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alinathinkstoomuch · 1 month ago

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WILL YOU BE MY FAKE FIANCÉ?

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you find yourself in a sticky situation - you need a fiancé asap and the stern looking man at the bar seems to suffice. warnings: um reader thinks hotch is serial killer at one point, reader is actually really funny (LOL i was giggling so bad writing her dialogue), readers friends suck, the usual banter and chem word count: 3.8k

✧ masterlist | second part can be found here

lemme know if y'all would want this as a mini series?? pls say yes because i had too much fun writing this!!!

It was silly, really. Actually, it was downright stupid. You had imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could go, each one more cringe-inducing than the last. And yet, here you were, en route to dinner with a group of women you still, for some inexplicable reason, referred to as your ��friends.’

Except they weren’t friends. Not really. More like a collection of high school mean girls who had swapped lockers for brunch reservations, but still thrived on competition and thinly veiled judgment. Why you had continued to entertain their company remained one of life’s greatest mysteries. Maybe it was because some tiny, stubborn part of you still felt the need to prove yourself to them.

Old habits die hard.

Which was absurd, considering you had everything you’d ever wanted. A career you were proud of, a gorgeous apartment and a dog so beautiful he could model for Ralph Lauren. And yet, none of it mattered because you were missing one thing.

A love life.

Or rather, you had the start of one – an engagement, even. But much like a designer bag left too close to a lit candle, it went up in flames almost immediately.

And because self-preservation was clearly not your strong suit, you had told your ‘friends’ about the engagement… conveniently omitting the part where it had ended as quickly as it began.

No love lost there. He was a dick anyway.

Which brought you to now – marching toward an intimate jazz bar, running through all the ways you could break the news.

“Hey, ladies! So fun fact I am actually not engaged! But you were all right, turns out I’m just a walking red flag with great hair. Cheers!”

Yeah. That would go over well.

You pushed open the door to the jazz bar, smoothing your dress down and forcing your most dazzling, I totally have my life together smile. The inside was dimly lit, the hum of conversation mixing with the smooth sound of a saxophone in the background.

“Hi! There should be a reservation for under Veronica?” you told the hostess, who checked the list before glancing up apologetically.

“There’s no one here from your party yet, but I can show you to your table?”

Perfect. Just perfect. You nodded, following her to a sleek little table near the bar. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through texts until one popped up.

Veronica: Can’t wait to meet the fiancé! We’re running late. Be there soon! Xo.

Oh. No. No, no, no.

Your stomach did a dramatic, Oscar-worthy drop as panic set in. Your palms went clammy. Your perfectly planned exit strategies all disintegrated like cheap mascara in the rain.

You needed a fiancé. Now.

Your eyes darted wildly around the room, scanning the clientele for anyone remotely stupid – or kind – enough to rope into your plan. But instead, your gaze landed on someone who definitely didn’t look stupid. He looked serious, almost too serious. But he was alone, and that was good enough.

You shot up from your seat, heels clacking as you made a beeline toward him with the determination of a woman with everything on the line.

“Hi, hello,” you blurted out, earning a slow, assessing glance from deep brown eyes. “I need a favour. A huge, ridiculous, I-will-owe-you-my-soul kind of favour.”

“Sorry?”

“I just – I know this is insane, but I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for like, one hour. Maybe two. It’s a long story, and there is an actual pack of wolves arriving here any second, and if they smell fear, I am done for.” You clasped your hands together. “Please, please, please. I will do anything.”

He stared at you like he was debating calling security. Or possibly the nearest psychiatric facility.

“Everything alright?” Another voice joined. An older man, dressed impeccably clapped your very reluctant target on the back.

“I just need to borrow your friend, pretty please?” you said, turning to the newcomer with the kind of desperate charm that had gotten you out of speeding tickets before. “I promise I will buy you the most expensive bottle of scotch this bar serves. You drink scotch, right?”

The older man’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Oh, I love her,” he announced, before turning to his friend. “Take him. I was just leaving.”

Your supposed fiancé-to-be let out a slow breath, clearly reconsidering every choice that led him to this moment.

You beamed. “See? It’s fate.”

“This is – I –”

The man looked genuinely at a loss for words, which based on the suit he was wearing, was not a common occurrence.

“Come on, Hotch,” the older man grinned, clapping him on the back again. “Help the lady out. And I cannot wait to hear all about it on Monday.” He turned to you, extending a hand. “David Rossi.”

You shook his hand, relieved that at least one of them was enjoying this. “Nice to meet you, David. And I am really sorry for ruining your evening with your friend.”

“Oh, sweetheart, are you kidding? This is better than my evening. This is entertainment.” He winked at you before tossing a final smirk at Hotch. “Be good to your fiancée.”

With that, he strolled off, leaving you alone with the man you had just kidnapped into romance fraud.

You turned back to him. “So,” you said brightly. “Fiancé.”

He stared at you, face unreadable. “This is insane.”

“Yes, well, so is spending two-thousand dollars on a handbag, and I do that regularly. Now, come on.” You reached for his wrist and pulled him toward the table. “So Hotch is your name? Kind of… odd, don’t you think? Or is it a nickname? I don’t really have many nicknames – well, aside from what my ex-fiancé used to call me, but I’ll save you the details.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose, looking like he was already regretting this. “Do you do this often?”

“Fake engagements? No, not really. Actual engagements? Also no, considering how the last one went.” You sighed dramatically. “But you’d think after everything, I’d have at least one decent dating story. Instead, I have an ex who took our wedding fund and bought a motorcycle. A motorcycle, Hotch. Like, what exactly am I supposed to do with that?”

“He took your money?”

“And my sanity, which gives me the right to act this way in public.”

Before he could respond, a chorus of excited squeals erupted from the entrance.

“Oh my God! There she is!”

You moved to stand in front of Hotch. “I will do whatever you want me to. If you need me to kill someone and hide the body, I will literally be your girl – just please go with this.” You tugged at his tie, smoothing it down in a rush. “I’ll take the lead, you just look pretty.”

“That’s not usually how this works –”

“Well, Hotch, welcome to the world of desperate women. Now smile like you love me.”

He didn’t have the chance to argue as Veronica and her entourage descended upon you like a pack of well-dressed hyenas, eyes dancing with curiosity and suspicion.

“Finally! We were starting to think you made him up,” Veronica teased, her eyes scanning Hotch with an intensity that made even you nervous. “So? Introduce us!”

You plastered on your most graciously fake smile and looped an arm through Hotch’s, feeling the tension in his muscles as he clearly contemplated whether this was his personal hell. “Alright here he is! Meet H–”

“Aaron,” he cut you off smoothly, extending a hand toward Veronica.

She barely glanced at it before swatting it away. She then took a step forward, pulling him into a hug which he stiffly endured like someone who had never been voluntarily embraced in his life.

“Oh, honey, we don’t do handshakes here,” she purred, clinging for a second too long before releasing him. “You’re so handsome.”

You jumped in before Veronica could try something ridiculous like feeling his biceps.

“Right?” you grinned, linking your arm through his again. “Total catch. It’s why I snatched him up so fast.”

“And how did that happen?” one of the other girls asked as the group drifted toward the table.

Hotch, mercifully, was quick on the uptake. “She quite literally crashed into me – spilled her coffee all over my suit.”

“Oh my God, that’s so her,” another girl gasped, and you nodded rapidly.

“It was tragic,” you added, dramatically placing a hand on his arm. “The suit did not make it.”

As you neared the table, you reached for the seat, but before you could pull it out, Hotch’s hand brushed yours, stopping you. Instead, he pulled the chair out for you before you could protest.

Was he… really committing to the bit? Or was this just ingrained in his perfect gentleman DNA?

Before you could process it, the table erupted into ooohs and ahhhs like a live studio audience.

Thankfully, you caught a reprieve as the girls turned their attention to the wine list, debating the merits of a bold red versus a crisp white. Taking advantage of the moment, you lifted your own menu to shield your face and glanced at Hotch through the gap.

“I am so sorry,” you mouthed.

“You should be,” he murmured back, just low enough for only you to hear. But there was no bite to his words – if anything, you swore you caught the ghost of a smirk.

“So, don’t keep us waiting in suspense,” Veronica chirped. “Tell us about the engagement! How did it happen? All we got was a text saying you were engaged and a picture of your ring –” She paused, eyes narrowing as they moved to your hand. You followed her line of sight instinctively, cursing internally when you realised the problem.

Your fingers were adorned with rings – statement pieces, dainty bands – but notably none of them were an engagement ring.

Hotch, of course, noticed immediately. He exhaled lightly through his nose, like he was already preparing to clean up your mess.

“Oh,” you laughed, waving a dismissive hand, “I took it off to get it resized, you know how it is.”

Veronica’s brow lifted. “Resized?”

“Yeah, it was a little loose,” you rushed out, the lie forming faster than you could think it through. “Didn’t want to risk it falling down the sink or –”

“It wasn’t loose,” Hotch interjected once more and you froze.

Every pair of eyes at the table snapped to him.

“It wasn’t?” you echoed, unsure if he was about to throw you under the bus or save you from getting flattened by it.

Hotch leaned back, one arm casually draping over the back of your chair as if this was just another Friday night for him. “No,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “She just can’t stand the feeling of something on her finger when she sleeps. She takes it off every night, leaves it on the nightstand.”

Oh.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Not only had he just handed you an ironclad excuse, but he had done it so effortlessly that even you almost believed it.

The table collectively melted.

“That is so sweet,” one of the girls sighed.

“That makes sense,” Veronica finally conceded, though her eyes lingered on Hotch. She didn’t seem completely sold yet. “So, how did you propose? Give us all the details.”

Another reprieve – just as the waitress arrived to take your drink and appetizer orders. You had never been so grateful for a poorly timed interruption, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the question would be forgotten by the time she walked away.

It wasn’t.

The second the waitress disappeared, Veronica’s eyes flicked right back to you and Hotch, expectant.

“You tell it better, sweetheart,” he encouraged, that same miniscule smirk making an appearance.

Oh, he was enjoying this too much.

“Well,” you started, buying yourself a second. “It was…unexpected.”

Hotch nodded solemnly, as if recalling a life-changing event. “Completely.”

You shot him a look before continuing. “We were on a trip –”

“A weekend getaway,” Hotch supplied easily.

“Right, exactly,” you said, catching on. “And it was… romantic?”

“Cold,” he corrected. “Snow everywhere.”

You blinked at him. Snow? Was this man just winging it?

“It was freezing,” you emphasized, rolling with it. “And I remember thinking, God, this would be the worst time to propose, because my fingers are so cold, I might drop the ring.”

The table giggled in delight, completely enthralled, hanging onto every word.

Hotch exhaled through his nose like this was all very serious business. “Which you nearly did.”

Your brows shot up. “Right! Yes, because I was so shocked.”

“You cried,” Hotch added.

You nearly choked. “I – what?”

He turned to you, gaze softening ever so slightly, voice dipping just enough to sell the sincerity. “You cried.”

And just like that, the table melted again.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls whispered, clutching her chest.

“Like, happy tears?” another asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Hotch’s lips quirked at the corner, and damn it, you had never wanted to throw your drink at someone so badly. “Of course.”

You forced a dreamy sigh, resisting the urge to stomp on his foot under the table. “I mean… obviously.”

Veronica tapped a manicured nail against her glass, eyes narrowing. “And what did he say?”

Hotch turned to you, expression a mystery, before casually resting his hand over yours. The move was so smooth, so convincing, that it had the exact opposite effect – it made your heeled foot find his shoe under the table, pressing down with just enough force to say don’t even think about it.

“I think I said something along the lines of…” He paused, eyes fixed on you. “If you need me to kill anyone and bury the body, I’m your man. Marry me, sweetheart.’”

You stiffened, your foot pressing down harder, while the table erupted in delighted gasps and squeals.

“Oh my God,” Veronica practically screamed.

“That is so romantic,” one of the girls swooned, gripping the arm of the woman next to her.

“I cannot with you two,” another giggled, fanning herself like this was the greatest love story ever told.

Meanwhile, you were trying very hard not to commit an actual murder.

You ripped your hand free from his grasp and covered your mouth with it, forcing what looked like a lovesick reaction but was actually a barely contained threat.

“What the hell?” you whispered between your teeth, smiling like the perfect doting fiancée.

Hotch, infuriatingly unbothered, leaned in. “You said to go with it.”

Your foot pressed down again. “I meant like a normal person, not a psychopath,” you hissed.

“Ugh,” Veronica sighed dreamily. “This is disgustingly adorable.”

You turned back to the group, still smiling, but if looks could kill, your fiancé wouldn’t have made it out of this dinner alive.

For the rest of the evening, you definitely had too much wine, and as the night stretched on, the conversation finally drifted away from you.

Instead, your so-called friends delved into their usual habits – gossiping about people they hadn’t seen since college, subtly competing over whose husband had the most prestigious job and complaining about their high-maintenance lives.

You nodded, smiled, threw in a well-timed oh, totally where necessary, but mostly, you just kept drinking. Hotch, meanwhile, remained the picture of polite disinterest, responding when needed as he sipped his bourbon. If he was suffering, he didn’t show it – except for the occasional glance in your direction, as if silently asking are you sure these are your friends?

By the time dessert rolled around, you were exhausted from the performance. Thankfully, your friends were equally buzzed, giggling and snapping selfies before finally, finally deciding it was time to call it a night.

Outside the restaurant, the group exchanged dramatic goodbyes, air-kissing and promising to “do this again soon” (lies, all of them), before disappearing into cabs and sleek black cars.

And just like that, you and Hotch were alone.

“You know,” you sighed, rifling through your purse in search of your phone. “I would apologize again for this, but I think if anyone owes an apology, it’s you.”

Hotch, standing beside you, hands in his pockets, merely raised a brow. “Me?”

You looked up at him with a glare. “Yes, you. You didn’t make this awful evening any easier. Snow? Really? I hate the snow.”

“I might be way out of line saying this, but you seem too good to consider that group of women your friends. Especially ones you feel you have to impress.”

“Impress them? That’s not what I was doing. I just –” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I grew up with them, and they’ve managed to make my life –” You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together before shaking your head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, like he was picking apart every little detail. “I think it matters more than you’re willing to admit.”

You forced a laugh, throwing a hand in the air. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to care about it. You’re free. No more fake engagement, no more ridiculous stories, no more Marry me, sweetheart nonsense.”

His lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head toward the street. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

You didn’t protest, abandoning the search for your phone and following your former fake fiancé back to his car.

Once inside, you rattled off your address as Hotch pulled it up on the satnav. Settling into the seat, you flipped down the visor mirror, swiping at the smudged mascara under your eyes.

“Do you have any tissues?” you asked, glancing over as Hotch reversed out of the parking lot.

“Check the glovebox.”

You reached over, popping it open and immediately froze. Because nestled between some paperwork and an actual box of tissues, sat a gun.

You yanked your hand back so fast you nearly dislocated your shoulder. “Uh. What the hell, Hotch?”

He barely spared you a glance. “Relax.”

“Relax?” you repeated, voice pitching higher. “There’s a gun in your glovebox! Oh my God. Are you – are you a criminal? Did I just spend an entire evening pretending to be engaged to a mobster? Jesus Christ, I really know how to pick them – I mean, you’re making my actual ex-fiancé look like a saint!”

“Check under the gun,” Hotch instructed, voice impossibly calm.

“Oh no, no, no, mister.” You flailed a hand in his direction. “You are not fooling me into touching your murder weapon so you can get my fingerprints on it and frame me for whatever crime you have committed using it! Please stop the car before I jump out of it. I swear to God, I will tuck and roll.”

Hotch exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face like he was deeply reconsidering his life choices. Then, with no ceremony, he flicked on the turn signal and pulled over to the curb.

Your heart plummeted. “Oh my God,” you whispered, pressing yourself back against the seat. “You are a criminal. You’re going to kill me. This is how I die.”

Hotch shot you a look, utterly unimpressed. Then, without a word, he leaned over –

You squeaked, pressing yourself further into the seat. “Oh my God – please don’t kill me –I haven’t been to Paris yet, and I still haven’t figured out how to fold a fitted sheet –”

His hand bypassed you completely, reaching into the glove box. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled something from beneath the gun and held it up to your face.

An FBI badge.

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the badge.

“Oh.” A pause. “Well, this is awkward.”

Hotch dropped the badge into your lap, but you immediately picked it up, flipping it over, holding it up to the light, just in case it was fake. There had to be fakes out there. You had gotten a police outfit that came with a badge for Halloween once.

Hotch watched your scrutiny with the patience of a saint. “Are you done?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “Okay, so in my defence, you could’ve led with that instead of just telling me to dig under a loaded firearm.”

“I assumed you were capable of following basic instructions.”

“That was your first mistake,” you muttered, still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster that was the last five minutes. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest. “Well. This has been a night.”

Hotch shook his head, pulling back onto the road as you snapped closed his badge and placed it back in the glovebox, avoiding the gun like poison.

“So, FBI, huh?” you finally said, breaking the quiet.

“That’s what the badge says.”

You couldn’t help it – you laughed. A real, actual laugh for the first time this entire ridiculous, chaotic evening. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. It bubbled out of you, unrestrained, until you were clutching your stomach, gasping for breath, sure your mascara was completely smudged from the tears streaking down your face.

