#my boss isn’t mean she just scares me

[lyraofthestarsss]

A3! headcanon that’s based on my actual real life boss:

Omi crocheted a cute purple cat hat for Sakyo and in the winter he walks around with it on while also having the scariest resting bitch face. The younger actors find it both hilarious and terrifying

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

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[kisses4reid]

protect | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get badly injured on a case, and the hospital visit ruins your surprise.

genre - fem!bau!reader x spencer, hurt/comfort, little bit of angst and arguing, fluff, happy ending!! reader can bear children (has female anatomy)

warnings - pregnancy, major injuries, mentions of gross hospital things, r uses she/her pronouns, usual criminal minds violences

w/c - 2.2k

a/n - thank u for the request! loved the idea immediately and this is the first time i’m writing abt pregnancy and stuff so pls do not quote me on anything!!! also this writing isn’t my best, sorry abt that. okay bye have fun reading

request - (@ursuu-la) hihihi idk if you're taking requests, but what if u write something where Spencer and a fem reader are dating and she's pregnant, but she's kinda scared(? or nervous to tell Spencer. And maybe she could tell it to one of the girls of the team to find a way of approaching Reid, but then she gets hurt or something happens to her in a case.

“Oh. My. God.”

You turned your attention from the open manila folder to Garcia’s multiple screens, searching each one for something important, “What?”

“Y/n M/n Reid. You’re pregnant?” Garcia spun in her chair with an angry expression while pointing a ringed finger at the main computer screen. It was your medical history - which you allowed her to search so she could experiment with a new hacking technique - but you had forgotten about your recent discovery.

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you stared in shock and started rambling through your fingers, “Garcia. I swear, nobody knows - I wasn’t keeping this from just you,” you placed your hands on her shoulders when she stood up in disappointment, sending her office chair to collide with the desk, “Spencer doesn’t even know, please Garcia. Don’t tell anyone.”

Your eyes searched hers for a promise or compromise, but instead you got welling tears.

“Garcia?”

“Y/n, your pregnant with a little Reid! This is amazing- How come you haven’t told him? I’ll have a new little nephew or niece! Y/n!” She squealed and took your hands to spin you in a circle in her small office. You immediately felt nauseous and slowed the excited girl, her hair accessories threatening to fall off in her happiness. You held your stomach and whispered,

“No spinning, I’ll throw up.”

She glanced to her computer screens and shut them down immediately, sitting back down and taking a deep breath. “This is great! Right? Please tell me this is great, you’re already 6 weeks pregnant.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I mean, I think it’s great but..” You lost yourself in thought.

Last year when you and Spencer got married, you had talked about starting a family many times. But every time you both agreed to wait a few more years in order to save up more money and maybe move into a bigger apartment or even a house. This was not what you planned.

Spencer liked having a plan, it was one thing you grew to love. He was organised and, due to his amazing memory, remembered everything, especially everything about you. And though you two had grown so close you were basically one person, this was the only time you had no idea how Spencer would react if he found out your secret.

“I don’t know how to tell Spencer.”

Garcia grinned, but it was quickly wiped away when she noticed a certain figure in the doorway. You spun on your heel, heart attacking your ribs. Luckily, it was not your husband, but your boss. He stood sternly and started, “We’ve got a case, wheels up in 30.”

You nodded and turned back to Garcia, all she did was wave and whisper, “I’ll text you.”

In the plane, you sat next to Spencer in the aisle seat, stomach feeling queasy and phone vibrating non-stop in your back pocket. You pinched the bone between your eyebrows and squinted at the case files that Hotch had quickly gone over. Morgan was spilling some theories, Prentiss backing him up, when Spencer lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

You put on a small smile and nodded, the fact that Spencer had noticed something wrong meant that the rest of the team would notice soon too. You raised yourself and squeezed Spencer’s hand that had been in your lap. You murmured a small excuse me to Hotch and excused yourself to the plane’s toilet.

Spencer began to get worried for your health. The past week and a half, you’d been eating less and then more, and then you’d say you felt sick, and then you were full of energy. You cancelled plans, you slept more, and you had started avoiding Spencer. You were getting sick, and distant, and he hated how you wouldn’t let him help you whenever he asked. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, attempting to focus on the profile.

Sat on the toilet, ready to double over into the bathroom sink, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Garcias texts.

What about a baby onesie with Daddy’s favourite child on it?

What about a candle lit dinner?

What about donuts that spell out ‘I’m Pregnant!’

I’ve seen people purposefully burn bread and wait until their husbands understand, maybe that?

Maybe. But right now, that was not what you wanted to think about. On top of the case and the whole pregnancy situation, your symptoms were becoming harder to conceal.

A whole day of analysis, interrogating, leads and dead ends led you to a one story run down house with broken windows and an overgrown yard. You threw the FBI bullet vest over your shoulders as Spencer approached you with a tight smile. His hair was shorter these days, after he finally let you start cutting it, but nothing could change his attractiveness. His cologne wafted into your senses as he went behind you, tightening your vest and patting your back and waist down to make sure you were at optimal safety.

You could almost imagine he knew you were pregnant.

“Remember, if he’s in there, keep your distance. He’s a big guy but silent, and not all there.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he did a last check over of your vest, belt, and the position of your gun. You smiled and nodded,

“I know, Spence. I’ve been here too.”

He sighed and nodded, placing a small kiss on your cheek as a good luck.

You were married, but there was no guarantee you’d both make it out of any case. Every movement could be your last, and every interaction could be your last together.

Morgan slipped through the door after a man picked the front doors lock, Prentiss behind him and you behind her. After you, followed Hotch and Spencer.

“Clear!” Morgan called from the kitchen. You turned right down a hallway, Prentiss disappearing into a small room on the right and yelling,

“Clear!”

You entered the small bedroom, gun high and steps careful. It was an adults bedroom, maybe a teenager. There was posters of horror movies, a thin mattress on the floor and shelves of books and wooden cupboard holding what you believed to be clothes.

“Clea-“

The wind got knocked out of you, your shoulder colliding with the wall to your left and a sharp handle being jabbed into your side, as you plummeted against the floor and hearing a loud thump and shattering glass beside you. Miniscule, rainbow, dots clouded your vision, the adrenaline and the concussion you were sure you had numbing the pain coursing through your veins. You screamed in pain, Hotch entering almost immediately.

You lifted your right arm to point out the window, the glass shattered from where the unsub had escaped.

Spencer entered the room in a rush, eyes running over the fallen cupboard that would've been taller than the both of you, and then your small body in the corner. You held out your arm for him, and he placed his hands under your armpits, jolting back when you screeched in pain. "Y/n, your..." His eyes widened in shock and fear at the sight of your dislocated shoulder. Your right hand clutched to your left side - no doubt trying to comfort a massive bruise or worse.

He gulped, helping you up and throwing your good arm around his shoulders. The sudden movements blanked your vision for a few moments, a small lump forming on the front left side of your temple, and your legs trembled in the sudden need to hold yourself up. "Y/n, we just need to get you to the ambulance, alright?" Spencer told you reassuringly. He didn't know how much you could understand, your eyes were cloudy and your movements spaghetti-like, but he continued to reassure you anyways.

The paramedics set into action as soon as they saw your near limp body strung across Spencer's taller build. You were placed in the ambulance on a bed and before you knew it, there was a heavy clamp on your finger and two paramedics touching you and saying unexplainable things to each other. A short one with a beard came close to your vision, obvious aware it was still slightly blurred, "Agent Y/n. We need to take your shirt off in order to fix your shoulder okay? We need to pop it back in as quick as we can."

All you could do is nod, Spencer making most of the choices for you as your husband - he wouldn't put you through something he knew you would disagree with. They asked him questions, and while the voices came in and out of focus, the adrenaline was wearing off and suddenly your senses heightened. "Is she pregnant?"

The question rolled off the paramedics tongue like a rehearsed poem, and Spencer shook his head like there was no possible way you were. But as you saw needles being prepared, your heart started pounding so fast it got the attention of the professionals. "Y/n, are you still with us?"

To Spencer, you looked like you had just woken up to a bad dream, but there was something deeper - you were not unconcious, if anything you looked alert.

"I'm pregnant." The paramedics glanced at each other and Spencer's eyes widened. The one with the needle placed it down carefully on a table, and before you knew it, you were being pushed through hallways and into a awfully bright room.

You passed out, fear and exaustion catching up to you. But Spencer couldn't sleep. On top of the fact that his wife had just gotten her shoulder dislocated and then fixed, and a slight rib fracture, she was also pregnant.

Spencer doubted for the first half hour of waiting for you to wake up that you actually were. You were saying nonsense, you were injured and the adrenaline... usually causes people to tell the truth. He paced and went over everything that had been happening. The change in your behaviour, the tiredness, the sickness. It was all coming together like a puzzle, and he wondered why he didn't realise sooner.

"Spence?" A small voice called out, and he approached the hospital bed almost immediately.

"Y/n." Spencer smiled in relief, overjoyed that you were alright and breathing. He knew you'd be fine, but anything can be unpredictable. Anyone can be unpredictable. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened?" You tried to sit up but Spencers soft hands encouraged you to stay laying down.

"The unsub pushed a cabinet at you. You collided with the wall and dislocated your shoulder." He explained softly, the doctors told him that the specific pain killers they gave you may cause some loopiness. "Oh." You whispered, eyes searching his face like you had never seen it before, and you smiled. You were here, and he was here, and you needed nothing more. Other than more pain killers.

Spencer bit his lip, and sighed, not sure if it was the right time to bring the blindside up at that moment.

"Y/n, darling, are you... pregnant?"

The small grin wiped off your face and you took some deep breaths, nodding and avoiding his gaze in fear of rejection. Spencer sighed, and pushed his hair away from his face, a smile rising onto his cheeks. Tears welled in his eyes from happiness. "This is great, this is... wow Y/n, I can't believe.." He gulped, "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

Confusing his disbelief for anger, tears started dropping down your cheeks as you sat in silence. Spencer started to worry, "Do you... not want to have a baby with me? Or at all? Do you think I won't be a good father? I know that I've had my problems in the past but I promise I can be a good father-"

"Spencer." You called his name in shock, heart aching over his insecure questions. "I do want a baby, especially one with you. And I don't think you'll be a good father, I know you'll be a great one. I just," you wiped your cheeks and he sat down in a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. "I'm scared. I thought that you wouldn't want to have one right now because of our... plan. This is really early and we didn't get to save- and- I thought you'd be mad-" You had started blubbering now, the heart monitor becoming a ticking time bomb for a full on breakdown, before Spencer took your face in his hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He pulled back, smile wide, eyes full of adoration and sorrowfullness.

"Y/n, I don't care about that plan anymore. And I'm not mad." He searched your eyes with his, "I just wished you told me earlier. Maybe you wouldn't have been injured, because god knows I wouldn't have let you go out into the field."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You sniffled, placing your other hand on top of his.

"Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. I've made my injured and pregnant wife cry, I should be sorry."

You giggled, and leant forward to kiss him on the nose. "So it's really okay?"

"Of course. You just have to heal quickly, and I'll do all the rest."

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m

[defmaybe]

Excel

aespa's Ning Yizhuo/Ningning x Male Reader

1.4k words

Prequel to [AER-698] My Boss(?) Loves My Ass So Much She Puts Her Tongue on It, Then She Fucks Me in the Ass Like I’m Her Cockslut and Make Me Cum!

A/N: Dubious consent y’all, proceed with caution. You know who’s going to be the receiving end of this. Also, this is pretty much a bfh lol. A bit rushed towards the end, sorry. Thanks for reading!!!

—

“Tsk, slut.”

The words leave Yizhuo’s lips as she locks her tongue with yours. Her hands wander on your body—chest, the flat abs, waist. She’s frisky.

“Do you really think–hmph–you can just walk around for years–mmm–with that—” says Yizhuo muffled, as she grabs your firm ass, forcing some submission into you that you let out as a moan “—every single fucking day and–mmh–expect to just get away with it!”

You aren’t quite sure how it happened, really. One second, you were merely strolling in the SM building’s hallway, papers and such in your hand. And another, a tug on your collar dragged you into the files room, with the sounds of the door shutting and a lock clicking.

You can’t, you can’t just let go right now, with the storm of pleasure raging within.

“M–Miss Ning, I–I don’t think–mmmph–this is appropriate!” you grasp onto any bit of your inhibition that hasn’t been scared away by Yizhuo yet. You fail, and you fail.

Back leaning against the cold wall.

“Shut up, will ya?” Her hands tug the collar of your shirt, creasing it. “If you aren’t going to say those witty shits, then just be a good boy, and let me do whatever the fuck I want with you, alright?”

You whimper in her grip and her stern stare, trying to catch those stolen breaths at the same time. But isn’t she an impatient figure, as she seals your tired mouth with hers once again? 

Sweet.

Strawberry.

Her tongue easily defeats yours and explores your mouth. You are struggling to find your rhythm under her aggression. “You taste good, baby–mmph. Hope it’s like this for the whole package.”

“T–Thanks, Miss Ning. I–I still don’t think we should do it h–here,” you stammer.

She pulls back from the fiery kiss. “And fucking leave me to my vibrator at the dorm? No, you’re my slut today, baby,” she wags her finger.

She then continues, “You know, me and Aeri have been doing this little ranking for the male staffs at the end of every single year, in fucking Excel like those Reddit perverts do. Do you know who has been holding the number one spot for best ass, four years straight?” Ningning asks, staring into your eyes with blazing determination.

You know that it’s you—the question being asked in such a situation. But you just don’t have the heart to be a cocky cunt in front of this ethereal idol. 

“Wh–Who, who?” you stutter out, shaken. Beads of sweat trickle down your forehead.

Yizhuo gives your ass a smack, leaving you tensed under her touch. It’s quick, but it stings hard. She sneers, “Hoo? Hoo? Are you a fucking owl or something, dumbass,” as she crashes her lips back onto yours again. 

She grips onto your ass, and her grip keeps getting tighter and tighter. “Good thing they are soft to touch,” whispers Yizhuo.

She keeps squeezing your cheeks, the softness of them spilling off her fingers through your tight jeans made just to—well, without your willingness—show off your supple rear.

“I mean, there’s the factor of, mmph–” 

She keeps her wordy assertions sheathed in between the kisses. 

“–you staying here since your intern days, proximity stuff, you know? But god–”

It works—well, to be fair, you’ve never been quite a dominant person yourself.

“–too bad I forgot my strap at the dorm, or you’d be moaning like a slut right now.”

A moan leaves your lips—a loss of control.

“Take your pants off.”

You comply on a whim, nodding profusely. There’s nothing you can do to resist her burning desire right now. You slide your pants and boxers down to your ankles, and your erection springs out for her in full glory.

“Hmm, hmm, good boy~” she says with a smirk, examining your cock as she reveals the bare skin behind the black shorts as well. And upon the sight, you fall to your knees, tongue falling out of your needy mouth.

And that’s just her panties, not talking about her heavenly cunt yet, so—just her thighs.

“Me and Aeri have talked so many times on how submissive you’d be for me. Guess I was on point,” Yizhuo says, as your flesh gets closer and closer to her covered folds, before she tips your chin up.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“You can do it later, baby. I didn’t have her find the perfect position just for nothing.”

“P–Perfect position? Miss Ning?”

“Yes, baby, I guess sluts like you would love… Amazon.”

Without another word, she nudges your chin away, leaving your back against the cold hard ground, feet up in the air. Shivers rush through your lithe body. You figure that she’d reveal her pussy just for you next.

And she does.

“Like the sight, baby?” she asks, biting her finger, resting another hand on her waist, body leaning just ever so slightly.

“Yes, Miss Ning.”

Yizhuo giggles as she lowers herself onto her knees. Her hands run down the length of your legs, lighting trails of fire in its wake. It starts to be sore now—dangling your feet up like this.

“M–Miss Ning, can I–”

“No, you’re just my slut, remember?” she commands.

“Y–Yes, miss–ngh.” You’ll have to bear the pain for now.

Yizhuo peppers kisses and licks on your toned legs, sending an unbearable pleasure through you. She slowly squats down until her lips reach the back of your knees.

“Ready?” she asks.

You sheepishly nod.

Hastily, she positions herself to where your length teases her slit. It’s so close. Fuck.

And she descends.

It’s warm. That’s your first feeling upon entry. Yizhuo lets out a stuttered moan with each inch. “F–Fuck!”

The pain in your thighs is worth it. Seeing her eyes closed, mouth agape in this position.

She adjusts herself with your cock, creeping down to the hilt.

“Yes, yes, yes, fill me up like that, slut!” she shouts.

“Ngh–y–you feel so good, Yizhuo.”

She keeps her pace slow, not wanting to have her slut cum too fast to her liking. “Y–Yizhuo? Really? You think you c–can call me by–fuck it,” she sneers, smacking your ass along with the words.

“Ah! Thanks, Yizhuo,” is what you’re able to muster out.

She’s tight. Her walls welcome you with perfection—the wet sensation around your cock, the warmth, and her empyrean moans, god, her moans. She’s fucking hypnotic. Your skin clashing into each other lights up the missing spark.

The smell of your sex permeates the file room—musky, raw, arousing. It’s your body together, just the two of you. You’ll need a spray after this.

With little effort, she grabs onto your thighs for a hold to up her ante. Her luscious thighs tenses up by seconds. Her moans grow shorter. She’s going faster now, and you don’t feel that you can hold out for this tryst for much longer.

“Y–Yizhuo–”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Really?”

“O–Oh, like you aren’t close, s–slut,” she bickers.

Her hold on your thighs grows tighter with the shorter moans. 

“I–I’m gonna cum, baby,” Yizhuo says. “C–Cum when I say so, alright?”

“Y–Yes, Yizhuo.”

And without another word, her cunt gushes out the torrent of her sweet juice. She pools on your crotch. Her body arches back, stretching her toned tummy into display just for you.

“Ah, fuck!”

Along with her torrent, or perhaps it’s the sight, the familiar feeling builds up inside your stomach. You need to release it.

“Y–Yizhuo, I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, yes, yes, cum inside me, baby,” she orders.

And you break, you release spurts of essence inside her to the brim. You paint her insides white with your cum, desperately gasping for air. Your legs shake as she holds them tight.

“Fuck, yes!” Yizhuo screams. You are too busy having your eyes fluttered to say a thing.

It’s quick, as you finally come down from your high. Both of you are so desperate to catch your breaths in the afterglow. You can see Yizhuo smiling above you.

