request for a Miguel fic, if you are willing to do it. 😊🤗

So...Miguel has a family but he hasn't told the other Spiders. One day he has to take his baby to work to look after him for a while. But then, in his office, bang the Spiders and see Miguel with a baby in his arms/or in a baby carrier. Later Miguel's wife comes in the picture too to take the baby in their universe.

OKAY I LOVE MIGUEL WITH A KID SM

So I know people were asking me for a part 2 on my other one so I’m gonna work on it but obviously it’s these requests firsttt

Thank you all so much for the support 💕

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“”Are you infected??”

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You were typically the one to watch the kids, the double trouble twins. Miguel was a busy man, protecting the spider-verse and all, so you would work from home and play with the twins. It wasn’t so bad, of course Miguel felt bad that he couldn’t have as close of a relationship with them but they still very much knew who their daddy was ((and you did too 😳)). But overall it was a good system and you would get to take things slow at home while being a fun mother.

However, every so often there was days you would need to go into work, very rare but still at least a semiannual occurrence. Sometimes you would even take them into work and they would end up bothering coworkers, but most times you were able to get a family member or close friend to watch them but as they’ve gotten older, spider powers started to shine through. Not only was it hard to control them but it would be too revealing.

Obviously nobody knew Miguel was spider-man, but if two twins started to hang on ceilings, people would eventually put two and two together. This meant you couldn’t leave them with family, resulting in Miguel carrying them around in double baby backpacks. One would be on his chest, the other in him back.

Miguel, in typical fashion, stayed in his office. Nobody assumed anything by his yelling, the man was weird, what would be surprising if he was schizo? Although every now and then people would look at each other, it didn’t sound like typical frustration or talking to himself, it was almost a back and forth. They were in no way heavy, but oh my, they were annoying. How did you get a grip on these two? They’re animals. Halfway through the day, the twins got out of the carriers and there was no going back.

“Put that down! Ay- I’m sorry don’t cry- HEY”. Miguel was struggling, because he loved the kids and he felt so bad for yelling but they wouldn’t listen. He thought to himself about the teens. You’d think as they get older they’d be better, but he saw himself comparing them to his 1 year old twins.

Disgusted at the thought, he grabbed them and webbed their hands. They giggled, struggling to get it off. It was a good distraction….. for like 3 minutes, then they were back to running around. He tried playing fetch with the twins but that didn’t go very well. They were just.. confused. Why did he throw the toy the just got. Although he appreciated their thinking skills, he really had no idea what to do. He held both of his kids, they hung from his arms and were climbing around him like a jungle gym.

Completely lost in thought about his children dilemma, the doors to his office opened, and the lovely teen band walked in. What a sight for them to see. Miguel standing completely disheveled and staring into space, a kid on his shoulder grabbing his ear, and another kid gorilla hugging his ((massive)) leg and trying to bite the suit.

Panic bells went off, everybody rushing over to Miguel. Was this an attack, was Miguel okay? Oh my gosh he’s being attacked by alien morphing baby things. As they all got ready to ready for the babies, Miguel jumped back, making sure to grab hold of his kids, and getting defensive.

“What the hell is your guys problem?!!” He shouted, sheltering both of his kids, who were now on high alert and looking fearful.

“Are those Aliena??? What happened to you, what did they do?? Why do you look like that!” Miles replied back to him, pointing his fingers at both babies. “Are you infected??”

Hobie, naturally didn’t look concerned, and stop back. “Mate, they look just like him”

“They bit him and took his DNA!! That’s why he’s protecting him”, Pavitr shouted while getting in an offensive position. Hobie almost lost is as he hurled over. Gwen looked over for a moment, then back to Miguel. “Wait… those are your kids”

“WHAT”. Miles and Pavitr shouted, looking at the very tired Miguel. “By that doesn’t make sense- you’re not- are you married??”. Questions flew right and left, chaos ensued as the babies ran around again. Miguel was done, SO DONE with babysitting the actual babies and now the teens.

Suddenly the door opened again, a very sweaty you running through. “Oh Miggy- I’m sorry I’m late I just got so lost in this place, but I’m here for the twins”. Miguel looked over at you in panic, the teen’s immediately stopped in their tracks. As the kids ran to you, so did the teens…. and what was supposed to be Miguel’s saving grace, ended up in having everybody over for dinner.

—————————————————————————

Ahh I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I traveled today to see a college and I’m writing this very late so I hope you don’t mind that it’s rushed. I’ll get more writing done this week since I’m on break, I promise!