“Are you alright?”

You wheezed, waving a hand in his direction. “No! No, I am not! Because I just spent an entire evening fake-engaged to an FBI agent, and the first thing I said to you was – and I quote – ‘If you ever need to kill someone and bury the body, I’m your girl.’”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of proposition in my entire career.”

You snorted, barely containing another wave of laughter. “That’s comforting. Truly.”

He smirked, eyes still on the road. “Though, I’ll admit—it’s one of the more memorable introductions I’ve had.”

“Oh, great. So I’m going to be a story you tell people?”

“Most definitely.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Fantastic. Just what I needed, to be the punchline of an FBI dinner party.”

“Don’t worry,” Hotch said dryly. “I’ll leave out the part where you almost jumped out of a moving vehicle.”

You peeked at him between your fingers. “Gee, thanks.”

A silence settled over the car and eventually Hotch slowed to a stop in front of your building shifting into park. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel before he glanced at you.

“Well… this has been… a very unique experience.” Your hand found the door handle, but you didn’t move. You weren’t quite ready to step back into reality just yet.

Hotch nodded. “It has.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep up the act? I think Veronica was in love with you.”

“Do you want to keep up the act? Ten minutes ago, you were convinced I was a serial killer.”

“Well, technically, I thought you were a mobster. There’s a difference.”

Hotch tilted his head. “And now?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the seat. “Now? I think you might actually be worse.”

“Worse?”

You turned toward him, deadpan. “You’re FBI. Which means you probably know every loophole in the legal system. You could absolutely commit crimes and get away with it.”

Hotch let out a laugh, shaking his head. “And yet here I am, still just giving you a ride home.”

You placed a hand over your heart. “I appreciate that. Really.”

He smiled, his fingers still drumming lightly against the steering wheel. Another moment of silence passed before he nodded toward your building. “You should go before your neighbours start wondering why you’re sitting in a car with a strange man.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest. “How dare you? We’re engaged, remember?”

Hotch chuckled. “Not anymore.”

You clicked your tongue, reaching for the door handle again. “Shame. I was really looking forward to planning the wedding.”

“We’d have to agree on a season first. You hate the snow.”

You groaned. “I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.” Shaking your head, you pushed the door open and stepped out, turning back one last time before shutting it. “Well, Aaron Hotchner, thank you for entertaining my craziness.”

“Anytime.”

You gave him a small wave before shutting the door and making your way toward your apartment building. At the top of the steps, you hesitated, glancing back just in time to see his taillights disappearing down the street. And in that moment, you weren’t sure what you felt.

Was he someone you’d spend the rest of your life hoping never to run into again?

Or someone you’d regret not giving your number to?

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #Spotify #aaron hotchner x reader

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mister0ctopus · 4 months ago

Text

Server Room (2)

series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary: Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents, Tension, Panic Attack, Alcohol, Claustrophobia

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 3.4k

Note: i initially wanted this chapter to be a little spicy, but the waves of missing bangtan kept crashing over me as i was writing it... and i couldn’t help but be a softie. 😩 nevertheless, hope you all still enjoy this chapter. please let me know what you think. thanks for being here. thanks for reading, love you all <3😊

🐙 Masterlist / AskMeeeeee!!!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

You’re a rockstar.

You know it.

You’re commanding the room.

Your high-waisted skirt hugs your curves flawlessly, paired with a crisp white button-up and a belt to accentuate your silhouette.

You stepped into your killer stiletto heels, the ones that always make you feel powerful.

And like the rockstar you are, you breezed through your presentation with ease—after all, you’d poured days of hard work into it, and it showed. Jungkook's tweaks made a huge difference, and despite everything that happened yesterday, you’re incredibly grateful for his help.

The praise from your manager and colleagues felt like the cherry on top of a grueling quarter, and you couldn’t help but bask in a well-earned wave of pride.

After all, being in Sales is not for the faint of heart. It is a demanding job that requires sheer will and resilience.

But you're grateful to have met genuine friends at work.

The kind that makes work feel like less work.

Hanging out with them—whether it's sneaky breaks during the day or wild post-work dinners and drinks—is something you seriously look forward to. You get the juiciest gossip and fresh perspectives from every corner of the office.

“YN! Congrats on the presentation! As expected of you. You did great, babes!” Jimin cheers as he wraps you in one of his signature tight hugs, while you're making coffee in the pantry. He’s a hugger—you figured that out pretty quickly. Jimin was introduced to you by Yoongi, who you were friends with long before joining this company, and the two of you hit it off instantly.

"Thanks, Jiminie. Ugh, I almost didn’t make it today. My laptop broke down yesterday and I seriously thought I lost everything. IT totally saved me, though." You said, still feeling the stress of it all.

"Whoa, jeez... So, you met the new IT guy, Jungkook? Yoongi introduced him to us last week, I think? Said he's a friend of a friend..." He trails off, eyes following a pretty intern passing by you.

You followed his gaze, then quickly turned back to him. "Wait, he was Yoongi's friend? No, I hadn't seen him until yesterday..."

His face flashes in your mind again, and you feel a flare in your chest, and your core...

But the inked arm, the lip ring... his moans when he was—

"—coming?" Jimin interrupts, eyes narrowed, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Wha—huh?” you blink.

"I said, are you coming? Later? Dino's? Let’s celebrate that killer presentation!" Jimin grinned, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Oh! Yeah... Yeah, of course!" you laughed, a little too nervously.

"You good? You look a little bothered," he said, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Yeah! I’m fine. Just remembered something I need to wrap up today," you lied.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you to it. See you at Dino's after 5!" He winked and flashed a final grin before his Chelsea boots clicked down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You head back to your desk, trying to distract yourself with some admin work as the hours drag on. You make a conscious effort to avoid the IT room, which is easy enough since it’s tucked away at the far corner of the floor.

But your thoughts keep drifting back to the server room...

By the time the clock hits 5, you're more than ready to bolt. Bag slung over your shoulder, makeup refreshed, and a swipe of some cherry red lipstick —and you’re all set to end this interesting week.

Dino’s is the usual spot for your crew. Just a few blocks from the office, it's hosted everything from Yoongi’s promotion to Jimin finally getting his PTO approved (his boss is an ass).

You walk into the bar and spot Allie right away, waving you over with that big, excited grin of hers. You head over to their table, and give her a peck on the cheek.

“Hey girl! I heard you slayed that presentation! Congrats!!!” she says, her voice all sweet and perky, like cotton candy and sunshine.

"Thanks! I really prepared for it," you giggled, feeling proud of yourself.

"Yeah, Jimin told me! Remember what the guy from Marketing called you? The one who tried to flirt with you while obviously married? Anyway—he called you an office vixen with brains and a nice ass. Remember? I totally agree with the guy. 100%," she recalled, laughing.

You love her.

While Yoongi is like rain at night—a brooding but steady force, someone who hangs back like training wheels on a bike. He never judges, but you still tread carefully. A man of few words, but a volume of presence… a warm cup of coffee, and sound advice—

Allie and Jimin are like the sun after the rain—radiant, gentle, and warm. You’ve always admired that about them. They draw people in, like moths to a flame. Their smiles always radiate a comforting energy that makes everyone feel seen.

“So, Yoongi’s out until next week...” Jimin said, scanning the group and doing a quick headcount. “Allie and YN are here. Tae’s coming in a bit...”

Now, Taehyung… is like sunset. There’s ember in his eyes, golden sparks, a warmth that lingers long after the light fades. In those eyes, there’s another universe you can only wish to be part of, a universe no one fully grasps, yet everything he does feels strangely familiar, like a long-lost memory resurfacing. Like watching a VHS tape of your childhood.

You love them. You adore them.

“He said he’s with some guys from his department” Jimin's still on his phone, probably texting Taehyung. “… Jungkook's with them too."

You froze for a moment, your dreamy gaze at your friends quickly replaced by uneasiness.

You love them. You adore them.

It was the kind of moment that made you want to break the fourth wall, shooting a knowing look to some imaginary audience as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”, like you were in a sitcom or some made-up character.

Which, of course, you’re not.

But the thought of Jungkook coming... to this bar, was making you nervous. Your mind kept circling around the word coming, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You wanted to kick yourself for being ridiculously stupid and childish right now.

You’re not sure how to face him. You’re just glad he didn’t catch you in the server room. That would’ve been awkward, right? What would you even say to him? Like “Hey? Nice dick? Need a hand? Or rather… another hand?”

And that you still don’t know what you feel. Flattered? But also creeped out? But also turned on?

That you came so hard moaning his name last night?

Because goddamn...

Your face flushes, and you can feel the warmth in places it definitely shouldn’t be, so you force yourself to pull it together before anyone notices.

Just as you think you’ve regained control, he walks in.

Jungkook.

In black long sleeves, a few buttons undone at the top, sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, and dark pants held by a belt, perfectly showcasing his waist.

How does this guy have the face of an angel and the body of a devil? You don’t understand.

You take a deep breath, forcing your thoughts to calm as Taehyung greets you with a quick but tight hug. His other friends follow, entering with happy smiles, high fives, and loud greetings. As everyone settles in, Jungkook casually slides into the seat in front of you. And for a moment, you forget how to breathe. Or how to act. Because what the fuck?

“Hey,” he said, not meeting your eyes, his focus fixed on the menu he was absently flipping through.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice awkward and unsure. You tried to mask it, but the effort only made it sound even more awkward.

“Didn’t know you’d be here. Thought it was just Tae and some guys…”

“Yeah, um, Tae and the group—we come here often,” you say, your voice weak and almost whispery.

But why are you whispering?

No way were you letting him have this kind of effect on you—not when you were rocking your killer stilettos. You, cowering for a guy? Please. Sure, you saw what he did. Sure, you felt what you felt. And so what? Big deal.

You tried to regain confidence. You straightened your back.

You shoved the lingering dirty thoughts aside, reminding yourself you had something important to say.

“Hey, I know I already thanked you, but really—thank you for helping me yesterday. What you did saved me so much time, and honestly, it made my presentation a lot better. So, thanks.” Your tone was genuine, your words earnest.

He nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips, revealing a small dimple that you definitely didn’t need to notice right now.

“No worries, glad I could help,” he replied casually, wiping the condensation from his beer glass with a napkin, then meticulously drying the table around it. For someone so effortlessly attractive, he was almost annoyingly neat.

The night deepened, and like a typical Friday night, the bar was packed. Everyone seemed tipsy now.

The group was a chaotic mess. Everyone was talking over each other, laughing loudly enough to drown out the bar’s music. Gossip, banter, and office inside jokes flowed just as freely as the drinks. You noticed Jungkook, just as engaged in the conversation, chiming in with playful jabs and high-fives every now and then.

You lost it when Taehyung stood up, dragging a protesting Jimin toward the dance floor. Jimin half-heartedly tried to resist, but it was clear the drinks were starting to work their magic on both of them.

"I don’t dance, leave me alone!" Jimin said, shoving Taehyung.

"I had a dream that in your past life, you were a popular dancer," Taehyung laughed, only to wince as Jimin pinched him.

Just as you were enjoying the chaos the two were causing, a glass of beer tipped over, spilling its contents all over your white blouse. The cold liquid seeping into the thin fabric and drenching your chest.

Taehyung and Jimin, completely oblivious to the whole incident, were now laughing and stumbling their way onto the dance floor, joining the chaotic mass of bodies in the center.

Startled, you glanced down, inspecting the damage as you saw Allie scramble around, searching for something to help with the mess.

But Jungkook was quick to react, handing you a stack of tissues.

“Here,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you muttered, grabbing the napkins and frantically dabbing at your blouse. It was no use. The thin fabric clung to your skin, and despite the dim lights, the outline of your black lace bra was now clearly visible.

You didn’t see Jungkook swallow hard as he quickly averted his gaze to the crowd, but he felt his pants tighten, forcing him to adjust in his seat.

You stood up as you excused yourself to the bathroom. Time to salvage what you could of your outfit. And your dignity.

You stayed in the bathroom, drying your blouse with the hand dryer, the hum of the machine filling the tiny space against the loud music outside. As you stand there, your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror. Your eyeliner's a little smudged, your hair's a bit messy, in a kind of way that you like.

Your thoughts drift back to Jungkook, and how he carries himself within the group. So effortlessly cool and funny. You notice he wasn’t shy, like what you initially though he was. It’s still kinda awkward to look at him without flashes of him in the server room popping into your mind, but you’ve noticed he tends to avoid your gaze.

It’s strange though, because he’s not like that with anyone else.

After a few minutes, when your shirt feels dry enough, you step out of the bathroom, making your way back to your table.

But as soon as you take a few steps, a group of obviously drunk people shoving each other stumbles into you... and suddenly you're caught in the middle of their wild commotion. You try to make your way through, but the noise and the chaos are overwhelming, and you're shoved in every direction, feeling dizzy and helpless as you're swept along by the force of their movements.

Panic claws at your chest.

And breathing feels suddenly harder.

Just as you feel your knees begin to buckle, firm, strong hands grip your shoulders, steadying you. In one smooth motion, the man pulls you closer, his body a solid wall, caging you against the chaos around you. You glance up, the first thing your eyes catching is the lip ring glinting in the dim light, and then you realize—he’s taller than you, even with your heels.

What… Why is Jungkook here?

You feel his body jerk with every forceful bump from the crowd, each time pulling you closer to his chest. His jaw clenches with every impact, and you feel his grip on you tightens in response.

Suddenly, you feel him guide you away from the crowd. He struggles for a moment as he pushes through, but his strength is undeniable. Before you know it, he's gently steering you to a quieter corner of the bar, where there’s more space and the air feels easier to breathe again.

You close your eyes, trying to regain your breath and balance.

"You okay?" His voice is gentle but firm. He’s waiting for an answer.

You nod, eyes still shut, but words are stuck in your throat.

You hate tight, enclosed spaces, and you know things could’ve turned dangerous if Jungkook hadn’t intervened in time. A pang of gratitude tugs at your chest again.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the ringing in your ears won’t stop, and your lips and fingers feel numb. The air feels so thick, refusing to fill your lungs properly, and everything around you seemstocloseinmakingithardertobreathe.

“Hey, what do you need?” He stares at you with concern, his gaze steady and unwavering. His hands rest gently on your shoulders, his presence calm as he silently waits for you to respond.

The noise grows louder, it's suffocating, overwhelming. You can’t breathe.

Your breathing comes in shallow, rapid gasps.

Without a word, Jungkook caged your frame with his arms, weaving through the crowd toward the exit.

Air.

Space.

The moment you step outside, you hear him say, "Breathe, YN. You're okay," over and over as you manage to let more air into your lungs.

The space feels infinite, and slowly, you finally breathe freely again.

Jungkook sat silently with you in his car, the windows rolled down, letting in the cool night air.

The parking lot was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos inside the bar. The car felt like a fortress, a safe space, away from the overwhelming noise and suffocating crowd you’d just escaped.

You stayed silent, focusing on steadying yourself, grounding your thoughts with the breathing exercises you’d practiced and used countless times before.

He remained quiet, only glancing at you now and then. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed—peace, space, calm.

After a few moments, when you finally felt like you could breathe again, you let out a soft sigh and turned to him. “You saved me again.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, sparing you a brief glance, but he didn’t say anything else.

“It’s the second time you saved my life,” you said, a light smile tugging at your lips.

“Hmmm,” Jungkook hummed again, this time without even glancing at you. His focus remained straight ahead, though there was a softness in his expression.

“Are you always this quiet?” you asked, a playful smile creeping onto your face.

“Hmmm,” he repeated, but this time, his lips quirked into a subtle smile that revealed those tiny dimples on his cheeks.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you feel a jittery sensation in your stomach. You quickly looked away.

Shut up, you thought to yourself. Shut the front door, lock it, throw away the key, and set the whole house on fire.

“Well, thank you. Again,” you said with a soft laugh. Then, in a quieter tone, you admitted, “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t gotten to me on time.”

Jungkook turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with concern. “Does this happen to you often? You know, attacks?”

You hesitated for a moment before exhaling slowly. “In the past... but it’s gotten better. I haven’t had an attack in a year, but... I guess what happened earlier was just too much.”

“I see…” he replied quietly, his tone thoughtful.

You nodded, finally feeling yourself relax a little more. “I feel better now. And really… thank you. I mean it—I’m truly grateful.”

Jungkook gave a small nod, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the car and the stillness of the night.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits, and you can’t help but let out a yawn.

“You should rest,” Jungkook says softly. “I’ll drive you home. It’s late, and you’ve had a few drinks.”

You glance at him, questioning with your eyes, as if silently asking if he’s okay to drive. He notices and reassures you, “Don’t worry. I only had two bottles, and that was hours ago. I’m good.”

Too drained to argue, you simply nod and accept his offer.

7 missed calls.

18 messages.

You finally checked your phone and quickly called your friends back, explaining what had happened and assuring them Jungkook was kind enough to drive you home.

“Here, Taehyung wants to talk to you,” you said, handing the phone to Jungkook.

