#no established business as usual quite yet

[danny-chase]

the utter disconnect between Tim and Dick in Red Robin #1 is kinda legendary I'm not gonna lie

[hannieehaee]

HOW SWEET

18+ / mdi

summary: after years of an unspoken fight between you and your self-proclaimed enemy, you find yourself forced to work with your life-long rival, kim mingyu, as your father offers him a position at the family bakery. with such forced proximity and endless arguments, how are you supposed to cater to your duties when mingyu's presence brings so much tension to the kitchen?

content: baker!mingyu, enemies to lovers, pining, one sided crush that becomes two sided!, afab reader, smut, teasing, semi public sex (its done in a public establishment but no one is there), breast play, food play (frosting on tits basically), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.4k

a/n: i know nothing about cooking or about how a bakery runs so please take everything here with a grain of salt and just enjoy it for what it is: self-indulgent smut

masterlist | patreon

Twelve years.

Twelve years dedicating yourself to your craft, attending summer camps, taking elective classes, paying for extracurricular classes, working summers at your dad's place, making all effort known to man, yet this is how it all ended.

Maybe claiming this to be the end was slightly dramatic, but that's how it felt at the moment. As you stared up at your dad and the excuse of a man standing next to him, far too cocky for you to allow your anger yo subside.

Today had been an average day. Throughout your life, you were content to admit that most of your days could be categorized as good, especially after years of having found comfortable employment at your father's renown bakery soon after high school (thank you nepotism). Attending culinary school whilst managing a part-time job at your dad's place had been anything but difficult. It was quite an easy and enjoyable job, one in which you could proudly say you'd had the chance to grow up in.

Your father had owned the place since before you could even walk, building it up to become a favorite in your city. Business was always booming, and it just so happened to fulfill your passion for baking — one which your dad had obviously passed down to you, but you weren't complaining. You occasionally took up shifts during high school, only becoming a full-fledged part-time employee during university, recently graduating and upgrading to full time. Life was good and steady.

So, it was fair to say that most of your days were good.

However, there was the occasional day that was ruined by the mere presence of a particular individual.

You hadn't meant to dislike him as much as you did. Anyone who knew you could vow for your likable personality and charismatic demeanor, meaning it was difficult for you to bump heads with people (at least most of the time). But there was just one particular person who made your blood boil from the day you met him. It had been so long ago, you couldn't date back the moment — nor the instance — in which your dislike had begun brewing. Fortunately, the dislike was completely mutual. You didn't have to feel like an asshole for scowling at the man any time you saw him, because you were usually met by a mirror of your expression or an annoyingly frustrating smirk — similar to in this moment.

The frustrating man in question was none other than Kim Mingyu, the resident heartthrob and well known for his passion and talent for baking. Hatred for the insufferable man aside, his abilities as a baker, and chef in general, could not be denied. The mere implication of praise made you gag, but you liked to think you were mature enough to admit talent when you saw it. This was something you'd never verbalize, however, knowing the man to also be one of the cockiest people you'd ever met.

There were a myriad of reasons as to why your current predicament ruined not only your day, but likely many upcoming ones. The main reason could be boiled down to the smile on Mingyu's face as he stood to your father's side. The cockiness emitting from him was enough to get your blood boiling and to create a carnal desire within you to beat him to a pulp.

The reason for his smile, however, was what truly took the cake.

Within the past moments in which you'd been processing your father's words, you remained silent and stagnant before them, leading your father to repeat the cursed sentence once more.

"Mingyu's going to be working with us from now on," he'd said with an innocent smile on his face, unknowing of your feud with the man in question.

Everything had come crashing down in that moment, but any more silence from you would mean Mingyu won this round, which was something you simply could not have — even under these circumstances.

Shaking all the anger and hateful memories from your head, you straightened your back and morphed a smile onto your face, one good enough for your dad to buy and for Mingyu to be unable to judge. Your hand extended as a courtesy, offering itself to Mingyu as a form of welcome, something which your father likely expected from you.

"In that case, welcome to the team," you spoke for the first time, sweetly enough to grant you a satisfied smile from your father. The poor man was blissfully unaware of your dislike for Mingyu, so no blame really fell on him for his blind decision.

Grasping your hand in his larger one, Mingyu shook hands with you, satisfied smile still on his face, "Looking forward to working with you," he said, far too content for you to not want to take him out back and-

"I know you kids already know each other from back when you were in school, so it should be easy for you to show him the ropes, right, kid?", asked your dad, interrupting your violent thoughts.

Your head whipped to him, "Show him the ropes?"

"Yeah. I was thinking you could train him? He's already an amazing baker, but maybe he should shadow you for a few weeks. You know, just in case," your father clarified.

Mingyu's close-lipped grin grew wider somehow, almost as if the knowledge of your discomfort at being around him overpowered his own dislike of your presence.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, dad," you found yourself agreeing against your will.

Your dad clapped his hands once in satisfaction, then proceeding to patting your back in encouragement as he tended to do.

"Thanks, kid. Well, I'll leave you two to it," he then turned to Mingyu, "Welcome to the team, son. Y/N here will show you where you can get your apron and give you a general overview of the place before your first day tomorrow," and with that, he made his exit.

Behind, he left a fuming you and an overly pleased Mingyu. Silence filled the room for a few moments until you found it vital to curse out the infuriating boy in front of you.

But, as per usual, he beat you to it.

"Happy to see me, cupcake?"

God damnit. You forgot about the annoying nicknames he'd insisted on calling you by since meeting back in high school.

Cupcake, baby, sweetheart, sweetiepie, babe, honey, darling. And these were the more tame ones. You did not want to think about the instances in which he'd called you hot stuff or sexy in public. They'd led to public displays of aggression you weren't exactly proud of.

"I thought you were studying culinary abroad. What happened? Got yourself kicked out?," you grumbled, walking over to the back of the restaurant with him following close by.

"Nope. Just decided my expertise could be used back home. And clearly since you seem to be the best they got around here."

It was as if he was allergic to not bugging the shit out of you.

You turned to face him, blinking harshly at the unexpected proximity before taking a step back and responding to his smirk with a frown, "Listen, Mingyu. You heard my dad. I'm in charge of you. If you disregard my authority, I won't hesitate to send your ass running. Do you understand?"

This made his grin grow bigger for some reason. Knowing he was getting under your skin was great for his entertainment.

"Yes, ma'am," he bit his lip in amusement.

Training Mingyu was entirely unnecessary.

To your disdain, he was actually quite good at what he did. It was as if baking was second nature to him, just something he'd somehow been born with.

And worst of all, everyone else working at your dad's shop seemed to notice this and could never let anyone forget.

Every day there was one or another form of praise for Mingyu. Whether it was regarding his baking or his people skills, Mingyu was practically employee of the month as far as you were concerned — despite having been around for only a week. He was an overachiever as always, and it unfortunately always worked in his favor.

Mingyu, as per usual, basked in on the constant praise. He was a social butterfly at heart. Everywhere he went, he left with at least one new friend.

You were suddenly feeling alienated at your own family's business.

"What's with the sour face, pumpkin?" he nudged your shoulder as he joined you on the counter, needlessly helping you frost some cupcakes.

"You're ruining my life."

Okay, that might've been a tad dramatic.

"I've followed your every rule. I'm literally the perfect employee."

"I meant with your presence."

"Princess, I thought we were done with this whole 'will they, won't they' thing. I think what you're feeling might just be sexual frustration."

You puffed out some hot air in frustration, not bothering to look at him as you continued to do your work.

"Do you think my father would fire me if I strangled one of his employees?"

He pretended to ponder over it with a hum, "There's way more fun things you could do to me with your hands," was what he settled with.

"Is flirting with me your new method of torturing me with your presence?"

"Nope. Just decided to find a new approach to make my interest known."

He'd said it so nonchalantly you'd almost missed it. It made you halt your movements, allowing Mingyu to fully take over on what you were doing.

"What?"

"This can't come as news to you. I've been flirting with you since middle school," he kept up his nonchalance, not even looking at you as his eyes remained glued to the task at hand.

"Flirting? You call being the bane of my existence for the past twelve years 'flirting'?", you gaped at him, regaining your snark back and snatching the half-frosted cupcake from his hand.

"Everyone else sees it," he shrugged, "You just need to catch up."

Then he left, putting his hands on some other part of the kitchen and leaving you to ponder on that.

Was this supposed to be a confession?

It was entirely too cliche — competitors turned enemies due to circumstance, with one of them being hopelessly in love with the other.

God, that was a dramatic way of putting it.

It has been suggested by other people in the past. Onlookers, classmates, friends, you name it. Everyone had at some point suggested that Mingyu might have feelings for you (or you for him). That your rivalry was born out of that dumb cliche. Pulling at a girl's pigtails to get her attention.

Maybe it seemed that way from an outside perspective, but your disdain for Mingyu was genuine, and you were certain the feeling was entirely mutual.

You couldn't imagine the thought of Mingyu actually being in love with anyone, much less you. The guy was far too in love with himself to allow room for anyone else. Plus, all past interest he'd shown in you had been through insulting you and getting in your way. What was he, seven?

This was probably just another way of getting in your nerves. There was no reason for him to suddenly confess, after all. He'd already gotten a job at your dad's bakery — the most renown in town. What else could he possibly be after?

You scoffed at the thought, opting to put it in the back of your mind as you finished off the last few cupcakes and boxed them to prepare them for pickup.

Turning around with the boxed cupcakes in hand, you just so happened to make eye contact with Mingyu as he prepared some dough across the room. His annoyingly short sleeves gave perfect view of his strained arms as he battered at the mixture.

You let your eyes wander to his muscular arms for a mere half second, but that was enough for Mingyu to catch you with a smirk and a wink, flexing a little extra just to piss you off. Your eyes rolled as you looked away, but you were pretty sure you felt yourself flush a bit.

Mingyu's looks had been something you'd always attempted to ignore, but fuck, you suddenly felt all the more aware of them after his stupid confession.

Confession, if you could even call it that.

~

It didn't take you long to entirely disregard Mingyu's mind games. No stupid allusion to a crush would get you out of focus, especially not now.

Upon your return from being away at culinary school, your dad had begun instilling more and more trust in you to take care of the shop. As time passed, he'd occasionally be absent in order to test your skills as a trustworthy employee. You were sure even more responsibilities were to fall on your lap soon, and you were hopeful that was the case. You'd performed well so far, and Mingyu's presence was not going to deter that progress.

That instance, however, had not been the only time in which Mingyu decided to mess with your head. Gone were his boyish attempts at bothering you, the many that you'd gotten used to throughout the years. No, now he'd decided to play nice. He decided he'd be helpful and some sick version of charming that would have any other girl swooning.

But not you. You knew better. You weren't sure what game he was playing at, but you weren't going to fall for it like every other person in his vicinity.

Sure, maybe you looked like a dick to everyone else around you, constantly shooting Mingyu down when he'd try and help you out in the kitchen, but they didn't know about your history together. Mingyu had always made it so that you'd be painted as the mean girl. He'd get in your way, sabotage you, question your skills. But he'd always do it in an ingenious way that left you dumbfounded, looking ungrateful and just plain mean.

So when he suddenly decided to play nice, both for any onlookers and for you, it was difficult for you to actually take him seriously.

But still, you couldn't deny the effect his confession had had on you. You might've disregarded it as a simple play of his, but it still remained in your head, itching at you every time he so much as walked into the bakery.

"Sup, babe. Need help with that frosting?"

Speak of the devil.

Not even facing away in a lone corner of the bakery as you worked on a menial task could he take the hint.

"What are we making?", he tried again, now invading your personal space as he peaked at what your hands were working on.

"Is silence an option?"

"You know I'll just keep bugging you til you answer me. Make it easier for the both of us."

His head was now low enough for his chin to rest on your shoulder. His annoyingly strong arms were resting on the counter in front of you. One of them was conveniently rounding your body as he reclined on the counter. It was a pain to admit even to yourself, but the proximity made you lose focus.

God, what was wrong with you?

You'd always known Mingyu to he attractive. Sue you, okay? But his annoying personality was always in the way of any possible attraction you could've had for him. It wasn't until his stupid, idiotic, unnecessary, unprofessional, annoying, fake confession that you'd begun feeling this way. His constant suggestive stares and proximity were not helping your case either.

"Hmm, you need more strength. The consistency's gonna be all off if you do it like this. Here, let me ..."

Then his hands held onto yours, guiding you as you whisked the butter into a creamy consistency.

You couldn't even react. Your fight or flight reaction failed you, instead choosing to freeze at his touch.

Had you ever touched his hand before?

"See? It's like this. You should just use the electric whisk, that way you don't need all this strength- Oh, shit, am I hurting you?"

He backed off a bit, taking note of your frozen state. Fuck. If he noticed you were actually flustered, you were done for.

"No, just get off me, god," you huffed as a cover.

Mingyu scoffed at this, going back to helping you upon realizing he hadn't actually been doing any more harm than usual.

"You make it kinda hard to be nice sometimes, you know? But that's fine. I'll keep doing it. When you least expect it, you won't even remember hating me anymore," he sounded sure of himself.

Now was your turn to scoff, hands working on the frosting despite Mingyu practically doing all the work for you, "What makes you so sure?"