“I–I’m fucking this–” she slaps your rear once more. “–ass next time, baby.”

“Ah a–alright,” you say, as she lifts herself up from your used cock. She then recollects herself. Cum can be seen dripping down her thighs as she puts her shorts and panties back on.

“Yizhuo, you–”

“Ah, let’s leave it like this, shall we?” she playfully asks, biting her finger, before throwing your jeans back at you.

“Until next time, baby” She bids farewell, before leaving the room, leaving you behind under a lump of your discarded garments.

You sit there in silence, the smell of the debauchery still fills the room, hanging, waiting to be displaced. Your brain replays the misdeeds earlier—her domination, your submission.

And you realize,

You need her again.

—

[phant0mth1ef]

are we still friends? can we be friends? are we still friends? i’ve got to… know. (pt. 2 to the feeling that i’m losing her, forever). part 3

to say you didn’t expect to see a pair of bright red eyes staring you down as you walked into the facility was an understatement, you hadn’t made eye contact with those eyes in over a year, and you flinched the moment you realized just who you were looking at.

you’d stumbled into inasa once you snapped out of your daze, catching yourself quickly as your cap hit the floor, the boy using his wind in order to float it back onto your head.

“thank you.” you mumbled before going to take your spot in line, coincidentally right next to your former best friend.

“why haven’t you called me?!” so now he wants to begin a conversation.

“been busy.” you shrugged, refusing to even look at him because you knew you’d start crying the moment you met his eyes again.

“okay? you could’ve texted me or some shit!”

“my phone stopped working.” you were competing for the title of nonchalant final boss at this point with how casual you were being.

“bullshit. i saw you with it at the exam! just tell me why you’re avoiding me like the plague.” it may not have looked like it, but bakugou was scared out of his mind. you’d changed since the licensing exam, he could sense it in the way you carried yourself. you were being cold.

“what the hell happened to you?? you used to always call me, always text me. what happened?” did he seriously not know what happened?

“you happened.” and that was all you were able to say before the proctors for the training session entered the room, quickly commanding you all to stand in line as your face changed to a softer expression.

it was a casual sparring session, so why were you sending rocks the size of boulders his way? his mind was too clouded to even dodge them effectively, the words you said still playing out in his mind as he mindlessly sent out explosive attacks.

you’d tried to pack up as quickly as possible afterwards to avoid a confrontation with your former best friend, but you heard the clanking of his boots hitting the ground and just let out a sigh.

“what?” you snapped.

“what me? what you!” he was starting to get angry, the way he would get angry back in middle school.

“what about me?! you’re also at fault here. i was the one always trying to get in contact with you! i just grew up and realized that if you wanted to, you would.” you begun to shove all your things into your duffel bag, accidentally smashing your fist into the ground.

“what the hell does that even mean?! you’re the one who stopped calling me outta nowhere. i didn’t tell you to do that.”

“don’t you get it?! i was the one always calling!” you shoved your bag to the floor as you stood up straight, your voice getting strained as you finally made eye contact with bakugou.

“i was the one who always had to start talking to you first! it made me feel like a nuisance. and then one day i hear you telling your new friends that you think i’m annoying? like what the fuck, katsuki. none of this is my fault. if you’d just been a man and picked up the phone, this could’ve been avoided.” you had a habit of crying once you got frustrated, so naturally the tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

he didn’t have any words, letting out a scoff as you picked up your bag and shoulder checked him on your way out, sending him stumbling back as he just stared at the ghost of your presence.

later that night he sat in his dorm room, his finger hovering over your contact but never once pressing on it, unsure of what he’d even say if you decided to pick up.

“i mean how the hell am i supposed to apologize? she’s so confusing. like damn sorry i called you annoying but it isn’t even that big of a deal anymore that was months ago!” bakugou was ranting to his little group of friends that were huddled on his floor, suprised that the boy would even invite them, let alone drone on about his issues with the friend that none of them even knew about.

“so you called her annoying but you didn’t know she was listening?” mina spoke up.

“yes but that was months ago! i don’t even know how to talk to her anymore because she won’t listen to me.” he sprawled flat on his bed.

“sounds like you’ve dug yourself a deep hole bakugou.” kirishima said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

meanwhile, back at shiketsu, your group was currently huddled in camie’s dorm, and you sat on the bed while they formed a circle around you.

“i don’t know who he thinks he is but i am not going to beg for him to be my friend, i am not going to be as pathetic as i used to be!” slow teardrops fell from your eyes as you recalled back in middle school when bakugou found more friends and slowly begun to leave you behind.

“i know, and i get that, but you should at least try to give him a chance. he’s making an effort.” she tossed you your phone that was sitting on the desk, a notification on the lock screen.

[kats 💥🫂]

Meet me at the spot tomorrow. Please. 4 PM.

tags; @riverozada @lupitalove @msjaeger @aintseennothinyet @wendeeeee ask and you shall receive sorry if its kinda bad 😢😢

[swappermanent]

Laying the Foundation

Owning a general contracting firm isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it does have its perks. And by perks, I mostly mean the eye candy. Whether it’s a sweaty crew under the summer sun or a client’s husband who catches my attention during a site visit, there’s enough visual appeal to keep my day interesting.

I’m glad I can admit that now. For the first 40-something years of my life, I refused to acknowledge the part of me that liked men. It wasn’t just denial—it was an ironclad, church-fed certainty that I was the straightest man alive. I had the life to prove it too: a wife, two great kids, and a job that kept me too busy to dwell on feelings I wasn’t ready to confront.

But five years ago, I couldn’t lie anymore—at least not to myself or my wife. The realization hit me like a freight train one afternoon as I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ll spare you the gory details of how I came out to her; it was messy, emotional, and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But if you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear how kind she was about it.

We got divorced. Not because she hated me—far from it—but because she deserved better. Someone who could love her fully, the way she’d loved me. She was understanding, even supportive, but understandably, she wanted a fresh start. She moved a few states away, which meant our boys, Elias and Remy, followed. They were in college by then, so it wasn’t like they needed me every day, but still—it stung not to see them as often.

Now, I only saw them on the breaks they got from school. Holidays, mostly. Elias was 22 and just starting to figure out his life, and Remy, at 19, was busy living his best college experience. They were good kids, and they didn’t resent me for coming out. At least, I didn’t think they did. But I could tell there were things they didn’t say, questions they didn’t ask. I tried not to push.

In the years since my divorce, I hadn’t exactly been a Casanova. You’d think that, as a newly single gay man, I’d dive headfirst into the wild world of dating apps and endless hookups. But it hadn’t played out that way. I didn’t know where to start, honestly. Bars felt too young for me, apps were overwhelming, and after decades of repressing this part of myself, I felt like I didn’t even know the rules.

And so, I stayed busy. Running my business. Keeping in touch with the boys. Pretending I wasn’t lonely. Pretending I wasn’t deeply, madly crushing on Tomas.

Tomas was one of my best guys—a foreman who had worked for me for almost six years. Early thirties, 6’1”, with the kind of lean, sculpted build that made work boots and a tool belt look like runway fashion. Tomas had short-cropped black hair, caramel skin that seemed to glow in the sun, and a confident swagger that made my heart skip a beat every time he walked past me.

He was also, without a doubt, the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I wasn’t sure if it was his deep, musical laugh, the way his smile seemed to light up an entire room, or the sharp intelligence he brought to every project. Whatever it was, I was hooked. Hooked in a way that made my chest ache and my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I was his boss, for starters. And besides, for all I knew, he was straight and happily taken. But every time I saw him in the field, bending over to check a level or cracking a joke with the guys, I couldn’t help but fantasize. About what it would be like to pull him close, to feel his strength, to hear him say my name in a way that wasn’t professional.

I tried to keep my distance. Tried to focus on the work, on the business, on anything but the growing knot of desire that had taken up permanent residence in my chest. But Tomas was always there. Always just a few feet away, making me laugh, making me blush, making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything to do about it. But one thing was for sure: I couldn’t take my mind off him.

---

The worst part about my unrequited crush on Tomas was the fact that I knew he was gay. I hadn’t guessed or pieced it together from subtle clues—no, I knew. I’d stumbled across his Grindr profile late one night while I was lying in bed, half-torturing myself by scrolling through profiles I had no intention of messaging.

Seeing his photo there had been like a punch to the gut. He looked incredible, of course—shirtless, smoldering, his chest lightly dusted with hair. I had stared at the profile for longer than I should have, memorizing the details: 33 years old, "masc4masc," and then the words that dashed any wild hopes I might have been clinging to: Please no guys over 30.

I closed the app immediately, my face burning with embarrassment even though no one else was there to see it. For days afterward, I kept replaying those words in my head. No guys over 30. Meanwhile, I was 50. Twenty years his senior, his boss, and, apparently, the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

After that, I resigned myself to suffering in silence. I’d accepted that my feelings for Tomas weren’t going anywhere and that I’d just have to live with it. It wasn’t like I could quit my job or fire him—he was too damn good at what he did, and I needed him on my team. So I kept my head down and my feelings buried, figuring that was the best I could do.

That is, until Miguel came along.

Miguel was the newest addition to the team, just 21 years old and fresh out of trade school. He was the youngest guy I’d ever hired, but he came with glowing recommendations, and within a week of working with him, it was clear they hadn’t been exaggerated. Miguel was a dynamo—hardworking, quick to learn, and always eager to take on more responsibility. He had an upbeat attitude that set him apart from the rest of the crew, and he never let the tougher, more grizzled guys intimidate him.

But while Miguel’s work ethic was impeccable, his looks were something else entirely. The kid was gorgeous. A fuckboy face if I’d ever seen one, with sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, a sexy dusting of a beard, and a jawline that could cut glass. His hair was a messy mop of jet-black curls, and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could make you question all your good decisions.

Even at his young age, Miguel had this natural charisma that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He wasn’t trying to be sexy—he just was. Whether it was the way he laughed or the easy confidence in his stride, you could tell he had everyone swooning at his feet. And that included Tomas.

I wasn’t blind. I saw the way Tomas’s eyes lingered on Miguel during lunch breaks or how he found excuses to talk to him on the job. At first, I thought it might just be professional—Tomas mentoring the new guy, making sure he felt welcome. But it didn’t take long to realize there was more to it than that. Tomas was interested in Miguel. You could see it in the way he stood just a little too close or laughed a little too hard at Miguel’s jokes.

The funny thing was, Miguel didn’t seem to notice his effect on everyone else. Despite his looks and charm, he had this air of innocence about him, like he didn’t quite realize the power he had. He worked hard, showed up early, and went home late, never sticking around for beers or banter with the guys. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face.

Watching the dynamic between Tomas and Miguel unfold was like a slow kind of torture. On the one hand, I wanted Tomas to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. On the other hand, the idea of him falling for someone so much younger, so effortlessly magnetic, made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not toward Miguel, exactly—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but at the reminder of what I couldn’t have.

---

A few months into Miguel working with us, I reached my breaking point. Watching Tomas flirt with him day after day, while Miguel remained blissfully unaware, was driving me insane. Tomas’s lingering glances, the playful shoulder taps, the overly friendly banter—it was everything I’d fantasized about, happening right in front of me, but directed at someone else. Someone younger. Someone who didn’t even notice.

Damn it. Why couldn’t that be me?

I had to do something. Anything. The jealousy was eating me alive, and the hopelessness of my situation was unbearable. So, in a moment of desperation, I decided to use something unconventional. Something I’d never planned to use at all.

A few years ago, I’d taken a trip to South America—a solo getaway to clear my head after the divorce. While exploring a small town nestled in the Andes, I’d stumbled upon an old shop filled with trinkets, charms, and artifacts that seemed plucked from legend. One item caught my eye: a smooth, jet-black stone about the size of a silver dollar, etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a swapping stone, a relic capable of exchanging bodies between two willing participants.

At the time, I’d bought it as a novelty. A conversation piece. But now, staring at it on my nightstand, an idea took root in my mind—an idea so reckless and audacious that I couldn’t believe I was considering it.

The next morning, I pulled Miguel aside during a coffee break. He looked surprised but didn’t question it, following me into my office.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, plopping down into the chair opposite me with his usual relaxed energy.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Miguel, I’ve been watching you these past few months, and I’ve got to say—you’ve been doing a hell of a job. The crew loves you, and you’ve been busting your ass out there.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thanks, but I’m just doing my part.”

I nodded, then leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. “Look, I know how hard this kind of work is. It’s physically demanding, and you’ve been carrying a lot of weight for someone so young. So I wanted to offer you something.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offer me what?”

I pulled the stone out of my desk drawer and set it between us. “A swap.”

Miguel tilted his head, his confusion evident. “A swap?”

“Yes. A swap. With me.” I gestured toward the stone. “This… is a bit of a long story, but let’s just say it’s not an ordinary rock. It has the power to let us trade places—temporarily, of course. I’d take your body, and you’d take mine.”

Miguel stared at me, silent for a long moment, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Boss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” I pushed the stone closer to him. “Think about it. You’re out there every day breaking your back, while I’m in here taking calls and pushing paperwork. If we swap, you’d get to enjoy the perks of being the boss—shorter hours, no manual labor. You could take my car, my house, my money. Do whatever you want for a while.”

His ears perked up at that. “Whatever I want?”

I chuckled. “Whatever you want. Look, I may be in my fifties, but I’m still in good shape, and I’ve got the resources to make it worth your while. You could have some fun. Live it up.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Okay, but what’s in it for you? Why would you want to swap with me?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that didn’t make me sound like a crazy old man. “Honestly? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I want to understand it better. Really get a feel for what it’s like to be on the ground again.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“And…” I added, with a sheepish grin, “maybe I want to relive my youth a bit. See what it’s like to be in my twenties again. Humor an old man, will you?”

That got him. He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else.”

“So, what do you say?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Miguel studied the stone, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then he looked back at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re serious, boss, then yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

Little did he know, my motivations had nothing to do with reliving my youth or gaining a new perspective. My eyes were set firmly on Tomas,

We both stood in my office, the stone resting between us on the desk. Miguel seemed skeptical but game, his trademark grin lighting up his face. I couldn’t help but marvel at his confidence—effortless, natural, the kind that came with being young and having the world at your feet.

“So, what’s the magic phrase, boss?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

“It’s in Spanish,” I said, picking up the stone and holding it out to him. “I did get it in Chile, after all. We both have to hold it and say, ‘Quiero cambiar.’ It means, ‘I want to swap.’ Simple enough, right?”

Miguel gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement, then shrugged. “Alright, boss. Let’s see this thing work.”

He wrapped his calloused hand around one side of the stone, and I gripped the other. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then I glanced at him, at the youthful energy in his face and the opportunity shimmering in his eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

We spoke the words together: “Quiero cambiar.”

The moment the last syllable left my lips, I felt it. A strange warmth radiated from the stone, seeping into my palm and spreading up my arm like a current. My back arched involuntarily, and a sensation like liquid sunlight flooded my chest, pulling me out of myself. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming—intense, euphoric, like every nerve in my body was alight.

Across from me, Miguel was going through the same thing. His head tilted back, his body trembling as the same warm glow overtook him. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural moan. We both stumbled a step back, clutching at the air, though there wasn’t anything visible leaving our bodies—just the overwhelming sense of movement.

And then it stopped. Like flipping a switch, the warmth vanished, leaving me standing there, panting, in Miguel’s body.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter I felt. My limbs moved easily, like I could leap ten feet in the air if I tried. My skin was smooth, my shoulders lean but sturdy. I raised a hand to my cheek, running my fingers along the softer, smoother surface, and then down to my abs—firm and defined, cobblestones under my touch. It was like my body had been built in a dream.

Miguel, now in my body, flexed one of my arms experimentally. “Damn, boss,” he said with a laugh, staring at my bicep, which was massive and veined from years of heavy lifting. “I don’t know if my body’s really any better than yours.”

He turned to the small mirror on the wall, lifting my shirt and giving my old body’s abs a quick once-over. “You’ve been holding out on me, man! If I looked like this at 50, I’d be showing it off all the time.”

I let out a nervous laugh, still getting used to the sound of Miguel’s voice coming out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I said, my fingers grazing over my new, perfectly sculpted abs. “This feels like a serious upgrade.”

Miguel smirked, striking a mock pose and letting out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. Your body’s hot as hell now. Don’t break too many hearts, alright?”

I grinned, I had quite the opposite in mind.

[hockeybabe]

Shoot Your Shot | M. Knies

Not my gif

Pairings: Matthew Knies x f!reader

Summary: Matthew has had a crush on you and just can’t refuse you.

Warnings: slight smut, Matthew can’t resist his crush, fingering, swearing, dirty talk, praising, finger sucking?

Word count: 1.5k

Note: ngl after I saw this gif, I knew I had to write smth for it. Also I went to a leaf game!!!! I GOT TO SEE CAPTAIN QUINN!

“Just come to the game.” You heard for the third time this day. You worked at a local coffee shop that wasn’t far from Scotiabank Arena, where the Leafs played. Your most regular customer, Matthew Knies, was always asking you to come to his game. You were a hockey fan but never went to games, thanks to your boss.

“That’s really nice, Matt, but I’m working.” You said, cupping the lid of a drink. Matthew groaned, leaning his arms against the counter, and walked away to find a booth. You called the name on the receipt, handing the person their drink. “Sally, I’m on break.” You told your co-worker as you put your apron up on the hook.

“You can’t be mad at me.” You said, walking up to the booth and taking a seat right across from him, folding your hands over the other. “I’m not.” He grumbled, not looking at you. You rolled your eyes. “Look at me.” You ordered him, and he did so reluctantly. “I’ll be watching from there.” You pointed at the TV that was displayed in the corner of the shop.

“It’s not the same, Y/N. I’ve wanted you to go forever. Just ask your boss.” He begs. You knew Matthew’s name had popularity, and your boss would never believe you if he weren’t there in person. "Look, I try all the time. It’s not worth it.” You said getting frustrated and walked away to start your shift again.

Matthew always had a soft spot for you and couldn’t stand to see you upset, especially at him. What he didn’t tell you was that he already talked to your boss and got you a ticket to the game right at the glass. But now he was scared you wouldn’t show when he went for pre-skate, and it would crush him.

Matthew looked down at the watch on his wrist, noticing he had to make his way to the rink. “I’ll see you y/n.” He said leaving money along with the ticket to the game. You watched him leave as a soft sigh left your lips. Liking Matthew wasn’t something you wanted, but you couldn’t help it. You knew he liked you, but being with a hockey player isn’t the easiest thing to do.