He took it without hesitation, his expression calm as he listened. “Mm,” he nodded a few times, offering short, clipped answers before handing the phone back to you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Taehyung asked for the third time, his voice laced with concern. In the background, you could hear Allie and Jimin babbling on the phone, their words slurring and pointless, as they were clearly drunk.

“Yes, Tae, I’m fine,” you reassured him with a small sigh, grateful but slightly exasperated.

After a few more exchanges of "call me when you get home," you finally ended the call, leaning back in your seat with a tired exhale.

You entered your address on an app Jungkook’s phone, your fingers briefly brushing against his as you handed it back to him. For a split second, you felt him stiffen, but he quickly regained composure, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot without saying a word.

The drive was quiet, the kind of calm that made you feel sleepier. You stared out the window, the passing buildings turning into light streaks making your eyes heavy.

You were surprised by how comforting Jungkook’s presence was—like yesterday had never happened, but between then and now, so much had occurred, and he felt… strangely familiar.

Jungkook would glance at you every now and then, but the two of you didn’t speak.

The silence spoke words that didn’t need to be said. You basked in the comfort of it throughout the rest of the drive.

The drive felt long, but somehow it went by quickly. Jungkook pulled over with ease, and he glanced at you when you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"Hey, thank you again for tonight— for everything," you say, the hum of the car steady, matching the rhythm of your heart.

He nods. Then he meets your eyes. Then he smiles.

You watch the curve of his mouth, your eyes lingering on the silver ring in his lip.

He catches your gaze, then the rest of your face, then your lips.

Your heart beats loudly now, echoing against the steady hum of the car.

And just as you thought your heart was about to leap out of your chest—

"Goodnight," Jungkook says softly, his voice low and steady, his gaze lingering on yours.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You manage to say "goodnight" in the faintest voice, barely audible.

You step out of the car and make your way quickly to your apartment building. Once you reach your unit and close the door behind you, you hear the soft sound of his car pulling away.

And as you settle into the warmth and comfort of your house, a deep sense of calm settles over you. A wave of déjà vu washes over you, making you pause.

You close your eyes, trying to remember when you’ve felt this way before.

And you can almost feel the steady hum of the engine vibrating through you.

Your mind drifts back to the car.

With Jungkook.

🐙 a/n: Hiii!!! Please let me know whatchu think and which part you liked, or did not like lol! I like hearing your thoughts <3 again, thanks for reading and see you in Part 3! Mwaaahh 😘 or if you have kwesjins, letmeknowww!!!

Taglist: @taekritimin123 @vantelover1306 @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @daskewl @almatiarau

🐙 Let me know in the comments if you want to be added! 😘

419 notes · View notes

41nyl · 3 months ago

Text

— KTH FIC RECS (m.)

tw; dubcon/noncon, stalking, horror, explicit content.

notes; i really wish there were more yandere! kth fics on here bc he's just so literature old money van gogh art obsession dead poets society ldr ultraviolence album romanticism era coded and a perfect muse, but here are my top favs;

@pheresphone this is for you!

—𐙚

poison apple @jooniyah

— series; moneylender au.

socialite families. mc's marriage with myg spirals downward when the latter is indebted to kth. a myriad of dark turns force mc into a marriage with her husband's killer.

beastly gods @lemonjoonah

— series; hydrid au.

for three generations, people religiously stop themselves from venturing outside their village. curious about the life beyond, mc befriends the wrong company who she thinks will help her cross the border. naivety costs her hopes of freedom, earns the village's beastly deities their most prized possession: her.

cut @deepdarkdelights

— oneshot; moviestar au.

noob actress mc is excited to get casted with a phenomenal moviestar for her first big film project. things take a turn when she realises the script is eerily similar to her experiences. overnight success is a scam, or comes with a price.

the good boy @jkeuphoriadreamland

— series; netflix series 'you' au.

mc falls for the cute librarian faster than she picks books to borrow. what she doesn't realise: looks can be deceptive.

covet @bang-tan-bitches

— oneshot; yandere!idol!kth (ft. pjm)

coworker takes mc to a meal with her boyfriend and his bestfriend. things take an eerie turn when they set their sights on her.

polar night @amoc94

— series; mafia x ballerina au.

ballerina mc struggles with the image of perfection. she aches to be loved by the boy who stole her innocence, blissfully unaware that she's the object of desire for a deranged, powerful man.

feel free to recommend ur fav yandere!kth fics in notes/asks/DMs! 𐙚

372 notes · View notes

xxchumanixx · 1 year ago

Note

Helloooo

could you write a Tim Bradford X rookie!reader, when they meet for the first time in a bar and have a one night stand (with smut if you feel like it) and then in the morning they both have to go to work, and it turns out she is his rookie ??

and from there, he really tries to be hard on her but he can’t because he is scared to hurt her feelings ?? Even if she is kinda of a badass, so every time he is hard on her she is not afraid to talk back, and teases him for sure (dirty jokes about their one night stand).

Doomed

Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+ mdni!, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (fem and male receiving), slight dirty talk, fluff

Word count: 3.477

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I really like the idea and it was very fun to write!

Maybe, just maybe, gonna make a series out if this.

Enjoy!

Sitting at a bar, drinking before your gonna start working for the police the next morning, maybe wasn't the best idea.

But you were nervous (even if you'd never admit that out loud), and a drink paired with foreign faces seemed to be a good way to relax.

Sitting at the bar with a martini in front of you, you played with the bowl of peanuts, occasionally picking one and eating it.

Contemplating if you should ask for more, someone sat beside you. From your first glance you could tell he was handsome - a little older than you, but you didn't mind that.

He must have caught you looking, cause after he ordered a beer his gaze fell on you.

"Hi." he greeted you, a small smile gracing his lips that looked more than kissable. "Hey." you gave back, smiling as well, as his gaze fell to the bowl.

"Hungry?" he wanted to know, chuckling lightly. "Oh!" you made, chuckling as well. "No, I just played with the bowl and somehow ended up eating all the peanuts that were left."

He chuckled again, as he held out his hand to you. "Tim." he introduced himself. "Y/N." you gave back, shaking his hand. It was big and warm, his long fingers brushing over yours as you let go.

"Nice to meet you." he said, gesturing to your drink. "Want another one?" Your gaze followed his to your almost empty martini. "Sure, that would be nice." you gave back, smiling.

His hand rose, gathering the barkeepers attention. "Another martini for the lady, please." he ordered, to which the barkeeper nodded, starting to mix your drink.

"Thank you." you told him, head resting on your hand as you looked up at him. He nodded, smiling.

"What brought you here tonight?" he asked, elbow resting on the bar with his body turned towards you.

"I start my new job in the morning and I was a little nervous about it." you explained. "Thought a drink and foreign faces would help." His head tilted, looking at you in interest. "What job?"

Swallowing you decided to lie. He didn't need to know that you were to start as a cop.

"I'm at a marketing company as a media designer." you explained, proud of your little lie. He nodded, smiling. "Sounds great."

The evening went on with you two talking and drinking, and before you knew it it became a little more.

"What do you say...." he started, biting his lip, averting your attention for a second. "If we go to my place." Heat rushed through you, a smile stretching your lips. "I like that idea."

He smirked, before he payed for your drinks. Then you both walked out and to his car. Climbing inside the truck you felt giddy, knowing exactly what was about to come - that was if he wasn't a serial killer.

The drive felt like it was sparkling with electricity, an atmosphere so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

When you reached his house he parked, before you got out, following him to the front door. Your fingers trembled in anticipation, as he opened the door, before heading inside.

Once the door was closed, his lips were on yours.

They really were kissable.

It was all tongue and teeth, his hands gripping your waist, tugging you closer. The bulge in his pants pressed against your belly, and you bit your lip as his brushed down your neck.

Breathing heavily, you pushed his shirt up, tugging it over his head and discarding of it on the floor.

His hands did the same with your tight dress, pushing it up to your hips, his hands grabbing your ass as his lips found their way back to yours.

Moaning you buckled into him, his hands pressing you against him. Then his kisses went down further, over the bit of cleavage that was exposed by your dress, one of his hands kneading your breast through the thin bra you wore underneath.

Biting your lip you held back a moan, causing him to look up at you again. "Don't hold it back." he told you. "I wanna hear it."

Another wave of heat rushed through you, and you did as you were told, his words turning you on even more, as you moaned, cheeks flushed.

He kneeled down, lips ghosting over your stomach, before he pushed the dress up further, bunching it up just above your belly.

Breathing heavily you followed him with your eyes, gasping as he looked up, his fingers ghosting over your clothed cunt.

"So wet already." he mumbled, and your cheeks flushed harder. He kissed it, before his fingers hooked under the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them down your legs.

Biting your lip you stepped out of them, before his hands guided you back to him.

Placing one of your legs on his shoulder, you gasped, as his breath fanned over your heat. Steadying yourself your hands found their way into his hair.

As his tongue licked a stripe up your cunt, you moaned loudly. One of his hands gripped your ass, pressing you against him as his mouth began to devour you.

His tongue flicked over your clit, sucking it into his mouth, causing you to see stars as you tugged at his short hair.

Releasing your clit with a wet pop, his tongue found your entrance, pushing inside. You were a moaning mess under him, melting away like butter in the sun.

His thumb drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, the dress sliding back down a little, but neither of you cared really, as his tongue continued its assault on you.

"Fuck." you breathed, looking down at him with hooded eyes. Meeting his gaze your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you rode his face.

His thumb left your clit, one of his fingers slowly pushing inside you. You gasped, clenching around it as the knot in your belly tightened more and more.

He began fingering you, fast. As his tongue flicked over your clit, almost matching the speed of his finger, he added a second one.

It made filthy sounds as he licked and fingered you just behind his front door, the thought making you moan again. He was relentless on you, making you whimper, as he lightly bit down, the pain shooting pleasure down to your toes.

Screaming his name you came on his tongue, the knot in your belly exploding so suddenly it stole your breath; riding out your high on him as he took everything you gave him.

Gasping for air you slowly came down, letting go of his hair, as he set your leg back down. He stood back up, chuckling at your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing.

Kissing down your neck he gave you a moment to calm down, before he sucked at your sweet spot, making you moan again.

It felt like he knew your body without even having touched it before.

Kissing you, he guided you backwards, not stopping until you hit the bedroom door, fumbling for the doorknob.

Opening the door he walked you backwards to his bed, until your legs came in contact with it. He turned you around, opening the dress, before sliding it down your body.

His fingers followed your curves, making you shiver in delight, before he opened your bra, discarding of it on the floor as well. Turning back around he pushed you onto the mattress, getting rid of your shoes, before he unbuttoned his pants.

Sliding them down followed by his briefs his cock sprung free, making your mouth water at the sight.

You slid off the bed and down on your knees, looking up at him.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared down at you, fingers brushing through your already disheveled hair.

Smiling you took his cock in one hand, pumping it a few times. He groaned, eyes closing for a moment as his head tilted backwards.

Chuckling, your tongue licked from bottom to head, his hand gripping your hair almost painfully at the sensation.

Your tongue circled his sensitive head a few times, brushing through the slit, eliciting a moan from him.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, as your head bobbed up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

He hissed, as his hand started to guide your moves. Saliva dribbled down your chin, but you didn't care. He pushed deeper, making you gag and he groaned, doing it again as he looked down at you.

Tears stung in your eyes, your free hand rubbing your clit. Moaning around his shaft he moaned as well, fucking your mouth.

When he suddenly tugged your head back, his cock popping out of your mouth, he helped you back onto the bed.

"I wanna come inside you." Biting your lip at the thought, you slid up on the bed, him following, after putting on a condom. Lying on top of you again, he kissed you, tongue meeting yours.

His hands roamed your body, body's pressed together. He pumped himself a few times, looking in your eyes as he waited for permission.

Nodding you gave him your okay.

Slowly, he inched forward, stretching you deliciously. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades, as you watched him go deeper and deeper.

When he was fully inside you he waited a moment, before he slowly moved back out, only to ramm back inside you.

Moaning loudly your head tilted backwards, exposing your neck. Kissing down your throat, he started to fuck you.

You fell into a steady rhythm, getting deeper with each thrust. "Fuck, your so tight." he mumbled and you clenched down on him, making him hiss in return.

His lips found yours again, his fingers brushing over your clit causing you to buckle into him. Chuckling, his thumb drew figure eights on it, eliciting even more moans from you.

You were puddy under him, a moaning mess ready to shatter at his hands.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, taking him even deeper, as he gained speed. Breathing out his name, you tried to warn him of your impending high.

Smirking, he looked down at you, as he drove you towards the edge. "Come for me, baby." he whispered into your ear, and so you did.

Falling of the edge you screamed his name, back arching off the mattress. Clenching around him, pure bliss pulsed through you, blinding you momentarily.

He followed closely, as your clenching did the rest, moaning your name. Riding you through your highs, his lips brushed your pulse point, before he stilled.

Breathing heavily he pulled out, causing you to whimper at the emptiness.

Chuckling he lay down beside you, catching his breath as you did the same.

It was silent for a while, in which he discarded of the condom, before you swallowed, looking at your watch. "Fuck!" you breathed out, causing him to look back at you, brows furrowed.

"I have to get home, otherwise I won't be able to make it to work in time tomorrow." you explained, sending him a crooked smile.

Nodding, seeming a little disappointed though, he sat up. "Yeah, I totally get that." he spoke, standing up and starting to collect your things. You did the same, only then realizing that your panties were somewhere at his front door.

Blushing, you dressed, as he did the same, before he awkwardly walked you to the door, where you picked up your ruined panties.

Huffing a laugh you shook your head, bunching the fabric in your fist. "Uhm, I don't know how to get home." you told him, cheeks reddening even more.

"Right." he nodded, searching for his keys. "I'll drive you." Eyes widening, you looked at him. "Oh, you don't have to do that!" you said, but he shook his head. "I insist on it."

Smiling gratefully you nodded. "Okay, thank you."

The drive to your apartment was a little awkward, but you decided to make the best of it.

"I mean, now that you know where I live, maybe you want to come over sometime?" you offered, biting your lip. "For a round two, you know?"

He chuckled, smiling. "Yeah, maybe."

When you arrived, he made sure you got in safely, before saying goodbye and parting ways.

You hoped he would eventually take you up on your offer. The sex you had only minutes ago, was the best you had in a long time.

When the alarm went off the next morning, you felt like you'd been run over by a bus.

You hadn't slept that much, given the time you were home and lay awake, but you had no other choice than to get up, shower, brush your teeth and get ready.

Driving towards the LAPD your fingers nervously drummed on the steering wheel. It was your first day and you didn't know who'd be your TO for the next year.

Would he or she be nice? Or would you get one of those that liked to make their rookies suffer?

Getting inside you made your way to the locker room, changing into your uniform, before walking into the conference room, where the others were already waiting.

Brushing over your neatly done hair, your gaze wandered over the already seated officers, before it abruptly stopped.

There, between two women, sat Tim.

Your one night stand Tim.

Eyes widening you pleaded for him not to turn in your direction, but he did exactly that, like he heard your silent prayer.

His eyes widened as his gaze fell on you, mouth agape.

Cheeks reddening, trying to catch your breath you walked toward the seats in the front row, sitting down.

This couldn't be happening.

Before you could have thought more about it, the watch commander, Sergeant Grey, entered the room.

The other rookies stood up front and you did the same, trying to forget Tim for a moment.

"We got some new blood this morning." Sergeant Grey started, hands on his waist. "After six months together in the academy, you've earned the right to be here, but you'll have to prove yourself to stay. The way we do things matters. Protocol and tradition are the metal, from which every cop in this city is forged."

As he talked, you tried your best not to let your gaze wander towards Tim. His eyes seemed to burn holes into your skin, as you tried to concentrate on Sergeant Grey.

"Understand?" he wanted to know. "Yes, sir." you all gave back. "Sit down." he then told you. You did as you were told, breathing in deeply.

"It's time for playing the officer match game." Grey continued, reading on a paper. "Our contestants are Alec Miller, Y/N Y/L/N and Richard Stevens. And the winners are: Officer Harper, you get Alec Miller. Officer Lopez, you get Richard Stevens. And Officer Bradford, you get Y/N Y/L/N, who's looking like she just saw a ghost."

Laughter erupted, as your gaze fell on Tim. His teeth grit and you got the feeling, that he was Officer Bradford.

"Now hear me: Today is your first day, don't let it be your last." Grey explained, causing your gaze to snap back to him. "Forget the academy, listen to your TO's. They'll teach you the way it should be done. That's it."

You flinched, as his hands made contact with the pult rather loudly.

Again, this couldn't be happening.

Trying to calm your racing heart down, you stood, bracing yourself for meeting your TO.

"Hello boot, I'm Officer Tim Bradford." he introduced himself like you'd never met before, as he stood in front of you. "Nice to meet you, sir." you played along, doing your best not to look away.

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

As he told you the basics, like your task to get the bags and stuff, your mind drifted off briefly. He must have noticed, because he stopped talking, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Did you even listen to what I told you the last few minutes?" he wanted to know, his tone cold and harsh. Flinching you nodded. "I did, sir."

Praying for him not to test you about what he explained to you (you probably wouldn't have passed that test), you entered the shop.