He took a moment to himself to chuckle.

"You're breaking down. Two weeks ago you never would've let me this close to you," he leaned right into your ear for the next part, "It's nice, isn't it? When you're not in denial?"

That's when you finally pushed him off, huffing at his boldness.

"I'm still your boss. Get your ass out of here and get to work."

That was the best cover you could come up with. He had been right. You'd been letting him get away with more and more as the days passed, and now he was messing with your head.

"Yes, ma'am," he was smirking. Your back was facing him, but you knew him well enough to know.

The job in front of you was practically done. Anything else would be overkill and you knew this, but he'd gotten into your head again. His mere presence had distracted you. Again. And the worst thing of all was that he'd been right. You were wearing down. Becoming more susceptible to his flirtatious advances and even forgetting why you hated him in the first place.

Mingyu had never deliberately hurt you in all those years you'd known him, nor had you him. In reality, it had all been a childish feud you'd grown far too used to to ever let go. But at the same time, giving in to him made you feel weak. You couldn't let some stupid charm break you down so easily.

You had to stay strong, even if that meant embarrassing yourself in front of Mingyu every once in a while.

The next development of your reaction to his shamelessness had been the worst. It made you feel like you were existing outside your body, watching yourself slowly crumble under the extra attention he'd been giving you.

By this point, not only were you constantly flustered at his proximity, but you found yourself affected even when he wasn't around. All it took was a few more suggestive glances and the occasional gracing of skin as a lame excuse to pass by when the kitchen was crowded to get you thinking about him outside of work.

You'd even come to dream of him, waking up at 3AM in a cold sweat, gasping for air at the vivid memories of what'd he'd done in your imagination. Seeing him after such instances made you an even bigger mess in the kitchen. It affected your work at times, causing you to require even more unwarranted help for him, thus being in closer proximity and continuing the endless cycle.

The first time it happened was the worst of all. You hadn't known how to handle it. How to behave around him when your mind was clouded with false memories of a Mingyu that didn't exist. It was your first time embarrassing yourself in front of him. Your usual collected demeanor, able to fire back at him without a second thought, was frozen in place.

You'd avoided him all day, knowing you'd lose focus the moment you met his eyes. The way he'd touched you in that dream was between you and God. Even if you liked to deny it, Mingyu was a smart man. He'd trace that look in your eye right back to dirty thoughts and never let you live it down.

Avoiding him was your only option.

But, of course, that was entirely impossible in such a small kitchen. That, and you were pretty sure god just didn't like you very much.

It was an accident. You had practically ran from him the moment he stepped foot in the bakery. You'd even managed to avoid you must of the day, but when your eyes accidentally met, you freaked out, dropping the batter you'd been making in the process.

It had, of course, caused a huge noise, halting everything else happening in the kitchen as Mingyu rushed to your side. You'd gotten your shoes dirty, with some batter even making it to your legs. It was fortunate you'd been wearing a knee-length dress, or else you would've needed a change of clothes.

Unlike what you'd expected, he didn't mock you. He got attention away from you, picking up after you and taking you to the back in order to help you clean up. You were mortified, knowing that the cause of the mess had been the same boy kneeling in front of you, cleaning you with a few rags he'd taken from the kitchen.

Even your current predicament made you blush. He'd been on his knees in your dream too.

"Are you okay? You haven't said anything all day."

He broke the silence, finally looking up at you as he continued to rub at the leftover batter on your legs.

You looked away immediately. This was not a sight you could handle right now.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure? I won't make fun of you. You've already given me enough ammunition, but I held back," he joked, "C'mon. Is something bothering you?"

Letting your eyes find him again, you gulped. His furrowed brows told you he meant it, but you were too distracted by everything else about him. He was wearing a very short-sleeved shirt, and his muscles popped a little extra due to their grip on your leg. The world just wasn't on your side today.

"Just distracted today, I guess."

"Oh. Well, can I take advantage of that, then?", he smiled, "I know I'm the one kneeling, but maybe I still have the upper hand."

He got up then, having finished cleaning you up. He then leaned down, hands on his knees to meet your height as you sat down. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, almost as if he'd been reading your thoughts from the moment you walked in today.

"Are you distracted enough to say yes if I asked you on a date?", his fangs showed as he smiled.

Your eyes widened.

"What? What are you talking about?"

You didn't even process the words. Your mind was still busy thinking about him on his knees.

"No? Okay, I guess I'll try again tomorrow," one of his hands reached to your own, tracing it with his thumb teasingly before standing to his full height again, "I'll break you down soon enough. I'm sure you're aware of that."

With that, he left, clearly satisfied that he'd somehow numbed you. You weren't sure if that was the result of his usual cockiness, or if you'd been too obvious in your avoidance of him today, but it still made you flush.

He was right. He did have the upper hand.

It'd now been a little over a month since Mingyu had begun working at your father's bakery. It had also been only a month since his confession, which had been accompanied by endless heat on your cheeks and an embarrassing burning in your stomach.

Mingyu's flirting had persevered, with a mixture of subtle physical contact, pet names, longing stares, hell, he'd even caught you in a back hug a few times (his large frame dwarfing you from behind was something you prohibited yourself from thinking about after such instances). It was safe to say that you were now pretty convinced that your original assessment had been wrong.

Mingyu did genuinely like you. And he was not shy in his attempts to make you his.

He'd been nonchalant about it, but he'd asked you out a few times so far. When you'd reject him, he'd only chuckle, biting his lip and eyeing you up and down before leaving with satisfaction in his eyes. It was like your constant rejections kept him going. It was driving you insane.

Knowing someone like Mingyu — tall, handsome, intelligent, accomplished, etc. etc. etc. — was so into you was breaking you down little by little. It was safe to say that your attraction to him had grown with the passing of time. There was just something about his insistence that got to you (that and the yummy packaging he happened to come in).

It was winter at the time, which usually came accompanied by lots and lots of business. Whether it was for winter themed celebrations, or the holidays themselves, you received personalized orders quite often. Sometimes you'd even have to manage all the catering when it came to sweets.

Winter also came with its downsides. Such as sickness going around. The kitchen just so happened to be a place small enough for sickness to spread quite quickly. And it just so happened that most of your staff had fallen ill, including your father, who usually liked to oversee this specific time of the year with a watchful eye.

Down to four people, you'd have to handle most of everything on your own for at least the following week.

And, of course, Mingyu just so happened to be one of those people. That left you with Mingyu, yourself, the delivery boy, and some poor unsuspecting soul who'd have to bare witness to the tension that'd undoubtedly fill the bakery while you and Mingyu were there almost completely alone.

It almost made you feel bad for them.

Almost.

"Well, Lucy called in sick. It's just you and me now," was the first thing Mingyu said upon clocking in, already tying his apron behind his back — always tight enough to show off his godly form.

You had already been freaking out at the consistent decrease in healthy employees. This did not help your nerves at all. You were sure the grimace on your face must've shown it.

"W-what? Lucy's gone? We can't get all this work done with only three people, much less just us!", you felt yourself start to freak out.

Mingyu crossed the threshold of the kitchen then, hands going directly to your shoulders to direct your attention to him.

"Listen. I graduated with honors in culinary school, and so did you. We got this, okay? Your dad trusts you to be in charge for a reason," Mingyu reassured.

For once, there was no flirtation or teasing in his voice, but instead compassion.

Somehow, he managed to calm you down immediately. You almost fell for the care in his eyes and initiated a hug to express your gratitude.

Almost.

Snapping out of it, you took his hands off your shoulders and stepped away, huffing out an awkward 'yea, thanks' before walking over to get your own apron. All you got from Mingyu in response was a chuckle, leading you to believe he'd noticed your flustered state.

Whatever. You had more pressing things to worry about today.

~

Three hours into the day, everything was more calm. You'd gotten over the biggest hurdles of your current orders. There were a total of three large catering orders to fulfill, seeing as you'd closed down the shop due to illness suddenly falling to literally all of your employees.

As of now, you and Mingyu had a pretty good handle on it. You'd managed to work smoothly with each other while you didn't bicker.

Currently you were working separately, you decorating the frosting of a mass amount of cupcakes for a winter wedding while Mingyu stood at the opposing counter and worked on the cake, quietly humming some tune as he did so. It was calm and quiet. Quite odd for the two of you.

Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you. But you remained focused.

"You're kind of slow at this."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him.

"I could help you," he sing-sang.

"Are you done with the cake already?"

"What can I say? I'm the best at what I do."

"Is this your plan to get me to like you back? Bug me until I break down?", you finally let yourself look to the side, being met with the sight of a very pleased Mingyu.

"Oh, no, I have way better plans for that."

He didn't say anything after that. Not until you felt a huge presence wrap itself around you from behind, once again taking a hold of your hands and beginning to guide your movements as you frosted the cupcakes with their intricate designs. You weren't sure why you let your body be limp and allow him to do as he wished, but you did so anyway.

Your body worked against you, leaning into him as he got closer to you by the second. It wasn't long until his mouth made it close enough to your ear, breath hitting it and resulting in a barely-there shiver.

"See? It's easier when I help you. Not so bad, is it?", he murmured.

You used your shoulder to nudge him away, creating some distance between you and scoffing at his boldness. You shuffled a few steps away, leaving him leaning against nothing as you continued to do your work. Maybe you were weak, but you would not let yourself fall so easily. That'd mean giving him all the power.

"C'mon. You know this isn't one sided. I've seen how you look at me," he chuckled in disbelief.

You continued to give him the cold shoulder while he took a spot next to you on the counter, a smirk on his face as you petulantly ignored him. It was clear to you he was entertained by the concept of chasing you. It was unfortunate that you also kind of enjoyed it.

Mingyu scoot over more and more by the second, not bothering to be subtle at all.

"So you're saying that these past twelve years have been a genuine feud to you? You actually hate me?", he didn't believe the words as he asked him, disbelief in his tone.

"Shut up, Mingyu."

His body fully faced yours now, only able to see your side profile as you continued to stubbornly work, your attempts in ignoring him decreasing by the minute.

"Well, it wasn't like that for me. I always kind of hoped we'd both come back home from college, fresh and new, and completely forget about the stupid games we played when we were kids," he took a few steps forward, "And I know that you want the same thing. Maybe you didn't plan for it to happen, but now you're changing your mind about me. I'm not an idiot. I know you better than you think."

"It's not like that," you finally turned to face him, exasperated, "It's the forced proximity. You're just getting in my head and-"

"Am I?", he cornered you once again, hands stopping your own from their movements.

"Or maybe I've always been in your head," he turned you to face him, completely crowding you against the counter and leaving not an inch of space between you. Your middles were connected and your chest went up and down in such deep breaths that your upper halves were almost touching.

"I think you want me too. And I think you never really hated me. It was all just in your head. Just a sick amount of sexual tension hidden by some stupid rivalry," his hands locked around your wrists, placing them flat on his chest as he dared lean down.

Contrary to the cold, unaffected facade you wanted to present to him, you gulped up at him. He'd been right with the 'sexual tension' bit. It had been bugging at you for days now, invading your time alone and even, on occasion, your dreams. And now that he stood so close to you, acknowledging that much as he stared down at you with full intent on following through with whatever tension was filling the room at the moment ... it had you heating up, to say the least.

But still, that stubborn part of you at the very back of your brain still insisted on attempting to hit the brakes one last time — even if it was the last thing you actually wanted to do.

"Mingyu-"

"You know, you've never actually rejected me. You've told me you hate me, that I'm the bane of your existence, that you hope I get fired, but you've never actually told me to stop," he interrupted, "So. Tell me. Tell me to stop. Tell me that no part of you wants me back and I'll stop."

He looked at you with a mixture of conviction and self-assuredness in his eye. As if he knew what the outcome of his challenge would be.

A few silent seconds passed. Your body was not cooperating with your mind. The former wanted to pull him down, close the distance and damn any work you had left to do. The latter, though, prevented you from even speaking. Your mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.

Mingyu tilted his head to the side in amusement before putting you out of his misery. One of his hands left the counter where it had been bracketing you against it, coming up to your chin and tilting it upwards, challenging you even further.

"I know you. I know that stubborn brain of yours won't let you admit to defeat. It's one of my favorite things about you," he breathed against you, face close enough that his airy voice landed directly on your lips, "Which is why I'm going to do this for the both of us."

Nowhere in your mind had you ever expected Mingyu to kiss you softly. Up until a month ago, you had never even entertained the thought of it ever actually happening (except maybe once or twice in passing — moments you'd buried deep down due to your burning dislike for him). It didn't come as much of a shock when the first kiss he'd given you was filled with more passion than your body could handle.

Mingyu pressed up against you, with an aggression that suggested any amount of space between you offended him. His hands went to your waist, ensuring there was no escape from this (not that you wanted any). And in a similar fashion, you mimicked the fervor of his kiss, hands already pulling at his hair and earning groans of pleasure vibrating into your mouth.

It was very reminiscent of your relationship. It was a competition. An attempt to show the other who was better, who was in charge.

But as per usual, Mingyu just so happened to get the upper hand.