You had seen some hockey players girlfriends get attacked on Instagram for being in love, but you couldn’t deny the honest attraction you had for Matthew. He was everything you ever wanted in a guy. You walked over to the booth he was at and picked up his cup, noticing the money along with a strip of paper with the leafs logo on it.

You put the cash and paper in your apron pocket before putting the mug in the dish area. You walked over to Sally and leaned against the counter, noticing Matthew had left you a ticket to tonight’s game against Vancouver. “What’s that, y/n/n?” Sally asked. You lifted the ticket up and showed her. “Someone’s got a crush.” You heard it from behind.

You turned around and saw your boss with her arms crossed. You sucked in a breath and said, "It doesn’t matter. I’ve got work.” You said it in a low voice, not wanting to piss your boss off. “Y/n, go to the game. I already talked to the boy and the rest of his team. I’ll tell you they’re persistent.” Your mouth fell slightly at her words. “They were here?” You asked. “Oh yeah, all of them. All because that one rookie likes you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You are going, right?” Your boss asked, walking closer. “I’m mean, yeah, but who’s going to run-" “It’ll be closed for the night.” Your boss cut you off. Another thing your boss shocked you with was that she never closed the cafe unless something was wrong in her life. Whatever the team said to her, it must’ve changed her.

“Well, um, I got to go then.” You said untying your apron and grabbing your personal belongings. “Oh, you almost forgot this.” Your boss said handing you a jersey with the name Knies stitched on the back along with his number. “Now go.” Sally said pushing you to the door. You laughed at them, quickly placed the jersey over your clothes, and headed to the rink.

“Miss y/l/n?” Someone said to you. “Yeah,” you answered. “Please come with me. Mr. Knies asked for me to take you to your spot.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you followed him. You were walked all the way to a room with a TV with the game on, a bar, couches, and women.

“Y/n, right?” You were greeted by a blonde. You nodded slowly. “Steph, Mitch’s wife.” Your eyes widened in realization. You were in a room with the players girlfriends and wives. “It’s nice to meet you.” You shook her hand as she led you to the balcony to watch the game.

The game was already in motion, and Vancouver had a good offensive game. The Leafs were in the Vancouver zone, and there it was. A Knies goal, you couldn’t help but smile as Matthew pointed up to where you were. “He’s gotta good eye.” Steph says as the others cheer. "Yeah, he does.” Another says. “Aryne.” The woman says. “Matthew lives with me and John.” She says.

You smiled at the woman and continued to watch the game and talk to the other girls. The Leafs ended up winning 5-2. “You’re coming.” Steph said, licking her arm through yours as you made your way to the den and waited for the players.

You felt slightly overwhelmed by the number of people who knew who you were and even by the players coming out and introducing themselves. After John, you watched Matthew stroll out. You felt yourself smiling as your arms crossed over your chest. “Player of the game?” You cocked a brow at his Leafs belt. “Gotta keep it up.” He responded pulling you into a hug.

“We’ll talk about this.” You said this as he pulled you to the parking garage, where his car was. You sat in the passenger seat watching Matthew drive to your apartment, and it was something. You knew he was sneaking glances at you with the number of times he clenched his hands on the wheel, turning his knuckles white as you clenched your thighs together.

You get to your apartment, and you watch Matthew contain himself, shuffling his hands in his pockets and letting out deep sighs. Opening the door, you pull Matthew’s arm toward your bedroom. At the edge of the bed, Matthew turned you around and crashed his lips against yours. Matthew pushed you onto the bed, looming over you.

“Hi beautiful.” He said trailing his finger along your collarbone. You felt a blush rise on your cheeks. “I like your jersey.” He said it with a casual smirk. “I think I like it too.” You responded biting your lip slightly. The tension floated around you two for a while before you grabbed the collar of his shirt and teased him, thinking you would kiss him, but instead you kissed the corner of his mouth.

Matthew bunched up your jersey before kissing you. His hands trailed to your tits as he pinched your nipples and massaged your boobs. You moaned into his mouth, giving his tongue access. You both fought for dominance, with him eventually winning. Matthew trailed kisses to your neck, finding the sweet spot, while he slowly peeled your top layers off and unclasped your bra.

Feeling antsy, you moved your hands down Matthew’s body, putting your semi-cold hands under his shirt and feeling his body. “Fuck.” He hissed into your ear, feeling the coolness of your hands. You whimpered as Matthew grinded into your core. “Off.” You moaned as he kissed down the valley of your breasts to your pant line.

Matthew sat up on his knees, peeling off his shirt, while you admired from below, biting your lip. You started to peel off the rest of your clothes with the help of Matthew until you were both completely bare. Matthew trailed kisses along your things as his finger traced your folds. Your back arched at his touch, and he used his other hand to force your hips down.

“Such a pretty girl.” He mumbled, thrusting one finger in as you moaned. Matthew continued to thrust his finger while using his thumb to play with your clit. “More.” You begged in a muffled voice. Matthew instantly responded, adding a second finger and increasing his pace. You thrashed in your position, using your hands to grip the sheets. “That’s it princess. Let go. Come for me.” You let out a whimper as you fell apart on his fingers.

Matthew trailed his fingers up your body to your lips as you sucked the juices off his fingers. “Jesus baby. You’re so hot.” He smiled while lifting you up, allowing you to straddle him. “You’re hotter.” You said smiling back before kissing him.

[jmstoesblog]

Unexpected

Pairing: Yandere! Boss!Jungkook x fem!reader

released: 12.03.24

Summary: in the span of a few minutes, your life took a big turn. An ugly turn.

Warnings: kissing, heavy makeout, mention of the word rape, mention of killing somebody, mention of torturing someone.

Wc: 1,3k+

Note: this is my first time writing a fic so if it’s not good or up to your expectations, I’m sorry. Also English is not my first language so if there are grammatical mistakes please let me know! And I’ve never written smut so I probably won’t write any YET, maybe in the future. Not proofread!!

——————————————————————————

This isn’t right.

The way you feel every time he’s around you or touching you. This simply isn’t right.

He’s your boss after all.

You shouldn’t feel such an attraction towards him. But you can’t be blamed. The flirtatious winks and smiles he sends you when nobody’s watching. The way he grabs your waist to position you to the side when he wants to pass. The way he gazes at you, licking his lips while looking at yours.

Plus he smoking hot. Not to forget his godly sculptured face, his thin, pouty plump lips which adorn two piercings, his unique beautiful nose and lastly his doe eyes.

Oh, how could you forget his tattoos which add more hotness. And his veiny arms and hands adorned with tattoos and rings which he could wrap around your thro—

Shaking your head at your sinful thoughts, you focus on the presentation being held by a employee in Mr. Jeon’s aka your oh so handsome boss.

You’re supposed to write everything down because he can’t join this meeting due to his full planned schedule.

Why can’t his PA write everything down?

Oh, right! He fired him because he accidentally spilled coffee on Mr. Jeon.

So know you’ve been informed to note everything important down and deliver it after the meeting to Mr. Jeon, personally.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

Come in exactly 30 minutes into my office to provide me with the information.

The text read. When he says in thirty minutes he means exactly thirty minutes. Not a minute late. Not a minute after.

What does make you confused is the fact that he has your number. He doesn’t have the number of the other employees, only yours. Why? Well you did als him and he just shrugged it off.

“Thank you.” Mr. Han bows down to everyone, meaning the meeting is over, his presentation is over. And you’re in trouble. You haven’t been really listening, you were too lost in your thoughts about your boss and how he could—

You look around in sheer panic, “did you happen to note down a few of the things he said?” You ask politely. You only noted down a few things he said, not everything.

“No, I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry. She never liked you. Why? You don’t know. You just assume it’s jealousy.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself and stride down to your office. You still have 25 minutes.

“I mean I did note down many things? That should be enough, right?” You talk to yourself.

After calming yourself down and replaying the scene of Mr. Han presenting over and over in your head. It’s already time.

You have exactly a minute. Grabbing the file, you make your way to his office.

You gently knock, “come in,” his deep voice is audible.

You sigh and open the door and close it behind you and start walking in front of his table.

Jungkook can clearly see fear behind you eyes.

If he was ready to fire someone who accidentally spilled coffee in him then he was probably ready to fire you for not properly listening, right?

You need this job. It’s important to you.

Jungkook has his hand behind his head and his feet on the clean table. With a cocky smirk evident on his face. Seeing you so scared of him satisfies him.

You bow down and he raises his pierced eyebrow, “so , the information?” You hand it to him and bow ready to leave.

But he has the door locked. How did he lock it from there? Does he have some button under table or what?

You hear him tsk.

You gulp and turn around, “that’s it?” He questions you with a raised brow.

“Y-yes I did what you asked me to do, I noted everything that I found important down. Could you please open the door now, I have other work to do.”

He tsks again and motions you with his fingers to come closer. Without a second thought you start moving closer, until you’re standing in front of him, the desk between you two.

You have to do everything he asks you to do, you need this job.

He stands up, bringing his built closer to you, only a few inches left between you two. You can smell his cologne. It smells so… manly.

He tilts his face to the side and angles your face until you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“You deserve a punishment, don’t you?”

You freeze.

“Do you know how important that was? Everything you’ve written down doesn’t help me at all.” He pokes his inner cheek with his tongue.

“I thought you’re smarter than that? What was going on in that pretty head of yours? Huh? What were you thinking about?” His tone is full of mockery and a cocky smirk evident on his face.

Before you can say anything he brings your face even closer to his by grabbing your head with his big hands.

And in the next moment his lips are on yours.

His hand is quick to press your face even harder against his as he grips your nape while his other hand wraps itself around your waist.

After recovering from the shock, you start kissing him back. Your hands make their way around his neck and start pulling at his hair. He seems to like it as he groans into the kiss.

His lips mold perfectly into yours. His hand on your waist squeezes your ass cheek and smacks it right after that. You moan in the kiss and try pulling away but he won’t let you.

You tap his shoulder letting him know you need air.

After a few more seconds he pulls away. Your lipstick is all over his lips and his lips are puffy.

He looks so good with my lipstick on him.

You internally giggle at your thoughts.

“Fuck, come here.” He demands with his raspy, deep voice.

You make you way over him and he immediately pulls you closer by your waist and kisses you again causing you to gasp.

You moan into the kiss making him even harder than he already is. He pulls away and licks his lips. Forehead on forehead, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“For what?” You ask breathlessly .

He pulls his head away.

He chuckles, “to make you mine.”

“I will have you in any way I please and you will not have a say because,” he draws his face closer, “you’re mine. From the moment I’ve laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”

Suddenly it clicks in your head.

He’s the one that’s been stalking you, giving you anonymously gifts and flowers. No wonder he has your number. You never gave it to him or anybody at work.

His dark chuckle brings you out of your thoughts, “don’t worry y/n, I also killed that bastard that was about to rape you.” He growls at the thought.

After a night out with your friends on the way to your car a guy tried hitting you. You rejected him and told him to leave you alone. But he wouldn’t take a no so he pinned you against the nearest wall and was about to rip of your dress but was shot twice in the leg.

“I tortured him until he begged for his death. Only for you, y/n.”

At your silence he furrows his brows, “Baby?”

“Why won’t you say anything, baby? I did this for you— us. Now nobody can do us apart. We will be together forever.”

“You and I, baby.”

That’s when everything turned upside down in the span of 20 minutes.

You didn’t know you were dealing with an enraged psychopath who’s obsessed with you and has been stalking you.

You’re trapped.

You cannot escape.

Ever.

——————————————————————————

Do NOT copy or translate

Thank you for reading 💕

[lexisecretaccx]

Good little Girl - Matt Sturniolo

(Fem reader x Matt Sturniolo, smutty, use of nicknames, suggestive, kissing, oral fem!receiving, Dom!Matt, idk)

Summary: reader and Matt just hooked up but he doesn’t want it to be just a one time thing and she learns a secret about him…

I stand off the bed and start to get back into my outfit, my mini skirt and tight shirt. “What are you doing?” He groans as he leans up on his elbows. I turn to him now standing just in my underwear, “I’m leaving, isn’t that what you do on a one night stand?” I ask continuing to pull up my skirt, he gets out of bed and walks towards me.

He grabs my hand that is pulling up my skirt and pulls into his chest, “I don’t want you to leave.” He spoke hardly and spun me around to face him, his hands trail down my shoulders, arms and onto my waist.

“But why..” his hand comes up and tugs on my bottom lip, he pulls me in closer, “please.. be a good girl.” He spoke softly in a tone that caused butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

“Okay.” I say quietly, and step out of the skirt I was previously putting on. He keeps my hand held and pulls me back to the bed “I can’t do it again, it was amazing but I’m all fucked out right now..” I breathe out as we sit on the bed, “no.. I want to lay with you.” He spoke as he pulled me on top of him to straddle him, his hand comes up the the side of my face.

“Did you think I only wanted to fuck you and never see you again?” He asks me his hands rest on my hips, I shrug. “You have security guards in your house and you live in a mansion.. I thought you’d only want a one night stand.” I say and I lay down on top of him, getting into a comfortable.

“Im sorry I gave you that impression, I’m not all bad.” His hand finds place on the back of my head. “What do you do.. for work? Because at the party you had a bodyguard looking guy next to you.” I ask as I pull the covers over me and him.

He sighs, “I can’t tell you that sweetheart.” I move off of him and look at him, “why not?” I say in an annoyed tone. “Fine.. but please be a good girl and listen to what I say, don’t be scared.” He sits up before pulling my face in and gently kissing my lips, “okay.” I nod.

“I’m not a good person, I hurt people.. not you of course but people who deserve it.” He breathes in, studying my face for my response. “What do you mean? You seem like a good guy to me.” I tilt my head at him. He chuckles, “I’m a good guy to you.. I wouldn’t hurt you but other people deserve it.” I watch his composure shift to that of nervousness.

“What other people?” I continue to question him. “People who owe me things.. and people who hurt my loved ones.” He studied my face for any sense of fear, instead my eyes widen in excitement.

“So you’re like a loan shark?” I speak excitedly, loving the rush of hooking up with someone with such authority. “Not exactly sweetheart,” he breathes in, “I have many aspects to my job but that’s not a major one.” He leaned into my ear to whisper something. “I’m Matthew.. Sturniolo.” That last name rang through my ears.

Sturniolo.. as in the Mafia bosses, people who run the town from behind the scenes, picking and plucking anyone they choose. There’s three of them, their names always kept hidden but as I recall from news arcticles they’re brothers.

“I hooked up with a Mafia guy?” I whisper the last part of the sentence, he nods and I stand up. “Oh my god, does that mean I’m your property now?” I say in panic but a still a slight hint of excitement, he’s a gorgeous man with a protected house and a stable sense of income, on the plus side if anyone fucks with me he will kill them.

I need to not think about what I could gain from being with him, that’s selfish. I lean against the wall, placing my hand in my hair, trying to figure out what I’ve just learnt about my ‘one night stand’ “No of course not, I don’t own you. Not unless..” he walks up to me and lifts my chin with his large hand, “you want me to?” He pulls my mouth in and our lips connect softly.

I hum into the kiss, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, something about him just makes me melt.. he’s got this appeal, maybe it’s the nicknames or the fact he’s a mafia boss but I’m drawn to him.

He lifts me up from my thighs and holds me, this only deepens the kiss before I pull away to speak “I want you to own me, I want you to use me.. I think I just want you.” I whisper, lust filling my senses. “Be careful what you wish for darling.” He spoke as he threw me down onto the bed, causing me to yelp.

“Can you be my good little girl and do what I say?” He leans down smirking, I nod quickly. “Words.” He spoke. “Yes I will..” I reply, filled with excitement and my stamina feels refuelled just from his kiss and touch.

He removes my panties and unclasps my bra, before removing his underwear too, revealing the large cock that I, not long ago, had inside of me. This time I feel even more sexually attracted to him due to his power.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He spoke as he dipped down between my legs, before I could reply he started swirling his tongue around my already wet entrance. I moan out loudly, his tongue slips inside of my hole causing me to arch my back. “Fuck..” I squeal before looking down at him, staring up at me with a seductive look in his eyes.

He sucks on my clit softly, elicting whimpers and curses from my lips. I already feel myself clench due to the pleasure, “fuck I’m gonna cum..” I breathe out between moans.

He hums before dipping his tongue into my entrance again, his nose hitting my swollen bulb just right. My back arches further and I tangle my hands in his hair. My thighs close around his head as I feel my climax reaching closer. “F-fuck.” I scream out as I feel my arousal leaking out of my entrance onto his slightly bearded face.

He forces my thighs open, which are still shaking and lifts his head, my juices around his lips. “Taste yourself..” he swipes some arousal from off his lips, onto his fingers and pushes the fingers into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his fingers before he removes them from my mouth. “Good girl.” He praises.

He pulls me closer to him before lining his tip up with my sensitive entrance, before giving me a chance to breathe he pushes into me harshly. I grip onto the sheets as he pounds into me roughly, maintaining eye contact. He pushes his forehead to mine, staring deeply into my eyes as he fucks into me. I bite my lip due to pleasure and a weird mix of pain, a good pain.

My core fuzzes again as he repeatedly hits my g-spot with his large member. “Fuck you feel so good around my cock.” He groans, I can’t reply as my eyes roll back into my head and the pleasure grows as I feel myself clench around him, causing his hips to jut forward. “Cum for me darling.” He breathes out, his forehead still pressed against mine.

His pupils dilate even further as both of our orgasms reach closer. “Fuck.” I yell out as I come undone, him following shortly, releasing his cum inside of me, as I had previously mentioned I was on the pill the first time we fucked.

He removes his cock from inside of my hole, leaving me feeling slightly empty. “I’m tired.” I whine. “Let’s sleep then.” He cleans me up and moves me under the blankets before sliding in next to me. “So what am I to you now then? I don’t wanna be a fuck doll or anything.” I lean into him.

“No of course you’re not a fuck doll.” He laughs before pulling me to face him and look him in the eyes.

“You’re my good little girl.” He smirks, “shut up.” I turn around pouting, “let me take you to dinner, I’ll show you what you are to me then.” He leans on my arm and brushes the hair out my face.