He was driving, telling you a few things you had to keep in mind when sitting in the shop. "This is you work place." he told you. Nodding, you buckled up, suppressing a sigh.

This would surely get awkward.

Leaving the garage it grew silent, as he drove and you looked out the window, not sure what to say.

If you were even supposed to say something in the first place.

"You left something in my car." he suddenly broke the silence, not looking at you, though. Racking your brain you tried to remember what he meant, as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Your, uh, your panties." he then said, and you swore his cheeks turned pinkish.

Eyes widening you gasped, not having noticed that your panties were even missing.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." you told him, cheeks growing hot. This only made the situation ten times more awkward.

He nodded slightly, swallowing, but didn't say any more.

It crackled, as the radio turned on. "Adam-7-19, we have a 10-67 at Burlington Street." It fell silent again, as Tim grabbed the mic. "Adam-7-19, taking over. Code four." he gave through, changing course.

"Suspicious person." you mumbled to yourself, but he heard you. "Person calling for help." he corrected you harshly. "10-66 is suspicious person. You need to know the codes so you'll be ready when you arrive!"

Brows furrowing you looked at him. "You can't expect me to know every single code already." you gave back, not caring that he was your TO.

He slammed the break - luckily you were on an empty street as your body jerked forward, only being held back by the seat belt.

"What did you just say?" he wanted to know, turning towards you in his seat. "I'm your TO and I rate you every single day. If you don't know the codes correctly, you need to learn them. If you don't know them by next week, you're out."

Mouth agape you stared at him in shock.

He was one of those TO's, that let their rookies suffer.

"Wow." you breathed out, leaning back against the window. "Wouldn't have expected you to be such an asshole, after last night."

You shouldn't have said that.

You really shouldn't.

His hands balled into fists, teeth gritted. You saw that he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes bored holes into yours.

Suddenly he sat back in his seat, starting to drive again.

Cocking a brow you shook your head. Sure, he was your TO, but did he really have to treat you like that?

"Can I ask you a question?" you wanted to know, looking at him as he drove. He simply nodded, motioning for you to go ahead.

"Are you like this with all your rookies?" you wanted to know, elbow resting on the door. "Like what?" he gave back, brows furrowing. "Shall I really repeat myself?" you retorted, cocking a brow at him.

Huffing, he shook his head.

"I treat a rookie based on his needs." he explained. "Wow, last night I was tight, now I'm dumb." you concluded, shaking your head.

His gaze snapped to yours briefly, before it fixed on the street again. "I'm sorry, what?" he wanted to know, sounding almost angry.

Your brows rose, as you bit your lip.

Yeah, definitely shouldn't have said that either.

"Nothing, forget it." you mumbled, fumbling with your belt.

It grew quiet, as you noticed that you might have gone overboard. It was your first day and he had the power to make it your last.

"What happened last night won't repeat." he clarified, not looking at you. Swallowing, you nodded.

Of course it wouldn't. You were his rookie now, after all.

Or boot, like he had called you earlier.

"I would be glad if we could just forget that it happened." he told you. Taking a deep breath you huffed. "Will be hard to find a comparison, though." you spoke without thinking,

Covering your face with your hands, you wanted to apologize for your inability to keep your mouth shut, but he was faster. "Yeah, I know." he mumbled, biting his cheek.

Your brows shot high at his words, biting your lip.

Damn it, he was smoking hot, your one night stand and now he was your trainer as well. Not thinking about the sex you had last night would be hard.

Speaking off, you felt how your cheeks grew hot.

God damn it.

You were doomed.

-> Part two

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #the rookie x u #tim bradford imagine #smut #tim bradford smut

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shaisuki · 7 months ago

Text

❝ PLEASANTRIES. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. anxiety + references of cheating + power play.

SYNOPSIS. gojo is on the move and he was running impatient.

you hate overtime. you finally understand what nanami meant when he said it to you one time while he visited you to look after the twins. you remember it was a cold night and he's hanging his coat in a spare chair of your house while the twins were still crawling. their little bodies wrapped around your legs, afraid that you'll leave them but you won't. they're just that clingy and needy to you, their mother. you appreciate nanami when he took the time to look after the twins like they were his own but you thrown that thought away. you made clear that as much as you appreciate nanami when he helps you of raising the twins, it is not his responsibility. it is yours and nanami respected that which you are grateful for.

late nights at this office made you miss the twins and haibara and nanami. you began to wonder what they're doing right now. the twins were surely sleeping after being tucked by their uncle haibara and nanami, you were not so sure. he could just be out and doing his stuff. the unfinished paperworks was sure you were not getting home anytime soon but certain circumstances may push you to finish this tasking paperworks.

your eyes glazed at the screen in front of you. not even the blue light saved you from getting your eyes strained and the impending headache is already building up throughout your skull. a soft hiss leaving your mouth as you blink your eyes and taking your eyes off the screen. you need to take a break, away from this.

“take a break, will you?” a voice popped beside you. playful and concerned the tone is but it almost made your heart crash and your body freeze. a shaky breath escaping your lips. from your reaction it was like a serial killer hunting you had found you and got you cornered with no means of escape. a thousand anamnesis briefly flashed through every corners of your brain. the long buried came surfacing and it took was just his and presence of your former bully now ceo of the company where you work at.

you firmly planted your feet on the floor before using it as a leverage to push the chair you sit to gain a not-so-rude distance to your boss. placing your hands in your lap before clenching it to fist to calm yourself and to stop the small tremors of your hands. might as well to stop your legs from bouncing. “i-i was about to. i'm c-close to finishing.” you stammer. wincing at the way you spoke internally and trying not to cringe.

the dimness of the office floor and the sudden drop of temperature didn't do anything to ease your nervousness and realizing that you were the only one left except with him. the dark glasses he wore did nothing to conceal the color of his eyes and it was lighter with the dimness surrounding both of you. it only brought you bad memories and you don't want to lose composure because of it. “you didn't change. you were always the diligent one. keep doing that and you will might be my favorite employee.” he scoffs at what he said. clearing his throat. “scratch that, you are my favorite.” grabbing a nearby chair for him to sit down and the chair seems to be smaller than it was from the his huge stature made it. he sat and faces you. your knees almost bumping but you recoiled at the closeness.

it didn't escape gojo's gaze at the action. a pang of a pain that he didn't recognize blooms in his heart and he didn't like it. he was sure the building would be empty minus the staffs who maintains the cleanliness in their designated spot. he was wrong. when he stops at your floor to check up on you or think of whatever gift he can leave at your desk, he found you. working tirelessly at whatever work you need to do. thus, a chance was presented to him. it's a chance to get you closer and crack the tough exterior you have. he was redeeming himself to you. however it was difficult seeing how you defend yourself from him. afraid that he'll harm you again but it was past like that. he wasn't his past self and so are you.

“are you not going home?” you ask him. he gave you a quick shake of his head. “i'm not until you're finished.” he reasons. part of it true and a lie. there's no rush to go home when all that awaits for him is the coldness of his penthouse. spacious and designed for his taste. it's devoid of warmth and sayuri wasn't too fond of it and he wasn't with his fiancee. sayuri's spoiled and even with the few hints of her being there, it bothers him. what he needs is someone. someone who can share a home with him and the answer's in front of him.

there's no use arguing to him. he's your boss and you can't say that his presence is unneeded and you did what's best. ignoring him like he didn't exist but it's impossible that he's dead staring at you. watching your every move. waiting for you to fumble and that brings the unnecessary anxiety you have been feeling lately.

since when's the last time he had the chance to look at you like this, gaze at you like you hung the moon and stars and even more than three years had passed since he last saw you, there isn't a bit that you had changed except maybe for the weight that you gained more and the look in your eyes. despite the uncertainty with how things have been for you since you stepped in his company and meeting them two, there's a look of fierceness in them like you're protecting someone and needing the strength to protect them and it's the look he have seen from his mother. a thousand times she did when he needs her. shielding from his father's demanding orders about him being his protege, his heir. the days would come back haunt him if his father had seen as his son. his blood and nothing else but a child of his own.

it's a memory he didn't want to think of, now he took over of his family's legacy. he should be focusing on what's present in front of him and he gladly drowns in your presence. looking at you and memorizing every inch of your features. still in his position he can see that natural eyelashes of yours, the roundness of your eyes and when they look at him, he gets a little weak. gojo would like to brush his nose against to yours. feel the roundness of your cheeks like he did when you slept in a little the morning after he and suguru had ravaged you. takes a glance at your sleeping figure and he didn't realize that he was already admiring you and he would like to kiss you once again. the softness of your lips in his while he takes you fully. it will come a long way before he can do that again. forgiveness isn't a easy thing to do and he regrets it a little bit of how he treated you.

enthralled by the menial tasks you were doing, the beep of the monitor shutting down brought him back. you were packing up and sorting the folders and putting them by the small rack of your desk for tomorrow's use. you didn't wait for him after you've slotted your chair below the space of your desk. walking towards the elevators and he follows suit. pressing the button for ground floor. there's only a ding and then the casual whir of the elevator. none of you dared to break the silence despite gojo's chatty nature. not wanting to make you uncomfortable furthermore and he only looks at the reflection of you both in the elevator doors.

ding!

the elevator stopped before opening its doors. you both stepped out and made way through the exit of the building. the cold night air hits you both. nipping the skin that is left uncovered. the young ceo glanced at his watch before looking at you. “shall i escort you home?” you were quick to dismiss his offer. “no, thank you. i can take myself home.” you say before leaving him in front of the glass doors of his building. you take a pause to your steps. contemplating and you hope you're not going to regret what you're about to say. “thank you for staying with me until i got my work done but please don't make it a habit. i don't want trouble.” you told him. “have a good night.” you slightly bowed as a sign of respect to him, not as a person but as an employee.

you didn't gave him room to reply and you were off. down to the direction of the nearest train station. his car already in front of him before the valet stepped out to give him his keys and before he took off. his blue eyes shimmer behind his dark glasses until he can see no longer of your retreating figure.

the chains make a clanging sound. resonating in the empty room and there's a sharp rattle of the chains mixed with the sound it was making as the sandbag was swung in different directions. it rounded into a circular motion until it was back again to the cause of the movement. steely purple eyes fixated on the poor equipment and anticipating the movement of it coming back to him, his fist collided with it again. followed by more and with a harsh punch, the sandbag broke the chain where it was attached. toppling on the corner with a thud and that was the cue for him to stop. the equipment no longer useful to him.

geto swiped a sweat in his forehead. finding the end of the strip of the cloth wrapped around his hands before pulling it and dumping it to the trash bin. he take a bottled water for him to drink and plopped down the couch. before his lips can taste the water, his phone rang. the caller id flashing in the screen of his phone and geto sighs before swiping to answer the call.

“any progress?” he say without greetings. anticipating the answer on the other end and he hears a shuffle before it was answered. “barely. she's avoiding me. i managed to stay with her after i found out she was staying late.” he can hear the frustrated tone of his friend. “she told me i shouldn't do it. she don't want to be in trouble.” gojo huffs. annoyed how the night ended but at least you talked to him even it was brief. “you are trouble.” suguru chuckles before turning into one of a serious. “it doesn't help you're her boss and you're engaged. they will talk and you know the jealous fits your fiancee have.” gojo rolls his eyes. wiping the fogged mirror he was staring his reflection at. “i know and that means, it's going well with you?” he bites his tongue to stop the sarcastic tone he was about to unleash.

geto thought about it. his past encounters with you and slowly, you were trusting him. it wasn't the result he wanted cause he can be impatient at times and he's dying to feel you once again but progress is still progress. “yeah. she's slowly accepting me.” gojo scoffs and geto hears it. “you want her to open up to you? stop being an entitled asshole to her. show her you're not your past self. being sincere won't cost you anything.” it have and gojo winces at it.

“satoru?” geto hears a feminine voice in the background and he ends the call before he can hear anything else. he thinks of you. he should take you on a date sometimes. one you can't refuse and show you a good time and treat you the way you deserve and see that smile he have been wanting. directed to him and only him. he's the only one that can make you smile and you won't need gojo. he looks at the time. he should be planning to make you his, again.

there's a sudden beep signalling that the call was ended. gojo turned around only to meet his fiancee. standing in the bathroom door. her perfume reeks and her loose waves daintily passed around her shoulders. wearing only a thin nightgown and gojo hides the distaste he have for her. this was an arrangement. both of the families agreed it should be done. sayuri was only her for the night and he can live that. “aren't you going to bed?" her voice too sweet for his tastes. he likes your better. sweet and gentle compared to sayuri's. “just a second.” he says before turning off the light switch and joining her.

“how's your day?”

“the usual.” her fingers came rubbing circles in his chest. she intentionally pulls the straps of her thin nightgown and he wasn't really in the mood and how he can be when all he can think is you. fuck. maybe he can use sayuri and pretend it was you but the delicate features of his fiancee isn't the same as you. a tiny waist and a handful of flesh he can grab. it wasn't enough. he needs you. full and ripe for him to tear apart while you cry his name. he rubs his eyes and looks at sayuri. it would be only temporary. “sayuri?” he call to her. the girl besides him was all ears. “yes?” he would be in trouble if he was to call your name instead of her. “come here.” and without hesitation her lips was on his.

now's the world is getting smaller to you three and you have no excuses of avoiding them. you can endure it. you endured it for the quarter of your whole life, what's the difference if you can do it one more again. now the stakes are higher and you're risking the existence of your children with them. you don't know how it will end but you know you have to protect your twins even it's the last thing you will do.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk angst #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #chubby reader angst #x reader angst #x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

Note

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there? Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror [Part 2] | [Yandere Masterlist]

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

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hockeyluvrr · 13 days ago

Text

no I’m not in love || ck9

series masterlist main masterlist

summary: You’ve convinced yourself that your feelings for Clayton Keller are nothing more than a passing infatuation. But when the Utah Hockey Club forward starts inching closer to your heart, you’re left wrestling with emotions you swore you’d never entertain.

warnings: denial, pining, no clue what else though lol

author’s note: this is definitely one of my favs, hope you guys like it too because clay deserves some love! also side note, completely unrelated but as I’m posting this I’ve hit 300 followers 🥹 can’t even believe it!

word count: 2,209

The rhythmic clatter of skates against ice fills the arena, the crisp chill in the air wrapping around you as you settle into your usual seat. You tell yourself that you're here for the game, for the love of hockey—but your eyes follow #9 a little too closely, lingering just a second too long when he glides past with a flick of his wrist and an effortless goal.

Clayton Keller. The name alone sends an inconvenient warmth through you. But it's not like that. It can’t be. You’re not one of those people who falls for a guy just because he has a killer smile and the kind of talent that turns heads in an instant. You like to believe you’re above all that.

And yet…

You shake your head, dragging your gaze away from the ice. It’s just hockey. He’s just a player. The way your heart picks up speed when he glances up at the stands? Coincidence. The way you find yourself at nearly every home game, your eyes searching for him the moment he steps onto the ice? Routine. Nothing more.

Nothing at all.

———

“You coming out tonight?”

Your best friend nudges you as you step out of the arena, the lingering roar of the crowd still buzzing in your ears. Utah won, and Clayton played like a man possessed—two goals, one assist, and a dazzling move that had the entire building on its feet.

You should be celebrating. But your stomach is tied in knots, and you can’t figure out why.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “I’m kinda tired.”

“Bull. You just don’t want to admit that you’d rather go home and overanalyse every second of that game, especially where a certain #9 is concerned.”

You glare at them. “That’s not true.”

They smirk knowingly. “Sure. And I’m the next first-round draft pick.”

You groan but say nothing, because denying it feels like feeding into something you shouldn’t even be considering. The truth is, you don’t know what’s happening inside your head. Or maybe, more accurately, inside your heart.

———

The bar is already alive with energy by the time you step inside. Warm light flickers across polished wood, the steady pulse of music thrumming beneath the hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place that feels both intimate and chaotic, where time stretches and blurs under the influence of good drinks and even better company.

You slip through the crowd, finding an open spot at the bar. The familiar weight of a drink settles into your hand before you even have time to second-guess this whole night. You take a slow sip, the burn of alcohol grounding you, drowning out the thoughts you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

The voice is smooth, edged with quiet amusement, and it cuts through the noise with an ease that makes your pulse stutter.

You turn your head—and freeze for half a second before catching yourself.

Clayton Keller stands beside you, one arm resting casually against the bar, his body angled toward you like he’s been here all along. His hair is still damp from the shower, and the sleeves of his jacket are pushed up just enough to reveal the veins along his forearm. Up close, he’s even more magnetic than he is on the ice—sharp features softened by something unreadable in his expression, an easy kind of confidence that doesn’t demand attention but holds it effortlessly.

You blink, forcing your brain to catch up. He’s never spoken to you before—not in the weeks you’ve spent watching him from the stands, not in the moments when you swore his gaze lingered on you between plays but convinced yourself you were imagining it.

And yet, here he is. Talking to you.

You raise an eyebrow, masking the way your heart picks up its pace. “And you look like you don’t have that problem.”

His lips twitch into something that isn’t quite a smirk but feels just as dangerous. “Guess that depends on the company.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Smooth.”