His lips traveled down to your jaw, finding your neck and leisurely making a home there. Heavy breaths were released by the two of you as you attempted to catch your breaths. Mingyu had started panting out words, but it took your brain a few moments before it could begin processing words after that kiss.

"Fuck ... Can't fucking stand being around you. You drive me insane," he groaned when his hips couldn't help themselves but begin a slow grind against your own.

You still couldn't say anything. Only embarrassing mewls and pathetic excuses for his name would leave your lips as his hands felt you up, the simple movement of his hips already making you lose your mind.

"Made me work so fucking hard for this," his lips found your ear, one had tilting your head to the side so he could bite and the lobe and lick at it teasingly, "But it was all worth it ... Look at you, being so nice and pretty for me."

A sigh left your lips at his whispers. Had your brain been at full function, you would've argued back, would've maybe tried switching your roles and taken charge. But, as embarrassing as it was to admit, turning off your brain and becoming a dumb, brainless version of yourself as he dry humped you to heaven was too enticing to pass up.

His hands made work of both your aprons within seconds, finding comfort under your shirt quickly after. The teasing touch of his cold fingers tracing your skin made your breath hitch, but still no coherent words left you. You continued to be limp against the counter, happy to be sandwiched by him.

"'m just gonna take this off ... Okay, baby? ... Yeah, see? Fuck, so pretty. Show up to work with this pretty thing? Shit ..."

That's how you ended up shirtless in your parents' bakery, a pretty lace number covering your breasts while Mingyu pawed at it with awe. His lips trailed down to your chest, kissing at the bare skin with a starved demeanor. Hands continued to play at your clothed breasts, with your hardened peaks receiving just enough stimulation to have your head falling back.

Mingyu nosed at your skin. His kisses were endless despite the limited skin available. Your mind felt dizzy at such stimulation so close to your nipples. You were aching for more.

Your back arched, pressing your chest closer to his lips and mewling when he took the hint, wrapping his lips around your nipple through the thin fabric of the bralette. Teeth toyed teasingly at you through the cloth, but it still had your eyes fluttering.

Fortunately for you, Mingyu was just as desperate as you for more direct contact, which led him to ripping off the flimsy piece of lace separating him from your breasts. A gasp was all you could do to complain, too distracted to actually scold him for his carelessness when his hands began to teasingly toy at your bare tits, giving you some stimulation, but still not what you were truly aching for.

But as soon as he started, he stopped, pulling an annoyed whine from you.

"Gyu-"

Disregarding you, he reached over to the frosting you'd been working with before he interrupted you. Swiping a few fingers through the cream, he brought his hand forward, causing your eyes to follow it as if entranced.

His movements led you to believe that he wanted you to suck the cream from his hands. Something which made you pulse down south, as embarrassing as it was to admit. But before his fingers reached your awaiting mouth, he redirected them towards his own, humming in exaggerated bliss as he sucked at his own fingers, eyes zeroing down on your face.

Your eyes may have expressed some annoyance, but you both knew you were aching for him.

"Mm, it's good," he hummed, "Wanna try?"

You made it. You knew it was good. But you nodded regardless. You wanted to taste it. Taste him.

He kissed you again, tongue going directly into your mouth and passing any remnants of it from his tongue to yours. Meanwhile, you froze, shirtless, waiting for something, anything else, while he abused your mouth with his tongue.

Embarrassingly enough, you couldn't help but try and suck any sweetness out of his tongue, moaning into his lips as he reacted to you, a slight smirk forming against your face.

"Good, huh?," he smiled satisfied once he pulled away, "But I think it'd taste better if I ..."

Then you felt a sudden coldness on your chest, making you gasp at the cold feeling on your burning skin.

The bastard had smeared frosting on your tits.

Your breath became even heavier than it already was. The falling and rising of your chest said everything your horny brain couldn't muster out. And similarly, Mingyu's breath hitched at the sight, eyes glued directly to your tits with eyes that told you he was pained to not have you in his mouth at this very moment.

So then he remedied that problem.

He started off teasingly, as he always did. His tongue was tentative as it made contact with your cream-battered nipple. The tip of his tongue circled at it, finishing off with what you could only call sheer desperation as he wrapped his mouth around it, suckling at it until nothing was left and refusing to stop there.

One of his hands gripped at your waist harshly, insistent on keeping you folded against him while the other held onto your tit, angling it towards his mouth so he could continue uselessly cleaning it from the mess he'd made. The same happened to your other breast, licking, biting and sucking to the point where you had trouble remaining standing.

"Tastes way better like this," he mumbled with a mouth full of tit.

You'd never seen him like this. So depraved and insistent on making out with your breasts. The usually put-together Mingyu was gone, instead replaced by what embodied the spirit of a hormonal teenager. His groans of pleasure made your head fall back, acting as if he were the one receiving the pleasure. Multiple times he went back for more cream, teasing your nipples with his fingers as he smeared it on you before continuing to clean it up with his tongue.

"Fuck. Thought about doing this so many times. All the dirty, depraved things I've been wanting to do to you in this kitchen," he sighed once he took a break, puffing out a warm breath against the abused skin.

Your head was fully empty by now. There was nothing but hot air swimming up there. Mingyu had made you a useless version of yourself, uncaring about the poise you were supposed to display in your workplace and only wanting to offer yourself up to him to do whatever he wanted.

His lips trailed their way up, hands replacing where his lips had just been, and reconnected your mouths, humming in pleasure at touching you. His hips began moving with yours, forcing you against the counter while your tongues squelched with one another.

"Wanna fuck you. Do you think your dad'll fire me if I fuck you in here?"

"Don't care," you huffed, hands going to his jeans and haphazardly undoing the belt, "I'll fire you if you don't."

He chuckled mid kiss, "Don't worry, pretty. I'll fuck you. We're going to have to work overtime cleaning up from all the dirty things I'm going to do to you."

Aiding you in the removal of his pants, he lowered them just enough to pull his dick out of his boxers, groaning when you took hold of it and began playing with it. The size had your eyes rolling. You'd always assumed, on lonely nights under your sheets, that Mingyu would be well endowed. He was a perfect 10 in every other area of his life, so of course he'd have a big dick. But knowing that the monster you were currently holding in your hand — not even able to circle your entire hand around it — would be breaking its way inside you made you shudder.

In retaliation to your touches, he did the same to you, forcing your pants down to get easy access to your wetness and groaning when he found a mess under your panties.

"This wet, baby? Just kissed you a little and you're this wet for me? I thought you hated me," he gave you a cocky look as his knuckle pressed onto your clit, adding some pressure as he circled it.

You gasped out your response, calling him a dick and squeezing at his tip to get him to shut up.

He must've either taken the hint or taken it as a challenge, opting to readjust his hand so he could push in two fingers, managing to push you onto the counter whilst finger fucking you. The speed of his fingers was precise, hammering in and out of you and curling at the perfect time, hitting that one specific spot inside you that made your voice go a few notes higher.

You couldn't form any words, barely able to keep working him in your hand either. You were completely lost to the pleasure, especially when his mouth climbed back down and went back to your overly sensitive tits. They were swollen and completely abused with spit, but his attention was still more than welcomed.

"Need you to cum before you take me, okay, pretty?," his request was muffled against your breast.

"Want it now," you whined, hips uselessly grinding into his hand.

"Shh. You'll have it, pretty girl. Just, fuck, need you to cum for me just this once, okay? I'll give it to you, I promise. I'll give it to you and never stop," it was easy for Mingyu to lose himself in his dirty talk, but you adored every word that left his lips. He could threaten you with pleasure all he wanted, you'd take it the same way you'd taken all his snark against you all these years.

When he introduced another finger to the mess between your legs, you finally came. You were sure the sight was as messy as it felt, your body arching impossibly closer to the source of pleasure, head thrown back and internment gasps leaving your lips. Your fingers dug into his muscles, unsure of when you'd clawed his shirt off but thankful for the access to his skin.

You were welcomed back to reality by uncharacteristically soft kisses pressed to your neck, moving their way up to your cheeks and then your lips, ending with a pleased hum.

Your eyes finally opened, taking in the boy in front of you, practically fully nude and with his skin now full of scratch marks (courtesy of you), skin sweaty and hair an after-sex mess.

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot."

He chuckled at your bluntness, eyebrows raising in amusement.

"Yeah, pretty. I think you're pretty hot too. Always thought so. Prettiest girl I've ever seen," he managed to turn it into something soft despite the shared knowledge that his aching cock was currently pressed against your thigh.

"You'll fuck me now, right?", you put your arms on his shoulders, pulling him towards you with seduction in your eyes.

"Y-yeah, I- shit, yeah, baby."

Scooting to the edge of the counter, you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him as close as physically possible before reaching down to his hardness. His arms held onto your legs, pulling you towards him and angling your hips so your cunt could face him better.

Deciding to be a tease this time around, you held onto his dick, circling his tip around your clit and sighing at the hot, wet stimulation, earning a similar reaction from him.

"Hmm, fuck. Put it in before I lose my mind."

That was good enough for you.

It took a few moments to get his torturously big length inside you, earning constant cries from you followed by grumbles from Mingyu. He buried his head in your neck, suckling at your skin any time you pulsed a little harder as he intruded inside you.

"Warmest fucking cunt, god," he sighed, "Been wanting to feel you since high school ... Prettiest cunt, oh, fuck. Can I move? Hm? Need to move, baby, tell me I can."

This was the first time you'd ever heard Mingyu beg. And as much as you wanted to bask in it, maybe get him on his knees, pleading to get his fill of you, you were far too gone to do anything more than whine at him to move, to break you and render you useless.

Your mouth dropped open when he began hammering at you, hands wrapped around your thighs and pulling you as close as possibly. His inhuman strength managed to move your body in sync with his thrusts, doing all the work himself as you became a limp doll for him to use. All you provided were cries of his names and red lines drawn down his back. But he seemed to enjoy it. Each scratch, each squeal of his name was met with groans and with an extra harsh thrust into you.

"G-gyu, fuck, just like that. Oh, fuck, please," you had no idea what you were pleading for, but you needed more.

You'd never felt this needy. Never felt such a carnal necessity for a man like you did for Mingyu. It felt like a full circle moment. Your disdain for Mingyu had left you weeks ago, replaced by a sheer thirst for him, but not only sexually. Even as he humped into you, you felt an sense of completeness from being in his hold.

And then, before you knew it, your second orgasm consumed you, causing you to tighten around him and earning an uncharacteristically high cry from him. His hips sped up, desperate to reach his own high, hands practically pulling you off the counter to push your hips against his own. The repetitive slapping of skin was loud and resonated into the empty room.

"Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna get you all pretty and creamy for me," he huffed out between breaths, "Wanna see me dripping down your legs before I clean it all up for you."

And he fulfilled his promise, squirting his cum deep inside you with a groan of your name. Once finished, he finally deflated against you, loud as he attempted to regain his breath back.

There was some silence for a while. Maybe because you both needed time to learn how to breathe again, or maybe because you were both still in shock at the intensity of what'd just happened. Regardless, you held onto each other, uncaring that you were still very much naked in what was supposed to be a public place, creating a safety hazard in your workplace.

"Well, that was ..."

"Yeah," you agreed.

He pulled his head away from your neck, offering you a bashful smile. His hands stayed on you, though, caressing at your skin with a contrasting softness.

"Does this mean you'll go on a date with me, or am I fired for jumping you in the kitchen?"

You laughed, genuinely so. This was probably one of the very rare times in which you did so in front of Mingyu, but you meant it. No longer did you feel like scowling at his presence.

You realized now that his feelings had been mutual. Too many half-baked inferences to his feelings were had in the throes of passion for you to question it anymore.

And maybe the feeling was mutual.

"Yes, Mingyu. I'll let you take me on a date."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, mentions of previous semi-public sex, nipple play (m receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (frosting), etc.

wc: 426 (teaser); 2007 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"I'm very proud of the work the two of you did last week," your dad began, "The workload was too big for two people, but you two managed to get it done. Great job."

When your dad had called you and Mingyu over for a private meeting after last week's events, you had to admit, you were terrified.

After that first day alone playing around in the kitchen and wasting perfectly useful frosting in activities you could never reveal to your father, you ended up having to work the entire rest of the week alone with Mingyu. And it was safe to say that the events of that first day repeated time and time again. The two of you made use of the empty space, disregarding any possible health violations.

Fortunately, your fears of your father possibly finding you out were alleviated by his sudden praise.

You had to agree. It was surprising that you and Mingyu had been able to get all that work done. Not only due to the impossible amount of work, but also because of the constant distractions you provided for the other.

Standing next to you, you could feel Mingyu's enormous sigh of relief at your father's words. Before making your way into his office, the poor boy's tanned skin had gone pale at the paranoia of what was to come.

"Maybe when this one takes over for me, you could he her second in command," he turned to Mingyu with a smile, "The two of you make a great team. And for your hard work, I'd like to give you the day off. Full pay, and you can also take one of the leftovers cakes from last night."

Before you could respond with wonder, your dad spoke up again.

"Here. Take my car keys. You kids go have fun," he patted your back as he walked away, leaving the two of you in his office as he went back to the bustling kitchen.

The two of you stood there, not having expected such sudden reward. It had only been one day since everyone came back to work, joining you and Mingyu with the heavy workload that always accompanied winter, yet you were suddenly being offered time off and free pastries.