“Okay,” I sigh and smile slightly, “why me?” I ask and confusion fills his face. “Why did you pick me?” I ask again, he wraps his arms around me, “I could tell you were a genuine person. You were the only one at the party who wasn’t intimidated by me, you seemed innocent.” He smirks, “I was wrong about that.. you’re not so innocent.”

“I wasn’t intimidated because I didn’t know you were the mafia guy, I don’t even remember why I was invited to the party.” I shrug and nuzzle my head in to his chest, “I wanted you to come.” He whispers and I turn my head to face him quickly, “what?” I ask.

“I saw you, at the restaurant.. you were waiting a table and that big guy tried to intimidate you into giving him a discount and you argued back.. you weren’t scared of him, so I told my men to give you an invite to the party so I could get to know you better.” He looks at the ceiling above him, his arm still around me.

“The guy was tryna use his size to intimidate me.. I knew he wasn’t gonna do anything,” I say and he looks at me to show he’s listening. “You definitely got to know me a lot better..” I chuckle, looking at us laying in the bed naked together.

“I just felt like I needed you, that man was one of my rivals.. he verbally abuses women and I hate it so seeing one of them fight back made me drawn to you.” He stroked the side of my face, “you have me now.” I smile.

He smirks back at me and nods, “let’s sleep.. I’ll show you around in the morning.” He spoke quietly as he turns down the light, “okay.” I breath out on his bare chest.

I start to doze off before I get woken up slightly by him, “I’m so proud of how well you took my dick.” He whispered in my ear.

“Such a good girl.” He coos in my ear, stroking my hair before we both fall back to sleep.

A/n: I wanted to write more one shots since I haven’t in a while! This was fun and refreshing to write. I love papi Matt. Mafia Matt though 😍😏 ALSO IM ALMOST AT 500 FOLLOWERS TY YALL ILYYYYYY❤️

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Dark Lord (Part 2)

Summary: The reader's been tasked with devising a way of getting Sam out from under the grasp of Demon King Crowley by The Dark Lord. But Dean isn't exactly what the world thinks he is and his hiring of the reader might not be so simple...

Part 1

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, curses

A/N: Welcome back to this one! There's so much going on in this part that will fill in some gaps. I'm keeping this a two parter mini-series for now but maybe someday there could be more. Please enjoy!

_______

Dean POV

“Why hello, Lord Winchester,” said Donna with a bow and shit eating grinning. I narrowed my eyes as she shut the door to my office. “However may I serve you today oh fearsome one?”

“Fuck off,” I said with a smile, flipping her the bird. She still wore a giddy smile, sliding into the chair opposite my desk. “I believe it was security that came up with the Protocol for when we have a new employee, hm?”

“If I have to call you Lord one more time, I’m jumping off the terrace,” she said, crossing her legs and pulling her laptop from her bag. “Besides, that protocol isn’t a hard and fast rule. She’s not a spy.”

“She could be.” Donna rolled her eyes, clacking away at the keys. “She was stealing from me so she’s not so innocent.”

She scoffed. “She stole some fucking asthma medication for her kid brother cause she got canned from her old job so she lost her health insurance, all because she wouldn’t sleep with her scumbag ex-boss. Yeah. She’s a real hard ass.”

“Did you do what I asked?” I tilted my head, Donna sighing. “I’m not going to kill him. Just ruin his life.”

“An anonymous tip will go out to authorities next week,” she said. “Wasn’t exactly hard to find the tax fraud and payoffs.”

“As I expected. So, how’s she doing?” Donna shrugged, typing again. “Come on. She barely talks to me.”

“Yeah, cause you scared the shit out of her. She’s freaking out trying to come up with a plan to get into Crowley’s place.” I breathed deeply. “Isn’t she moving in today? Why don’t you go drop the charade and help her.”

I pursed my lips, eyes darting to the window. “She only got caught at the warehouse because one of the guards twisted his ankle in the parking lot and she went to help him. We wouldn’t have seen her at all which means that girl is hiding something.”

“Magic,” said Donna. I hummed, a bird flapping by. “There isn’t any in her bloodline from what we saw.”

“Do you remember why everyone calls me the Dark Lord?” I asked. Donna’s lips parted, her gaze averting. “There’s ways of having magic without being born with it and we both know it.”

“Can…can you do what she did? Sneak in and out of places without being seen?” I shook my head, Donna closing her computer, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, Dean.”

I turned my attention back to her, Donna frowning. “What?”

“You want her to sneak in and get Sam, don’t you? You’re going to risk some poor woman that worked in accounts payable her whole life just so-” I held up a hand, Donna still pouting.

“I want her to teach me how to do that. However she got in, I need to understand it and once I do, I alone will get Sam back.”

“How do you know you can do what she did?” Donna asked. I frowned, standing up. “Dean.”

“I just do, okay? I need to go. Can you handle the latest shipments?” She nodded, her eyes far too concerned. I tried to smile but it came out flat. “Just…trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said. 

I gave her a curt nod before I was gone, swallowing thickly as I walked the halls towards the far end of the grounds where personal quarters were.

Nothing stupid. Right.

Y/N POV

“Careful!” you said as Kyle rushed around your new townhouse that afternoon. It was modern, yet cozy, warm and inviting. It was by far the nicest place either of you had ever lived. Coming fully furnished didn’t hurt either.

A knock at the door made you jump, Kyle rushing past you to open it. “Kyle-”

He ripped it open, Dean standing there dressed in a red flannel and dark wash jeans. 

“Hello, I’m Dean,” he said, Kyle holding out a hand.

“Kyle Y/L/N,” he said back, Dean smiling as he shook it, his gaze oh so briefly finding yours in the background and god, your heart leapt at the sight. That man was hot when he was brooding but he looked downright sinful when he was grinning ear to ear.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself then. Dean Winchester although you probably know me in town as The Dark Lord.” Kyle dropped it immediately, Dean clasping his hands behind his back. “Really? Do I seem that scary?”

“Y/N says not to talk to strangers.” 

And he proceeded to shut the door in Dean’s face.

 “Kyle! That’s my boss!” You rushed over and ripped the door open, Dean chuckling when you did so. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Dean, Kyle tucked away behind your back now. He peered around you, giving Kyle a small wave. “That is good advice your sister gave you about strangers. You know, I wish I had a big sister when I was growing up. My life would have turned out very differently if I had someone watching my back.”

“Don’t you like being The Dark Lord?” he asked, coming around your side. You nodded and let Dean inside. He took a few steps before squatting down, letting Kyle tower over him. Dean tilted his head, looking boyish for a moment.

“Not really,” said Dean, Kyle’s eyes going wide. You kept your face expressionless but were surprised by that admission. “Outside this place, people think I’m the bad guy. I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories about how I’m a monster in a skull mask and cloak, running around killing anything that moves.”

Kyle nodded, Dean resting his elbows against his knees, sinking back into his heels.

“I used to live in town with my parents and brother. We were normal. We didn’t even have any magic in our family. When I was four though, a bad man came to my house.” Dean’s gaze fell down to the hardwoods, his jaw twitching. “He hurt my mom and tried to hurt my brother who was only a baby. It was King Crowley.”

“What happened?” he asked. Dean looked up at you though, your eyes following the thin trail of black that rose up from between his shoulder blades, curling all around the room, your eyes darting after it. Kyle looked at you strangely. “What are you looking at?”

“You don’t see…” Dean rose to his feet, the black trail curling all around your body, swirling and pulling away, stopping with a pointed look at your chest. “What are you doing?”

“King Crowley turns out was there looking for me. He knew of a curse, a powerful one. He placed it on myself and intended to place it in my brother. But my dad stopped him before he could touch Sam. Then, well then we left town.”

The smoky mist curled around Kyle, ruffling his hair without him noticing. 

“See Kyle, this curse? It only works if put on soulmates. Sam is one of mine but people have lots of soulmates. So Crowley cursed another one of mine eventually and that day, I got my powers. Incredible power, power that when working with my soulmate would be unstoppable. King Crowley isn’t happy though. I was too strong when he tried to capture me, control me. So he went after my brother to try and place the curse on him too to control us. To have power.”

Dean’s trail moved from Kyle to tuck under your chin, yours lifting on instinct. His eyes followed the movement, lip quirking.

“I never wanted to be scary but it’s the only thing that keeps Crowley from coming here and trying to hurt the people I care about again. Reputation is powerful,” said Dean, clasping Kyle on the shoulder. “There’s a few kids playing a game of soccer down past the housing quarters on the greens. Maybe you want to go check it out while I help your sister finish unpacking?”

Kyle looked at you, optimism in his eyes. 

“Alright,” you said, grabbing your phone off the front table and handing it to him. “I want you home by six at the latest, understand? And no leaving the grounds. And Kyle?”

“What?” he groaned, already rushing to put on his sneakers. 

“Have fun,” you said, Kyle scooting outside not five seconds later. Dean watched him take off, humming before he stepped back inside the townhouse.

“Cute kid,” said Dean, his smoke trail spinning all around you. “Reminds me of Sam.”

“What the hell is that?” you said, nodding to where the trail stopped, pointing at you. Dean shrugged. “Is that because I’m magic?”

“You’re not magic, Y/N. I just told you. Crowley put a curse on me.” 

“You said that already.” Dean’s black misty trail pushed forward, pressing forward, stopping at your chest. You stared down, breath hitching. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t use your powers often. You’d be more in tune with sensing others if you did,” he said, gently resting the tip against your skin. You glanced up, Dean cocking his head. “Do you remember the part where I said he cursed another, Y/N? A soulmate of mine. It’s not hard for a man dealing with demon magic like him to find out those sorts of things. So. If you don’t have magic in your blood yet you have powers…powers that allow you to see my also non-magical powers…that makes us…”

You blinked, holding up your hands. “Wait. No. No there’s not way you and me are…”

“So you didn’t eye fuck me the first time we met?” Your cheeks flushed, eyes darting away. “Y/N. Come on. Let’s stop pretending and be realistic.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What exactly does that mean?” 

Dean ran a hand through his hair, letting his hand drop slowly. “It means…it means teach me how you broke into my warehouse so I can get Sam back. After that…we’ll figure that out if Crowley doesn’t catch me.”

You took a few steps away, putting your back to him. 

“Why does Crowley want our power? He’s never come near me. Something doesn’t add up.” There was a presence behind you, causing you to turn and face Dean who had come closer. “Unless he found out after the fact our powers aren’t that same and decided he only needs yours.”

Dean held up a finger pointing it in your face. “You…have good points. He really never came after you ever?”

“Not that I know of.” You hesitated, Dean tilting his head. “Your powers…what do they do?”

Dean took his turn to move away now, slipping past you into your kitchen. He splayed his palms on your kitchen island, shoulders sagging.

“Think of them as…being like the offense on a sports team. They can attack, control, move things.”

“I can’t do that,” you said quietly. You went to the kitchen sink, turning the water to hot, too hot. Meanwhile, Dean eyed you, steam billowing against the cold metal basin. “Just…watch.”

After a beat, you placed your hand under the water, Dean rushing around the island. You held up a hand, his gaze drifting down to where the water rippled over your skin. “It doesn’t hurt me, Dean. Your powers are like offsene? Well, mine are defense I’m pretty sure. It’s like I get a bubble around me.”

Dean reached around you, turning off the water before handing you a hand towel from the counter. He tilted his head, biting his bottom lip.

“You don’t think you can show me how you do that?” he asked. You sighed. He took the towel back when you finished wiping your hand off, one of his black smoky tendrils wrapping around it, holding it up. “Maybe you can try one of my powers first. Can you take the towel?”

With a frown, you concentrated on trying to pluck it away from him but all you managed was to make the bubble around your hand larger, wrapping it around the two of you. Dean looked up and over his shoulder, pouting when he glanced at the misty dome encompassing you.

“You may have a point about us having different powers,” said Dean, touching a finger to the barrier. “Why would Crowley take Sam then?”

“Same reason as always. To get to you. If he kept Sam, he could make you use your powers for whatever he wants. Mine aren’t all that useful to a guy like that. It’s probably why he’s never bothered me.”

“Why curse you then?” he asked. You shrugged, pulling the bubble away and swallowing.

“Maybe the powers don’t work unless both people are cursed? But I guess that doesn’t make sense. I’m younger than you quite a bit,” you said. He scoffed.

“Quite a bit? I’m barely forty, little shit,” he said, breathing deeply. “...Although I don’t remember doing anything with my powers until I was older. Maybe eight, seven?”

“So you couldn’t actually do anything until I was cursed as a baby too.” You leaned back against the counter, Dean settling back against the island with crossed arms. “I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t think I can teach you how to do what I do. I don’t even think about it. It just happens.”

“I understand that feeling,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’ll figure out another way to get Sammy out.” 

“Setting aside the fact we are…soulmates for now,” you said slowly, Dean cautiously meeting your gaze, “I don’t think this plan stops at getting Sam back. Crowley will just come after him again.”

“You sound like you have an idea.” You pressed your lips into a thin line. “Let’s hear it. I hired you to brainstorm this stuff so I’ll take anything at this point.”

“Well, I think we need to figure out what Crowley wants. He’s all powerful so why does he need your power specifically? Crowly rules The Dark Lands. He’s eons old and doesn’t bother humans. So what on earth could he need you for and why now? He had plenty of opportunities to grab Sam over the years. He must be on some kind of deadline. What’s that tell us?” Dean straightened, eyes wide.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of that,” he said, reaching out and cupping your cheeks in his hands, planting a fast kiss on your lips. You barely felt it before he pulled back, licking his lips. “You’re a genius, little thief.”

“Uh, thank you?” He started to jog away for the front door, your throat clearing. “We’re not going to talk about the whole kissing thing just then?”

He froze, spinning around with a smile. “Couldn’t help myself. I uh, I know what Crowley wants I’m pretty sure. I’ll stop over tonight.”

“Dean-” But he was already out the door, jogging towards the main building. “Be careful, ya big idiot.”

Two AM

You jumped awake from your chair on the porch when you heard a car door shut. Dean’s muscle car was in front of the townhouse, his long legs carrying him up the front steps into the light. His eyes were dark, tired, but you saw no injuries on him.

“You worried about me or something?” he teased, sitting down slowly in the seat next to you. A long breath left his lips, his eyes closing. “You back to being terrified of me? Or is it just the nerves of being next to your soulmate?”

“I don’t like cocky guys,” you huffed, Dean chuckling, peeling his eyes open to smirk at you. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” He tilted his head. “It’s flattering really. You’re fated to be with The Dark Lord. You like a bad boy, don’t you.”

“You’re insufferable,” you said. You got up, taking the blanket wrapped around your shoulders with you. “Did you come here to flirt or what?”

“Always so serious,” he said, looking you up and down. “You have anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“Don’t you have your own home?” He hummed. “Why are you here?”

He stood, cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You rose up on your tiptoes, black smoke curling around your body and holding you in a tight embrace. God he was so…gentle? His large hands were holding you, grasping, tugging, yet his lips were slow, soft, teasingly playful.

He grinned when you broke off, nose touching as your hot breath mixed together. “I recall you wanting to revisit that kiss, hm?”

“How do you know we’re romantic soulmates, hm?” you said, Dean chuckling. “God, you’re annoying. I liked you better when I thought you were scary.”

“Oh, I’m terrifying, sweetheart. Just not to the people on my side. Especially not the woman that thinks I’m hot. Or would you like me to show you the security tape from when they brought you in and you couldn’t keep your eyes off me?”

“I was afraid for my life,” you deadpanned. Dean shrugged. “I was!”

“Yet here you are, kissing me twice in one day.” 

“You kissed me-” He pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you.

“Details, sweetheart. Now, I really am starving and I would love to answer all of your questions but I don’t want to disturb Kyle. We can chat in the morning.” He pecked a kiss to your temple before striding off back towards his car.

“What? Why’d you come here then?” He spun around, a tinge of pink on his upper cheeks.

“I realize I left…abruptly. I didn’t want you to worry. I could say it’s because you’re head over heels for me because of the soulmate thing but really, you’re just kind. Kind people tend to worry about other people, even when they don’t quite deserve it yet.”

You crossed your arms, glancing down at your slippers. “Why do you pretend to be this scary bad guy when you’re clearly not him?”

“Because I can do a lot more good behind a mask. Good guy Dean wouldn’t have the connections I do to let me know your former boss wasn’t paying his taxes and has a history of sexual harassment. Good guy Dean certainly wouldn’t know how to get proof of that and how to relay it to authorities.” Your head snapped up, Dean pursing his lips. “You never thought it was curious why police never went after The Dark Lord with all his evil crimes?”

“Your whole thing is…a facade?” He shrugged. “So you don’t torture and kill people who wrong you?”

“I never said that. Stories get embellished is all.” You bit the inside of your cheek, Dean taking a step back. “I’ll see you in the-”

“Kyle’s not home. He made a few friends today. He’s at a sleepover.” Dean took a step forward, looking you up and down. “If you want to...talk now. Only talk.”

“Only talk. I’m good with that.” 

You were hot when you stirred the next morning. Your pillow felt hard as your eyes fluttered open to find a very bare chested Dean under your head. 

“Well good morning,” he whispered, kissing your temple. You narrowed your eyes, Dean breaking out into a laugh. “And they call me the scary one. They ought to see you first thing. Look ready to stab some eyes out.”

“Why are you in my bed shirtless? I do not hookup,” you growled. He shushed you, his large arm curling around your back. 

“Because you invited me to stay? I got ketchup on my shirt after our snack so it’s in the wash…you only have a two bedroom and we had a few beers…so you told me we could share…do you really not remember this?” Okay, maybe once your sleep deprived brain had a moment to think, you did recall inviting him into your bed, even if that had been a somewhat drunken ask. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said, laying back in bed, closing your eyes. “Just thought for a second we…”

“No. We didn’t do anything. But maybe I can cook you dinner sometime.” 

“Maybe,” you said, Dean shifting in bed, feeling his chin rest on your shoulder. “You’re like a puppy aren’t you? Now that I let you in the house you think you can stay.”

“I let you in my house first,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against your arm. “Sam would like to meet you if that’s cool, say thanks in person. He should be up for visitors later.”

“I’ll make sure to stop by. I’m glad he’s safe again.” Dean let out a heavy breath. “You were fuzzy on the details. What exactly did you give to Crowley to get Sam back?”

“It’s funny how much you can get done when you just talk to each other,” said Dean, letting him use your arm as a pillow, your fingers toying with his strands. “It’s well known Crowley’s queen was imprisoned eons ago. Well, turns out the wizard who did it died about fifty years ago after some freak accident.”