—————————————————————————

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑 ꕤ

Song Mingi x fem!reader: riding

summary: CEO!Mingi is a little mean to his assistant, only you don't know the only thing he wants is your attention.

warnings: smut, protected sex, sex on a chair (?)

word count: 1.4k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

Being assistant to CEO Mingi was not an easy task. 

He was mean and was loaded with work that he gave to you to sort it out for him. He wasn’t mean to you only. It was everyone around him. The Human Resources staff, executives, the administrators, janitors, the people working at the desk, everybody. 

But one thing that Song Mingi was not was ugly. 

Oh no. Most certainly that man was ethereally beautiful. It was out of this world. He was out of this world.

But well, his attitude and personality threw everything out of the window. 

It was one specific evening where everything changed. 

You were typing away furiously on your computer, angry because it was way past your horary and Song Mingi had dropped a huge ass pile of paperwork that he wanted before it was his time to leave… which was in like fifteen minutes and you were nowhere near done. 

One of your coworkers, Sohee, walked over to your desk with a frown.

“You’re still here, Y/N?” she asked you. “Don’t you leave at six?” Sohee asked, checking her wristwatch in case she got it wrong.

“Yeah, but… Mr. Song left me all these papers” you told her, refraining from calling him names. You couldn’t risk somebody hearing you calling him those things and get yourself fired. 

Sohee hummed. “That’s bad… and unprofessional” she commented.

“Yeah, well. What can I do?” you shrugged. “He pays me well”

Sohee chuckled and shook her head. “Want me to help you out?” she asked you.

“I’d love to, but you have to go home to your husband. And I don’t have no one waiting for me at home so I’ll be fine. Don’t worry” you said with a sigh, grabbing the paper you had just finished with and putting it on the pile on your right. 

Sohee smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you next week, hm?” she said.

“Yeah, bye Hee!” you smiled back at her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck”

You let out a tired sigh and continued typing for another five minutes. 

All of a sudden, the door of Song Mingi's office opened with a thud and you jumped in your seat. 

“Ms Y/L/N?” he asked.

You stood up on shaky legs. “Yes, Mr Song?” 

“Come to my office, now” he said, curling two fingers in a come here manner. 

You nodded and quickly made your way through the empty hall towards his office. You closed the door behind you and walked towards his desk with fidgety hands. 

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you finish your paperwork?” he asked you with calm. But you knew that calm had a short life. 

“N-no…” you stammered. “I was just finishing it. I think I only have ten pages left or so-”

“Come here” he interrupted you.

Your lips fell shut and you frowned. “Um… excuse me, sir?” you asked slowly.

“Are you deaf?” he asked you. “I said, come here” he stated and you hated to admit, but your underwear started getting wet from the way he was talking to you.

You swallowed and walked slowly towards him, coming to stand next to his desk.

Mingi stared at you and patted his thigh, making your eyes widen. “Sit down”

Your feet slowly made their way towards him and he surprised you by grabbing your hips and making you sit on his thighs.

You gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Mr-”

“Mingi… call me Mingi” he said. His eyes held a softness that you had never thought he had in him. “Is this okay? You can slap me across the face and report me-”

“No, no, no, um… I’m just confused” you chuckled, getting shy all of a sudden. Could you blame me?, you asked yourself. 

Mingi exhaled, glad that you weren’t going to reject him.

Mingi, ever since you were appointed to be his assistant, started developing a huge ass crush on you. He’d call you in his office and ask you to bring him in the stupidest things ever, just so he could stare at your pretty face for a couple of minutes. 

Now he had you in his lap, and he couldn’t really think of a moment in which he got as hard as he got in such a short amount of time. 

“Well… why am I here, Mingi?” you asked slowly. 

“Because I want you… Y/N” he said, his nose running over the crook of your neck, making you shiver all over and bite back a moan. 

His hands slowly made their way up your skirt, testing his limits. And when he found none, he took the opportunity to pull your underwear to the side so he could start rubbing you. 

You arched your back violently and moaned. 

“Mingi…” you whimpered. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here” he whispered, brushing his lips over yours before covering your mouth with his in a deep, fiery kiss. 

You kissed him back, framing his face in your hands as you rolled your hips over his fingers while your tongue curled around his. 

He pulled away with a groan and then bit your lip, tugging on it lightly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna need you to sit on my cock”

“Yeah, fuck” you nodded, lifting your hips so he could unbutton his dress pants and take out his shaft.