"I think your dad wants us to have se-"

"Don't finish that sentence," you slapped at his chest, earning a wince.

"I mean. A car, money, cake? Do you remember what we did last time we had cake at our disposition? I ate it off of your-"

"Mingyu!"

"Okay, fine!"

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[inknopewetrust]

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬

summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂‍↔���, HotD themes.

quick links: masterlist | gif credit: @seaside-storm

The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.

You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.

It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.

It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.

Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.

And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.

It was a reward for service you did not mind.

Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.

But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.

One of them stalked the building in a fume.

The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.

In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.

Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.

It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.

Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.

Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.

He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.

“Y/N.”

Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.

“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.

“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.

You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.

“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”

“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”

“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.

“It is for the one we do not speak of.”

Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.

She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.

He was a magnificent creature.

Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.

It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.

It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.

Dreams. That is all that it would remain.

“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.

“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. ���One that will pay you well for your service.”

“The receiver is willing?”

“Yes.”

Her alcove was far nicer than yours.

Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.

It was the first time you had been invited into the space.

Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.

“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.

“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.

“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.

On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.

With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.

“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.

“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.

There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.

The total jostled you.

You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.

But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.

“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“

“I have no intention of humiliating you.”

The voice cut through glass.

Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.

He was ethereal, otherworldly.

And he was fully nude.

You stuttered stupidly to greet him.

“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”

He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.

He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.

“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.

“This is she?”

She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.

“And the terms have been accepted?”

“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.

“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”

You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.

He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.

Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.

He was testing the waters.

You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.

He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.

Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.

“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”

At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.

Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.

“Where are you from?”

You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.

You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.

“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.

“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.

You shook your head, “no.”

“Did you enjoy it there?”

“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”

“May I?”

You had never had a patron ask permission before either.

You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.

“You may, Aemond.”

His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.

He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.

Sylvi had been right. He did need this.

Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.

He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.

You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.

It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.

“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.

“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.

“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.

With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.

“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”

You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.

Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.

“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”

He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.

“I can be slow, My Prince.”

“Aemond,” he corrected you.

“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.

“I do not need you to be slow.”

You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.

If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.

“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”

He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.

Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.

You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.

In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.

“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.

He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.

“Yes?” He was near breathless.

You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.

“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”

“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.

He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.

It was a change and it was working for him.

You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.

Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.

You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.

Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.

But he was in another world.

Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.

Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.

You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.

With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.

How his blue gem gleamed at you…

As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.

The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.

She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.

He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.

“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.

“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.

She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.

You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.

“Aem—“

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.

“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.

Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.

It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.

Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.

“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.

You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.

“I did not either.”

“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”

You needn’t be asked twice.

Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.

You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.

“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.

“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.

“A kind woman.”

“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.

One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.

“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”

He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.

They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.

Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.

“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.

“F-fuck.”

The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.

He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”

“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”

The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”

He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.

And then he slid in.

Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.

He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.

It was sinful to feel so good.

He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.

Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.

But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.

Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.

“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.

You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.

You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.

“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.

“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”

Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.

He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.

Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.

His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.

Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.

If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.

“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.

“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.

“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”

As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.

You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.

“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”

“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”

His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.

“You are not weak.”

“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”

“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”

He knew it to be true.

Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.

Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.

You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.

So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.

“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.

Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.

Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.

Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.

He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.

Aemond would never confess why he did it.

It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.

You revived him.

And he barely knew you.

When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.

The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.

So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.

[carbonfiction]

Dark Desires

older, best friends dad!Logan x reader

summary: a week ago you found yourself drunk texting your best friends dad; something that should've been a mistake, but you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would know everything you'd kept from him all those years. You'd been thinking about it for longer than you'd care to admit; adding to the fantasy. so what happens when logan finally indulges you..

warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, F!Receiving oral, PIV smut, prone bone and missionary, Somnophilla (technically??), daddy kink, roleplay?? pussy sniffing?? Kind of voyeurism? But the person is very much asleep. Also tagging this for dubcon but it’s more pre established consent/free use and slight CNC vibes depending on how you view it? Tagged this the best i believe i can but ultimately you are responsible for your media consumption.

A/N: i don't know where this came from, other than i had a glass of wine and a naughty thought. i tried real hard on this and its a little darker than i usually write- not to mention longer- but i hope yall enjoy a filth filled piece of my intoxicated brain anyway. Et voilà.

Masterlist Words: little over 4k (oop- longest thing ive ever written.. i got carried away..)

Your heart is hammering away inside of your chest so insistently that it feels like your ribs are bruised and your breasts are trying to punch their way out of your dress.

You're still wearing the stupid thing and Laura is drinking another mimosa. Part of you is grateful for that. Yet while you want her drunk and snoring tonight, part of you can't help trying to stop her.

You make eye contact, give her the look. Tell her to slow down because you two have been down this road before. She gets wild, has fun for half an hour, and then spends the rest of the night dizzy in a bathroom asking deep philosophical questions like why do my eyes hurt? And why do guys suck? And do i still have puke in my hair?

But if she's drunk tonight, just enough to sleep like the dead, then what?

You set your own drink aside to check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour and lift a shaky thumb to your texts.

You've read the thread again and again and again, and still you don't quite believe it. The party swirls around you. A hurricane of sound and the smell of cocktails is sour in your nose. You feel the heat of your friends, your fellow graduates. one day lawyers, doctors, professors, professionals in their field; and yet here you are reading over the texts again.

You feel like a little girl and yet simultaneously the most grown of women because you have a secret, a dirty little secret.

You were nearly as drunk as Laura is now when you sent the first text a week ago. You were celebrating the end of finals and you were curled up in bed after a long night out.

One of your other friends had flirted with the bartender. You'd told the girl to stop and Laura had reached from her stool and pinched your leg. Asking if you'd ever needed something so badly that you actually made a bad decision.

Everyone had laughed, all except you.

You know she was teasing and complimenting in the same breath. You're a good girl and everybody knows it. Reliable, honest and never involved with the wrong kind of guys.. Always a reason to why you were too busy to bother. You were studying, too busy hanging out with Laura. Too busy prepping for school, internships and the next two decades of your life.

You're no angel, although of course, no one was. You've had your share of regrettable hookups and disappointing boyfriends, but nothing that set your world alight. Nothing worth risking anything for.

But maybe what Laura had said thread under your skin more than you'd like to admit. Maybe you were just drunk enough to ignore the obvious risk.. Or was it that you'd been thinking about him for an indecently long amount of time?

So with finals over, diploma practically in hand. There was nothing preventing years of pent up lust from sending a jolt down between your legs, setting a crackling fire in your heart and making you sweat. Dripping down your neck, stomach, that spot on your lower back, they all tingled as you crouched on the corner of your bed and wrote a single text.

You: I need something.

You sent it. Had forced yourself to before you chickened out and immediately regretted it. You thought you'd worded it in such a way that you could play it off, pretend it didn't happen.

But you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would read those three words and know everything you'd kept from him all those years. Every dirty thought, every horny fantasy, everything.

It was all right there in the text. 2am on a Thursday night and truly it could only mean one thing. You put the phone down, tried to make yourself go to sleep.

Logan was an older man with a life. A job, house and a child- your best friend- and you were sure he wouldn't even see the stupid thing until the morning when you could say you meant to message Laura. Not him, not her father. But then you picked up the phone again, half panicked and ready to change your mind, when you'd saw those little dots.

That meant he was writing something back, at 2am on a Thursday night, either in bed or his limo.

Logan: You need to go to sleep

Of course.. Responsible. That was the responsible thing to do. And you would do just that. But first you'd just write a quick text to apologize. Say it was the wrong number and sleep this off; pretend it didn't happen for the rest of your lives.

But.. what if, for once in your life, it could be easy? What if Logan did know everything? What if.. There was something else? Because that was how this all started, hadn't it?

You'd always felt something more, saw something different in his worn eyes, his gruff demeanor. Heard something he was saying when he really wasn't saying anything at all.

Or.. Was it all in your head? Was this only ever a one way infatuation? A young woman's crush, a dark fantasy that only grew darker with each new kink you discovered in yourself? Losing all confidence, you texted back.

You: sorry. Wrong number.

And that was that- or it should've been that- If it was only ever a one way street. You put the phone down, tried desperately to keep your eyes closed, but the moment you heard the phone buzz again you peek.

Logan: Is that true sweetheart?

Oh no, no. it wasn't true at all. You knew he knew exactly who'd texted and why; what you wanted him to do. You'd been thinking about it for years. Adding to the fantasy. Soaking your sheets in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, all that brought a temporary relief. If only for a little while; So, you text back.

You: No

Just that. A simple No.

Logan: You telling a lie?

You: Not exactly

Logan: So you wanted my attention then?

You: Wanted? No Logan.. Need.

And yes, you know need is a very strong word.

Logan: You feel very strongly about that huh? Strong feelings can be dangerous sweetheart.

You: what if i want something dangerous.

You answered back with the most honest thing you could say. And then there was a pause, a very long pause, in which you could see no dots, and even started to wonder if he'd abandoned you. Left you on read.

A thousand images erupted in your mind, different versions of him sitting and staring at your number- your words. Those cheap reading glasses perched on his nose as he wondered if this was some kind of game.

But if it was a game.. Logan was ready to play and after a few minutes your phone dings again.

Logan: you're being a real bad girl tonight, aren't you?

And then it wasn't your best friend's father you were texting. Well, it very much was- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? But now it was also the man. The man on the other side of the phone who was paying close attention.

You: Yes, daddy. very, very bad.

Now, In the darkness of his daughter's room, You imagine colors swirling on her ceiling. Your heart restless like a caged animal and there is a knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

You don't know how long you've been lying here. 5 minutes or 5 hours. But you know you can't possibly wait another moment... But then you do, because you have to.

You haven't heard from Logan all day and that makes you afraid. Really genuinely afraid that He's forgotten or changed his mind.

Because, well, it's just you and Laura in here, isn't it? You're lying on the floor, a lumpy pillow under your head, and a spare, slightly musty blanket folded under your breasts.

Laura is snoring away in her bed, her limbs tangled with a stuffed animal almost the size of her- one you'd won her from a carnival. It was like old times, she slurred drunkenly. The three of you huddled together in her bed, giggling and watching some crappy reality show.

She'd tried to get you to join her and the animal in the bed, but you'd said no. Insisted that it was too hot tonight. That you'd rather be able to spread out on the floor. Fortunately, by the time you made it up to Laura's room, she was too far gone to argue.

Unfortunately, now though, there's a very drunk girl in her bed beside you, a possible witness to your depravity. And so you lie there, staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself not to text. Not to call. To just ignore the nagging doubt in your gut.

And yet again, you still find yourself opening the text thread. Reading through the things you told him, the things he'd told you. A formed plan and line after line of you promising things. All of the 'Yes, daddy I want this' the 'Please do that to me' The repetitive 'ill be a good girl, Promise' And then, at the very bottom, a safe word. It was when you'd agreed on the safe word that you knew this was for real. Not a fiction in a book or a fantasy playing out in a movie.

The word. Kitty. An inside joke from years ago. The word proof that all the little confidences and conversations held an attraction you were both willing to hide for the sake of decency

But.. you don't want to be decent anymore. You'd confided your fantasy, one that you had dreamt so many nights. Wished for it in the hot, comfortable haven of Laura's bed every time you'd stayed over. The thought of her older, attractively gruff father coming to you in the night and making you submit to his secret lust.

Of him pulling your panties to the side while Laura slept untroubled. Logan ravishing you while you whispered and mewled 'please, daddy, make me your filthy slut'

You've always been his filthy slut, haven't you? Deep In your heart. The thought is turning the wet spot between your legs into a soggen menace. You've been horny before, You've been needy before, but never like this- because you've never tried something like this.

Never wanted something badly enough to ask for it; or even beg for it. This was a dream, a dirty desire, a secret yearning never to be true.

Then you'd drunk texted. You told him and he'd responded, not with shock or disgust, but enthusiasm, cautious enthusiasm. But it was still only text messages. You haven't spoken to him yet, not properly at least. Even when you saw him walk in at the party, or in the limo on the way back to Laura's. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. Your mouth was so dry, cheeks so hot. Laura had laughed and said you were flushed in the backseat- a lightweight to end all lightweights- when in fact you haven't had a drop to drink tonight.

You're going to throw your phone at the wall, you swear it. But No, that would probably wake her up. Instead, you conclude that you're going to find your pants, and you're going to leave this house and never come back. You love Laura but you can't bear it, can't believe you trusted him with this. You can't lie here and torment yourself about your decisions a minute longer about your need.

Then, your heart leaps into your throat. phone dropping onto your chest with a soft thud. Quickly you brush it off and turn onto your stomach. Your head hitting the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and pulse racing like you've run a marathon.

Through your closed eyelids, you see the glow of the hall light from the open door, only for it to vanish moments later. Either the door has closed or the light's been turned off, but you're not sure which because blood is racing so loudly in your ears. Breath escaping in overwhelming gasps.

Do you hear calculated heavy footsteps or is that your imagination? You struggle to listen for Laura. Is she awake or still sleeping? The tension so tight in your chest that you begin to feel dizzy, almost nauseous. Then comes the creak of the floor at the foot of your makeshift bed, the unmistakable presence of another person in the room, their eyes on you.