His eyes flick over you, assessing but not in a way that makes you feel scrutinised—more like he’s committing details to memory. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“First time,” you admit, swirling the ice in your glass. You hesitate before adding, “Got dragged out by a friend. Thought it might be a mistake.”

“And?”

You glance at him, considering. “Jury’s still out.”

His grin is slow, easy. “Guess I’ve got work to do, then.”

The way he says it is light, almost teasing, but there’s something else beneath the surface. Something careful. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll meet him halfway.

You should be more composed about this. You should be asking yourself why Clayton Keller is standing here, making conversation like he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to you. But instead, you let yourself hold his gaze, feeling the weight of it settle in your chest.

“I’ve seen you at games.” His voice is quieter now, not quite hesitant, but deliberate. Testing.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your drink. “Oh?”

He leans in just a fraction, close enough that you catch the clean scent of soap and something else, something uniquely him. “Yeah. A few times.” His gaze flickers over your face, searching. “Thought I might be imagining it was you at first.”

Your breath catches, but you refuse to let it show as you make a pathetic excuse of a joke. “And now?”

He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Pretty sure I wasn’t.”

The air shifts—just slightly, but enough that you feel it, enough that the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background.

You should say something. Shrug it off, play it cool, make some effortless remark about hockey players and their egos. But all you can do is watch him, pulse thrumming in your throat, and wonder what would happen if, just for a moment, you didn’t pretend you hadn’t been hoping for this all along.

And that? That might be the most dangerous thought of all.

———

Days pass. Then weeks. And somehow, against all logic, Clayton becomes a fixture in your life.

You don’t know when it started happening, not really. One moment, he was just another player on the ice, a name you cheered for from a distance. The next, he was everywhere. Inviting you out after games. Sending texts that made you roll your eyes and smile against your will. Standing too close when he talked to you, like he thrived on testing your patience.

And the worst part? You let him.

Because as much as you hate to admit it, there’s something about him that makes it impossible to walk away.

“You’re staring again.”

You blink, snapping out of your daze to find him watching you, amusement flickering in his eyes. The two of you are sitting on the hood of his car, parked outside your favourite diner, a late-night tradition that’s started to feel dangerously close to something real.

“I’m not.”

He smirks. “Liar.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder lightly. He laughs, but there’s something softer in his expression now, something that makes your breath hitch.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter this time, “you can stop fighting it.”

Your pulse stumbles. “Fighting what?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you, really looks at you, until you feel like he’s seeing every thought you’ve refused to say out loud.

“You know what.”

And maybe you do. Maybe you always have.

But saying it? Acknowledging it? That would mean admitting that everything you’ve tried to convince yourself of—that this was nothing, that you didn’t care—is a lie.

And you’re not sure you’re ready for that yet.

———

The realisation comes when you least expect it.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at you after a game, searching the crowd like he needs to see you there. Maybe it’s the late-night conversations that stretch into dawn, the easy way he makes you laugh when you’ve had the worst day. Maybe it’s the way he touches you—light, fleeting, like he’s waiting for permission to make it something more.

Or maybe it’s just him. All of him. And the fact that, somewhere along the way, he stopped being just another player to you.

You hate it. Because it means you’re already in too deep. Because it means that every wall you’ve built is crumbling under the weight of something terrifyingly real.

And that scares you more than anything else ever has.

———

“You’re running.”

His voice stops you in your tracks. You should have known he’d catch on.

“I’m not.”

Clayton steps closer, eyes dark with something unreadable. “Then tell me why you’re pulling away.”

You swallow hard, but the words won’t come. Because how do you explain that you’re terrified? That you never meant for this to happen, that you don’t know how to handle the way he makes you feel?

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, you know.”

Your heart clenches. “I know.”

“Do you?” His voice is softer now, more careful. “Because you keep acting like this is something you don’t want.”

You look away. “Maybe I don’t.”

He studies you for a long moment, then shakes his head with a small, knowing smile. “Liar.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and weighted, as if the air itself is daring you to say something—anything—that might change the course of whatever this has become.

Clayton is still watching you, gaze steady, like he already knows what you’re going to say before you even say it. It’s infuriating. But more than that, it’s terrifying. Because you know he’s right. You’ve been running. And the worst part? You don’t even know if it was from him or from yourself.

Your fingers tighten at your sides, nails pressing into your palm as you force yourself to meet his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

His jaw tenses for a fraction of a second before he exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah, it is.” He steps closer, close enough that the warmth of him cuts through the cool night air. “You’re the one making it complicated.”

The words sting because they’re true.

You don’t know how to do this—the whole letting someone in thing. It’s easier to pretend that feelings don’t exist, that the way your chest tightens whenever you see him is just admiration, that the thought of him not being around doesn’t make your stomach drop.

But deep down, you know. You’ve known for a while.

And the way he’s looking at you right now? Like he’s waiting, like he’s always been waiting? It makes you want to stop pretending.

You inhale sharply, the words catching in your throat before you finally force them out. “I like you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but from the way his expression shifts—just slightly—you know he heard you. “I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

Clayton’s gaze softens, and the tension in his shoulders eases, just a bit. He’s quiet for a moment, then murmurs, “We’ll figure it out.”

And maybe that should scare you, the idea of stepping into something so uncertain. But when he says it, it doesn’t sound scary at all.

It just sounds right.

His hand brushes against yours, tentative at first—giving you a chance to pull away. You don’t. Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, the warmth of his skin grounding you, steadying you.

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Was that so hard?”

You roll your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “Shut up.”

He laughs softly, then, in one smooth motion, lifts your joined hands and tugs you just a little closer. The space between you disappears, and for a second, all you can hear is your own heartbeat, pounding loud and insistent in your ears.

You should look away. You should say something to defuse the moment before you do something reckless. But then his gaze flickers to your lips, and suddenly, you don’t want to defuse anything.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice barely audible.

You don’t.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, just enough to close the distance, just enough to let him know exactly what you want.

That’s all it takes.

His lips meet yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorising the shape of you, like he’s making sure this is real. And god, it is. The warmth of his hands against your skin, the way he pulls you in just a little closer—it sends a shiver down your spine, but for once, it’s not fear.

It’s everything you’ve been too afraid to admit you wanted.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“So,” he murmurs, a small, teasing smile playing at his lips. “Still running?”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “No.”

And for the first time in a long time, you mean it. Because, god…maybe you are in love.

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doestalker · 9 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁 .ᐟ choso kamo

summary: there's a serial killer on the loose, you're invited to a halloween party, what could go wrong? spoiler: everything

ghostface!choso, smut, p in v, dub-con, little to no foreplay (sorry), dacryphilia, blood play, knife play, big dick choso, unprotected sex, a lilttle daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation,, choso puts the hot in psychotic basically.

word count: 2.7k

౨ৎ this is a collab with my dear friend @nudijsmos

also on ao3

It was a really, really bad decision - going out to a halloween party when there's a serial killer out there, waiting for his new unsuspecting victim? It was a no brainer.

Yet, saying no to your friends was worse than that. And that's why you agreed on attending this party in the first place.

Your eyes skimmed over the news playing on your TV. A new victim of the Ghostface.

Ghostface.

His name was all over the news, the papers, the internet, a ghostly white screaming mask, a black cloak and the thirst for blood.

He had already killed 5 people this month, the police says that he stalks them before he goes after them, just for the thrill of the hunt.

Fucking psycopath.

You turned off the TV to finish your make up in peace, only the gentle hum of a Lana Del Rey song playing through your speaker was keeping you company inside your dorm.

You were dressed as an angel. What a cliché.

It was the easiest costume you could think of only using your clothes, a white corset, white fishnets and the tiniest white shorts that didn't even cover up half of your ass cheeks. You just had to buy the halo and the wings to match.

The alcohol had already started affecting you. You felt like your brain was spinning inside of your skull as you made your way into the upstairs bathroom of the fraternity hosting the party.

The first thing you did upon entering was splash your face with cold water from the faucet, then you looked at your reflection.

Your make up had barely smudged - thank you, waterproof make up - and your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.

What a mess, you thought.

The party wasn't so bad, but as you expected from the beginning, your friends ditched you the moment you stepped inside the house. So, there you were, alone, dressed in skimpy clothes, in a place full of drunk college students pretending not to fear the figure in black that could attack them any second. You rolled your eyes at the thought.

However, your critical thoughts about your peers were interrupted when someone entered the same bathroom where you were.

"Hey, it's occupied," you said, words slurring, your tongue felt heavy on your mouth.

You looked at the intruder through the mirror's reflection. He was dressed as Ghostface.

You swallowed hard when you saw that white mask staring at you with his head tilted. It was clear that this was someone with a very twisted sense of humour who had dressed up as the killed from the news, even covered himself in fake blood. Still, you couldn't help but feel intimidated by that ghostly figure.

"Didn't you hear me? It's occupied," you said again. You were about to turn around when the figure grabbed your hair and forced you back into your original position.

You didn't know what to do, you were shocked at the audacity.

The figure shook his head.

"What? You wanna play psycho killer?" You asked with a crooked smile. Maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system, but you weren't against this roleplay.

The figure nodded.

"Can I be the helpless victim?" You joked, your voice innocent and airy, looking at with your best doe eyes.

Ghostface nodded again.

His hand, still holding your hair, exerted force until you were bent over the counter, your arched back lifting your half-naked ass higher, the smooth white fabric barely covering it making the masked man loose his composure.

The cold air in the room clashing with your bare skin as he got rid of the minimal clothing covering you, drawing a series of gasps from your trembling throat that sounded like music to the mysterious entity controlling you at its whim.

Lust filled the air, and both of your breaths were connected by the uncontrollable desire within you about what could happen next. How rough would it be? What would the next move be? Despite the fear building up inside your stomach, the wet heat running down your thighs encouraged you to continue.

The tearing sound of your fishnets made you shudder, and the cold touch of his blade sent shivers down your spine. the bastard sliced your underwear. Now the only thing protecting your bare pussy from his growing bulge was the fabric of his robe and his jeans.

His bulge rubbed slowly against you, so slow it was torturous. The friction sending flashes of pleasure to your lower belly. You didn't want him to stop; his rhythm was lascivious enough to make the black fabric even darker with your juices.

The masked man only let out ragged breaths, although his gaze wasn't noticeable in the mirror that was reflecting the vulgar expressions on your face, inside that hood, he was savouring the obscene angle he had you on, your ass shaped like a heart from his point of view.

His gloved fingers forced their way into your mouth without warning, seeking the lubrication your saliva could provide. The combination of the black leather taste and your frothy saliva tingled your taste buds. There was a certain synchronization with the fake thrusts he made into your mouth and the friction against your cunt.

His left hand grabbed your hair and pulled hard so you could see yourself better when he caressed your pussy lips with his lubed fingers, playing with your folds, feeling how they got wetter with those sweet juices you were leaking.

Your mouth gaped when you felt his fingers entering your cunt so slowly it was almost cruel, making you lose the little sanity left in you. It didn't take much time until he was drilling his digits inside your gummy walls.

Your whimpers were getting louder, but you were sure that the music blasting outside the bathroom was muffling the lewd sounds escaping from your mouth, so you let yourself loosen up, you were getting fingered by a stranger after all, and one dressed up as a serial killer.

The voice modifier inside his mask wasn't picking up his deep sighs, but now it was, morphing his grunts into a robotic voice.

He tilted his head again, staring at your face enjoying his fingers abusing your cervix, if only you could see how his eyes darkened.

The thrusts of his fingers stopped after a few minutes, then without warning, he found his way inside you again, this time with his length. you felt your insides burn, not able to take the ridiculous size of his cock, falling apart in front of him.

"Look at you, doll. Who would've thought that you'd get so turned on being like this," he grunted out of breath, taking your cries as encouragement as he began the abrupt sway of his hips against your ass cheeks.

"I'm gonna show you how you're made for me, how this pussy's only made for my big fucking cock and only for my cock. You filthy little slut."

You weren't used to his moves; any trace of vanilla had disappeared the moment he exercised that cruel power over your figure. Your voice was so worn out that you couldn't form a straight answer, limiting yourself to just whine and moan just like he described, like a filthy slut. He was a vulgar and obscene entity that just released your deepest and darkest desires with just the sound of his modified voice and the thrusts of his hips.

Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy; you couldn't help but close your eye por a second, which earned you a hard slap on your ass-cheek that would most likely leave a mark. "Don't close your eyes. Look at yourself. Look how much of a whore you're being to a complete stranger. What would your boyfriend say? Would he like to know that a killer is filling up his girl?"

You shook your head. "No boyfriend," was the only thing you could manage to reply, your brain beginning to shut down from so much brutality and overstimulation.

"Really now? Then, nothing could stop me from doing this," he said, and the next thing you felt apart from his big dick inside of you, was the sharp blade on his hand piercing its way into your soft skin.

The pain of his weapon cutting on the flesh of your ass mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts, melting your brain away until there was nothing left but your incoherent babbling from those emotions blending together.

His hand caressed the fresh wound before traveling to your chest, pulling down the top of your corset and staining both the fabric and your tits crimson red. The hunting knife went up to your neck and rested on your jugular, his thrusts began to speed up and you thought you could die from the way his tip was bullying your sweet spot.

A subtle bulge started to form on your lower belly, you could see through the mirror how his length reaching places no other dick had explored before.

"Fuck, just look at you, you're such a mess," his groans, still robotic and modified, sounded animalistic. "I'm gonna ruin you. Gonna make you cum so hard, no one other than me will fuck you this good. There's no dick out there that could abuse you like this."

Your head was spinning. you were all over the place. the overstimulation and his dirty talk that sounded like a threat were bubbling up the white heat on your lower abdomen that you were oh so desperate for.

"Gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up."

Your body was hitting against the cold bathroom counter and your gaze showed both pleasure and fear, despite currently getting the fuck of your life, you were still uncertain of making it out alive.

You watched as his hand grabbed his mask and took off the plastic material that was keeping you from knowing who was fucking you. It wasn't enough to say he was the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Straight, shoulder-length hair, tired eyes surrounded by violet shadows that revealed sleepless nights, and a striking tattoo running across his cheeks and nose bridge. His porcelain-like skin couldn't hide the rosy flush that softened his otherwise sharp and intimidating features.

His lips curled into a crooked smirk when your whines stopped upon seeing his face. "Like what you see, angel?"

The deepness of his voice shook you to your core and made you weak in the knees. He didn't give you time to reply the obvious yes! your brain wanted to scream, he just grabbed your hair and pulled you into a filthy kiss, all spit and teeth and fighting tongues. You let out a tiny mewl when his teeth bit hard on your lower lip, so hard it left you with a metalic taste after he broke away from the kiss, only a thin thread of pink-ish saliva connecting your mouths.

"Couldn't help myself, just want to devour those lips."

You felt like your insides were being abused by his length like you were just a toy, your belly already feeling full of him even though he was giving you lazy half-thrusts, the few moments when he decided to punish you and thrust in full made you dizzy. Through the mirror, you could notice his gaze fixated on the way his cock disappeared into your warm pussy.

His hands hovered over the end of your waist, drawing invisible lines along the curves of your hips, while the most vulgar and purely depraved words were leaving those rosy, plump lips of his. You watched as his eyes rolled back into his skull whenever your pussy clenched and tightened around his cock when something he said was a little too dirty, and the way he trusted back with mouth-watering force made your eyes roll too.

You were 100% sure that the people outside the bathroom were hearing your moans now, but you couldn't help it, you were approaching your long-awaited orgasm, and you felt the white heat on your lower abdomen start to bubble up and send electricity through your nervous system. Your walls were hugging his cock so tight, as if your pussy didn't want to let him go now that you were about to cum.

"Fuck, look at you, you're practically swallowing me," groaned the stranger.

"'m gonna cum," you whined, furrowing your brows, focusing on getting over the edge of your climax.

He leaned over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back, he was looking into your eyes through the mirror, a wicked smirk on his face.

"Yeah? gonna cum on my cock?" He mumbled into your ear, hot breath caressing your ear. When his only answer was a strangled moan, his hand grabbed you by the crown of your hair, the new angle was pushing you even more to the edge. "Answer, slut, you gonna come on daddy's cock? You gonna be m'lil whore and let daddy cum inside you?"

You nodded your head, the best you could with his hard grip on your hair. "Yeah, daddy, want you t'cum in me, please fill my pussy, daddy," you whimpered, almost sobbed, begging for your release.

"Then cum f'me, angel."

That moment didn't take long, a couple more thrusts into you and that was it, his seed was filling you up, and at the same time, yours was coating his length, both fluids mixing inside of you, spilling out and running down your thighs. The proof of your affair staining your shorts and dripping on the floor.

Then, the stranger pulled out and, without saying anything, started to zip his jeans and put on the mask again. You stopped him, not even bothering to pull up your shorts.

"What's your name?" you asked.

You didn't want to lose the opportunity of seeing him again, mind-blowing fuck or not, he was beautiful and your still-foggy mind thought he looked familiar. Besides, he must go to the same college as you, given it was a frat party.

He just shook his head, a smirk still intact on his handsome face. He put on his mask and softly grabbed your face by the chin.

"Ghostface."

You rolled your eyes at his joke. "Well, Mr. Ghostface, will I ever see you again?"