“So his magic would start to fade.”

“Exactly. Which meant the queen would die when it did fade on the spell he cast without some intervention. The wizard cursed it so only a soulmate with the curse could open the box. Crowley was running out of time and grabbed Sam as a last resort so to speak. He’s not my favorite person in the world but we came to an agreement to put all this behind us.”

“Sam for the queen,” you said.

“And Crowley sticks to the Darks Lands for the next thousand years. Figured that should keep things quiet for awhile.” You turned your head, Dean looking up through his lashes. “I never would have thought to just talk to the guy without you.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” You reached your free hand around to rest on his bicep. “You’re offense, I’m defense, remember?”

“You know, I don’t actually know if we’re romantic soulmates. Crowley wouldn’t spill on that. We might just be meant to be best friends.” You raised your eyebrows, offering a sleepy smile. “Hey, you asked earlier. I just don’t know if-”

You pressed a finger to his lips, Dean’s eyes darkening. “Why don’t we start with you making me dinner tonight and we’ll go from there?”

“What about Kyle?” he asked.

“While your concern for my little brother is extremely appealing, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind a night at one of his new friends again. Anymore excuses?” Dean pursed his lips, thinking hard. 

“You don’t feel obligated to do this because I’m your boss, right?” You rolled your eyes, Dean batting your hand away to roll on top of you. “Had to check. So. Dinner at seven?”

“Sounds great,” you said, staring up at him, Dean licking his lips. “Better run along, Mr. Dark Lord. Lots of terrorizing on the agenda for today I’m sure.”

“Between the torture and the maiming I mean I’m packed solid,” he teased, bending down, brushing his lips over yours. “Come by the mess hall at noon with Kyle. We have family lunch there on the weekends.”

“Sure thing Mr. Fluffy Lord.” Dean pecked a hard kiss to your lips, pointing a finger at you when he pulled back. “You’re so soft and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep it up, little thief.”

“One time!” you said, Dean smirking, your eyes widening. “How…how’d you know it was more than once?”

“My stock’s been short for the past year. No harm, no foul. Oh,” he said, climbing out of bed, ruffling his hair. “Remind me to talk to Michael about Kyle. He’s been researching it for the past few months and might have a magical fix for his asthma.”

“Months? But you didn’t know-”

“I knew someone was stealing the medicine and while we can’t cure everything, between magic and science, I figured he could solve it and we could put it out there.” You smirked, Dean pointing a finger again. “Do not call me Fluffy Lord.”

“Yes. You’re truly so evil.” 

“Damn right I am,” said Dean. “I got a skull mask and cloak even. Evil incarnate over here.”

“Whatever you say, Fluffy Lord.” You propped yourself up on your elbow, Dean narrowing his eyes playfully. “I hope you enjoyed this because you’re not getting back in my bed until you’ve earned it.”

“Already dreaming about the next time we share a bed, are we?” he teased. You flipped him off, pointing at the door. “Alright. I better get out of here before we have to explain this situation to a twelve year old.”

“Yes, please,” you said, Dean bending down, cupping your chin in his hand. Your heart caught in your throat, Dean smiling softly. 

“Thank you for giving me back Sam, beautiful.” He pressed a linger kiss against you, lifting his head and kissing your forehead. “I’ll see you soon, little thief.”

“Yes you will, Dark Lord.”

_____________

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 6

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: um... CLIFFHANGER?

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.4k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter 6 is here early!!! holy shit. this is the second to last chapter of take a bite, so next week's update will wrap everything up! i don't want to give too much away about what happens in this one, but just for reference... um. P.S. i'm sorry in advance. P.P.S. thank you so much tanni @love4myg for beta reading this chapter for me! you saved my wordy ass from publishing so many run-on sentences.

Chapter 6: Y’all Ain’t Never Been To A Party Before?

“Y/N, YOU WHORE!”

So, many things are happening. Holy shit.

First, to your surprise, midnight kimchijeon with Yoongi last night very quickly devolved into more sex.

You had been a little bit anxious while you watched him cook, and even more anxious while you both ate in relative silence, that the weirdness coming off of Yoongi in waves at the mention of Yijeong had effectively killed the vibe. Thankfully, being bent over his kitchen counter and fucked into oblivion did wonders to kill that worry before it fully took root.

It was… You’ve never been fucked quite like that before. Practically drooling onto the marble beneath you as he pounded into you, his hands gripping at your ass, his gravelly voice in your ear, growling “thank me again. You wanna come? Thank me for fucking you like this, come on, show me how much you fucking like it,” and you did. Fuck, he was mean, but you liked it, you liked it so much.

For somebody who very openly prefers to remain completely stationary (and horizontal, if he can help it), Yoongi sure has a fuckton of stamina. So… score.

Second, due to said stamina and your resulting exhaustion following round two, you ended up staying over at Yoongi’s apartment last night. Which was not the plan originally, but both you and Yoongi were unconvinced that you could safely make the journey down the hall back to your own apartment. When the opportunity to crash on a purple mattress presented itself so enticingly, you were powerless to resist.

You both fell asleep very tired and very unclothed, the latter of which probably would’ve resulted in even more sex come morning—sex you were very much looking forward to—if you hadn’t awoken to approximately seven trillion notifications on your phone from Rina, scaring the absolute piss out of you and forcing you to leave a very confused Yoongi to deal with his morning wood all by his lonesome. 

It’s around eleven in the morning, the latest you’ve slept in months, when you roll into your own apartment, sleep-mussed and fucked out.

Which brings you to the third thing.

Rina is here. Like, here. In your apartment. Not in Paris.

Breaking the sound barrier with her excitement as she looks you up and down, in all of your walk-of-shame glory.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice still scratchy with sleep. You toss your keys on the closest flat surface to give Rina a very confused hug. You missed her, of course. Terribly so, and that outweighs anything else. But also, what?

“What weren’t you doing here?” Rina quips, squeezing you tight in return. “And please tell me the answer is Yoongi.”

It dawns on you that you and Rina haven’t really spoken since you actually went through with everything, being in different time zones and all. ‘Yoongi invited me to his studio where he produces music and then made me come with his tongue so hard I almost died’ didn’t seem like an announcement to be made over text.

“I don’t think that makes sense,” you mumble into her shoulder before pulling away, sheepish. “But yes, I was at Yoongi’s.”

“Slut,” Rina squeals, her hands latching onto your shoulders and shaking you. “I need to meet him.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes widen instantly, slight panic overtaking you as you glance back at your door. You know Rina, and you know that she is not above striding over to Yoongi’s apartment right now and getting a good eyeful for herself.

“Oh my god, Rina, no.” You grab Rina’s hands firmly, pleading. “He’s barely even awake. I promise I’ll tell you every last detail if you don’t do that, holy shit.”

She laughs, pulling her hands away to cross her arms, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. “I’m waiting.”

You sigh, trudging into your kitchen to start a pot of coffee, since you’re clearly going to need it.

“Tell me why you’re in my apartment first,” you say, fishing two mugs out of a cabinet and setting them on the counter. “Not that I mind, but… Paris?”

After the coffee is brewed and doled out, you both move to your couch for a much-needed debriefing of the past few weeks. 

Over your steaming mugs, Rina explains to you that she has come to the liberating realization that the show will in fact go on without her. 

Her stint in Paris, as fun and fabulous as it was, also made her lonely, and once she was confident the theatre company she was collaborating with would do her work justice without her helicoptering over them, Rina immediately booked the first flight to you.

She plans to stick around for an undetermined period of time, as long as you’ll have her, if you’re okay with that—duh, you tell her with a flick to the forehead—and then go home to her boyfriend for a much-needed hiatus from theatre.

Rina tells you everything about Paris: the sightseeing, the shopping. Her show, the reaction it garnered. In return, you give her all of the gory details about Yoongi. All of them, because she’ll sense it if you leave anything out.

You tell her about the night in his studio, how you deliberated and deliberated until you finally gave in, and how you were rewarded with Yoongi’s head between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved.

You tell her about the horribly inappropriate and ridiculously hot sexting that took place in your open floor plan office, how he described in detail what he was going to do to you when he finally got the chance. You hand your phone over without a fight when she demands to read the messages herself, staring down into your mug as she screeches with delight while reading.

You tell her about last night, how Yoongi made good on all of his promises and then some. How he took his time learning the cues of your body. And about the kimchijeon, because it’s really unfair that Yoongi seems to be good at everything.

Rina whistles lowly, raising an eyebrow at you as she takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Okay, I really need to meet him now,” she says.

“There was a weird moment,” you lament, sinking into the couch. “I might be overthinking—”

“Most likely—”

“But, there was definitely a moment,” you continue, firm. You know what you saw. “I got this killer opportunity at work to write about this producer, and Yoongi knows him, so I asked him to put in a good word for me, and he, like, froze up for a second. I don’t know.”

“Was that before or after he fucked your brains out?”

You snort, mumbling into your coffee as you go for a sip. “Between.”

“Okay, so, he’s probably over it if he went back for seconds,” Rina reasons, shrugging. “Why don’t you just ask him about it?”

You shake your head. “If he’s moved past it, I don’t want to bring it up again and risk popping the sex bubble we’re in,” you say. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking. Yoongi’s Yoongi. He would’ve said no if he really wasn’t cool with it.”

Rina hums, nodding sagely. “Don’t pop the sex bubble,” she agrees. “It’s your job, anyway. Using your connections. I’m sure he’s dealt with reporters before, being who he is. He probably gets it.”

Your phone buzzes, and you set your mug down to fish it out from between the couch cushions. “Yeah.”

Speak of the devil.

Once you grab hold of your phone, you’re greeted with a text from Yoongi. It seems he’s been busy since your abrupt departure. 

[11:58] Yoongi: Spoke to Yijeong. He’s going to be at a label party tonight and he’s down to meet you if you’ll go. I’ll take you.

And then, another.

[11:58] Yoongi: Kind of a fancy thing, though. Cocktail attire. Lmk. 

Normally you’d dread everything he’s proposing—uncomfortable shoes at a party where you don’t know a soul wouldn’t be your first choice for a Saturday night—but you find yourself biting your lip to mask the stupid grin forming on your face. You’re getting your interview and there’s a high possibility you’ll get to see Yoongi in a suit? Everything’s coming up Y/N. 

You lift your gaze from your phone to Rina, who looks at you expectantly. 

“Bring any dresses back with you from Paris?”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi swings by to pick you up hours later, you’re more than a little grateful you share a dress size with your best friend. 

Rina did, in fact, bring dresses back with her from Paris, and the second this particular one slipped onto your body she had no choice but to declare that it was yours.

It’s just your style—black, simple, form-fitting enough that you look fucking good in it, but long enough to wear to what is essentially a work event. Lace detailing on the bodice. A teasing slit up the side. And it’s from Paris, and while you don’t particularly love the French for much, they can make a damn garment. Yeah, you want to be buried in this dress.

Yoongi leans against the door jamb, not the slightest bit subtle as his eyes rake over you. You smirk to yourself as you bend down to get your heels on. 

“Pretty dress,” he says, though his tone does little to mask what he’s really thinking. Fuck the party. Under any other circumstances, you’d agree, but duty calls.

“It’s hers,” you say, standing upright and jerking your chin back in Rina’s direction. Rina, who is lingering in your kitchen, very obviously exercising all of her restraint not to crowd Yoongi right now and inspect him like a toy. 

“It’s yours,” she corrects, gritting the words out. Good thing you made her promise to be normal.

You take a moment to look at Yoongi, who, to your delight, is wearing a suit. Black, like your dress. What a pair the two of you make.

“You clean up nice,” you say, drinking in the sight of him just as shamelessly as he did to you. Letting your eyes speak for you.

The suit is simple, also like your dress, but the long lines accentuate his legs, making him look taller. Crisp white shirt. Black tie. Hair styled out of his face. He looks good, and he knows it. You can tell in the way he’s carrying himself.

Yoongi hums, smirking. “So I’ve heard.” He glances behind you, at Rina, and then back at you. “The playwright? Rina?”

You nod, surprised that he was able to recall her name. 

He looks back at Rina, smiling at her. “How was Paris?”

The memory on this man. 

“Great,” Rina says tightly. You’re almost proud of her.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says, eyebrow raising at the weird tension wafting from your kitchen.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says emphatically, and you snort.

“Ah.” You note that the tips of Yoongi’s ears are pink. Yours would be too, if you were in a room with two people who discussed the way you fuck in-depth. “Good things, I hope.”

“Ready to go?” you chirp as you grab your bag, taking pity on Rina. Any more and she’ll snap, you’re sure of it.

Yoongi nods and steps back into the hallway, allowing you to slip out the door. 

“Nice to meet you,” he calls to Rina as you shut the door, and then you’re both moving.

★ ★ ★

The ride to the party itself is uneventful. Although you’re giddy at the confirmation that the sex bubble has indeed remained unpopped, the second you’re seated in Yoongi’s car you shift into work mode. 

The tiny notepad you’d stuffed in your bag is now clutched in your hand, and the near silence in the car is only interrupted with the occasional question or clarification on something you’ve jotted down in your research on Yijeong. Yoongi answers to the best of his knowledge, supplementing where he can, but it’s clear you’ve done your due diligence. You’re ready.

Yoongi’s car comes to a crawl, and you peer out the window at the outrageous mansion he’s brought you to. You’d barely been paying attention when he’d stopped at the gate to give his name for entry, but now that you’re here, you’re struck by the luxury that awaits you on the other side of the passenger door.

A huge, freshly manicured lawn. Equally manicured shrubbery. A neon-lit fountain in the middle of the driveway, right in front of the imposing entryway to the biggest house you’ve ever seen in person. Modern, sleek architecture composing the monolith before you.

Yoongi hops out of the car to walk around to the passenger side and open the door for you. He helps you out, steadying you as your heels connect with the gravel beneath you.

The house is clearly bustling with people, music seeping out into the night as partygoers filter in and out, as others gather on the balconies (plural!) for cigarettes.

“Whose party is this?” you ask, amazed as Yoongi hands his keys off to the valet—a valet, at somebody’s home. 

“Bang Si-Hyuk,” Yoongi says as he watches his car depart without him, clearly not sharing your amazement. Right, you remind yourself. He’s used to this kind of thing. You, however, feel horribly out of your element, even in your Parisian dress.

He offers you his arm and you take it, staring down at your feet as you walk through the gravel so as not to twist your ankle. You can do this. Networking opportunities galore.

The doors to Bang Si-Hyuk’s mansion are opened for the both of you by the two men flanking it, revealing the party unfolding inside. You gawk, clutching your bag and the notebook inside of it, as Yoongi takes your free hand. He gives it a small squeeze before guiding you past the foyer, past clusters of celebrities and executives, caterers balancing trays of tiny hors d'oeuvres, all the way to the bar.

When prompted, Yoongi, predictably, orders an old fashioned. You opt for a vodka martini, something to quell the nerves mounting inside of you. You’ve come a long way from plastic cups of cheap beer at a Western bar, it seems.

The bartender procures your drinks, sliding them over to the both of you on cocktail napkins, and Yoongi clinks his glass against yours.

“You look like you’re going to shit yourself,” he says, grinning into his glass and taking a swig.

“I hate you,” you mumble in kind, letting the vodka warm your throat as you take a sip of your own. “Remind me again why you live in our apartment complex?”

“Because I’m not Bang Si-Hyuk,” he says simply, setting his drink down as a woman with long, sleek hair in a slinky dress approaches the both of you, though her eyes are focused on Yoongi.

She’s gorgeous. You recognize her, but your memory fails you as you come up short on her name.

“Min Yoongi, as I live and breathe,” she says with a dazzling grin as Yoongi extends his arm out to clasp her hand. She takes hold of his easily and doesn’t let go as she continues speaking in a familiar tone. Hm. “What a surprise.”

“Noona,” Yoongi says, mouth quirking up at the corners as he turns his head to you, his hand still clasped in hers. “Y/N, this is Shin Suran.”

Suran like the singer, your brain helpfully pieces together. You’ve heard her songs on the radio before, read about her in Look Here long before you started. She had a single years back that charted like crazy, a single that you personally own. She’s done a song with Dean before. And she seems to know Yoongi very well, based on the way she’s still touching him. Something stirs in your gut.

Suran’s attention finally turns towards you, her hand leaving Yoongi’s at last as she reaches out to shake yours. You set your glass down on the bar behind you, wipe the condensation off on your dress as discreetly as you can.

“Y/N,” she says, tilting her head at you as you take her offered hand and shake. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well. I loved ‘Wine,’” you respond, politely extricating your hand to pick up your glass and take another sip of your drink. It’s true, you did love ‘Wine’ when it came out, and despite your distaste for this interaction in general, Suran is supremely talented, there’s no denying it. Not to mention a potential connection for you, thanks to Yoongi.

Suran laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “I appreciate that,” she says warmly before glancing at Yoongi. “Although, that song wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for Yoongi-yah.”

…Huh?

It clicks then, your brain coming online in an instant. 

Yoongi, your Yoongi—the one who lives down the hall from you, who sends you cat videos while you’re at work, who calls you baby when he fucks you—is Suga. 2017 Hot Trend Award winner Suga. Over one hundred KOMCA credits to his name Suga. That he’s not just your Yoongi, but very likely one of the most famous people in this room. That he might’ve been Suran’s Yoongi, too, at one point.

You’d known that he was famous, sure. You’d been to his studio, seen the awards on the wall, although you’d been to preoccupied with wanting to fuck him to actually read them. His studio setup alone told you that he had money, not to mention the paid driver he sent you, the small flashes of luxury in his otherwise humble apartment. But this…

You realize, to add insult to injury, that the song filtering through the speakers right now is his. 

“Noona,” Yoongi says, his eyes locked on you as he speaks, although you sure as hell aren’t his noona. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

You barely catch their goodbyes, picking up your martini to stare into as Suran departs.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says softly.

“You didn’t tell me you were Suga.” 

The name feels weighty on your tongue. You don’t know why it bothers you so much, that you didn’t know. That he didn’t tell you outright. But it does.

Yoongi shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly, his body stiff next to yours.

“You didn’t ask,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I was hiding it from you.”

“Seems like the kind of thing to lead with,” you mumble back, taking a long swig, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Yeah, I don’t make a habit of doing that,” he says. You lift your head to look at him at the bitter tone in his voice, trying to decipher the look on his face, but you’re at a loss. You’re beginning to realize just how little you know about your neighbor. Your friend. Your… Well, he’s more than that now, isn’t he? 