You can't stop your body from trembling slightly as the sheet is softly yanked away. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your body buzz with anticipation.

Your legs are bare the cool air of Laura's bedroom. You're laying on your stomach. Face pushed into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as if you're locked into a deep, drunken sleep- like you should be.

Your legs are splayed out, dark lacey panties riding up the crevice of your ass. One of your ass cheek's indecently exposed... then a rough touch caresses over the swell of that exposed cheek, two big exploring hands, gliding over you.

You hear the grunt of a man, and you know it can only be Logan. He's the only other person home.

Your heart is beating so hard you're afraid you're going to pass out. Laura is on the bed, sleeping mere feet away, and her father is groping you in your supposed sleep.

So the question becomes: are you dreaming now? or are you praying this is as far as he'll go?

when Logan pull's the fabric of your panties to the side, you know he's willing to go much further. He's quiet in the darkness around you, but he's big and the house is old; the floor creaking and groaning as he readjust's his heavy weight.

Your panties are roughly hiked over one cheek of your ass, the sound of ripping lace filling your ears. Logan's hot breath roll's over your ass and the tremble in your limbs becomes a full shiver.

You can feel his scruffy face so close to your body, Feel his nose against the crevice of your ass as he roves lower. Dipping further until his mouth- his nose - is pressed into the folds of your bared cunt.

You hear how he inhales deeply, toes curling in response. Your fingers lay over Laura's spare pillow, the case tight in your grip. He's smelling you, nuzzling against your dampening skin not once, but many times. Lewdly breathing in your scent like a dog that's found something it likes.

His calloused hands spread you open so he can breathe deeper still and when hes as deep into your cunt as his face will allow, his wet tongue slides out to lick at you. You cannot stifle your moan at the feeling, immediately biting your lip to keep from growing any louder.

But with this the culmination of so many fevered late night fantasies, you dont know if you are dreaming.

His wide tongue laps at your swollen clit, swiping open the seam of your pussy and to the point just shy of your tighter hole. You hear logan growl into your wet slit like a monster unleashed from beneath the bed. Feeling how how his licks grow stronger, longer and twice as ravenous as he steadily turn your pussy into a drooling, dripping mess.

He laps at you in the quiet darkness of Laura's room, calculated and experienced as you fight to not to cry out. The pressure of an impending orgasm building so tight in your body that it feels time you woke up.

And so you take a deep breath, a rough gasped sound falling out too. Your fingers claw at the pillow as you flex your lower half.

"Hmm?"You grumble, pretending to bat away the cobwebs of sleep. "Wha-whats happening, What are you doing?" You ask, voice thick with mock confusion.

Within moments you feel Logan's tongue retreat from your pussy, a weight so much heavier than your own crawl over your half naked body. You feel him pressed tight against you, still clothed if the scratchy fabric tells you anything, but an unmistakable bulge is hidden inside. Hard and large against your ass you feel Logan's arm rub against your shoulder. A big hand sliding over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart" he growls in your ear. "Daddy's had enough of your teasing"

Another large hand slides beneath your sleep shirt to cup your tender tits, The nipples diamond hard against Logan's palm. You cant help but moan into his hand as you plead.

"Please. Didn't mean to tease" its a wine, petulant in tone.

"Course you didnt.. Shame S' Too late now" he whispers against your ear, teeth biting into your earlobe. The hand on your breast trails down. Right the way down to his slacks.

"B-but Laura" You warn him in a whispered panic, hearing the sound of a zipper sliding down. you struggle teasingly, hips bucking back against him. Its not enough to cause a scene or enough to wake your sleeping friend- his sleeping daughter- but just enough to make him pin your body down. Enough for you to feel a fraction of his real strength.

Logan's muscles bulge from the effort of caging you against the floor and spreading your legs.

"Nuh uh, Stay still. Stay right where ive got you" he murmurs darkly in your ear, voice a low rumble. the words fire through you like liquid lightning as you bite into his palm, not to fight but to restrain a high pitched moan that you fear could wake the neighbors- not just Laura.

"nothing you can do now sweetheart, just gotta take it" Logan says and you hear the mocking smile in the words, feel the throb of his thick cock as it emerges from the confines of his pants. "Kept telling me you were a good girl, so show me"

With your stomach flat against the ground, legs spread wide beneath him, you can do nothing but tremble as his cock slips between your legs. The cock belonging to your best friend's father sliding deliciously across that little bundle of nerves that sparks a whimper of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as Logans hips buck, cock brushing your clit again, running up and down your slit torturously slow. "fuuuck, you feel that? How hard you've got my cock?"

You're kicking your legs now, moving your hips. It could be viewed as a struggle but its not, not really, you're just so desperately excited you can't keep still.

"Don't need to fight me baby. Just let daddy in hm? let it happen sweetheart."

And then he's pushing inside your body in one heavy thrust; slow and impossibly deep. The weight of him inside your cunt making you mewl against his palm. All the years of secret yearning, wet fantasies and subtle flirtations have all led to this moment.

It doesn't take many thrusts before your tongue is rolling out of your mouth, licking wetly against his palm like a grateful dog- a bitch in heat. You try to use it to muffle the moan that follows, a pitiful sound mixed with pleasure, like you're ashamed to be in the situation.

Used and humiliated around logans cock.

Its push followed by retreat, a half thrust and then withdrawal over and over. "So fucking tight" Logan growls as you wiggle your ass, not certain if your trying to squirm further in to his grip or out.

He's stretching your walls apart, the burn of his size delicious with each heavy he offers. Each bringing a pulsing throb on your clit. "Yeaaaa, that's it, take it like a good girl.." he groans. "S' what you wanted isn't it."

Logans right, this is exactly what you wanted and more. His body trembles atop yours from the exertion, balls squeezed against your ass, his hand on and off clenching around your breast. His thrusts picking up in pace as you struggle and squirm to keep quiet even under his palm

"L-logan" you whimper as he pushes particularly deep, pussy squelching lewdly from your arousal, his hand barley muffling the word. He knows your close before you do, can feel your cunt clenching desperately.

"Getting fucked so good your gonna cum sweetheart?" he rasps in your ear, panting into it. "C'mon, tell daddy how good his cock feels."

"S-so good.. F-fuck yes daddy, please"

You whine and It is a struggle to pry his strong hand off your mouth to get the words out.

"Go on sweetheart. Cum, coat my fuckin cock. Show me this cute little pussy is mine"

and then his big hand clamps back over your lips as he begins to fuck you into the floor. Your orgasm crashes over you in burning waves. Every stroke becoming an ecstatic agony, overstimulation starting to buzz over your bones. Its a constant struggle to hold your moans and neither of you can move properly for the risk of waking Laura .

But Logans hips remain unrelenting, Fucking you prone on your friends floor. His balls swinging, swatting unbearably at your clit with every entry. The heat of him and being trapped against the floor is almost unbearable, but so is having to keep your whimpers quiet. sweat beads hot on your brow

you can hear his own desperate attempts at staying quiet. Broken only by muffled groans, grunts of exertion, and primal chesty growls as your cunt clenches wetly around him.

Yet the discomfort of overstimulation is no match for the absolute bliss of your submission. Your toes curling so hard you're on the verge of a cramp.

The friction between your clit, Logan's cock and the floor builds to an intolerable pressure. Something must give way. The temptation to lose all control and scream his name too great. Now that possibility of you blacking out is too dangerous to ignore. So you say it the word.

"Kitty!"

Not because you want to, but because in this moment you have to. Almost as soon as the word leaves your lips and sinks into the pillow, wet from saliva and tears, you feel his body shudder. muscles seizing while a heavy groan sounding out into the skin of your neck.

"you okay?" he pants softly worry creasing his brow. "Was it too much?"

Your wordless and it worries him. Making him pull back, cock slipping free with a hushed hiss as he helps you shift onto your back, so he can look at you properly.

Your hands rise, fingers caressing his scruffy cheeks. "M'okay" you pant, eyes on him. "wasn't too much. Promise."

No, in fact, It was just right- before it all overwhelmed you that is. Now? now you just want to hold him, make love to him. Hold onto something- someone that isn't really yours. Eye to eye, your mouth slides back over his, legs spread back open, ready to welcome his length back inside. Without a word you buck your hips down, beckoning him to fuck you again.

Things are much quieter this time. Pace slowed to deep grinds rather than shallow thrusts, pleasure once again coiling in your gut as you lean up to watch his cock disappear inside.

"Feel so good sweetheart, my good girl" he coos, lips against yours as his hand slips back to cup your breast. "My good girl with a fuckin perfect body"

You keep your eyes on logan, blissful smile across your face, and for this moment he's not your best friends father. Not with the way he's gazing down at you with a mixture of lust and long held affection. "always wanted you" he whispers, hand moving back from your breast to cup your cheek. "But I would have kept that secret forever.."

You squeeze him to your chest, heart stuttering at the admission as you lock your arms behind his neck, legs tight around logans waist. You whimper back his name, a plea on your tongue.

"Want you to cum logan.. Please, need to feel it"

You want it more than anything, to feel his cum pushed inside you; for it to drip out later as a downright filthy reminder. You kiss his neck, then cheek, and finally his lips. You want Logan to claim you right here on the floor, right under her nose and you know it makes you a bad friend. Your eyes roll back, hands clawing down his chest as you feel yourself giving up all thought to the rush that flows down the center of your body. The one that begins and ends in the wet, sticky place between your legs, Where the sensitive bud of your clit pulses like a dying star.

it's then he growls much too loud, and you respond back in a whimper, lips pressing tight as you cum together in panted kisses. Him pumping hot heady ropes of cum inside your cunt without reservation or regret as you clench in a vice grip around him.

Tomorrow you will be sore, you know it for a fact. But Tonight.. Tonight You can revel in a fantasy made flesh, your flesh and Logans wrapped around each tight. You drag weak fingers down through his damp hair, then his back, feeling the way his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Logans panting has subsided by now, breaths no longer crackling besides your ear. He plants mouthy kisses at the juncture of your neck, ever so gently, like a sated wolf nuzzling at the muzzle of his mate. You giggle quietly as those kisses grow fiercer, teeth nipping at your neck.

"my good, great, naughty girl" he murmurs against your skin, voice soft. "you feeling okay sweetheart? sure it wasn't too much?"

You nod and he can feel the enthusiasm seep from the move as you grasp his face again. "Mhm, better than okay. Was perfect" you hum sleeplily, content in his hold, in the scent of him. Your eyes flutter, lashes tickling his cheeks as you kiss him long and deep, until the rub of his beard hurts your face and sleep begins to take you under.

You both know tonight was the culmination of so many fevered dreams. The breaking point of lust and its power that can't be fully expressed in words. So he holds you close- just as you do him in your rest- for a little while longer, until light begins to filter soft through the curtains and the reality of what you'd both done really begins to set in.

thats it!! lemme know what you thought anddddd yea! asks are always open to shoot the shit, drabbles and more! <333

[affableramen]

them apologising for calling you bad names

hurt/comfort, established relationships

(Pantalone, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Tartaglia, Capitano, Alhaitham, Dottore, Dainsleif, Baizhu)

Pantalone

You avoid him for the rest of the day but eventually in the bed time Pantalone meets you. He enters the bedroom with a grave expression in his eyes, eyeing you sit there on the bed with a book in your hands. Distracting, he thinks, she is distracting herself. 

“You know I didn't utter those words seriously”, Pantalone says, omitting the usual ‘darling’ on his lips. You roll your eyes and shake your head dismissively, showing him apparent unwillingness to chat over the issue any longer.

“Say”, Pantalone leans to the door, his fingers, at this moment of time, bare, scratching the roof edges of his antiquated mansion wall, “Are you deeply offended by my comment? It is but something… trivial.” Seeing no reaction from you Pantalone slowly makes his way to the bed and sits down, his body making an impact to the mattress, that being gently pressed on.

“I should have held my tongue.”

“Your tongue is poisonous”, you say abruptly. Upon hearing this, Pantalone reaches his hand to your hand and takes it in his. 

“Hear me out… Please, darling, I would never honestly speak so ill-mannered of you. It was out of stress. You are not… pathetic. Never have been.”

“Mhm. How about ‘brat’? How about ‘loving me only because I provide for the family?’” 

Pantalone closes his eyes and shakes his head. You can see how his own words inflicted upon you sting. 

“Nonsense! Not a single word I spoke then was truthful.”

“Pantalone, if I ever made you doubt my affections, please do let me know.”

You abruptly put your book on the bedside table and switch the lights off. 

Wriothesley

“Why do you keep insisting on these things? You think I don’t know them?”

“I think you’re simply less educated than me. You should understand, Y/N that in some aspects you may be less intelligent. Stupid even.”

“Less intelligent! Stupid!” 

Wriothesley covers his face and bites his own lip when he realises what unruly language he just used. 

“I didn't mean that-”

“That I’m stupid?” Your patience blows up and you decisively start strutting to the exit door of his office.

“I didn't mean to sound that harshly!” Desperately Wriothesley follows; but to no avail. You already shut your door before his nose.