His hand left your chin to travel to the loose strand of hair over your forehead, tucking it back behind your ear. "Soon, angel."

And then he left, the silence after the door shut was deafening, your ears ringing and your mind spinning.

You looked at your reflection again, smudged makeup, sweaty and your hair was a mess. You turned and looked at your back through the mirror, your clothes were stained red by the fake blood he had on his cloak. Your eyes traveled down to your ass, where he had cut you moments before, your cheeks were red and stained with your blood, but it looked like a superficial cut, nothing too serious.

You couldn't help but notice that he carved a 'C' on your left cheek.

When you finally pull yourself together and decide to leave the bathroom, the first thing you encounter is straight out of a horror movie.

A body lies on the floor, a guy slumped against the wall opposite the bathroom door, blood staining his clothes and the wall behind him. You clap a hand over your mouth, fighting the urge to vomit, unable to scream from the sheer shock.

You dash down the stairs to find your friends and alert the frat guys to call the police, but the scene in the living room is even worse.

Three bodies are there. one guy and two girls. The girls are seated on the couch, almost as if the killer posed them, their blood turning the cream-colored fabric a deep crimson. The guy lies face down on the floor, his blood pooling around him.

The music continues to play, its upbeat and trendy lyrics mocking the gruesome scene.

You feel sick to your stomach, wanting to puke, cry, and scream, but you can’t. You're frozen on the last step of the stairs.

As you hear a siren in the distance and the house slowly bathes in the blue and red of police lights, your eyes lock onto a sticky note on the front door. You slowly walk over and read it.

'Soon.' it said.

#❤︎₊ ⊹ doe's works #choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #ghostface choso #ghostface #choso kamo jjk #ghostface x reader #slasher fucker #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x you #choso kamo x reader #jujutsu kaisen

1K notes · View notes

whatswrongwithblue · 9 months ago

Text

In The Night, In The Dark

Edited screenshot and beta'ing done by my dearlest love, @inuhalfdemon

Summary: Alastor x afab Reader x Shadow smut. Easily read as a stand-alone, there's no other context needed to enjoy this instalment, but it is technically Part 5 of my "Girl Talk" series. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 4 are all dirty humor and Part 3 is also easily stand-alone smut of the "filthiest" kind.

TW's: Slight dub-con at the very beginning, voyeurism, masturbation, vaginal fingering, anal, biting, threesome, double penetration, squirting, creampie. 8,271 words of romance and debauchery lay before the "Read More." MDNI and plan on a shower afterwards.

Before the Hazbin Hotel . . .

Before you met Angel Dust . . .

Before the seven loneliest years of your life . . .

You had found yourself in the beginnings of a wonderful and complicated romance with The Radio Demon.

You had known him for a while, prior to becoming intimate, and had seen Alastor in a variety of moods.

He could be charming, enthusiastic, charismatic, downright funny, and the life of the party. He could sing and dance the night away, sweep you off your feet, all while being outright goofy. This was the side of him that, over a considerable amount of time, you had fallen in love with.

He could be terrifying; a monster (quite literally), a murderous psychopath, a sadistic and twisted killer who made strangers flee from him and far unluckier souls kneel to him. The kind of man who took what he wanted, regardless - or sometimes because - of who it hurt. This was the side of him that had initially caught your eye and ignited the flame of your darkest fantasies. Heaven help you, there a was a reason you were down there in Hell with men like him. While it had taken you a long while to realize he was the man of your dreams, it had taken you even longer to get his attention.

But now that you had it . . .

You were realizing there was a secret, third side to his personality; one you had only seen glimpses of so far. A distant and cold version of Alastor, where he couldn’t stand to be touched, forwent his chivalry, and yet, in a very twisted sense of the idea, let his guard down. These dark moods settled on him whenever something or someone got under his skin and he had no real outlet for his frustrations. No form of violence or vengeance would settle him, and he couldn’t exactly lash out at you because of it. He felt the new and unnerving need for you in these moments but was also desperate for distance.

It seemed tonight he had finally figured out a solution to this problem.

____

You had just fallen into the first stages of sleep, where the drowsy fog still kept your faculties from you, but you were also halfway aware of what was happening to you.

Pleasantly cool fingers ghosted across your skin, tickling your hips bones and dipping lower to your thighs, lifting you from your dreams. Still half asleep, you automatically assumed it was Alastor, and in your hazy stupor, didn’t question it. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck into your apartment, your room, your bed in the middle of the night. You even encouraged it. So, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt or concern in your mind as you kept your eyes shut and shifted more onto your back, parting your legs just enough to let the familiar long and tender fingers begin stroking over your panties.

Your breath came in quicker, louder pants as he worked you up. Long, slow, torturous touches that burned you up on the inside and left you wet and swollen on the outside.

By the time you fully awoke, you had already soaked through your panties – simple little cotton things that didn’t even match the t-shirt you had put on before bed. It’s not like you had been expecting company, and Alastor – well he didn’t find sexual appeal in anything you wore anyway.

Still with your eyes closed, you turned your head and reached an arm out to the other side of the bed, wanting to reciprocate the delicious foreplay he was pampering you with.

“Hmmm . . . Al’,” you breathed his name, still reaching for his body but when you finally heard his voice, it didn’t come from where you expected it to.

“I’m here.”

But he wasn’t.

Here was right next to you in bed but his voice was coming from there. From somewhere past the foot of the bed and much too far away to be connected to the hand that had just slid itself under the elastic band of your underwear and was finally giving your pussy the direct contact it had been begging for.

You opened your eyes and true to what the flutter in your heart had told you, Alastor was not what was lying next to you in bed.

It was just darkness.

A deep black mass of a thing that vaguely resembled your lover. The only part of it that had any detail was the forearm and hand that was still doing rather pleasant things to your body, though your mind was ringing with alarm bells.

“It’s alright, my dear,” Alastor’s voice assured you and your head whipped around to face him, your ears triangulating easily on the direction of his voice now that you were awake and alert. “It’s me . . . well,” he chuckled without humor, “mostly me.”

It dawned on you then just exactly what was happening. In the simplest of terms, Alastor was having his shadow finger-fuck you in bed . . . while he watched. The realization left you feeling shy and unsure of yourself in a way you hadn’t felt in very long time.

You looked Alastor in the eyes, trying to gage if this was really what he wanted, but only found a quiet, deep rage in those beautiful ruby orbs of his. It unsettled you but it also really turned you on.

“I want this,” he said, his words assuring you, though his tone was commanding. “But if it’s too much for you . . .”

He trailed off and looked away and as he did so, the shadow pulled away from you. The brevity of its departure made it more obvious that you had indeed been enjoying its touch and your walls clenched longingly at the thought of its return.

‘I’m okay with it,” you replied quickly. Maybe too quickly, if Alastor’s raised eyebrow was any indication. “I mean . . .” You hesitated, being more careful in your word choice. Even if your answer disappointed Alastor, you would only upset him more if he ever found out you weren’t explicitly honest with him. “I’d like to keep trying. If you’re really okay with it, that is.”

“I wouldn’t even let it look at you if I wasn’t, let alone fuck you like I intend it to,” he replied with a deadly low tone.

You swallowed.

“And if I say stop?”

“Then we’ll stop. Of course.” He nodded, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second, letting slip that sliver of decency he still kept close to his heart when it came to you.

“Okay,” you agreed. Alastor stood and walked over to you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, letting his eyes roam over you sprawled out on top of your sheets, the damp spot visible on your underwear, even in the darkness of the room. “Now, let’s have a better view of you going forward, shall we?”

He pulled your panties slowly down your legs, letting the pads of his fingers dance across your flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake that his claws gently raked against.

It was the last direct touch he gave you until after his shadow had shown you what it could really do.

Alastor walked back to his chair that was leaned against the opposite wall of your bed. A chair that you didn’t own or had ever seen before. Which meant he had materialized it just for this.

Your eyes about bugged out of your head as he undid his buckle and his trousers and pulled his already hard and throbbing erection free before taking his seat. He sat like a King on his throne, legs wide apart, shoulders straight and confident, and one hand gripping the armrest while the other took hold of the base of his cock. Meanwhile his eyes stayed locked on you.

As if a silent command had been issued, the swirling mass of shadows next to you began to thicken, reaching for you once more. This time you were ready for it and kept your legs wide and raised your hips up as the ghostly dark hand found your heated center. It explored you thoroughly, running multiple fingers over and between your folds, toying with your clit and the sensitive line of eager flesh that led from it to the very center of your weeping cunt. You got the distinct impression it was like an eager student, who had been watching and observing its master, and was now ready for its own hands-on learning.

The shadow shifted, moving closer to you and you tensed a little as you expected it to crawl over you, but then it . . . disappeared?

No.

It went beneath you.

You watched, fascinated, as it slipped itself between your body and the sheets and then you felt it, lifting you away from the mattress by barely an inch. It felt almost like a thin layer of water between you and the bed, not so solid that it didn’t give into the natural swells of your body but definitely solid enough to feel.

There was the slightest tickling at your neck that then began to intensify, and you blinked in wonder as the darkness morphed into a face next to yours. One that looked very much like Alastor’s, but far less detailed. Those eyes though, although green rather than red, were very much the eyes you knew so well and adored.

Even in the haze of arousal that the hand working your pussy was clouding your judgement with, you came to understand the relationship between Alastor and his shadow in an intimate way that no other act but this could bring you.

While it had a mind of its own, a body of its own, Alastor and it were inexplicably connected to each other. Your real lover, the man watching you from the chair a few feet away, could see through those green eyes and could feel what those hands felt. It was Alastor’s mouth and his shadow’s mouth that bit down on tender flesh where your neck met your shoulders, teasing the skin there until it was marked and bruised, but never breaking skin.

This was how Alastor could find comfort in you without pushing the limits of his own touch-adverse body when he fell victim to his darkest moods.

You let a moan slip from your lips as the shadow’s fingers found a perfect rhythm of strokes from clit to center and felt every bit of reservation ease from your body as you gave in to this strange and unique form of sex.

Another hand materialized on your other side, snaking its way up beneath your t-shirt, tickling your ribs and cupping the bottom swell of your breast. You moaned again, arching your back, and felt it pinching your nipple. It squeezed and rolled it, stimulating it until it was peaked and taught.

You felt your pleasure building, increasing at a rapid pace you didn’t know you had in you, brought on by the delicious exoticness of the silky coolness of the shadow’s flesh against yours. Desperate for more contact, you turned your face into it, nuzzling the side of the head next to yours and felt something similar to hair but it floated softly through the air as if underwater.

Then you remembered Alastor and your eyes shot to him but rather than meeting his gaze, you locked onto the throbbing member in his grasp and the way he was slowly pumping himself as he watched you. His tip was red and swollen, almost as tense and angry as his dark expression, and even in the dim light of the room, you could see the bit of precum glistening at the top, ready to spill over and run down his shaft.

And still his hand was slow and methodical on himself, just a causal rise and fall along his entire length, purposefully drawing out his own pleasure.

Just as the wave of your first orgasm began to crest, the shadow slipped its fingers inside you, at last giving you some sensation of being filled as it curled what felt like two long and slender digits up and into the spongey sweet spot. You cried out and threw your head back as it rubbed its palm against your clit and pumped into your depths. The wet squelching noise it pulled from your body was drowned out as you voiced your ecstasy. You came with shaking legs and an arched back and you had never felt closer to the man who was ironically across the room.

As you came down from your orgasm, a kind of blissed out clarity overwhelmed you. Now you felt truly free to love and adore and desire every aspect of Alastor, even his darkest most detached part of his soul. He would feel it, he would understand it, and he wanted it.

The shadow didn’t stop its task as your orgasm came to a close, but it did slow its pace with an expert understanding of how your body worked. Letting up on the pressure of its palm against your clit, it ever so gently worked your inner walls, keeping you from the overwhelming sensation of overstimulation – at least for now – and letting your pleasure rebuild upon itself, riding the cascading wave of your last orgasm to quickly reach a new and second high.

At first you merely panted. Open-mouthed and head thrown back into the strange and thin shoulder supporting you from beneath, you were dazed into feeling nothing but the tantalizing fingers working their magic on you. But then it quickened its pace, knowing just the moment when your body was ready for more and you whimpered, a pathetic wanton little sound, that almost sounded like a response to pain.

The pressure of the shadowy palm returned to your clit and surprisingly sharp claws dug into your breast. You stared at Alastor, eyes roaming between his face and his lap. He was not meeting your eyes, not when his own was so clearly locked onto what was happening between your legs, truly enthralled by the scene of his shadow’s hand fucking your pussy, the view from his vantage point perfect for such voyeurism. His cock was positively weeping at this point and your mouth watered at the sight of the single stream of salty liquid that spilled from his tip and without breaking rhythm, he coated his entire length with a thin layer of it. You wanted to take him in your mouth, feel the weight of him on your tongue, let the musky taste of him overwhelm your senses and mix your saliva with his own fluids to increase his own pleasure. But he didn’t move a muscle towards you, and you were fixed to the bed, helpless to pull away from the shadow that had you in its grip from beneath.

You came again, lost in the thought of pleasuring Alastor in return for what he was doing to you now. This orgasm was longer and more intense than the first and your cries filled the room but this time you kept Alastor within your view and didn’t miss his smile widen in approval as he watched your hips rocking with reckless abandon into his shadow.

Feeling spent, you let your body melt into the dark and fluid body beneath yours, thinking it might be over now.

But then you heard the distinct tsk that often came from Alastor whenever he teasingly disapproved of something you had said or done and your eyes shot back open when you realized, he still hadn’t come.

You weren’t sure you had much more in you and trusted Alastor when he had said all you had to say was “stop” and he would, but your twisted curiosity wanted to see where he would take this if you allowed it. So, you said nothing as you met his gaze, seeing his cock in your peripherals still being worked by that hand as steady as a metronome.

“That was just some foreplay, my dear,” Alastor said and then tilted his head at you, as if considering something. “Tell me you haven’t grown curious as to what its cock would feel like inside of you.”

Your cunt ached at his words, unearthing a level of desire in you that you didn’t know existed up until then.

“Well, I certainly am now,” you say, feeling more and more like your usual confident self with every passing second.

You felt the shadow beneath you thicken, lifting your hips just a fraction higher, and you bent your knees slightly, pressing the bottoms of your feet into the mattress, catching on quickly to the position his shadow was putting you in.

“That’s it,” Alastor said, a mix of pride and authority in his voice as he appraised you. “Good girl, just like that.”

You felt the tip of something wider than the fingers at your entrance, teasing and undulating the shallowest parts of your walls and you bore down, helping to guide it in until it was fully sheathed within you, the angle of penetration not allowing for anything deeper.

With black arms and hands wrapped around your torso, the shadow that was an odd mix of two and three dimensions began thrusting up into you, and you leaned your weight of your back into it, embracing its hold on you as it fucked you from beneath.

It must have been quite the show for Alastor; your legs spread wide, your pussy on full display, as its dark and pulsing shaft came up from underneath you and penetrated your most intimate of places, all the while its hands roamed beneath your t-shirt, groping and teasing at your belly, your ribs, your breast, and your hard and aching nipples.

For a while, it was mostly silent in the room. Just the sounds of your soft moans and heavy breath were enough to dominate the air, though in-between the gentle, lusty notes of your voice, more carnal sounds were heard. The squeaking of the bed frame, the wet, slippery sound of the infernal, inhuman cock pounding into your core, and the very subtle, hardly there at all sound of Alastor’s fist working his own member and the occasional hard intake of breath from him.

He was finally getting close, though he was clearly desperately holding out for more time.

Eager to see his release, that moment when he would lose control, you began meeting the shadow’s rhythm with a more active enthusiasm than you had been showing.

You took one of the hands from beneath your shirt and guided it slowly back down between your legs, and it did as directed, meeting your clit with eager and quick circles that had you immediately moaning and crying out. You were going to come again and soon and you craned your head forward to get a good look at Alastor.

“Oh fuck, this feels so good,” you said, your words affected by the shakiness of your breath and the ever-present steady rocking of the shadow beneath you. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

His answer was simple, direct, and still you could hear how close he was in that one quick word.

“Mmmm,” you moaned, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment. “I’m so close.”

You heard him breath harshly through his nose, your affect on him undeniable. You didn’t often dirty talk like this with him but if it was a show he wanted, a show he would get.

Biting your lip, you grasped at the wrist resting on your pelvic mound, directing Alastor’s view back towards your sex. Then you looked down at yourself, at the shadowy hand that blurred around the edges but circled your swollen clit with a perfect, rapid motion and the darkness beneath it that was glistening with your slickness as it pumped in and out of you.

You twitched and clenched at the sight of it all, edging ever closer to your next orgasm, and wondered at how Alastor had lasted as long as he had.

“I’m gonna come,” you said desperately, looking back at Alastor with your neediest expression. “But I need – I need . . .”

“You need what, darling?” he asked, impatiently. You noticed his speed quicken as he pumped his cock though you were sure it was an unconscious decision on his part. Suddenly you felt like you were the one in control of the situation and let the next words flow from your lips, certain of the affect they would have on him.

“You,” you breathed. “Come for me, Alastor. I want to see it.”