How many details about Yoongi have you let slip from your memory, while he seems to hold on to every little thing he learns about you?

He polishes off his drink and sets his glass down, pulling his phone from his back pocket to send off a text, not looking up from the screen as he speaks. “Ready to meet Yijeong?”

You sigh, suddenly right back where you were last night when you asked him about Yijeong in the first place, but you nod. “Yeah.”

At the responding buzz, Yoongi pockets his phone and wordlessly leads you through the party. You ignore the way your hand in his feels more like a necessary evil this time around.

★ ★ ★

Jang Yijeong is remarkably handsome, tall and lithe in his suit as he puffs on a cigarette. Meeting him isn’t nearly as nerve wracking as you’d thought, although you’re sure you have Yoongi to thank for that.

As soon as you step foot on the balcony, your brain shifts back into work mode with little effort. You watch as Yoongi and Yijeong greet each other with a hug, which you didn’t expect, and they immediately fall into a rapport that can only come from years of familiarity. Yoongi said he knew Yijeong, but he conveniently left out the fact that they’re, like, besties or something. They’re getting a little annoying, these omissions of Yoongi’s. 

Mercifully, Yoongi seems eager to get out of your way as soon as possible. According to Yijeong, he and Yoongi have been working closely for the past month, so he’s kind of sick of looking at his face anyway.

After a muttered, almost fond ‘go fuck yourself’ from Yoongi, he’s leaving you in Yijeong’s care, both of you sitting on the patio furniture kindly provided by Bang Si-Hyuk on the balcony.

“So,” your interviewee starts, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You must be pretty special, getting Yoongi-yah to make an appearance at one of these things.” He gestures at the fanfare through the balcony doors with his free hand.

“I’m not here to talk about me,” you say shyly, balancing your notepad on your knee as you set your phone to record and slide it onto the table between you, next to an ornate ashtray. “I’m here to talk about you.”

“Very nice,” Yijeong hums, amused. “I’m serious, though. I’ve been going to these since I debuted. Album release parties, award ceremonies, anything I could get an invite to. But I haven’t seen Yoongi at one in years. He hates this shit.”

“When I made the switch to producing, I practically begged him to come out of hiding and be my plus-one. He’s been producing for way longer. He knows the people at these things, knows how to work them if he has to,” he continues. “Yoongi and I have been friends for a long time. He’s practically my brother. But I couldn’t get him to say yes.”

Nothing about that tracks. Yoongi and Yijeong, if your math is mathing correctly, have known each other for the better part of a decade. You’ve only known Yoongi for a month and a half. If he’s as much of a hermit as Yijeong insists, why would he do this for you if Yijeong couldn’t get him to budge?

You think about Suran and how surprised she seemed to see Yoongi. You think about the text you got this afternoon, how he didn’t give any indication that going to this party was outside of his comfort zone. Another omission, except this time you don’t feel annoyance, but something else entirely. Something you don’t dare name. You shift in your seat.

“I’m just saying,” he says warmly, ashing his cigarette in the tray between you, meeting your eyes. “You must be special.”

You don’t know what to say in response, and you know it shows. Yijeong laughs at whatever expression he finds on your face, warmth blooming in your cheeks as your eyes burn holes in the notepad on your knee. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, grinning and raising his hands up in surrender. “Do your worst. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, so I might be a little rusty. But for you, mystery girl, I’m an open book.”

Yijeong speaks to you like an old friend. He tells you about how he fell in love with singing in the fourth grade, when he sang ‘Azalea’ by Maya in front of the eommas and appas of his peers and got a taste of what it’s like to sing for an audience. He opens up to you about losing control of his own voice during his career as an idol, how he didn’t know what was wrong, was wracked with fear over it. 

He tells you about becoming friends with Yoongi, about being taken under his wing to learn a whole new skill and take a new direction with his career. How Yoongi opened a door for him that he didn’t even know existed. You learn that Yijeong has been collaborating with Yoongi for years now without drawing too much attention to it, but now that he can stand alone, he’s ready to step back into the limelight as EL CAPITXN.

You get so enraptured in the conversation, dutifully scribbling notes and asking follow-up questions, that you barely notice that over half an hour has passed by.

“Y/N,” Yijeong says, smiling at you as he wraps up his answer to your last question. You don’t know how to explain it, but it makes so much sense to you that this man is Yoongi’s friend. Maybe it’s the warmth in his voice. “You should probably go rescue Yoongi-yah from those leeches inside.”

“Yeah,” you agree, biting back a smile at the thought of Yoongi braving rookie idols and sleazy executives, trying to find a wall to hug while he waits. For you. He’s doing this for your career, for you. “It was lovely to meet you, Yijeong.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Yijeong insists, watching you knowingly as you pack up your notepad and pen, moving to stand. “Y/N-ah,” he calls, making you pause at the balcony door. “Treat him well, okay?”

Something that you’ve been ignoring for a long time unfurls in your chest.

“I will,” you promise softly.

You push the balcony door open, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you make your way back to the bar. You will rescue Yoongi, want nothing more than to be with him again, but you need the liquid courage now more than ever.

Here’s what you know: You have spent the last three years terrified of falling. Starving yourself from the full breadth of friendship, of intimacy, of love, because of what happened the last time you let yourself have it. You’ve convinced yourself that any man that claims interest in you would do the same in the long run, that being career-driven is a deterrent to love and nobody will ever accept you for who you are.

But you also know this: Yoongi sees you. He understands you. Unlike your ex, he doesn’t feel hurt when you disappear for days on end, lost in your work, because he’s very likely doing the same. And yet he still finds time to read everything that gets published under your name. He offers his studio as a safe haven for you to write when the words stop flowing in your own office. He goes to parties he’d normally rather die than attend just so you can get an interview, because it’s important to you.

You don’t want to starve anymore. Min Yoongi has been staring you in the face for the past month and a half, offering you everything you’ve been scared of since your ex left you three years ago, all alone in a strange city. Offering you all of his support and kindness and closeness like a filling meal. And for the first time in a very long time, you want to try and take a bite.

Terrifyingly, you really, really fucking like him. Not just as a friend.

You finish your martini quickly before weaving through the crowd to find Yoongi. And you do, leaning against the furthest wall. Drink in hand, just like the night you met.

When you approach, he lifts his head and your heart soars when your eyes meet.

“Ready to go?” he asks, none the wiser to your sudden change of heart. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, let’s go.”

★ ★ ★

You barely make it into your shared hallway before you’re on Yoongi, your body pressing against his and your arms looped around his neck as you pull him into a searing kiss. He tastes like whiskey, and normally you’d hate that, but it tastes all the more sweet because it’s on Yoongi’s lips.

It’s so different, now that you’re allowing yourself to really feel it. You fit together so perfectly. His lips feel so right on yours. How could you have been so blind before?

You expect Yoongi to press you against the wall, or slide his hands up the skirt of your dress, or groan your name into your mouth like he can’t get enough of you. You know you can’t get enough of him. In his suit, waiting to be unwrapped like a present.

You want Yoongi to do those things, desperately. You want to pay attention properly this time, you want not to shy away from the intimacy of it all. You want whispered praise in your ear, eye contact while he fucks you, his lips on yours and his stilted moan as he spills inside of you. You want the softness that comes after, for him to clean you up with care and wrap you in his arms. You want to sleep in his bed for a reason other than exhaustion. 

But instead, Yoongi pulls away, grasping your shoulders gently as he creates distance between you. You look up at him, confused.

“Rina’s probably waiting for you,” he says.

“I promise you, she’s not,” you snort. Rina knows better than to expect you home before morning at the earliest. You surge forward, leaning up to chase his lips again, but he remains out of reach.

“Y/N…” Conflicted. 

Right. Of course, duh! You’re getting ahead of yourself. 

You forgot, in the haze of your epiphany, that your last conversation with Yoongi didn’t exactly bode well for your sex bubble. You need to set the record straight, then.

“Yoongi, if this is about earlier… the Suga thing,” you start, leaning in to pepper kisses down his neck, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his tie, loosening it. “I’m not mad, okay?”

Yoongi shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “No, I just…” He trails off, sighing. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Y/N. The friends with benefits thing.”

You freeze.

Dread fills you instantly, replacing all of the warmth that had been inhabiting your body just moments before.

Why now? What’s changed? You know what’s changed for you, but it can’t be the same for him if he’s pulling away from you like this.

Yoongi gently removes your hand from his tie, takes a step back from you. Crushes all of your hope with his next words.

“I just don’t know if I can do this with you.”

With you. 

“Oh,” you breathe. You feel like you’re going to cry. The beginnings of tears are already welling up in your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you say, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I still want to be your friend, Y/N,” Yoongi says, his voice pained, like he can see right through you. You wish he’d stop. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you say, your own voice breaking just a little. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Fuck that. “I’m gonna go home. See you.”

Before he has a chance to say anything else, you’re speedwalking to your apartment, fishing your keys out hurriedly to unlock it and rush in. 

Once you’re inside, you lean back against the door, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor. It feels so similar to the night you met him—running away from him in the hallway, feeling like you can’t breathe once you’re on the other side of the door. Too bad it’s so, so different.

At the sound of the door, Rina comes out from your bedroom, Pepper in tow.

“Y/N? Is that you? I thought for sure you’d be getting dicked down right about n—” You watch her stop in her tracks at the sight of you, her expression laden with concern. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“There are strings,” you sniffle, looking up at your best friend with watery eyes. “And it’s my fault.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Rina breathes, setting Pepper down and immediately joining you on the floor, wrapping her arms around you.

Your mind flashes back to three years ago, in a position not all that different from this one. But that was for a relationship, one that lasted years. One that you foolishly assumed was heading for marriage. Why does this hurt just as much? Why did Yoongi nestle himself into the softest, most vulnerable parts of you just to rip himself away at the last second?

You finally allow yourself to cry.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[chaoticace2005]

The list of regrets I totally have and am not just writing because Charlie is making me, Vagina Vaggie is glaring at me, and I want the free rent:

By Angel Dust, 3 time X-X-X award winner.

(Warning, there is some victim blaming in this. The abuse Angel faces from Val is not his fault, but given that I’m writing this from his perspective I figured it would be something he’d add.)

1. Writing this list

2. Verbally complaining about writing this list cause now Vagina wants to stab me.

3. Only taking half my usual hit before starting today.

4. Complaining about not being high enough.

5. Not hiding my drugs better

6. Not having more stashes of drugs

7. Calling TV superior to radio.

8. Not killing that snake before he had a chance to go to the hotel.

9. Not “trying hard enough” at this shitty hotel.

10. Being too close to roof so the CRAZY BITCH COULD THROW ME OFF OF IT.

11. Walking up the stairs with Pentious only to have to go IMMEDIATELY BACK DOWN.

12. Signing my deal with fucking Valentino. Seriously I’m a fucking idiot.

13. Even suggesting the idea that Charlie should come to the studio. She’s just going to get hurt.

14. Mouthing off to Val.

15. Not getting Charlie out of the hotel sooner

16. Being such a pathetic, dick sucking ho who isn’t good at anything beyond sex.

17. Not being able to take all of this.

18. Not acting well enough cause some this bitchass cat is seeing through me.

19. Ever offering that bitchass cat my services.

20. Pushing Husk’s boundaries

21. Not being my true self.

22. Acting for so long I don’t even really know who my true self is

23. Being a dick to Charlie

24. Being a dick to Husk

25. Being a dick to everyone

26. Putting my dick in a vacuum cleaner.

27. Calling Smiles a creepy dommy daddy.

28. Letting Niffty know about some of my more kinky films. She’s getting ideas…

29. Trying to play poker with Husk (and not even strip poker!)

30. Testing if my venom works on myself (it doesn’t and now I have pink bite marks)

31. Leaving what I used to clean my bites out because somehow Alastor found them and is now TEMPORARILY PARALYZED AND I DONT WANT HIM TO KILL ME WHEN HE CAN MOVE AGAIN.

32. Not answering Val’s texts.

33. Wearing boots. Seriously these things hurt sometimes.

34. Having ugly feet so I can’t NOT wear boots.

35. Tracking mud into the hotel

36. Mentioning sex around the Egg Bois because now I have to explain what it is.

37. Describing sex as something their boss “has never had,” it got back to Pentious and I’m scared.

38. Mentioning “Vox” anywhere in Alastor’s vicinity.

39. Agreeing to play Monopoly with Niffty. In general Monopoly sucks but Niffty likes to get knives involved?!?!

40. Getting addicted to drugs.

41. Getting caught in that alleyway by my BITCHASS brother.

42. Not trying harder for Molly.

43. Not saying goodbye.

44. Fucking overdosing.

45. Doing literally fucking nothing with my life and nothing with my death.

46. Taking the easy was out and doing whatever pops told me to

47. Yelling “FUCK” loudly in church that one time

48. Not teaching these people at the hotel how to FUCKING MAKE SPAGHETTI RIGHT?!

49. Getting high with Cherri.

50. Telling Val to “fuck off”

51. Flirting with that one cannibal guy because now they all seem to want to EAT ME (and not in the sexy way)

52. Leaving those pot brownies out. High cannibals, Egg Boiz, and Nifftys are terrifying.

53. Letting myself be named “Angel” because this makes shit too damn confusing plus I think Niffty wants to KILL ME?!

54. Not spending more time with these losers

55. Not opening myself up to Husk sooner.

56. Being too much of a coward to tell him how I feel.

57. Mentioning Pent has two dicks to Cherri cause she won’t stop asking about it.

58. Not doing enough to save Pentious.

59. Not telling him how much he means to me.

60. Trying to lift way more than I should have. Apparently six arms doesn’t mean I’m super strong.

61. Calling Niss a short motherfucker who nobody likes. I’m sorry, I’ll be better (and call him something even worse next time.)

62. Still being too much of a coward to tell Husk how I feel.

63. Flirting with Husk in Italian when he UNDERSTOOD ME THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME?!

64. Getting a room on the same side of the building as Alastor’s because he keeps laughing at 3 in the morning???

65. Kissing Husk in public. Val is mad.

66. Trying to even have a boyfriend with Val around. It’s stupid.

67. Calling yourself stupid for wanting to have a boyfriend.

68. Giving my boyfriend access to this list.

69. No regrets. Only 69. :D (Jesus Christ you’re a child.)

[xpialidociousy]

Suppression | Choi Mujin x Reader

A/N: I’ve written this about a year ago and I just left it in my drafts so I didn’t proofread this. Hopefully, you’ll still get the story. 

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: 18+, angst, age gap, eventual smut, pining, jealousy

You first joined the gang when you were 19 and only three years after that, you were able to climb the ranks of Dongcheon. Sighing, you collapsed on the couch of the private gym wherein you practice with the other higher ranks.

 “You’re still here?” You abruptly stood up as you look at the source of the voice.

 “Oh... Taeju-yah, you scared me.” I sighed, sitting up and resting my back on the couch. He chuckled and sat beside me.

 “Taeju-yah? I’m older than you by two years, you know?” I rolled my eyes at him.

 “Don’t expect me to call you oppa, please..” He laughed once again and ruffled your hair.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

 I eyed him from head to toe. “You’re not exactly an oppa-type-of-guy. Sorry.”

 He chuckled once again as we both heard two pairs of footsteps entering the gym. I stood up as I greet them.

 “Hyungnim,” Taeju muttered.

 “Sunbae,” I greeted Donghoon-sunbaenim. During my stay here, Donghoon sunbaenim has always guided me and helped me. In a sense, he’s like a father to me.

 “Hey, you guys are still here?” Donghoon asked.

 “Oh, I was just wrapping up when Taeju came in.”

 “Again, careful with the Taeju, I told you I’m older than you.” He wrapped his arm on my shoulder, making contact with my exposed skin. Then his other hand gently pat my head as if to scold me.

 “As I said earlier, don’t expect me to call you oppa.” I whispered back while Donghoon sunbae watched us, laughing at our exchange.

 “I won’t be surprised if you two end up marrying each other.”

 I glared at him. “Sunbae, please.”

 “I don’t know why you’re assuming that I’ll get married at all, Hyung-nim.” - Taeju

 “Yes, bold of you to assume that someone would marry this guy.”

 “Woah, make sure you will not eat your words once you fall in love with me and force me into marrying you.”

 “That will never happen, so you can now sleep peacefully.” I pat his shoulder gently.

 “Oh Mujin, are you going to give them your blessings? Because I would.” That’s when I realized that the boss of Dongcheon was also standing behind Donghoon sunbae.

 “Sir,” I bowed.

 “Eyyy no need to call Hyungnim boss or sir when it’s just us.” Taeju said. “Right, Hyung?”

 I was dazed, his eyes were fixed on me. Have I mentioned that I have a tiny crush on the mob boss, Choi Mujin? I mean, who doesn’t?

 “Right,” Donghoon sunbae encourages, putting his arm over the boss’ shoulder, he can freely do that because Mujin is wayyyy younger than he is.

 After waiting for any reaction, I began to ask. “So, uhm, what should I call you si- uhm.” I start to blabber nonsense, I wish that I did not, but as I said.... I have a little crush for the boss.

 “Mujin, just call me Mujin casually, Y/N.” He said as he intently stared me to my eyes, oh boy. 

 Thankfully, Taeju butted in. “So I can call you Mujin too, right Hyung?”

 Mujin slightly smirked as he reluctantly took his eyes off of her, eyes temporarily settling at Taeju’s. “I clearly said Y/N, Taeju-yah.”

 Taeju sighed. “Arasseo,” he gripped my right arm in his hand and bowed at the two older men. “Then... we’ll be going now, Hyung-deul.”

 The two nodded at us before Taeju started dragging me out. “Wait, where are you taking me? I didn’t agree to your date proposal.”

 He squinted his eyes on me. “Shut up.”

 When the two kids left the room, Mujin found himself staring at the girl who was over 10 years younger his age while Donghoon’s laughs filled the room.

 “Is there really something between them?” He asked as soon as they disappeared.

 Donghoon found his answer interesting. “Why? Are you afraid that she isn’t good enough for your favorite Jung Taeju?”

Mujin shook his head as he look at Donghoon. Mujin knew that you were Donghoon’s favorite, sometimes he thinks Donghoon acts like your father. It makes sense, you and Donghoon has some similarities though it’s hard for Mujin to talk to you yet.