A few hours after Wriothesley finds you in your two’s favourite café, of course it would be the place where you’d go to reflect on your irritation. 

“Here, your favourites”, he puts the bouquet of vivid red flowers on top of the coffee table, next to your hand, and does it with such carefulness of behaviour you would least expect from him.

You look at him, facing Wriothesley’s eyes at last and as if having your thoughts read the duke says with regret:

“And sorry.”

You take a look at the flowers, your fingers caressing the petals.

“Okay”, you respond quietly. Wriothesley receives approval from you and takes a seat, his attitude nothing but amiable, a far cry from his roughness in the morning.

Neuvillette

“I told you that some matters I unfortunately, willing or not, have to solve on my own. There is no place for you in some of my business, because you’re just one weak-” Neuvillette holds his tongue, realising how personally offensive the words he said sounded. How villainous he suddenly appeared before you.

“Human? Yeah, I know. But me being human doesn't mean I can’t think and analyse, and there’s no way I’d approve the responsibility you’re about to take on yourself. I strictly dissgree.”

“Strictly disagree?” Neuvillette does not believe his ears, for you had always been a quiet amd obedient one, quite agreeable and supportive of his opinions. Yet this time you could not stay silent, seeing how your precious husband puts himself in danger for the hundredth time.

“You are to not take on that mission, are we clear, Neuvillette? And I am not weak, neither am I dumb or uninformed.”

In awe, Neuvillette stands there, looking at you. At last he takes one careful step closer, his hand in his hair, pulling it back as he’s thinking on something with raw intensity.

“If my wife is ready to convince me so much to not do something, if she finds my impulses false, then I will do my best to refrain. Knowing how worried you might be for me, perhaps it would be wise to reject the mission first and utmost.”

You nod, your face grave, uninterested as you turn away from him and walk out of his office. Only then Neuvillette stops you, his wrist tightly on yours. 

“Please, beloved, if you could forgive me for my poor choice of words and underestimating your judgment.”

“It doesn't happen first time, Neuvillette, for being a dragon sovereign makes you incredibly stiff to perceiving others’ opinions. But I’m glad if you do truly believe me now.”

“I do. Please, don't stay furious and frustrated for long.” 

You finally smile, forgiving your dragon husband as you make haste to leave the court, otherwise dramatic Fontainian society that loves gossiping and tragedy so much, will turn your little banter into a lavish scandal.

Tartaglia

“Peanut, I just said that you can’t fight as hard as I do, I didn't mean it in a bad way.”

“Of course, Ajax. You meant it in the way ‘I’m the coolest, and you are inferior’.”

“No, no, no. It’s a misunderstanding! Hear me out, babygirl…” Tartaglia gently grips the both of your shoulders and stares intimately into your eyes.

“I just wanted… You know, I just meant…” he blushes crazily and his expression radiates sheer embarrassment as he tries to seek excuse to explain himself. “I, uhh… Consider myself a great fighter, and you are exceptionally good, too…”

“Exceptionally good?” 

“Absolutely exceptionally good, babygirl. But I am simply worried, okay? I’m scared”, he rubs your shoulders up and down, as if trying to comfort you, but in honesty it rather comforts himself. “I don’t want you hurt. So you better stay home. Training.”

“Training only, nice. I will never fight real enemies if I am constantly kept hostage in Fatui training camp.”

“You’re just… so fragile. You know what I mean?”

“Uhuh. The Eleventh considers me a weakling. Nice discovery, if you weren't my boyfriend”, you free yourself from his grasp and go about the narrow long corridor of headquarters. “I thought you would trust in me and my power a tiny bit more.”

Ajax follows you immediately, his steps agile and steady as his hand gently takes yours.

“You may come with me next time. But tomorrow, I want you safe. Okay? And please… I’d never call you weak… Never.”

“Mm…” you gently caress his gloved hand with your thumb, almost failing to see him in the dim light, but feeling his erratic breath caused by quick talking.

Capitano

“I can’t let you do this, woman. You are acting immature. You have always been a bit naïve, but this is where you should start obeying me”, Capitano says with a harsh, yet genteel aura around him.

“And my love for you, Capitano, is also naïve?”

At that moment Capitano drops his expressionless, emotionless act and looks at you with horrified glint in his eyes. He wants to comfort you, to apologise for his words but realises that was once said cannot be taken back. Oh how he wishes he would hold his tongue for a little while longer!

“I didn't mean that, woman. You know that I would never-”

He shuts his eyes for a second, a storm of overwhelming thoughts crosses his mind over and over while you are standing before him, patiently waiting for an answer and expecting your husband to provide you with a proper one.

“You are weak… no not weak; you are frail. You need protection. And I want to protect you, but I may not be able to do it in Natlan. Not when I am wounded myself.”

“Oh, believe me, Capitano, I can and will protect myself. And you know what, big guy? I don't even need your permission to come with you anymore. You will accept me, because I am your wife, and I will be by your side. Especially, when you are wounded.”

Capitano raises his hand to caress your cheek with his knuckles, light-weight.

“You are going to get yourself in trouble, love.”

“I know my limits, and I can clearly see that my husband needs me, even though he won't ever admit it.”

The raven-haired tall gracious man with impeccably sharp aura around him speaks with emotion:

“But if you get hurt, I won’t ever be able to forgive myself.”

You stand on your tiptoes and cup his cheeks.

“Oh, Capitano, I will take care of myself just to spare you the trouble.”

Dottore

“You’re a dork, I don’t even have pity for your stupidity. You got this chemical burn deserved.”

“Said who? You’re the one treating it right now, Doctor”, you respond with a tiny smug smirk, watching how carefully and gently Dottore is working on your palm. The burn is not too big, but painful enough to prevent you from completing your tasks for today.

Dottore reveals his teeth, groaning at you, his self highly dissatisfied and frustrated. He smoothly applies a herbal-smelling ointment and covers your hand with tight bandages.

“I insist you staying home tomorrow. I will speak with Pierro and describe him the accident.”

“Surely you don't have to go to such lengths for me only, Dottore. You know, I could speak with the Jester myself.”

Dottore stabs the knife with which he had been cutting the bandages, into the desk.

“NO, he won’t even speak to you. He is very uneasy to find”, he lets out a long held sigh. “Besides, brat, I think I made it clear you need to rest at home.” He glares at you with his poisonous ruby eyes. “Primarily, in your bed.”

“If the doctor says so”, you shrug, too exhausted to argue and too grateful for his help to deny him of this small favour. “I do not mind staying in my bed for a little while.”

Once the treatment has come to an end, Dottore once again checks your hand; quickly, lightly, without a single unnecessary touch or glance. 

“Sorry for calling you a dork. I didn't mean it wholeheartedly”, he clears throat. “Though I still think your ass is highly careless.”

“I will work on it, hopefully my curiosity doesn't lead me to any other injuries”, you wave to him upon leaving the lab. “Can’t have my doctor worry too much.”

“Remember to look closer what you touch in my lab next time, silly creature.”

Dainsleif

“I think you’re forgetting how difficult it is to fight Abyss alone. I can’t believe you disobeyed me again and went seeking for abyssal hounds. This is infuriating, Y/N. I have never seen a woman act so stupidly and rashly before”, Dainsleif says roughly, through gritted teeth. His expression is grave and ominous.

“I feel strong desire to take your Vision away and lock you home until you learn to respect my rules.”

“Your ‘rules’?” You raise your eyebrow, looking at Dainsleif no less infuriated and frustrated than he is currently. “You think if you’re older than me, I have to act like your little puppet on strings who does everything that is ordered? Hell no, Dainsleif. We won’t have it this way.”

“FOOL!” He yells, his arm grabbing you tightly and pressing you against a wall. “You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have been hurt! You don’t know the thoughts running through my mind when I imagine you hurt; I want to burn the whole world for you.”

“Let me go, Dain. Please, this is uncalled for, you know that, right?” As you gently ask him Dainsleif slowly, but hesitantly releases your arm and takes a step back, closing his hands behind his back.

“I ask you once again to refrain from getting yourself harmed by the hand of Abyss.”

“Did you just call me a fool? I thought you were better than that.”

“For that ruthless language, I apologise. However I need your obedience when it comes to survival matters.”

Slowly, you walk over to look into Dainsleif’s eyes.

“I understand your tragedy wholeheartedly and I sincerely respect your wish to protect me, but you need to understand that my fighting skills are not low anymore, I can be efficient and agile.”

Dainsleif’s head hangs down, you see that he is contemplating something in the depth of his heart.

“I see”, his hand reaches out to you, even though he is not looking in your direction. Dainself intertwines his fingers with yours and speaks, much quieter and softer words:

“I’m sorry for calling you a fool. That was uncalled for”, his hand gives you a light but worried squeeze. “Just… be careful, Y/N.”

Alhaitham 

“You’re acting like a child. Your opinions are too dreamy, irrational and irrelevant”, Alhaitham speaks briefly as he opens his book and hides his sharp gaze somewhere in the middle of the paragraphs.

Having acknowledged his disregard to you with pain in your heart you throw your arms around and ask him with bright feeling which is contradicting his own manner of speaking.

“Speak about irrelevance! You are the embodiment of irrationality yourself, for guilting me into thinking that you actually care for me.”

Alhaitham stays still for a moment but a tense squeeze he gives the book in his fingers raises even more contradictory emotions between you. 

“I knew you are a difficult person to get intimately acquainted with, but your actions proved that you had at least a bit of attraction towards me. If not, then your choice of words and manner of speaking to personally me was too extreme. If not, and you are dreaded by the mere thought of me being intimately honest with you, spit it out. I don’t want you to play the romance where it no really belongs. I don’t want you to like me out of pity.”

“But I don’t”, Alhaitham finally closes the book and removes from his seat. “Your opinions and decisions make me question whether or not we are compatible enough.”

“That is because you are thinking too rationally.”

“And you are thinking too irrationally.”

“You were the one to touch my hand and hug me in a very personal way. And if I am not mistaken, you are the man who never touches anyone and is dreaded by a mere thought of being pulled out from your serenity.”

Alhaitham then shivers slightly, his body mannerisms betraying distress and frustration that is not by a long shot defined in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for calling you these words. These are bad words, I should not be disrespecting you so”, he looks away, giving his lip a strong bite whereas finally giving you a relief: “I always thought and I still think that you are a perfect companion for me, but our opinions are very unlike.”

“So you think two people cannot get accustomed to living with each other if they have different choice of words or thinking! Alhaitham, this is laughable.”

“The only laughable thing right now is that I desperately want to hug you”, without further hesitation he pulls you into his arms, an embrace filled with warmth and dedication, while his fingers gently stroke your back. “I apologise, my love.”

Baizhu

“You are being too nosy and impatient, sweetheart. I asked you to not ask me specifics of my contracts and yet here you are - interrogating me like some sort of criminal. I am feeling pressured and most frustrated!” He throws his arms around. “Darling, if you could give me some space, I would finish what I started with no further delay.”

“Am I violating your space by simply caring for your well-being? Baizhu, your contract has gone way too far; your help to people robs you of your own happiness, can you not see it?”

“I will be most contented if you simply leave me to finish my work. I would be happy if you simply encouraged me, but I’d be even more grateful if you stopped asking me so many questions.”

You know perfectly well what it’s like to sacrifice yourself for other people’s sake however you could not any longer bear seeing your love life being disrupted by Baizhu constantly feeling sick and suffering. You want nothing more than him to feel safe, secure and well, but instead this curious pharmacist only risks more and more his life in exchange of knowledge and improvement.

Though, Baizhu did recognise your words as a simple statement of care, he only admitted it in a few days. While you were helping him sort his things out in the pharmacy, Baizhu dropped his formal act and gently touched your hand.

“Darling?”

You stopped sorting at once when you heard what he declared:

“I’m sorry, I was so rude to you speaking about my health.”

You turn to face him and notice the sincerest apology in his snake eyes.

“I just wish you’d understand that my worry for you is not intended to make you uncomfortable or distressed.”

“I do understand it now. I will try my best to not bring you suffering from seeing me suffer. I cannot reject what I had started, but I will seek ways to heal both me and you from this torture.”

The gentle confession ends with Baizhu rubbing his thumb against the top of your hand. 

[grimmsbride]

LOVERS ROCK [ daisuke / reader ]

keeping your relationship a secret from your coworkers was no doubt; thrilling. and also, very, very challenging. it didn’t help the two of you just loved to push your limits

tags / ooc characters | semi-public sex (everyone is asleep but still) | reader & daisuke are slightly inexperienced | soft-top daisuke | mentions of marks | cowgirl | dry humping | porn with little plot | they fuck with earbuds in | mentions of the other crew members | fluffy at the beginning | pre-established relationship | sex under the stars.. | pre-crash | chubby & poc coded reader (but anyone is free to read) | i don’t know the exact time period but modern music is mentioned | you guys love holding hands | etc.

notes / #bringbackdryhumping | reader is the same janitor reader in my previous fic (obviously). i got this idea randomly, daisuke seems like the type to take his partner to scenic places for dates. and well.. the nighttime screen is about as scenic as it gets on the tulpar. i hope you enjoy and as usual please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos 🫶🏾. i feel i made him very ooc, i’m used to see daisuke smut being quite submissive to the reader so i wanted to go a different approach.. i think in situations like this he may be a little more confident, especially if his partner is reciprocating to the feeling. if you have any thoughts on the manner let me know <3

The Tulpar was filled with mundane tasks. Wake up, clean, eat, shower, and go back to sleep— a routine that’s been ingrained into your body. A continuous cycle that would have bored you to death without your beloved music. You were grateful for your position, no matter how minuscule, yet you couldn’t deny the wish for something more.