The motion of the cock inside of you matched that of Alastor’s hand on his own member as the two quickened the pace in perfect sync with each other. His eyes narrowed, possibly feeling conflicted at his own loss of control but succumbing to his own desire nonetheless.

“Yes,” you sighed, giving into the sensations as well, as you moved your hips back and forth to meet the shadow that was filling you up.

You felt your body tense, felt the swelling and constricting of all your lower muscles and organs, and you thought for a second you had lost, that you were going to come once again without Alastor, but then you heard the deep, masculine grunt from your lover and looked in time to see his cock twitching in his hand, the first milky rope of his cum spurting out over his tightened fist and your orgasm hit your body like a ton of bricks.

It was a lucky thing you were in Hell because whatever noises tore from your throat were not meant to be made in Heaven. A rush of blood went to your core, your pussy clenching impossible tight on the wide shaft that still had your legs spread wide, urging even more wetness from you that coated your inner thighs and ran down your ass to pool in the sheets below you. All the while you couldn’t peel your eyes away from the wonderous sight of Alastor coming undone in front of you, spilling his seed for you and making a creamy mess all over his hand, torso, and trousers.

In the silence afterwards, it was all you could do to lay flat on your back as you felt the shadow finally retreating from your body, and you blinked up at the ceiling above, positively lost in the thoughtless post-orgasmic bliss you were experiencing.

As if from a great distance, you heard the shuffling of clothes and knew Alastor had stood and had begun undressing himself, but he didn’t approach you.

“Finish undressing her,” you heard him say, “and have your way with her.”

Excuse the fuck out of me, you thought.

He was talking to his shadow as if you weren’t even there, as if you weren’t an active participant in this, and that just wouldn’t do. Alastor may have been The Radio Demon, Hell’s most powerful and prominent Overlord, but he hadn’t fallen for you because you were the type of soul to just . . . take things lying down, so to speak.

If he still wanted you and his shadow to go at it another round, it would be on your terms.

Those shadowy limbs reached for you again but you sat up, meeting its green eyes with a steel gaze, hard enough to halt its approach.

It solidified completely for the first time that evening, collecting its darkness into the same size and shape as Alastor’s body, and you weren’t sure if it was in acceptance of what it was reading in your expression, or as a challenge. Either way, you were ready.

You braced your hands on its shoulders and swung one leg over its hips, feeling the press of its hardness between your bodies, pinned against its stomach and your mound. Reaching between yourselves, you took the erection that was uniquely as dark as night but also as hard and velvety as the other one you knew so well, and lifted yourself up on your knees enough to line its tip up with your entrance. With a boldness that was encouraged by the sheer offense you had taken at Alastor’s words, you bore your gaze into those wide green eyes as you slowly sank yourself down, feeling every inch of it as you took in its length and bottomed out. There was a pressure, deep in your gut, as its swollen tip pressed against the very end of your deep and tight walls, and you let yourself groan as you knew Alastor would be able to feel just how completely his shadow was filling you up now that you had shifted positions.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him standing frozen in place, his hands paused on the buttons of his shirt, and though he looked surprised, you could see him processing this change in you. There was something new in his expression, a kind of anticipation, as if he couldn’t wait to see where this new plot twist would lead him. He hadn’t expected this of you, but he wasn’t about to step in and interfere.

Before you had turned back around, you felt the shadow’s hands with those unnaturally long and slender fingers grasping at your hips and reaching around to squeeze the swell of your ass and pull you closer. Still looking at Alastor, you did as the shadow encouraged and rocked your hips; just once but in an exaggerated, slow and hard way that was clearly just a prologue to the rough and hard way you were about to ride his shadow. You could see Alastor’s jaw tense in response and smiled.

Oh, he could definitely still feel everything his shadow did.

You turned back to the shadow and leaned away from the torso that was pressed against you just enough to be able to cross your arms in front of yourself, grip the edges of your t-shirt, and slowly raise it up, giving it a good long and torturous show of exposing your mid-drift. The hem of your shirt caught on the bottom swell of your tits, pulling them up with the fabric before you lifted your arms more, letting them bounce free, your nipples reaching into hard little rosy peaks as they were exposed for the first time to the cooler air of the room. Then your shirt was up over your head and tossed to the floor, utterly forgotten as your arms came back down and wrapped around the shadow’s neck.

You could finish undressing yourself, thank you very much.

You rocked your hips again and then a second time, as slowly and teasingly as before.

“Alastor likes me on top more than he’d ever admit,” you said to the shadow, taking your turn to talk to it as if Alastor wasn’t in the room. “Likes the way I ride his cock hard and fast. Is that the way you want me to fuck you?”

Alastor said your name from behind you, almost warning you, but you ignored him, instinctually knowing he still wasn’t going to interfere.

The shadow remained silent, unable to speak, but you felt it twitch inside your cunt.

You began in earnest, bouncing yourself up and down its shaft, holding tightly to its neck and shoulders.

“Like this?” you asked again and the shadow pulled your face closer to it until your foreheads touched, its glowing eyes looking at you with such open need and adoration that words weren’t necessary. “Hmmm, yeah, just like this,” you agreed. “You feel so good. Just like him. But right now . . . ” you trailed off, digging your own demonic claws into its neck and feeling not quite flesh but something of its essence did give way beneath your talons. Still riding it, never once losing your pace, you kept eye contact as you continued, “. . . right now your cock is the one I need.”

The shadow pulled you roughly to it then, holding your body tightly against its own, just enough to let you continue rolling your hips, letting you lift yourself up just a few inches off its length before gliding back down, continuing the devilishly rapid pace that you had set, pumping yourself up and down its cock over and over and over again.

You lost yourself then, thinking only of the shadow inside of you, beneath you, wrapped around you. It felt like it was everywhere at once, teasing and nipping at your skin, touching and stroking your body inside and out. The full-bodied man behind you was almost forgotten, but not completely. In the back of your mind, you stayed aware of his presence, his eyes on you as you took command of your own pleasure and used his shadow for yourself. And you never forgot who this shadow was a manifestation of and who was really feeling the way your body was pressed against it.

Indeed, the very thought of this new and exciting being that you had accepted into your bed still being a part of Alastor just fueled your passion. Made you cling to it a little tighter, clench your aching and dripping pussy down harder, and roll your hips a little more sensually.

You had started with a brutal pace, as if to prove a point that you weren’t to just be ordered around and used, but the longer you went, the more minutes passed by, the more the mood shifted.

The way the shadow was looking at you, as if you were giving it a gift it could never have conceived of, as if it truly appreciated the way you had embraced it, reached deep into your heart.

This was supposed to just be a senseless fucking. A reprieve for Alastor, to strip away and be done with whatever had put him in such a sour mood. And you knew that it had simply been expected of you to go along with it. You were already a much more physical person than he was and had already proved to him that you could take anything he could throw at you when it came to intercourse.

It had been one thing to let his shadow fuck you and for him to watch. It was even better that you had enjoyed it; he and his shadow had both wanted that. To watch you and feel you come for it, multiple times.

But then to want more of it, to not only accept but embrace this darkest, most malevolent part of his essence, his very soul, turned this night into something else entirely.

You were beyond just “okay” with all of this; you desired every bit of this shadow entity, would let it do anything it wanted to you, all because of how deeply and desperately you loved Alastor.

And there was something even kinkier to that, somehow. That two fucked up people, who had maimed and murdered and devoured others, had ended up together and brought each other’s walls down, saw the absolute worst and most vile sides of each other . . . and liked what they found. You adored this darkness, reached for it, wanted it all around you and inside of you, to let it fill you up until there was nothing left but you and the man you loved.

The change didn’t happen all at once but rather over the course of several minutes but eventually you found yourself not fucking this shadow with wild and raunchy abandon, but properly and passionately making love to it.

There was a sweetness to the way you rolled your hips now, a tenderness in the way your hands roamed over its body, an acceptance in how your chest pressed against its own until it could feel the steady beat of your undead heart reverberating against it. It left you impossibly wetter than before and you leaned into this new sensual expression of your desire, daring now to even press gentle kisses along its neck.

Then there were fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your face towards it, and in with the most foreign of sensations, you realized it was kissing you. Dry but liquid lips crashed against your own, the ghost of a tongue lapped and danced its way into your mouth, but those teeth were very familiar. Their sharp sting a reminder of who this really was as it bit and sucked on your lower lip, just the way Alastor liked to do.

All at once you came, before you had any kind of warning. You cried out and panted, open-mouthed and slack jawed against the shadows lips as your body tensed, the lovely roll of your hips turning into rapid, unsteady jerks you had little control over. Alastor’s shadow held you close as you rode it out, continuing to grind against it as wave after wave hit you deep in your core, and it kissed and sucked on your neck and shoulders as your orgasm went on and on. Its kisses were strange, soothing and soft, but didn’t leave the same kind of cool, wet spots on your skin afterwards like you were used to. Its mouth had been the silkiest, smoothest texture your tongue had ever tasted but not heated and moist like Alastor’s. The mix of differences and similarities prolonged your pleasure into the longest, most stimulating orgasm you had ever experienced.

When it finally ended, you smiled against the shadow’s mouth, and its permanent grin widened in response. You nuzzled your nose against it, and it cradled the back of your head, taking the moment to enjoy this newfound intimacy. Its body was steady against yours even as you still fought to catch your breath and you laughed softly at the irony of having such a sweet and loving moment with one of Hell’s most deadly entities.

Hands gripped your shoulders from behind and pulled you away.

“My turn,” Alastor said as he forced you onto your back and crawled on top of you.

There was a second where you felt surprised and disoriented, but you recaptured your senses quickly and spread your legs to accommodate him, bringing your arms up and around his shoulders as his lips crashed hungrily against yours.

It didn’t take you but a few seconds to realize this was Alastor, completely stripped bare, both literally and figuratively. Free of all clothes and reservations, this was the lover you knew best, and he was finally ready to have close, direct contact with you.

He lingered at your mouth for a moment, demanding entrance, his tongue hot and rough against yours as he reclaimed your body for himself. Then he shifted, biting as often as he kissed, as he left a trail of marks along your jawline, throat, collar bone, and breasts.

“Touch me,” he asked, his tone guttural and full of static, almost pleading with you, before he took one of your nipples in his mouth, letting its peak slide between his teeth and then coming back down for another painful suck.

You started by running your fingers through his hair, letting your fingertips massage the tension you could feel in his scalp, before you turned your attention to his ears. You rubbed them first at the base and ran a hand up each of their sides, feeling the thick leathery skin beneath the short and dense fur. You circled the pad of your thumb against each tip, earning yourself a moan from your lover who was still intently sucking at your breasts, and then moved your hands to the base of his antlers. Pressing your fingers down, you stroked the flesh of his scalp where the antlers protruded from, having learned months ago that they became unbearably itchy whenever Alastor was irritated.

“Oh, my love,” you whispered to him. “I’m here. It’s okay now. I love you.”

He shuddered at your words, his breath coming out in hot pants that tickled your chest and gave you goosebumps, despite the heat.

“I love you,” he replied, lifting his head and moving his body back up until you lined up perfectly.

Without needing any other words to continue, he found what he was looking for in your expression and guided himself into you. You relaxed your tired muscles as his cock filled you up, welcoming the embrace of his true self and the more familiar, solid body you were used to.

You both sighed as he bottomed out and a second later, when he began to move within you, your lips met once more.

You returned his passion, letting your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, feeling his lean and slender muscles waver between taught and relaxed at your attention. Letting your reach extend lower, you cupped his ass, pulling him tighter to you, encouraging deeper, more meaningful thrusts out of him. Then you found his upright tail, with an erect ridge of fur along its bottom length that you caressed and ran your fingers through, holding back a giggle as you felt it wag from side to side within your grip.

How you loved his tail; the most expressive, innocent part of his anatomy. It was no wonder he hid it from the world. It was positively adorable and always gave his true feelings away, but you were happy to keep its existence to yourself. It was your little secret you kept just between the two of you; a part of him he saved for your enjoyment alone.

At this point, you were getting a little sore, but you persevered, enjoying the sweet pain of being taken so many times. You were still plenty wet, more than enough to have to lean on the aid of lubricant, and the longer Alastor continued his slow and steady pace, the more you became ready for more. It was like his cock was dragging the last reserves of your desire out from within, inch by inch, stoking your pleasure from a smoldering ember into a refreshed, raging fire.

And you knew what you would need to push you over that final edge.

He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, completely absorbed in the feeling of you beneath him, but when you whispered his name, he lifted himself up enough to look into your eyes.

“I want both of you,” you said with a husky, strained voice. “All of you.”

He slowed his pace but didn’t stop completely as he grinned at you in understanding.

“So greedy,” he teased.

“Only because I want you so much.”

“And what a monster I have created,” he agreed.

The sensation of the shadow beneath you returned, where it had been when this whole thing had begun. From between your back and the sheets, you felt yourself rising up, but unlike before, there was much more than just a single layer of blackness beneath you, with only hands and a face reaching up from the sides. This time it was as real and completely solid as when you had been riding it from on top, and you felt yourself pressed between two very corporeal, masculine bodies.

The shadow wasted no time in reacquainting its hands with your body and reached between you and Alastor to begin rubbing and circling your clit, while the other arm caressed every inch of your body it could reach.

Something pressed itself between your lower cheeks and you felt the silky touch of it against your ass. Not quite a finger; it didn’t feel exactly like how Alastor occasionally touched you there, but it wasn’t wide enough to be the shadow’s cock either. A tendril, toying and caressing your tight and sensitive hole, playing with the flesh there just how you liked. The slender tentacle wormed its way into your entrance, swirling and stretching you just the slightest, giving you a shallow, pulsing feeling down there that added to your pleasure in a new and tingling way.

The shadow’s face appeared at the side of your head, and as Alastor dipped his mouth to your pulse point, yours met the shadow’s. Your fingers scratched into Alastor’s scalp and your tongue sought out his shadow’s. Wet and hot flesh danced against silky coolness. A warm body above and inside you and a misty, dark embrace took you from behind and below, and you had never felt so complete.

The tendril of shadow playing at your ass began to spread and widened and your eyes flew open as you felt the familiar, rounded tip of a cock nestled just within your entrance. It began to slide in further, easily and smoothly, as if already lubed up, but you tensed up between your two lovers.

“I don’t think- ” you gasped, knowing Alastor would feel what was happening without you having to explain. “I don’t think I can take it all.”

Alastor let go of his biting task at your neck and met your worried gaze, and you noticed he had a trace of your blood glistening on his lower lip as he smiled warmly at you. Each cock had stilled within you, one fully buried to its hilt in your pussy, and the other just a few inches inside.

“I think you can, sweetheart,” Alastor said, and his eyes darted over to his shadows for a second, before returning to yours. You felt the shadows lips on the other side of your neck, as if to sooth your worries with its touch, and Alastor continued to speak. “We can stop whenever you say the words,” his voice dropped a little lower, and his eyes shined brighter for a moment, “but you’re the one who asked for more.”

The darkness in his gaze did as he intended, and you felt your cunt gushing with desire and you willed the muscles around your ass to relax as well. You felt the slick affects of Alastor’s words dripping out of you, coating the base of his cock, and slipping down further to soak the hole the shadow was now continuing to push into.

Alastor pulled away first, then slid his length back in with an easy grace, and as his tip reached its end inside you, the shadow from beneath pulled away. Back and forth they went, in perfect, unnaturally well-done synchronicity, pumping and stroking and filling you up beyond what you thought your body capable of accepting.

And those fingers between you and Alastor, never stopping, working your clit with circles that seemed to complete a single rotation with every thrust of cock inside of you.

Now it was Alastor that was kissing you, as his shadow licked a trail from shoulder to jawline, cradling a breast in one hand, its thumb rubbing and pressing against a nipple in time with the action of the other hand against your throbbing bundle of nerves at the peak of your sex.

It was so much, all at once, and you could hardly move, pinned as you were between the two bodies. You were completely at their mercy as they fucked you together, two halves of one entity, working in tandem to draw out every sigh and moan of pleasure from your lips.

The deep intense pressure of it, of being penetrated so completely, of having two utterly gorgeous bodies worshipping yours and taking turns to move within you, was sheer, Hellish bliss. It ached and burned and stung and stretched you out and it was fucking amazing.

There was a rising tide within you, like a looming tsunami on the horizon, much more intense than even the last orgasm. It felt like you were pulling away from yourself, being dragged deep within, where nothing else existed but the two sets of lips on your flesh, the four hands caressing your body, the two cocks diving into you harder and harder with every passing second. Every desperate gasp of air you took in the only motion you seemed capable of making until those last few seconds.

One of your hands gripped at the shadow arm around your waist, nails digging in desperately, as you arched yourself forward and bit onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the massive wave of pleasure rocked your body like a freight train and something released inside of you.

You felt the rush of fluid from inside and out as your orgasm exploded out of you. The heat of it trickled down your thighs, soaking all three of your bodies where they were joined. Now the sound of Alastor’s thrusts, him and his shadows, took on an even wetter, more lewd noise and before you had processed what had happened, before the shaking of your body subsided, and at the very tail end of your own orgasm, Alastor found his own release.