Once he pulled himself out, he grabbed a condom from his wallet and rolled it on. You bit your lip as you stared hungrily at his cock, while he jerked himself off for measure. 

“Come sit on it, jagiya” he whispered hotly, grabbing your hips.

You straddled him once again in his chair and felt him probe at your entrance. 

You slid down on him, taking him entirely, making both of you moan.

“Shit, you’re so tight and wet, love” he groaned, lifting your hips up and slamming you down back. His tip hit your cervix with that position and every single thrust made you moan and roll your eyes back to the back of his head. 

“Mingi!” you whimpered, your mouth hanging open as he continued to slam your hips down on him. You regained your senses and started rolling your hips, creating a friction with your clit and his pelvis that made your toes curl inside your shoes. 

“Yeah, scream my name, babe” he said, his hands coming to rip off your blouse and pull down your bra, so he could mouth at your tits.

He sucked on one of your nipples as he groped the other one. Your fingers carded through his hair and pulled on it, making him groan against your chest. 

You clenched around him as you felt him bite at your sensitive skin. 

“Jagiya, are you close?” he whispered hotly against your skin, dragging his tongue up his way to your neck.

You nodded, feeling dumb  already at how good he was hitting your cervix and how he kept sucking at your skin, leaving dark marks all over your body. 

His fingers started playing with your clit and you let out a high pitched moan. “Yeah, Mingi, fuck I’m close!” you almost screamed out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck come for me” he urged you. 

You clenched around him as you felt the familiar coiling on your stomach. With one last flick at your clit, you soaked his entire length with your orgasm, feeling it spurt out and stain his dress pants that you probably ruined. 

He let out a moan and grabbed your hips, slamming you down once and filled the condom with his seed, painting it white. 

Mingi panted against your neck while you both tried to recollect your senses back again. 

Once you came back to life almost, he pulled your head back by your hair, his eyes searching your face. He left a kiss to your lips, making your heart slam against your ribcage uncontrollably.

“Let me take you out” he whispered against your lips.

You opened your eyes and smiled at him, rubbing your nose against his.

“Of course… Mr. Song” 

Your boss chuckled and then you frowned.

“Wait… you gave me that pile of paperwork just so you could get me alone?”

The sheepish look he gave you, spoke more than a thousand works.

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire // @bangchansbeanie

i apologise if i can't tag u :(

[spankedquail]

Hi, Big Fan here!

I was curious about some of the things your Dom does for you that you love? Basically the things that make him a great Dom. Do you have any tips for the Doms out there? I'm mostly talking about out of the bedroom, but if there’s anything he does in the bedroom too, I'm sure we'd love to hear about it.

Thanks

PS: Thanks for all the post lately...

I love this question!

He protects what’s his

It’s not just physical safety, though that’s always there—his hand on my back, his body angled between me and the world. It’s emotional safety, too. He shields me from the unnecessary chaos of life, filtering out the noise so I can focus on what matters. He won’t let anyone take advantage of me or drain me—not friends, not coworkers, not even myself. And when I’ve overextended, when I’ve given too much and left myself empty, he steps in. He reminds me that I’m his, first, and he won’t let me burn out for anyone else.

He’s honorable

He doesn’t just say the right things; he does them. His word is a bond I trust implicitly because I’ve seen him live it, again and again. Like the night we weren’t charged for a $200 bottle of wine at a bistro. He could have let it go, taken the easy route, but he didn’t. Instead, he called the waiter back and insisted on paying. Not because anyone was watching, not because it benefited him, but because it was the right thing to do. That kind of integrity isn’t performative; it’s intrinsic to who he is. It’s the kind of man he chooses to be, and the kind of man I choose to trust with all of me.

He’s considerate in the quietest ways

When daylight saving time arrives, the clocks in our home adjust themselves as if by some unseen force. For the longest time, I believed it was the appliances—some fancy automatic feature I didn’t understand. But when I mentioned it, he laughed softly and told me it was him all along. He updates every clock without a word, without seeking thanks or acknowledgment. It’s not a grand act; it’s just one of a hundred tiny ways he quietly maintains the world we share.

And every night, he locks the door with the chain, checks the lights, and does his sweep of the house. I never asked him to do this, and yet, he’s done it since the beginning. It’s his way of ensuring that I can slip into bed without worry. That I’m safe, protected, and cared for, even before I’ve noticed the need.

He owns his domain

Everything in our shared life feels like it’s under his care, his protection. From the way he handles practical matters like paying bills or fixing things around the house, to the way he takes charge of the energy in our home, it all stems from his quiet, confident authority. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s in control—it’s something I feel in the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he carries the weight of our world so effortlessly.