And luckily it came true; in the form of a young man nonetheless.

You weren’t one to mix business and pleasure, it just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Coming across Tulpar and the demographic you expected to be on the ship — older people that certainly weren’t your type — you were quite confident you wouldn’t go against your usual code. But alas, you surprised yourself while falling for a certain intern.

As bright eyed and slightly clueless he was, Daisuke was a pocket of sunshine you’ve come to truly adore. Always there when he can be, even if it means a quick kiss when you’re cleaning or a gentle pinch when passing by to remind you of who was in your corner.

Keeping your growing relationship a secret from your coworkers was troublesome but extremely necessary. You couldn’t imagine the expressions the others would display, especially Jimmy who just seemed to be far too eager to stomp on just about anyone's happiness; no matter the size.

Still, you couldn’t deny how thrilling it was at times. Pulling your partner into a quiet dark corner for a few extra kisses, or the secret looks the two of you gave each when in a public setting. The line was thinning longer and longer, close calls increasing as time passed.

And yet here you were, seated upon the living room couch; waiting for your beloved Daisuke.

Usually if the two of you wanted alone time when everyone was asleep you alternated between your bedrooms. At least there, there was a door and bed. But for some reason, Daisuke was adamant on spending some time out here; underneath the pretty nighttime screen.

Your eyes stared up at the blues and whites, head leaning back against the shoulder of the couch as music poured into your ears. Your thumb traced the little device, perfectly at ease.

That was until something delicately traced the back of your neck.

You swallowed a yelp, quickly turning with a jump to glare at the one responsible— who only grinned back at you.

“Daisuke! What if I had yelled?”

You stood up from the couch, watching the man walk around the before waltzing down the little steps. Within two strides he was standing in front of you, glancing down at you with the sweetest smile.

“But you didn't!” Daisuke chuckled the moment you lightly shoved his chest, catching your wrist in time before you could move it away. In doing so, he locked your fingers whilst his free hand went for the earbud occupying one of your ears. Pulling it out, the man then lifted it to his own, bringing himself closer to your form.

You met him, unoccupied hand sliding up to wrap your arm around his waist, laying your head against his chest. Between the melody of his heart beat and Tv Girl running through your ears, you were at complete bliss. As if you could fall asleep right then and there.

The two of you swayed, allowing yourselves to get caught up in each other rather than your surroundings. You felt his free hand sneak underneath your arm, pulling it higher until your hand was on top of his shoulder. After which, Daisuke’s hand found your waist, tugging you even closer and actually adding moves to your swaying.

You snorted softly, mumbling softly about him being corny to which the man only laughed. Silence continued after as the two of you danced slowly, carefully, as to hopefully not alert the others of your rather embarrassing nightly activities.

A step, another, and then a graceful stride. You wondered if Daisuke danced a lot back home. The thought caused you to laugh once again, just in time for your lover to twirl you.

Slithering his arm tighter around your waist, he pulled your back to his front, face being shoved into your neck.

Your eyes peeled open, staring up at the nighttime screen that stared back at you. “Dancing under the stars, huh?..”

“A perfect date.”

You smiled at his words, hand rose to reach back and lightly fuss with his hair. “Yeah, all girls love dancing at work while watching a blown up image of a fake sky.”

Daisuke laughed into your ear, the pitch perfectly going along with the music you shared.

“I told my dad I knew what the ladies wanted.”

You groaned softly, teetering between amusement and playful annoyance. You turned around in his hold, hands rising to hold his warm cheeks.

“You’re corny..”

Daisuke smiled, thumb tracing the small of your back, messing with the fabric of the top you wore. “And lucky for me, you’re into it.” You didn’t need to agree nor deny, given the sweet kiss you pressed to his lips was answer enough. He kneeled to meet you fully, tugging you so close as if wishing to melt into you. Your noses brushed against each other, cold tips warming as you consumed one another. You loved kissing Daisuke, not just because he was your boyfriend but more-so cause he was a damned good kisser.

His lips always moved so slow at first, before slowly picking up the longer you continued. A hand rose from your back to instead cup the back of your head, a shiver running down your spine the moment his fingers traced up your scalp; messing in your hair.

So desperate.. you two always were. The thought of any interruptions spurred you on to always savor each and every moment with as much as passion as possible.

And it seemed the both of you intended to do just that, as — ever so carefully — Daisuke walked backwards, leading you with him. Once close enough he was descending to the couch, taking you with him by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

The two of you broke apart for a moment, gulping up the air around you greedily before smashing your lips together with even more vigor. Your hands were clutching his shoulders at this point, suddenly being reminded Daisuke wasn’t just some clueless man.

You shivered as you felt his hand glide, intruding your top to lay his fingers upon your warm skin. With each interlock of your tongues his fingers were digging into your flesh, a soft whine being pushed from his throat into your mouth. The sound alone caused your thighs to clench, moving carefully in his lap.

Which of course, was met with a hiss and a quick squeeze. You questioned this for a moment, before quickly realizing why it happened in the first place.

This only caused you to smile against him, lowering your hips fully before dragging them against him slowly.

Daisuke was off your lips in minutes, hands falling to your waist as a hushed groan escaped his bruised lips.

“Here?..” The man spoke gently, eyes flicking from between your bodies before back to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as you continued your languid drags, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You nodded slowly, leaning closer to press your lips to his ear. “Mhm.. here.”

“Then.. I want to feel— more. Please.” His words were sweet, allowing them to settle in the air for a moment before his fingers were curling to tug at your pants, allowing you to get the message. You stood up rather quickly, pushing your pants down and off, the bottoms pooling at your ankles.

You watched as Daisuke did the same, now only in plain boxers, a funny contrast to the gaudy everyday shirt he usually wore.

Stepping out of your pants, you caught his hands as you made your way back to his lap, brushing your clothed cunt right against his growing bulge as you sat down. It was your time to whine as you felt him through your thin fabrics, Daisuke capturing your lips rather quickly afterwards.

Slowly, you began that same languid pace, gripping his shoulders for stability as you dragged your hips back and forth.. back and forth. His nails were digging into your thighs, meeting your movement with a small, desperate thrust. Moans passed between the two of you, warmth, and music mixing into a sensation that you could only describe as euphoria.

Dramatic sure, but what else could you call it, exactly?

“Could come.. ju—just from this.” Daisuke mumbled the moment the two of you broke apart for air, his face falling to your neck to stamp wet kisses to your skin. He was gentle not to focus too much on a single area, worrying about leaving behind a mark. Though, it seemed rather contradictory given the location the two of you chose for your.. fun.

You were aching, panties surely soaked with arousal as that itch grew. You could only pant in his ear, unsure how exactly this felt so good. Maybe it was pent up, a mixture of stress and the misfortune of lack of alone time. Regardless, it wasn’t your job to figure it out at the moment.

The only job you had right now was to continue to chase this feeling, for as long as you could.

Daisuke pulled you closer if humanly possible, hips rising up from the couch as he ground up into you. He wasn’t lying early, despite zero actual contact he could feel himself twitching— begging for release. The effect you had on him was far too great, after all.

Desperate breaths escaped you, thighs shaky yet yearning for more. His touch, everything, you wanted to feel it all. Your fingers rose to curl into his hair, leaning into his ear as the softest more, dropped from your tongue.

Your words spurred him, fingers squeezing your flesh, nails tracing against those pretty marks that lined your hips.

“You want more?.. Of course, whatever you want.”

Daisuke could never deny you, no matter how small the request was. In minutes he was tugging his boxers down to his thighs, hand lazily dragging across his length. It was a pretty color, lighter than him, with a mole on the under side of his shaft.

The man then reached with his other hand to curl his finger on your panty, tugging it to the side and exposing your soft cunt to his hand. For a moment his finger gently circled your hardened bud, enjoy the pleasant noises you struggled to keep down.

But soon enough he was becoming as desperate as you, helping you position carefully, rubbing his weeping tip against your clit. Daisuke hissed, continuing to coat his dick in your arousal before finding your entrance, lining up, and raising his hips to push himself inside.

The both of you groaned, your eyes pinched closed as you sunk down. Your walls wrapped around his length perfectly, swallowing him up and keeping him deep inside. With each breath you released you clenched, causing the young man under you to struggle to keep his mind straight. Daisuke couldn’t help being so inexperienced, and well.. neither could you, given you felt a single movement would be enough to push you over the edge.

Your eyes slowly opened, gaze falling to his face, taking the time to map out his expression. Would it be corny to call him beautiful? Was it corny to find your lover beautiful in a such state? Under your mercy, as close as biologically possible? Maybe.. but you didn’t dwell on it long, instead deciding to graze your palms across his cheeks, thumbs coming to trace the moles on either side.

“I love you.”

Your words were earnest, laced with the sweetest honey. You smiled, watching his own signature smile cross his face, perfectly. Like any other time.

Daisuke pulled you even closer, a grip to your thigh as he leaned to just a breath’s away.

“See. Now you’re the corny one.”

Your lover swallowed the pretty laughter threatening to leave your chest, all smiles as his arms wrapped around your waist. Once tucked close and snug, his hips, the small thrust enough for the both of you to sigh into the other’s mouth.

Soon enough your knees were pressing against the cushions, hips rising and falling into his lap. With each drop, wet skin smacked against each other, certainly a worrying sound but the two of you seemed to no longer care.

You were too caught up in each other anyway.

Your fingers curled into his silky locks, crying out into his mouth as he stirred you up deeply. His length hit each spot perfectly, a mold made specifically for you. And what’s more, the moment a hand snaked under your skirt to drag his thumb across your nipple— you began to see stars.

Daisuke groaned into you, meeting each drop of your hips with desperate thrusts. You felt so good, way too good. He tried to keep his voice down as to avoid alerting the others, and hear you. You just sounded far too good to ignore.

Your shaky breaths, the way your voice pitched whenever his tip brushed against that special spot — don’t even get him started on the gasps you made when Daisuke went, just a little too deep. Alas he couldn’t focus on the growing list of reasons for his obsession you; bringing you complete pleasure was the main objective.

“You’re clenching me.. you’re going to come, aren’t you?” Daisuke drawled against your lips, pressing a kiss to them before dragging his own over to your ear. Each pant and groan hit it directly, the man at this point helping you rise and fall upon his cock.

“I want you to finish.. all over me.”

“Daisuke—!”

“Not so loud..” The intern spoke in a soft rasp, squeezing you close as his end grew closer. “I don’t need the others to hear you like this. It’s on—only for me, yeah?”

You shook your head rapidly, lip nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting down, your fingers digging into his shoulders— sure to leaves marks despite the shirt he wore.

Within moments you were seeing white, clutching him as you fulfilled his wish. Your arousal coated his dick and thighs, making a sticky mess that was surely on the couch by now.

Daisuke swore under his breath, bringing you onto his lap in one final thrust before filling you up. Luckily he remembered you took the pill as to regulate your period.

The two of you panted, in sync with each other and the music that seemed to still be blasting in your ears. How exactly your earbuds sustained that erratic movement, you will never know nor question.

You pulled back to glance at Daisuke, spotting the man already looking at you, smiling brightly.

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at the space between your two bodies.

“This is going to be so annoying to clean.”

Daisuke stifled his laughter, pulling you into a tight hug, eyes shining whilst he stared up at the screen;

“Maybe… I love you too, [Name].”

[miley1442111]

Heyyy!! Would you be interested in writing an angst aaron and bau!reader fic where they're in an established relationship for quite a while now and even have a kid together other than jack. they having relationship problems tho and maybe decided to take some time off their relationship temporarily. so reader takes her and aarons kid in their time off and jack is with aaron. angst where poor jack feels abandoned by reader and thinks she's leaving them cause both the adults are too prideful to talk everything out and make it work. (you can write it however like btw but hopefully with a happy ending 🤞🤍🤍🤍)

i love this idea, sorry i let it sit for so long! only realised i hadn't posted this now :0

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pinky promises-a.hotchner

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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: how you and aaron worry jack, and how aaron finds something out 20 years later.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: angst, fighting, mentions of divorce, jack being upset, etc.

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It had been weeks and weeks of pointless fighting. You were exhausted. Aaron was exhausted. 

“What do you want me to say about it Aaron?” You sighed, exasperation running through your bones. 

“I want you to say anything!” He shouted. You felt a wire snap inside you. Aaron never shouted at you. He knew how horrible he was being. He knew how bad you felt. He knew that this was a stupid thing to be fighting about.

“I’m going to my brother’s house, how about that?” You sighed. “Is that what you wanted me to say?” 

Aaron rolled his eyes, irritated at your dramatics. When he came home from one of the worst cases he’d been on for a while, all he’d wanted was to wrap you up in his arms and not let you go. But of course, he had to ruin it by starting an argument. You were 7 months postpartum, he shouldn’t have been picking fights and he knew it. But he was just so irritated. He realised something, he was taking the worst parts of his job home with him again.