His seed filled you up, hitting your cervix and coating every inch of your inner walls, as if to replace the essence of yourself you had just squirted all over him with his own. To mark you from deep within, just as he had done to your flesh when he first climbed on top of you.

And then the greatest surprise of the evening came when you watched as his shadow slithered out from beneath you and into Alastor; melting into him like two pictures being molded into one.

It shouldn’t have shocked you as you had seen this happen with your own eyes on countless of occasions but still, in the heat of the moment – or, well, technically the heat of the last hour or so – had made you forget that Alastor and his shadow spent more time as one than they did apart.

Alastor had literally split himself in two in order to experience what you two had just done and the realization of it made a fit of laughter burst out of you.

You covered your mouth in shock, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, but as he titled his head, those large deer ears of his flopping a little to the side at his confusion, you laughed even harder.

He was still inside of you, already softening, but his eyes were growing harder as they stared down at you in growing irritation. But you couldn’t help yourself, the absurdity and debauchery of the whole evening left you not knowing what else to do with yourself but laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you gasped through your laughter and he rolled his eyes and grunted as he pulled out of you and laid on his side, still watching you.

You had just about composed yourself when you took in the sight of him, perched up on one elbow, an eyebrow raised at you, his dick soft and flopping on full display for you, and you snorted with laughter again, burying your face in the bed beneath you.

“I had anticipated many reactions from you, but this was not one of them,” he deadpanned.

You choked back more laughter, sighing as you rolled onto your back for a moment, catching your breath. With one last little chuckle, you turned your head back towards him.

“Blame it on the endorphins.”

“Endor- what?” he asked, more confused and irritated than ever.

“Endorphins. They’re produced when you have sex. And you just ripped five fucking orgasms from me and made me squirt – which I’ve never done before. You fucked me silly, Al’. Deal with the consequences.” And you giggled some more, drunk and giddy on the rush of hormones and love you were feeling at the moment.

His whole body softened then and he reached forward and took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I suppose after the day I’ve had, your laughter is the best medicine I could have asked for.”

You snuggled closer to him, pressing your body into his, and curled up into his longer form.

“Stay with me tonight? Please?”

He kissed your forehead.

“But of course,” he said softly.

You heard the soft snap of his fingers and with a poof felt the bedding beneath you change into freshly clean and soft sheets that weren’t soiled by sex, sweat, and a variety of other bodily fluids. The sticky mess between your legs also disappeared . . . almost. You felt a thick wetness still deep within you and suspected Alastor had purposefully left just a bit of his cum in you, a little secret to keep you marked as his.

A few minutes went by and as you dozed back to sleep, you noticed the change in rhythm of his breathing, and the slackness in his expression, and knew he had fallen asleep before you had.

You sat up halfway, studying his sleeping form, noting that his ever-present smile had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time you had slept in the same bed as him but you always fell asleep first and he always woke before you. This was the first time you had been treated to the site of Alastor’s sleeping form and you took a minute to marvel at how beautiful he was like this.

Then you leaned forward and pressed your lips between his eyes, where that mysterious “x” often showed itself when his more demonic forms came forward.

“I love you. Both of you,” you whispered and then settled into his arms, drifting off into dreams of shadow and darkness.

Part 6

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jjongswannabebae · 9 months ago

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Marriage of convenience (18+) < rich!jay x rich!fem!reader, hurt/comfort fic, lots of making out, kissing, arguments, angst, smut 18+, a lot of tears. note: first time writing smut- not proofread!! MDNI, please reblog >

Not that you minded, being set up with on a date on a mundane Wednesday wasn't on your checklist. Considering skipping it, you drawled the process of making small talk with some random geek who had cash.

Ugh. Being the only daughter of a rich man had its own plight.

"Jude, Can't I skip today's appointment with Mr. P?" You complain to your manager, Jude shirt for Judith. She keeps her eyes in the road, save for a glance, only opening her mouth,

"Do you even know who you're meeting?"

You nod profusely, "another rich kid with attitude," you finish, staring bored out the car window, watching the way birds fly, free of restraint. How you wished to live to like that.

Money can go far but you couldn't get freedom with said money.

"Well, hate to break it to you, this guy, "Mr. Park" is different,"

"You always say that," you drawl a whine puffing up your cheeks with air. "I'll stake some money if makes you happy"

Money? You had plenty but jude wasn't someone who'd set losing bets. Curious, you beam to accept her bet, having a spike in your mood.

Jude dropped you off at the posh cafe your date had scheduled to meet. Wondering who exactly this man was, convincing enough to get the stingy jude to bet bills.

Surely, he would be anything but disappointing.

Oh and how right you were.

He stood leaning back on the counter, decked in a neatly ironed silk shirt stretched across his defined shoulders, shirt buttoned down with his chest slightly exposed, sleek formal pants running down his legs loosely hung off his waist.

Okay, you admit he had great fashion sense but what about his face?

Sunglasses decked his perfect slicked jet hair, gaunt face with a killer jawline, brown eyes sharp and lips small yet kissable, ears pierced, vieny arms folded to his chest.

Jude won the bet the moment you locked eyes with him.

He was absolutely beautiful and you'd experienced what you thought was love at first sight.

He drew a smile and walked closer animatedly. Shit. Your feet were frozen to the ground as your lips parted with surprise. He stuck his hand out, "nice to meet you, I'm park jay" he offered, politely. Yet your mind and actions faltered and were a heartbeat late on grabbing onto his hand.

The rest was history. Married a year and a half later, nobody could predict the marriage would be this loveless and stagnant. Not that the public knew.

Jay Park. Hier to the one and only park estate, leading hotel series bringing wads of cash. Along with your own established wealth from your dad's company, which you assumed you'd be taking over soon.

But those dreams were crushed when jay came home with the news that a merger would take place, a year after your marriage.

Now all that you had to do was stay at home and look after him and the kids. But wait.

What kids? A loveless marriage was one thing but a sexless one was unheard of.

Yet intercourse was the only intimacy you shared with him. Hes perfect in every aspect yet incapable of affection, you'd deemed a year into the relationship.

Any show of affection like cuddling or spending time you'd initiate would fall flat or would be denied, or worst yet he'd never be there for you to initiate it. Work, home, sleep, eat. That's all he did and that's why it was all the worse.

He acted like you were invisible except the days he came home drunk and fucked you senseless. You'd consent to that but it felt meaningless, like a repeated one night stand yet you lived with the guy and were married to him.

So when your parents haunted you with the pressure of having children, you'd burst into tears upon your arrival home. You hated the fact you were so shallow and unlovable to the one man you swore to.

You ignored the pressure from your parents to have a child yet the tension mounted.

You and jay were to eat lunch with his parents and then came the infamous line, "I would love to see my grandchildren anytime soon," said Mrs. Park nonchalantly and you swear you saw jays left brow twitch. It hurt.

There was nothing wrong with you, or him for any matter. Just that your marriage never even felt like one to begin with.

"So soon?" Jay questioned, setting down his fork to the plate. You could his temple crease ever so slightly. You'd observed the man sitting next to you for a long time when he'd be with you was when he would sleep. You'd spend countless hours staring at his beautiful face, yearning for his attention, and even more far fetched, his love.

"it'll be two years soon, son" replied Mr. Park giving a stern glare towards his son, eyes flickering over you momentarily before they returned to his plate yet again.

Worthless. That was the look in mr parks eyes. He'd probably thought how hard it'd be to seduce his son, or rather get him into bed.

You sat wordless in the car, watching out the window as you did the time Jude dropped you off him to meet him for the first time. Jay sat beside you, facing the window as well. Rain poured heavy, matching your gloomy vibe from the happenings at lunch with the parks. Right, you were a Park.

Love at first sight was real when you met jay for the first time. Yet he never reciprocated anything you felt.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill yet you held them back with all your might. Not here, not infront of jay. Never had you cried when he was present. It was unnerving to see his expressionless face watch you cry.

Yet your thoughts only grew worse and before you knew it, a tear fled from your eye and a sob broke from your mouth. It was hard, feeling unwanted and isolated all the time. Those emotions flew out like a river, gaining the attention of your husband.

"you okay?" He spoke softly, like you'd shatter if he spoke any louder, and at that you sobbed harder till you broke down weeping in the car as the driver flicked his eyes to the back seat repeatedly, wondering what commotion was taking place.

Jay asked the driver to drop you two off at their hotel, and the tyres swerved to the right, soon infront the entrance. Jay urged you to calm down and get down the vehicle. You complied and wiped your tears away, standing there as the cold wind hit your face. Yet again you felt like crying.

Jay grabbed you by the hand and tried to haul you inside as fast as possible, but you slapped his hand away, "I'll take myself there," His eyebrow twitched and raised, leaning closer to your ear to whisper, "there're eyes on us, the paparazzi is right here so just get inside," he seethed through his teeth.

At his words you panned your head around, merely for jay to put his arms to your knees and neck and pick you up and head for the roundabout back entrance. Absolutely stunned that he lifted you up with no struggle, you watched him maneuver with your mouth slightly parted.

On the elevator to the largest suite, accessible by family, you asked to let down. "No," he replied, keeping his eyes on the doors of the elevator. You didn't protest further and cozied up to his chest. He took three strides to the door and whipped it open and peered inside.

He let you down and trapped you to the door, his forehead pressing against yours. His breathing was erratic, his eyes showed emotion. *What's wrong," he let out in between exasperated breaths.

And the tears came again.

"Everything," you quip and wiping away you erratic tears with the back of your hand, leveraging your weight in the door to stand up straighter and look him dead set in his eyes.

"Do you even know anything about me? What I like to do, what I like to eat, what's my favourite color... Do you even love the person you're married too?"

He opens his mouth devoid of swords, eyes guilty shoulders heavy of burden. "You like to dance, you like spicy food, and your favourite color is," he starts small, working his mind through all the things he knew about you, "purple?"

"blue,"

"oh."

"what was the name of the dog I had when I was younger?"

Silence.

"Bruno," you answer, disappointment filling your being as you stare the guilt stricken man facing you. "At this rate you probably never felt anything for me, let alone love." He leaned his head to the door behind you, keeping his hand to your shoulder and whispering to your ear, "do you know why I've been distant with you?"

"if what you mean by distant is ignoring my every attempt and instant of me trying to express my emotions to you in the past two years, then, no. Probably except the fact you don't like me but needed someone to fill in the position of your wife." You huff, letting your true feelings show, the pack of interaction between you two hurt you a lot more than you thought.

"Perhaps your criteria was to find someone smart but quiet, pretty but not attention seeking and lastly a nice body would be a plus point, I suppose," you finish, one hand settling on his nape and the other his back. You keep your eyes trained on his, batting them ever so often so you wouldn't cry with word you uttered.

At first, jay showed no signs of response except guilt, then his face contorted to confusion and lastly to anger. The crease on his forehead from burying his eyebrows downward as he almost glared at you with a fire lit in his eyes.

"So you think I'm using you," he says, and you nod, solely for him to sneer and pull back from your hold, stepping closer and claiming you up the door as he swung his arm round your waist and one hand to your face, tilting it upto him, and dipping his head down to your eye level. Your lips were mere centimetres apart from collision. Eyeing your lips he grazed his thumb past your lips.

"You talk like you know the whole story, darling. It's not a good habit to make assumptions," he said drawing a line down your lips, his finger slipping past making a small smacking sound

"well then what's your reasoning to leaving me devoid of affection? Before you say you sent gifts, I know your assistant picked them, the clothes he sent were chosen with little to no fashion sense, whereas you have an exceptional dressing style so don't say you bought me those items, darling." You muse replicate his fiery response with sass.

He watches you with contemplating whether to tell or not. "We were only supposed to be married for a year." He starts slow, taking in your facials, watching as your eyes widened and practically urged him to continue. "The merger wasn't going to happen, you were supposed to take over," he said calmly, knowing how much of a touchy subject this was to you, having prepared your whole life to head the company and ultimately not being able too.

"But the results shown over the one year we were meant tobe together showed immensely worthy and the merger took place, therefore nullifying our one year marriage,"

Like rains drops now fell from the sky, the sunny days his behind the clouds like your tears behind your eyelids. Jay couldn't bare to see you look so vulnerable. He felt as though he was the cause for these misunderstandings, which he was not completely but partly.

"I, I never signed any contract,"

"It wasn't meant to be signed by us, it was unanimous decision,"

"So now they want us to act like a couple? Do they even know how hurt I felt to be ignored for a year, how it felt to feel unwanted and unlovable?" A stray tear strolled down your cheeks as anger creeped up your voice. It was unfathomable to you, to be lied to by your own parents, and possibly jay too.

"Had you known we'd last for only a year?"

"...yes" he paused, waiting for the information to sink into you, hoping it wouldn't shatter you more. Your head spun in circles as you struggled to get away from him, pushing as his chest as tears streamed down your face, brushing past him to sit on the couch to relieve your dizziness.

You sat there and cried while jay watched you unwind into a tears, unsure of what to do. 'I didn't want to fall for you, because I'd have to leave eventually but I couldn't stop myself from catching feelings when I was around you. I decided it would be best for me not to be there for you and I'm aware of my mistake here... But apologizing won't make the hurt and damage you faced go away. You're free to take your call, whether it may be divorce or not, and don't worry about our parents, I'll handle them."

You panned your head up at the word divorce, shifting to your feet and striding over to jay, where he stood previously, stuck in place. You faced and a loud smacked echoed across the room, his head turned 180 degrees, his cheek red with the strike of your palm.

"Atleast tell me you'll love me now, asshole,"

He put a palm to his cheek, running the area you struck him, watching your tear dried somber face, more threatening to brim out the ledge. "I'm sorry." He apologized, hanging his head low with shame and guilt.

"One thing you've never done to me," eyes conveying different sorts of emotions, "is kiss me."

He looked rather surprised at the observation, "I knew if I kissed you, there'd be no going back, both mentally and physically."

"Jay weve fucked before for hours yet you never kissed me once, didn't you think I'd find it strange? And when were you going to tell me about this whole one year marriage clause being nullified, meaning we'd spend the rest of our lives together part? Not that I didn't think we'd spend our whole lives together but I guess we thought different."

"I was planning to, but the time was never right, so..."

You turned your back to him and walked to the suites bedroom and to the bathroom, jay following behind slowly. Splashing water to your face and drying it off, seeing an awkward jay hanging around in the tension of the air. "Sit," you ordered, pointing to the ledge of the bed. Confused, he still complied, comfying himself on the edge of the bed.

"Good,"you commented, hiking up on the bed and onto jays lap to his surprise, situating yourself atop of him, staring back down to his glasses over pupils, red and swollen from the lack of sleep and fatigue. "Are you tired, darling" this time saying the nickname endearingly. "Not really,"

"then kiss me,"

Flustered by your demand, he began stuttering, "Are you sure? Like really?" You nodded along, "yes,"

"then I guess I could," he became nervous, but built up the the courage to put his hand to the back of head and slowly press down in it till your lips met his. The motion started out awkward, then jay relaxed after a few seconds or so and found a rhythm you could match.

The dynamic of the intensified as jay began settling into reality that he was kissing his wife. Swiveling his tongue around yours he began tasting every corner of your mouth, exploring every inch. You attempted to pull away due to lack of air but he held you back your hair aggressively tugging to his lapping tongue.

You moaned his mouth, hand squeezing his shoulder for stability, swiping over your bottom lip, and softly biting your lip, he let go of the insane grip he had on you. You heaved your chest up and down, messing your hair. You pushed down to the bed, sitting on top of him.

He tugged your arm towards him and you were face to face with jay. He brushed past hair intruding your picturesque visual. He lifted up your shirt enough to expose your stomach and rubbed past the expanse soothingly. He picked you and flipped you over and onto your back and made you scoot to the headrest.

The two of your made out for another few minutes or so only pulling back when in dire need of oxygen. Your lips were swollen but you were addicted. Even though the two if you had got intimate before, it was nothing compared to the emotions you felt through this. You sat up on the bed to catch your breath and ruffled through his hair endearingly.

With your approval he yanked your shirt off, then he stripped off his shirt, trapping you in between his legs. "You kiss me," he breathed out and situated his hands behind back to suport both his and your weight. You lunged at him and connected your lips to his, grinding down where your body met as he let out the soft noises from his mouth as he moved to kiss at his jaw, your hands running the expanse of his well built chest and back.

You obsessed over marking his jaw and neck for a good few minutes before travelling down to his nape, marking and sucked the area. You peppered kisses back up to his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth,feeling the vibrations of his groans down to your wet spot and grinded harder but free tired and settled on top of his clothes hardness.

He returned the favour by making you mean with every touch, electrifying you body. You but as his ear when his began to touch you through your remaining clothes, still keeping his lips fixated on yours. Approaching closer to your high you became hypersensitive of his every action he performed on you.

He set you on him and forced you down onto his hard-on till you cried of pleasure, riding off the whiteness by laying you down on the bed and dropping up on his elbows to kiss you. You felt immense pleasure and relief, showing your gratitude by jerking him off.

Tired, you laid on the bed in his arms, still thinking about the events that took place. "At this rate, we could just expect a kid," you say, laughing it off as a joke, "then we'll have to get to work.* He replied with a giggle and you buried yourself in his chest with a smile.

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