 An idea came into Donghoon’s mind as he watched Mujin. His eyes were on him but it was obvious that he was thinking about something else.

 “Don’t tell me..” Donghoon said, thinking it was absurd. “No, right?”

 Mujin was suddenly brought out from his thoughts. “What?”

 Donghoon stared at him longer for a moment, still observing Mujin’s face.

 Mujin found this weird so he took a step back. “What?”

 But the older guy only looked away and shook his head. “nothing,” Then he started walking to the ring.

 “What was that??”

 “Nevermind, it’s just nonsense.”

 For the next two years, me and Mujin became closer and it wasn’t awkward for us to talk about things anymore. We become a lot more friendly but not like how friendly I am with Taeju. He’s also overprotective with his people but not in a way similar to Donghoon. Though it confuses me, I find this side of him warm.

He stood from the bar and went off to look for you. You were sent to a mission to kidnap the new supplier of drugs that has been affecting your business for weeks now, you had to wear a rather revealing dress as a dress code to the party. You managed to succeed with the mission, leaving it to the hands of Taeju and Donghoon who carried out the unconscious body of your target from a while ago. 

From a far, Mujin saw her scanning the crowds looking for him. A slight smirk painted on his face thinking that she was only looking for him. He made his way towards her, increasing his speed once he saw males surrounding her bombarding her with questions. Without a word, Mujin managed to slip himself in the crowd, placing his hand on one side of your hip, pulling you against him.

 All the guys looked up to him, irritation was painted on their faces. He wanted to show who she is, at least to him, so smirking he said. “There you are,” whispering it to your ear.

 Mujin waited and Y/N seemed to catch up well as a smile painted to her face and her hand falling on his chest. “Oh, hey love.” you said with that voice. “I’ve been looking for you.” you began to snuggle against him, head falling in his chest. 

 “Sorry, let’s go?” All you replied was a nod. With that, Mujin took off his eyes from you and to the guys who was obviously disappointed. He couldn’t stop flashing them a smug grin as he placed his hand on your back, gently assisting you out of the room. His hand lingered even when you two made it to his car.

 “You’ve done so well..” Mujin complimented and I beamed up, of course, my boss was complimenting me so how can I not feel giddy?

 Mujin still wouldn’t take his eyes off of you.

 “Well, because you did so well and it’s such a waste to go home looking like that. Why don’t we go get dinner first?” Looking like that? Did he thought I was beautiful? You looked up at him and saw him already staring at you.

 “Sure,” that’s when Mujin finally took his eyes off of you as he opened the door to his seat, a hidden smile on his face from his approval of your answer. With that, you followed after him and opened your own door.

 Mujin took you to a rather fancy restaurant, the night was filled with just you two talking. You were admiring how he looked, as did he. His eyes never leaving yours. He watched you all night, from how you cut your steak, to how you laughed when he mentioned something funny and to how you drank the your wine. Your tongue running over your lower lip in an attempt to savor it up to its last drop. And though his thoughts ran wild again from this, he restrained himself, knowing all too well how you would react once he took action for his thoughts.

 And so the night ends by him dropping you off to your unit, both of you restraining yourselves, both thinking how the other would be furious once you’ve done something.

 “Oh right, I almost forgot. Here’s the telecomm,” You held the little device in your hand mid air, waiting for Mujin to take it. His hand extended to yours, fingers lightly grazing yours and you both stilled in that moment for a few seconds, both contemplating whether to hold each other hands but deciding not to do so.

 You look away and opened the door. Bowing you say, “Thank you for the dinner.”

 And all Mujin did was to nod his head, your hand closing the door as you proceed to walk off to your door. Mujin can only watch.

 Spending the next year together only worsen the tension. He wanted you more, but he couldn’t do anything about it. And so he observed you with his eyes, watched how you move and fight, and savor listening to your voice.

 You forget the amount of times you had to remind yourself not to think of lewd things when your boss calls you into his suite, instructing you for a mission. And you always had to remind yourself that he was just being a kind friend whenever he tells you to be careful as you turn your back to him after receiving orders. And he would always wait for you to look at him again whenever you halt in place when he does this, but you never did.

 Just like Donghoon and Taeju, Mujin only wanted you to be safe, there was no other underlying meaning to this. So you always convinced yourself to continue walking out of his office.

 One time, this happened in the presence of Donghoon. The moment you left the room, he asked. “What’s stopping you?”

 Mujin didn’t bother to lie, he knew it was useless. So, instead of answering, he just downed his whiskey, hoping that Donghoon will just drop the subject.

Thankfully, he did.

 You were busy in the gym, training the new guys. Especially Do Gangjae, he has the skills and he’s willed enough to win the brawls. Despite being the maknae, he earned the trust of the older trainees. You were having fun for a while, until you heard the news. 

Donghoon is dead.

 Donghoon, your only father figure.

 When you found out about the truth, you found yourself speechless. Asking yourself and even the ghost of Donghoon if everything was just a lie. Those stories, time, laughters and memories that you’ve shared together, was it all just a lie?

 You didn’t even have the courage to go to his funeral, opting never to associate with him again.

 You cared so much for Donghoon. As much as you care for Mujin and Taeju. So his death, despite his betrayal, was still as painful. What made it even worse is knowing who killed him, and still understanding why he was killed... why it was necessary. 

It was the most important rule of Dongcheon, betray the organization and you will be killed. Surely, Donghoon knew of this risk before he entered the organization as a spy.

 Though Mujin will never say it, you knew he hated the situation too. Donghoon was his most trusted friend, and you knew that, for a moment, he hesitated. But it was the rule of Dongcheon, and without it, the organization will crumble.

 His betrayal changed something in your leader, as well as Taeju. Mujin seemed to draw boundaries now, Taeju started calling him sir/boss/CEO again, so you decided to call him that too. Taeju, at first, didn’t want to strike any conversation with you at all, but he eventually came around. 

Mujin did not. It’s as if he had taken all the steps he made towards you, and now you’re both back to zero. He realized how wrong it was for him to trust someone, given his... profession and lifestyle. He should’ve known better. Everyone will betray him someday. And he would eventually have to kill them. 

 Never did the three of you spend your time together again, eating samgyeopsal at the same place, though Taeju will sometimes offer to treat you somewhere else.

 It all gets worse once Donghoon’s daughter came in the picture. She’s too driven by revenge. At times, you wanted to scare her away, to tell her to escape and rebuild her life, but she was too eager to avenge her dad. A part of you felt for her, for all the times that she had missed Donghoon, he was with you, looking after you like a father. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so fond of you? Maybe you reminded him of his own daughter? But you’ll never know.

 You never had the chance to convince Mujin to let go of his little revenge, believing that he wouldn’t listen to you. He seemed to have grown an interest for Donghoon’s girl. Finding her similar to Donghoon, yet different. She was much braver than him. You understood why Mujin was so interested in her and you knew, that if there was someone who could cause Mujin’s and Dongcheon’s downfall... then it would be her.  So you weren’t that surprised, watching Mujin training her in such late hour. He’s smiling again, you can taste jealousy in your tongue.

 Not really having the energy for other things, you volunteered to handle the deal in Japan, and when you came back.. you found out that Gangjae has killed Donghoon’s daughter, Ji-woo, was it?

 Such tragic life.

 Well, yours isn’t any different.

 For the next two years, Dongcheon only became more powerful. Which meant that there were more enemies. Taeju was in charge of transacting with the dealing of drugs while you were in charge of taking care of Dongcheon’s allies, always sent out to make sure that everything is in order. You thought 2 years would be enough for Mujin to come around, but it turns out that you were wrong. Still, you were happy that he seemed to be doing better now, and if your source was correct, a member of Dongcheon said that Mujin was frequently seeing a woman, though you never knew of her name and face. Except for the fact that Mujin drinks in her tumbler, chamomile. She gives him chamomile tea. 

 Mujin waited for you to enter his office, a glass of whiskey in his left hand. It’s been years, but he still finds himself anticipating every chance that he gets just to get a glimpse of you.

 “How are things with the other gangs? Are they demanding something else?” He asked, eyes on her, scanning her face. As always, she looked beautiful, though he wondered why she was wearing a turtle neck instead of their normal dress shirt.

 “There are no problems as of the moment sir, though Seotaji keeps demanding for more drugs, we were able to settle it.”

 “Demanding?”

 “Yes sir, they have a new leader. But it’s all settled.” Mujin only nodded, eyes moving from your eyes and to your neck. He was surprised by what he saw than what he just heard.

 You realized where he was looking at so you quickly pulled your turtleneck higher, hiding the hickeys.

 “Okay, good work, leave.” He said, turning his chair from her form, downing his alcohol again in an attempt to bury the sting in his chest.

 Who was the bastard that left his mark on you? Did they purposely placed it there to remind Mujin how he can never have you? His mind flashed pictures of you with another man, watching and hearing you gasp and moan for someone else... so when he heard the door close behind you, he tossed his glass of whiskey to the floor, his right hand reaching to his pocket, desperately lighting his cigarette to ease his mind of these pictures.

 Taeju entered the room and had it cleaned up. “Is there a problem, sir?”

 Mujin only shook his head. “Is there anything happening with our members?”

 Taeju was confused, what is it that he wanted to know? Knowing that you entered before him, he must’ve realized it.

 “He’s not from Dongcheon,” Mujin nodded.

 Then who the fuck is he?

 “I’d look into it sir—“

 “Why would you?” Mujin grew defensive all of a sudden. “It’s none of my business, I was just curious..”

 “Just to make sure he wouldn’t bring trouble to the organization.” Taeju said, but the look in his eyes alone was enough confirmation that he did knew of Mujin’s intentions.

 “Okay, do that.” Taeju bowed once again before leaving the room.

 In no time, Taeju found out about your lover. He’s just a gangster from an allied gang. He’s at the same age as you.

 This went on for months, you walking in wearing a turtle neck and Mujin already knowing why. He would just dismiss you after that.

 Today was going to be the same, though when you walked in, you saw a tipsy Mujin. Which has never happened before. “Sir,” you bowed.

 “Again?” He asked, laughing bitterly. He stood up and walked around his desk, stopping just in front of it to sit. “Don’t you guys even rest? Is he that crazy for you?”

 You were flustered. “Sir—“

 “Shh, I don’t wanna hear it.” He shook his head. “Can I blame him? No. No."

Before you can even process his words, your attention was suddenly on his touch, he held your hand in his as gently as he could. He then caressed your fingers, his thumb tracing the ring on your finger. Another mark on you. Whoever this guy was, he certainly knew how to show possession, and it drives Mujin crazy but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

 “Are you marrying him?” He asked.

 Before she could even answer, Taeju entered the office. And she was gone in an instant, thinking about what he just said.

 The next time you saw each other, no one mentioned it again. The silent treatment went on until one day you didn’t show up for work, Taeju had no idea why too. And another day passed, still no you. Mujin grew impatient so he sent Taeju to you, but you were not in your apartment.

 The next day, you showed up late at night, apologizing. Mujin sat in his desk, looking at you. “Where have you been?”

 “I apologize sir—“

 “Wait,” he said, eyes scanning your face. He went down from his desk and took strides to stand in front of you. He lifted his right hand and let it fall on your left cheek, his thumb running over a bruise.

 “What happened to you?” You averted your gaze from him, wanting to hide.

 “It’s... I just got into a fight during—“

 “Stop lying, it’s been years since I last saw you with a bruise.” He knew full well that it wasn’t from an enemy, you had let your guard down, which meant that it was caused by someone you trust. Mujin’s hands started to slightly pull the collar of your dress shirt, looking for other bruises.

“Mujin...” 

 All Mujin could feel was rage. “Where is he?”

 “It’s all settled, Mujin. I finished it—“ Mujin only shook his head, trying to calm himself.

 “Y/N, where is he?” When he was sure that you were alright, Mujin left to look for your ex. When he did found him, he was already bruised with a scar on his face, which is your doing.

 Taeju swung his fist first, while Mujin watched.

 When enough was done, Mujin held the guy’s chin and made him look at his eyes. “Who the fuck do you think you are to do that?” He then swung one punch on the man’s jaw, kicking him repeatedly on his chest. “Fucking. Bastard.”

 He then stopped. “Don’t you dare come near her again. Or I’ll make sure you’ll die slowly in the most painful way possible.”

 As the months go by, the little bruise disappeared. Taeju had learned the truth, he attacked you in your apartment when you were asleep after ending things with him, fortunately, your intense training had helped you. You were staying at Liber for the mean time, Mujin didn’t want to risk it. So you weren’t surprised when he suddenly showed up in front of your door step, asking if you two could talk.

 You served him wine that was left by Taeju. His eyes observed you all the while, something that you’re very used to. When you extended your arm to give him his wine. There was only silence between the two of you. When he finished his glass, Mujin only sat there staring at you, waiting for you to empty your own glass, his eyes focused on your lips. How long has it been since he met you? 8 years? And he’s been wanting to bend you in his desk for 6 years. Pining over you and being content with watching you.

 Feeling nervous under his gaze, you downed the remaining wine on your glass. “You’re not wondering why I’m here?”

 You shook your head.

 “How about everything that I said before? Or how I reacted? Are you not curious as to why I reacted like that?”

 “No sir, I thought it’s because it would’ve been a shame to Dongcheo—“

 “Stop pretending, I know you know it.” Mujin said, his teeth clenching as you watch him close his eyes in frustration. You’d be an idiot, if you still don’t know by now that the leader has romantic feelings for you.

 “Know what sir?” To change the topic, you stood up from the couch. “Do you want some more wine si—“ Mujin gently tugged her hand, causing her to fall on his lap.

 His touch was too much. Too much that she couldn’t find the strength to stand up from his lap. Her mind ran wild when he placed his rough hands on her hips, adjusting her thighs to straddle him, his eyes wandering from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes again.

 “I’ll give you 5 seconds to stand up.” He whispered, looking at her eyes. “5....4.....3.....2....”

 Then his eyes fell on her lips as he gently held her chin. “1,” then he pulled her and kissed her.

 And though Mujin counted, he was expecting for her to pull away, so he was surprised when she rested her hands on his shoulders instead and kissed him back.

 Mujin’s desire only ran wild, his senses were high on alert as they took her in. The feeling of her body against his, her scent, the sound of their lips locking, and the taste of her lips. Suddenly, he felt himself getting drunk of her.

 Y/N thought she would melt, as she felt him gently caressing her arms, rubbing them up and down as if she was fragile. She felt so important, so adored. And if she only knew every thought of Mujin about her, she would definitely feel like a queen. If it was up to him, he could build a statue of her.

 They had to pull away for a while, their eyes opening at the same time. “You’re so beautiful,” Mujin said, scanning her whole face while his hand caressed her cheek, pulling her face close to him again and sticking her forehead to his, closing his eyes. “You taste and feel so good, even better than I imagined.” He then pulled his face away from her to stare at her. “You don’t deserve anything less than perfection, and though I can’t give that to you, I’ll do my best to give you everything that I can.”

 Through his half lidded eyes, Mujin stared in your eyes. “I’ll make sure you won’t ever regret it.... and all I ask in return is for you to stay by my side.”

 He softly traced your facial features with the back of his hand. “Can you do that for me?”

 With this question, you let your hand fall to the face of the man who was letting himself be vulnerable to you, despite of all the betrayals that he went through. “I will stay by your side, even if you don’t ask me to.” Mujin let himself take in the warmth of your hand, your touch drives him crazy that he wondered why he even restrained himself from doing this in the first place, then he would’ve had you for all those years, and you wouldn’t have to suffer from some lowly bastard.

 He nodded at your response before moving his hand from caressing your cheek and to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was deeper. Mujin was eager to taste you, and you let him. Fighting for dominance, you were trying to beat his tongue but when you felt his hands rubbing your thigh, you lost it. Losing your mind, you let him win. Mujin was smirking because of this.

 “Mmmm,” The feel of his rough hands on your soft skin was so addicting. You’ve been touched before, but Mujin’s touch makes you feel like you’re burning up. You wanted more, wanting to feel his warmth, you arch your back and pushed your body closer to his.

 Mujin moaned at the feeling of your chest against his, growing excited by the fact that he could touch you and undress you now, his long time desire. Now that he was distracted, you took your chance to land soft kisses in his jaw and neck. You work on his necktie, loosening it and throwing it somewhere in the room. You then moved to take off his jacket that was tossed somewhere too. You excitedly unbuttoned his dress shirt, aching to feel his skin under your finger tips. Mujin only chuckled at this, helping you unbutton his shirt.

 “So eager for me,” he mused. You pulled away and stared at him through half lidded eyes.

 “Do you even have any idea how badly I wanted to do this?” You whispered, trailing kisses from his jaw, his exposed shoulders and up his neck again to his ear. “Every time you called for me in your office, I wanted nothing but to straddle you in your chair and to just grind into you while leaving kisses in your beautiful neck.”

Mujin felt his cock twitching at your sudden confession. “Is that so?”

 “Yes sir,” He moaned when you started grinding on top of him. “Fuck!” Hands falling on your butt and guiding them to grind against his hard-on. When you finally unbuttoned Mujin’s dress shirt, he took it off and tossed it behind him.

 “As much as I love the feel of your lips, love, I also have my own desires to fulfill.” With that, Mujin pulled you in once again for another hot kiss, this time it was more forceful, you felt the slight burning of your lips. He squeezed your breasts through your clothes and you couldn’t help but moan.

 “Please....” you said as you brushed his hair through your fingers. He held the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it over your head, he pulled away just so he can see you, his eyes filled with lust and burning desire. He expertly unclasped your bra and let them fall down, his eyes dilating at the sight, while he bit his lip with a smirk in his face.

 “So fucking beautiful,” he wasted no time, he pulled you closer and left a trail of kisses in your jaw, sucking everywhere that his lips touched, marking you. Finally. His kisses went down to your neck, finding the spot that made you moan, making sure to bite it and massage it with his tongue afterwards. Your shoulders were not excused, he left his marks too. As his kisses move closer to your breasts, he stopped.

 “Mujin?” He chuckled. “So needy,” he adjusts your position on his lap, making you high enough so that your nipples were on the same level as his lips. He stared at your eyes and you felt his breath on your now perked up left nipple. Then he teasingly licked it.

 “Ahhh...” you let your fingers pull on his hair, pushing him closer to your breasts. He started sucking, then finally, you felt his tongue playing with your nipples. “Shit!” You started grinding your core once again, too turned on.