He makes me want to serve him

When I’m with him, my desire to serve goes beyond obedience—it becomes a need. It’s in the way he looks at me, the way he carries himself, the way he takes charge of every situation with such confidence that I can’t help but want to please him. Whether it’s making sure his coffee is just the way he likes it, or surprising him with little acts of service, I find myself wanting to anticipate his needs, to make him proud. There’s no greater reward than hearing him say, “Good girl,” and knowing I’ve done something to deserve it.

He takes pride in being a steady presence

When the world spins out of control, he remains calm, collected, decisive. I’ve seen him navigate travel delays and last-minute changes that would send most people spiraling. Instead of panicking, he organizes, reroutes, and somehow manages to keep things light and fun through it all. His steadiness isn’t just practical—it’s deeply grounding. It reminds me that no matter what happens, I’m safe in his care.

He commands respect without raising his voice

He never has to shout to get my attention. His authority isn’t loud or performative—it’s quiet and undeniable. When he speaks, I listen, not because I have to, but because I want to. There’s a weight to his words that makes me pause, consider, and recalibrate. Even when I’ve pushed too far, his calm, deliberate tone cuts through me more effectively than any outburst ever could. His control is a steady force, and it makes me want to fall in line, not out of fear, but out of respect.

He’s deeply attuned to me

There’s a reason I trust him so completely, especially when I’m vulnerable—he sees me. Not just the surface, not just the words I say, but the way I breathe, the way I shift, the subtle tension in my body. He watches me with the kind of care that makes me feel completely known.

When I’ve misbehaved, he never acts impulsively. His discipline is thoughtful, measured. Every strike, every correction, is deliberate, designed to remind me of who I am and where I belong. He knows exactly how much I can take and when to push me further. But he also knows when to stop. When to pull me close, stroke my hair, and remind me with quiet reassurances that I am his.

There’s a power in knowing that he holds me accountable—not out of frustration, but because he wants me to grow. To rise. To be better. And when I do, when I meet his expectations and feel his approval, there’s nothing sweeter.

Under his control, I don’t just feel cared for—I feel whole.

He demands my growth—and my surrender

I can’t grow unless I’m held accountable. Without his control, I’d stagnate—lazy, complacent, far too willing to let myself off the hook. But he doesn’t allow that. He demands better of me, pushes me to reach higher, and forces me to face myself in ways I never could on my own.

It’s not just about the goals we set for me—fitness milestones, career ambitions, new skills—it’s about becoming the kind of woman he wants. A better partner, a better wife, a better fuck. A woman who serves him without hesitation, who respects his leadership, who bends to his will but rises because of it.

And it’s not just about discipline in the abstract. It’s his hand on my cheek, firm and steady as he makes me look him in the eye while he tells me what I’ve done wrong. It’s the sting of the paddle when I’ve pushed too far. It’s the way he uses my body to teach me lessons I don’t want to learn but desperately need to.

When I falter, he’s there to catch me, but not before letting me fall just far enough to feel the consequences. His discipline reminds me that I’m his, that my growth isn’t just for me—it’s for him. For us.

He pushes me

He doesn’t let me coast. When I’ve grown too comfortable, he knows exactly how to shake me. A week of extra workouts. A stricter bedtime. The humiliating but strangely comforting ritual of writing lines while he watches. It’s not about punishment—it’s about reminding me that I can be better. That I want to be better, for him.

Even in the bedroom, his control drives my growth. I’m not allowed to cum whenever I want. That privilege has to be earned. My orgasms belong to him, and whether I’m allowed one—or denied for days on end—is entirely up to him. The longer I go without release, the softer I feel. Needy. Obedient. Aching to prove myself. My need for him becomes sharper than my need to cum. My desire to please overtakes my frustration.

When he finally allows me release, it’s on his terms. After I’ve done what’s required of me—cooked him dinner, been punished for my mistakes, taken whatever pain or pleasure he decides I deserve, pleased him with my body. And in those moments, I know I’ve earned his approval. I’ve served him, suffered for him, and grown under his discipline.

Under his hand, I thrive

I’ve come to crave the way he molds me, even when it’s hard, even when I resist. He doesn’t just want me to grow—he demands it. And when I’m kneeling at his feet, or bent over for his discipline, or aching from the denial he’s imposed, I feel it: I’m becoming more than I ever thought I could be. For him, for myself, for us.