 Mujin was so satisfied to see you so eager for him. He let go of your nipple with a pop. “So, you have a fetish for nipple sucking.” I felt myself blush from his words. “That’ll be fun, but let’s do that some other time, for now..”

 He moved to your right nipple, doing the same things that he did, he got the same reaction, which was you grinding your core against him. He made sure to leave marks on your breasts too. When he was satisfied, he pushed you up and guided you to clasp your legs on his torso, he then stood up and walked through your bed, not breaking the kiss. You let your hands slide down his heaving chest and the desire to kiss every inch of him took over you.

 Plopping you down to the bed, you took this chance to climb over him. Mujin sighed, knowing he should let you, he then felt your lips on his chest, gently sucking on his skin... he felt weird, never has he been marked before... but he still let you, your lips moved to his tattoo. You pulled away for a second and gave one kiss to it.. just when he though you were gone, you moved your kisses to his nipples. He hissed, strangely liking it. As you move your lips to his other nipple, your hand traveled to unzip his slacks, pushing it lower to palm his hardened member, but he held your hand and turned over, so you were now at the bottom once again.

 His lips fell on your breasts, wanting to feel the soft skin of your love handles... his finger traced your tattoo that was identical to him, while his left hand pulled your shorts down. He once again kissed your neck while his finger rubbed circles over your soaked panties.

 “Mmmmm...” you moaned. Your breath ragged. He bit you the junction of your neck and shoulder and you were losing your mind so you reached down to take off your panties but he stopped you.

 “I want it to be so soaked, love.” He said, kissing you once again, silencing your protests.

 “Mmm please, ahh— touch me please Mujin.” You wanted to feel his finger without the cloth and Mujin pulled away to watch you pleading. He buried his nose into your neck once again, inhaling your scent.

 “Sorry, I won’t be touching you... not yet.” He said before moving down, he then took off your panties in one move and pulled your legs over his shoulders. He slowly left small kisses in your thighs and his beard felt so heavenly in your skin, you watched under you as he buried his nose in your skin, seemingly wanting to take in your scent. He started moving again and you arch your back to get him where you wanted, but to no avail.

 “Mujin please..”

 “So wet for me, so eager, is this how much you want me, love?”

 “Yes—“ before you can even finished, Mujin licked your folds gently eliciting a loud moan from you. “You taste and smell so good,” you arched you back again, wanting nothing but to bury him in your pussy.

 “Please, Mujin.” He didn’t know you’d be the type to plead, but he likes it, so much. So he gave you what you want and began licking your clit, his mouth eating you as if he was starved for a long time. The moans that went out of your mouth were too loud accompanied by your hand in his hair and hearing his name with your gasps and whines made him so eager to draw out every single noise that he can get from you. He buried his nose in your pussy, while he worked his tongue, wanting to get you to come.

 “G-gonna come,”

 “Go on love, go on...” then he felt your body shaking under him, he looked up at you and in no time, you came in his mouth, his tongue helping you to ride out your high. He tasted your cum, loving how you taste, all the while staring at your face. You eyebrows were scrunched up and your eyes were almost closing, mouth open wide and your chest rising and falling. He then stood up for a while, taking off all of his remaining clothes as you watch him, you legs opening at the sight. He pumped his dick with a smirk on his face as he watched how you reacted.

 He then hovered over you once again.

 “W-wait, Mujin... I-I’m overstimulated.” Mujin only kissed your neck.

 “It’s alright. I think you can take it, love. You’ll do well, going to take me so well, right?”

 You had no choice but to nod, wanting to make him feel good.

 “You want this, right? I can stop now..”

 “No, please, please don’t stop.” Mujin nodded and he took your legs to help you lock them around him, they were powerless, looks like you’re only used to coming once. Huh. For a while, he kissed you to wait for you to move on from your high. Hands cupping your breasts and thumbs playing with your nipple, he noticed that he never failed to bring out a moan from you when it comes to your nipples.

 Once he felt you’re alright he placed his arms under yours and held your shoulders, pulling you close to him, his chest  touching yours and that alone can make him come. He slid his member on your folds, up and down, before he slowly entered you. You were already slick, but it still was hard for him to slide through. You buried your nails into his back while being stretched out. “Fuck, Y/N.” Once it was all in, he stopped for a moment, waiting for you to adjust, and when you left a kiss on his neck, Mujin knew he could start.

 He pulled his hips back and slowly pushed it in, making a sound from slapping his hips to your own. “You feel so good... fuck.. so so good,”

 He thrust into you one more time, almost losing his mind on how tight you were. “Mujin...” his thrust starting to get faster, though he always had to remind himself not to get too lost, but it was so hard not to lose control... you feel so good around him.

 “You were made to be mine, love. You were made to be fucked by me— oh,” he can hear your whines, the fact that you can’t even form words struck him. He almost came when he felt you clenching around him. “Shibal—ah.”

 He buried his face in your chest, moaning into your skin as his pace continued to pick up, your moans and whines only got louder. You were now meeting his thrusts, so it made him think that he could still go faster, which made you scream.

 “My noisy princess,” he chuckled, leaving sloppy kisses in every skin that he could reach. He watched as your breasts bounced in each of his thrusts and how you maintained eye contact with him through your half lidded eyes, forehead scrunched up. The image of you made him hornier.

 “I-I’m—“ he was mind blown by how you were able to cum for him again.

 “Good girl, you’re doing so well, princess...” he left kisses on your chests, knowing you were overstimulated once again, which made sense on why you were whining.

 “Mujin—please,”

 “Shhh shhh, you can take it princess, just one more... one more, you’re doing so well.” He caressed your hair, stepped back for a minute moving your legs over his shoulders for a new angle. He pinned your wrists at the side of your head, now satisfied with the fact that he’s face to face with you, so he left sloppy kisses on your lips, muffling your moans.

 “MMMMMM,” you started writhing and he knew that he found your gspot, so he continued in this angle, detaching his lips from yours to bury his forehead to your left shoulder, he was going crazy.

 His thrusts became sloppy so you knew he was coming, you moved your hips a little to create a circular motion and he gasped. “Y/N...” you clenched your pussy to his and he buried his forehead deeper into your neck, leaving a bite on the junction while his finger stimulated your clit, causing you to come for the third time.... it finally caused him to come too, your name repeated like a mantra in your neck as he rode out both of your highs together.

 He pulled out from you as he let himself collapse beside you, the both of you were panting for a moment. When he moved on, he reached for your face and caress it. You were completely used and he knew you couldn’t even stand. He sat up and looked over at you, eyes falling at the pool of cum in your pussy, oozing out of you, he’s beginning to grow turned on again, but you clearly cannot take another round.

 Gently, he kissed your lips as softly as he could, his hands playing with your breasts, and you still reacted. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” And so he carried you to the bathroom and gave you a bath, his hands loving the softness of your skin. You tried to do the same to him but it was hard. He chuckled at this and assured you. “It’s alright, I got it.”

 He reminded you to pee and he washed your feminine area for you, longer than he had to, but it still did the trick. He dried your hair and your body, not wanting you to get sick, then he placed you back on the bed once again, placing a soft kiss beside your head. “Thank you for tonight,”

 All you could reply was a hum and then you fell asleep, Mujin engulfing you in his arms before draping the blanket over the two of you, still amazed at how good you felt against him, he swore never to stop touching you again.

[ceruleanvulpine]

they're so goddamn funny. the cut from martin being like uhh no i think i will not call you by your first name, terrifying new boss?! to this really emphasizes that

a) they've been working together A Lot and

b) peter is a really annoying man. anyone who has more than three conversations with peter gets over their fear enough to start irritatedly interrupting him, which is presumably why he doesn't give people the chance most of the time

(transcripts under the cut)

PETER

Well, if your Archives were a bit better-organized, it wouldn’t have taken me almost three months to find the evidence you needed.

MARTIN

What?

PETER

I’m just saying that we’d all be better off if your Archivist actually knew how to archive.

MARTIN

(enough) Peter.

--

PETER

Anyway, I’m very excited to see this rota you’ve put together.

MARTIN

(overlapping) Oh – oh, okay.

PETER

Never had much of a gift for administration myself – too many variables. Now, this box on the left, that’s the library stuff, yes?

MARTIN

Wh– n,no! That’s the – Those are the dates! I – (clicking) Look, are you sure you don’t want me to teach you; i-it’s a very simple program –

PETER

No, no. Can’t stand computers. Besides, that’s why I have an assistant, isn’t it?

MARTIN

(sighing) Yeah. I guess so.

--

PETER

(patronizing) Martin. It’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. (deep inhale) Your last Archivist saw to that. Honestly, if Elias hadn’t killed that woman, I’d have been very tempted. I warned him she was danger, but he was always –

MARTIN

(overlapping) Peter, Peter!

--

PETER

(long sigh, exasperated) As I said, one of the last shreds of the Circus delivered a gateway into Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe. I went to help, but was too late. Then, your detective friend –

MARTIN

(overlapping) No, she’s not a de–

PETER

(ignoring) – left on one of Elias’s wild goose chases. Then John willfully hurled himself into the coffin. I did not intervene because thankfully, I did not agree to protect your friends from their own idiocy.

[Martin huffs.]

--

So. So what; what does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new entities can be born, that there’s some – some kind of precedent for the Extinction?(slight pause) Peter? (pause) Huh. Maybe he has gone to a party. (clipped exhale) Anyway.

--

PETER

I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I believe you deserve some straight answers.

MARTIN

…But not from you.

PETER

Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable; no, I’m owed a favor by a friend of mine. I’ve asked him to stop by, once he’s back in the country.

MARTIN

You’re not just going to tell me, maybe?

PETER

(can hear the smile) When have I ever?

[Martin sighs the longest sigh he ever did sigh.]

--

PETER

Oh, come now. What would life be without the occasional twist? Oh, speaking of, I’ve had report of a workplace dispute in the library, and I would value your input.

I’m trying to get out of the habit of, what did you call it – sending them away?

[Martin sighs again, weary and longsuffering.]

MARTIN

Fine.

--

MARTIN

Another day, another Extinction scare. The more things change, I guess.

[He sighs again, longer this time. When he picks back up, a familiar squeaky static begins to fade in, quickly.]

MARTIN

I just wish Peter would finally get round to telling me what we’re going to do about it.

PETER

Then I have good news for you!

[Martin sucks in a hard breath, and we hear what sounds like his chair scraping backwards in alarm.]

MARTIN

(admonishing, annoyed) Peter, we have talked about this!

PETER

In my defense, it is still quite funny.

[Martin takes an annoyed breath to keep his cool.]

[eddywoww]

eddywow masterlist

Hi, I'm Eddywow. I write mainly kink related smut fics, so please read the tags and proceed with caution. This is a comprehensive list of all my stuff, so have fun! (all steddie)

18+ ONLY PLS

Join my patreon for exclusive writing!

Click below for more

The Dom Eddie Series Steve downloads a dating app and meets a tattoo artist named Eddie, who just might introduce him to a whole new lifestyle.

Secrets, Secrets Eddie glanced at the username and memorized it. You know, just in case. NotYourBoy22.

Pornstar/Popstar AU Steve (popstar extraordinaire) meets Eddie at a party. He recognizes him but can't quite recall from where...

Ghost Stories Steve pushed away the guilt, the feeling of unease, and kept digging. (monster!eddie au)

Consummate Professional Why couldn't the hot metalhead hit on Steve for once? (nerdy steve and boss eddie)

A Chainsaw and Community Service It's gonna be a weird month, Harrington. (haunted house community service au)

Digging A Grave (That I Can't Fit Into) Eddie didn't like this. It looked fucking bad. (religious trauma au)

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me It'd been 5 years,for fucks sake. (exes au)

Lonely But You Can't Let It Go "Besides, someone has been checking you out for like...the last twenty minutes. Won't stop staring at your legs."(older teacher steve)

Flashbacks "Why's it a secret?" Eddie asked slowly. (childhood friends au)

Uneducated Guesses Verse Eddie meets a receptionist at a kink club that his best friend drags him to. Remember, you're only weird interaction away from some self discovery. (virgin dom eddie au)

I Made Loving You A Blood Sport Mafia Alpha/Omega toxic romance

Such A Fucking Pretty Girl Wlw steddie au

In A Parking Lot Somewhere Omega Eddie/Alpha Steve AU

In My Boxers, Half Stoned Eddie calls a very interesting and demanding phone sex operator. (dom steve/sub eddie)

Maybe Eddie, Maybe Not "I won't tell anyone," Eddie reassured Steve gently, glancing around. "You're pretty convincing. I wouldn't have known if I hadn't been looking for signs." (Alpha Eddie/Omega Steve AU)

Baby Boy, Boy Toy "“Your skin is very skin,” Eddie blurted out, face heating immediately as he realized what he said. “I meant nice. Your- it’s nice. You have nice skin. I sound like a serial killer, oh my god.” (sub eddie/dom steve with age gap)"

First Face That I Saw "Eddie was used to seeing sad people. Sad families, sad parents, loved ones torn up over the ever-moving cycle of life. (funeral director eddie)"

Tentative "Oookay," The woman drew out, one ringed hand sweeping at Stevie's hair. "Hey there, Uhh. You're kind of in my lap. Can you get up?" (wlw steddie popstar/assistant au)

Impressionable Young Minds "Number one rule. Don't talk to strangers. Don't even look at them. (major trigger warnings: horror fic about kidnapping and abuse)"

Bubblegum Girl "F/M steddie fic. Bartender Eddie/Sorority girl Stevie"

And If I Got Your Name Tattooed On Me, Would You Care? “Is this your dad?” The guy asked out of pure confusion and a hint of fear. (moms best friend, age gap au)

A Man In His Church "I know you more than you know yourself, Steve." (demon/religious au)

Vile Things “Again, it’s your choice,” Craig gestured wide with his hands. “No man that isn’t a creep is gonna do what you want them to do, Steve. You know that. That’s why you’re here.” (dead dove bdsm gone wrong)

Gift Fics A collection of gift fics of various flavors.

Torrential Downpour Alpha/omega (warning: watersports)

Dizzy Dizzy Ditzy Eddie wasn't being mean anymore. (groupie au, extreme noncon/dddne/gangbang)

Close Quarters She wanted to ask what exactly she’d done wrong. She wanted to ask why Eddie hadn’t just tried to get a new roommate by now. (college roommate f/f AU)

Only In The Movies "Did you like it?” Eddie asked, not stepping away from the door yet. Blocking Stevie’s path, almost. “The movie?” (age gap f/f somno AU)

[asaarii]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SETTRIGH!! ft: sett reader: fem wc: 758

I LOVE YOU SETT, MY FIRST MAIN AND M7, MY HIGHEST ETERNAL, AND THE MAN WHO GOT ME INTO LEAGUE IN THE FIRST PLACE ADJF9IOLKDJVINDSOKFJNUDOIK,MGBNVFDSIJKLKFKSDP HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY (Jan 14)

You had always admired your husband’s dedication. Whether it was directed to caring for his mother, overseeing the fights in his pit, or even simply just loving you, he’d always make sure that whatever he was doing had his utmost attention. This includes taking care of you on holidays and your birthday. Never once did he forget an important date, every one marked on a calendar with bold red lettering. 

(His handwriting is surprisingly eloquent for someone as gruff as him. You’ll never forget the offended look that crossed his face when you mentioned it to him after visiting him at the pit.

“Wha—? The hell is that supposed to mean?” You merely shrugged, “Dunno, I just never saw you as someone who cared about the way your handwriting looked.”

He even called over Ryo, motioning to the freshly signed stack of papers on his grandiose desk. The assistant had raised a brow, tipping up his straw hat to peer curiously down at the source of his boss’s ire. He lets out a low whistle as he shrugs, “Hate to break it to ya, but she’s right, boss.”

“I’m cuttin’ yer pay.”

“I’m sorry.”)

All but one.

Early on in your relationship, you’d notice he’d never mark down his own birthday. When you had asked about it, he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, his face twisting into an embarrassed, almost pained expression as he let out a sigh. 

“Never really had friends to celebrate it with, y’know? Ma was always there for me, but I don’t want to bother her with somethin’ as dumb as a birthday.”

His response broke your heart. So much so that you couldn’t help but pull him by the fur of his coat, kissing him breathless in spite of his chortled gasp of surprise. His eyes widened before he melted against you. When you’d separated, you stared into his blazing golden eyes, reaching up to trace the faded scares that defined the hardened lines of his face.

“Don’t say stupid things, Sett.” As you break his gaze, you slowly trace your hand down his jaw, stopping just above where his heart hammered against his rib cage. 

(His heart—a mix of Vastaya and human blood, yet so wholly him. 

Your Settrigh.)

“Your birthday isn’t dumb,” you pinch his cheek, vowing to both him and yourself that he would never spend a birthday alone again.

Which brings you to now, years later, still in love with the same man who’d captured your heart all those years ago.

The early morning light filters through the curtains, and a strong arm holds you close to a bare chest. You smile, unable to help the feeling of giddiness that floods your system as you nuzzle closer to your husband. As if unconsciously acknowledging your movement, he draws you impossibly closer, grunting sleepily as his eyes crack open.

He groans at the light hitting his eyes, burying his face into the pillow beside his head whilst you laugh. You sit up first, though not before leaning down to place a lingering kiss on his jawline. Sett sits up mere moments after, stretching his body to rid it of the fatigue garnered only from restful sleep.

You can’t help but stare at him. He’s made of hard muscles that cover every pane of his body, gained through hardships thrown at him over the years with only scars to tell their story. His molten gaze bores into you, teasing yet loving whilst he cocks a brow.

“See somethin’ ya like?”

“Nah,” you tease, “just noticed your stubble growing in again. Makes you look old.” Your hands grasp at a fallen pillow, haphazardly tossing it at Sett’s face before moving to freshen up in the bathroom.

“I’m not old.” The scowl that scrunches his face only proves to further your point, but you’d never tell him that. “Twenty-eight ain’t old, is it?”

“Twenty-nine,” you correct. 

Cold horror settles on his face, his ears flattening on his head as his hand pushes his bangs back. “Holy shit.”

“You forgot didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?” The confusion on his face is adorable, and you can’t help but chuckle.

You motion him to the bathroom, lips now curled into a gentle smile. With a raised brow he makes his way over, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arm. He bends forward per your request though a little reluctant of the mischievous glint in your eye, ear now in range for you to cup it softly, causing it to twitch slightly.

“Happy birthday.”

©asarii 2023 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site