“I need a break from it Aaron, alright. I’ll take Marcy and you’ll get some real sleep for a weekend and we’ll calm down and talk on Monday, alright?” 

Some sleep sounded great. Calming down sounded great. Reconciling sounded great. “Alright,” he nodded curtly. 

“Alright,” you sighed. You had never wanted it to come to this. He promised you it wouldn’t come to this. 

Yet it had. 

“I’ll pack a bag for you,” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he started to walk off but you grabbed his hand and kissed it softly.

“I love you. Always,” you reminded him. His heart melted a little bit. 

“I love you too.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ While you and Aaron were busy fighting, Jack was in his playroom down the hall. He was terrified, you were leaving? You were taking Marcy? 

What would happen to him? He’d already lost his mom, he couldn’t lose you too.

“Honey?” He whispered as you passed the playroom. He’d picked up the habit of calling you ‘honey’ the same way Aaron did. 

“Hey Jackers,” you smiled through the inner monologue running through your head. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

Jack thought this would be his last time with you tucking him in, so he got up immediately and hugged your legs. You chuckled at his antics, unaware of his anxieties, and picked him up in your arms. 

“Can I say goodnight to Marcy?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course you can, I’ll get your dad as well, we can all say goodnight,” You smiled.

Jack, being the little profiler he was, noticed the way you’d said ‘his dad’ not just ‘dad’. His stomach dropped. He felt sick, the kind of sick he felt before he vomited.  Jack ran into Marcy’s nursery as you went to find Aaron.

“Ok Marcy, I love you, I don’t say it enough,” he whispered into her cot as she slept soundly. “I hope I was a good big brother, you were a great little sister-”

“What are you doing jack?” You asked, worried  and confused by his actions. Aaron stood behind you, his signature frown painted on his face. 

Jack started crying and both you and Aaron ran to him, wrapping him up in your arms. After a few minutes of calming him down, and calming Marcy down after she woke up with Jack crying, you sat on the floor of the nursery beside Aaron as Jack explained. 

“WellIheardyouguysfightingandIknowY/nisgoingawaynowandI’llmissher-” He rushed out but Aaron held up a hand to stop him. 

“Slowly Jack, slowly,” he reminded him and Jack crawled into Aaron’s lap and whispered it to him. 

“I heard you two fighting, and it was like when mom and you used to fight, so I know it means that Y/n and Marcy are going away now, like when you went away and I’m sad because I’ll miss them like I miss mommy,” he sniffled as Aaron’s heart broke. His eyes filled with tears that he forced himself to swallow, the task almost proving too difficult. He looked at you, your head in your hands, you’d heard him too. 

“Jack, your dad and I aren’t breaking up, we’re both just really stressed right now and we thought it would be a good idea to give each other some space. The only reason I’d take Marcy is because I have to breastfeed her,” you explained, your voice breaking. “I love your dad so much, and I love you so much, I could never leave you,” you smiled sadly and took his hand. “Remember the pinky promise I made to you on my wedding day? I meant that.”

Aaron’s ears peaked up as Jack nodded. There was something unspoken about the way that Jack seemed to relax at your words, his entire body lacking any and all tension in mere seconds. 

What was the pinky promise?

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Aaron walked out of Jack’s bedroom and leant against the door of your bedroom, watching you read your book. When you looked up, you were reminded of a younger Aaron, the one you'd met in college when he was with Haley. You felt awful having a massive crush on one of your friend’s boyfriend so you steered clear of him. Who knew you’d be here now? His wife. The mother to his children. 

“Hey handsome,” you smiled at him. 

“I don’t want space. Please don’t leave,” he asked, not meeting your eyes. 

“Let’s be honest, we both know I wasn’t getting over the threshold of my brother’s place before I ran back,” you smiled. Aaron plunked himself down beside you, lying down and pressing kisses against your neck. 

“I’m sorry I picked a fight,” he sighed.

“Sorry I kept it going,” you whispered, kissing his head. 

“So we're alright?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, we’re ok,” you chuckled. His hands wrapped around you, pulling himself closer into your comforting embrace. For a few minutes, he tried to read your book alongside you, but his question still nagged, what was the promise?

“You want to know what the promise was, don’t you,” you chuckled.

“Yes,” he admitted, a shy smile on his face.

“Too bad,” you smirked, making him roll his eyes. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was 20 years later that he found out what the promise was, on Jack’s wedding day.

“Now, probably 20 odd years or so, I made a promise to Jack on my wedding day,” you admitted in your speech. Aaron’s interest peaked once more. “I promised him that I would love him and his dad as long as they allowed me to. That as long as Jack wanted me there, I would be. I told him he could call it off at any time, if anything was ever too much for him or if he hated me when he became a teenager. I promised him I’d go without a word of his involvement. I swore that I’d love him until the minute he didn't want me there, and even then that I'd just love him from far away. But I’m so happy you let me stay around Jack, you’ve become quite the amazing person,” you smiled through tears as he held your hand in his, just like he had all those years ago. Aaron’s heart swelled. You’d thought about Jack since day one. When your speech was finished, Aaron pulled you away from the rest of the party to kiss you in the beautiful sunset, the same venue you two had gotten married in. 

He loved you.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[cumironi]

YOU AND YOUR INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS? 100 TIMES NEED A THERAPIST: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you and all of your disturbing intrusive thoughts definitely need a therapist because it scared the shit out of your boyfriends.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, disturbing intrusive thoughts, self-harm mentioned.

wc. 9,2k | m.list

if you know callmekris you definitely know where this idea is coming from and also, i have like 30 drafts for satosugu fiction only and almost 70+ for others 🥹

it was one of those rare evenings where everything just felt right. you were in the kitchen with your two boyfriends, geto and gojo. the quiet hum of the evening surrounded you, and the soft clinking of cups and papers was the only sound that filled the room. you sat on the dinner chair at the edge of the rectangular table, absentmindedly folding paper into tiny stars.

geto was nearby, nursing a cup of coffee while going through his paperwork, his expression focused but relaxed. across from him, gojo was busy typing away on his laptop, his brows furrowed slightly as he concentrated. the place was calm, a comforting quiet wrapping around the three of you like a soft blanket.

you glanced at your boyfriends every now and then, watching the way they fell into their own little worlds—geto with his quiet intensity, and gojo with his sharp focus. it was peaceful, and in the silence, there was a sense of unspoken contentment. you kept making your paper stars, feeling a gentle warmth in your chest, knowing that these were the moments that made everything worth it.

gojo wasn't wearing his usual blindfold tonight; instead, he had on his pitch-black sunglasses, which gave him a more relaxed look, although the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes still shone through. geto, on the other hand, had his hair down completely, the long strands flowing freely over his shoulders. he looked different like this, more at ease, dressed in something casual and comfortable—a simple t-shirt and sweatpants instead of his usual jujutsu uniform.

you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, each in their own version of relaxation, completely different from the strong sorcerers the world saw them as. there was something intimate and almost vulnerable about this quiet evening—their guard down, the familiar lines of stress softened on their faces.

geto’s loose hair framed his face, giving him a gentler appearance as he sipped his coffee, occasionally reaching up to brush a few strands back. gojo, sitting there in his sunglasses and dressed down, still had his confident aura, but it felt softer in the warm light of the kitchen. he occasionally peeked over his screen to glance at you and geto, a small smile tugging at his lips whenever he caught your eyes.

the evening continued in comfortable silence, just the three of you in your little bubble of peace. you kept folding paper stars, the repetitive motion calming you as you watched your boyfriends. it was a simple moment, but it was yours, and in that cozy quiet, you felt a contentment that words couldn’t quite capture.

gojo glanced up from his laptop when he realized you’d been unusually quiet for a while. his gaze softened when he saw you, his attention lingering on the sight of you in geto’s shirt, the oversized collar slipping off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of your skin. your hair, cascading loosely over the same shoulder, was held back by a cute pink headband that added a playful touch to your appearance.

he watched as your eyebrows knit together in concentration, completely focused on folding papers into tiny stars. the sight made him smile, a warmth spreading in his chest at the simple yet endearing picture you made. the soft light cast gentle shadows across your face, highlighting the small details—how your lips pressed together in determination, the slight furrow in your brow, and the delicate movements of your fingers as they worked through each fold.

gojo couldn’t resist pointing it out, breaking the comfortable silence with a playful tone. “you’re awfully quiet over there,” he teased lightly, his voice warm with affection. “something on your mind, or just lost in the art of paper folding?”

his comment drew geto’s attention as well, and he glanced up from his paperwork, eyes softening at the sight of you. the moment felt even more complete with both of them noticing you, their quiet admiration and the unspoken bond you all shared filling the room with a deeper sense of comfort.

you glanced up at gojo, your focus breaking as you registered his teasing comment. you gave a small, almost bashful smile, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you. the corners of your lips tugged upward, and you shrugged slightly, the loose collar of geto’s shirt slipping even more off your shoulder, exposing more skin to the warm kitchen light.

“just... making some stars,” you replied softly, your voice matching the quiet calm of the room. you held up one of the finished stars as if to prove your point, the tiny paper creation cradled gently between your fingers. “they’re kind of cute, right?”

you could see the fondness in gojo’s eyes as he watched you, his usual playfulness tinged with a hint of something softer. geto, too, had a small, appreciative smile, the sight of you in his shirt and the little pink headband making his heart swell.

gojo chuckled at your answer, his gaze traveling up and down your form, taking in the details of your outfit, the way geto's shirt hung oversized on your frame, the delicate movement of your fingers holding up the paper star. he found the entire picture endearing, a mixture of adorable and sexy in a way that only you could manage.

“cute is an understatement,” he replied, his voice lower, filled with affection. “you look absolutely adorable, you know that?”

geto chuckled softly at gojo's words, a knowing look in his eyes. his gaze was softer, more intense.as your attention shifted to him, geto felt his heart skip a beat. the sight of you in his shirt, the vulnerability in your expression, the small, almost shy smile playing on your lips—it all made him want to gather you up in his arms and hold you close, never letting go.

but he resisted the urge, settling for a warm smile instead. “he's right,” he agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of possessiveness. “you look incredibly cute, sweetheart.”

you felt your cheeks warm up at their words, a mix of flattery and embarrassment bubbling up inside you. you couldn’t help but smile, a little shy but deeply touched by their sweet compliments. looking at both of them, you caught the way gojo’s eyes sparkled with mischief and affection, and the way geto’s gaze held that familiar, gentle intensity that always made you feel so cherished.

“thanks,” you murmured softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers brushing against the collar of geto’s shirt that still hung loosely over your shoulder. you tried to play it off casually, but the warmth in your chest gave away just how much their words meant to you.

you returned your attention to the paper in your hands, letting the comfortable rhythm of folding more stars soothe you. you could feel their lingering gazes, their silent admiration wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. it was a quiet reassurance that they were there, appreciating these small, quiet moments just as much as you did.

after a moment, they both gave you one last fond smile before shifting their focus back to their work—geto back to his paperwork, and gojo to his laptop. the quiet of the kitchen returned, but it was filled with a warmth and understanding that made the space feel even more like home. and as you continued making your paper stars, you felt a soft, unspoken connection with them, the kind that didn’t need any words to be felt.

gojo and geto returned to their work, but their gazes kept wandering back to you every few minutes. they worked in silence, the only sound the soft rustling of papers and the occasional tapping of keys on a laptop.

every time they looked at you, a sense of contentment filled their chests. the sight of you in geto's shirt, concentrating on making your paper stars, reminded them of how lucky they were. they both loved these moments of domesticity, no matter how brief, and they wouldn't trade them for anything.

after a comfortable moment of silence, you realized you’d run out of paper. you got up from your seat, making your way over to the counter where the scissors were kept. as you moved, geto’s eyes followed you, quietly observing every step you took, though he didn’t say anything. gojo, meanwhile, stayed focused on his laptop, seemingly immersed in whatever he was working on.

returning to your seat with the scissors in hand, you settled back into your spot and began cutting more paper to make stars. but as you started cutting, you found yourself pausing, staring at the scissors a little too long. without realizing it, you began making small, repetitive snipping motions in the air, almost like you were lost in thought or cutting something invisible.

geto watched you closely, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the way you seemed fixated on the scissors. he didn’t say anything at first, just observing with a quiet intensity. the way you moved, the look in your eyes—it all piqued his curiosity and concern, even if just for a brief moment.

“you okay?” geto finally asked, his voice gentle but with a slight edge of protectiveness. his question pulled you out of your thoughts, and you blinked, looking up at him with a small, sheepish smile.

gojo looked up from his work instantly, the concern in geto's voice catching his attention. his eyes focused on you, his usual playfulness replaced by a hint of worry. he could feel the shift in geto's demeanor, the slight edge in his voice. it was subtle, but gojo knew him too well to miss it.

he watched you intently, his eyes flicking between you and the scissors in your hand. the small, repetitive motions you were making gave him pause, and he couldn't help but wonder what was on your mind.

you noticed the sudden shift in the room, the way both geto and gojo's attention zeroed in on you. gojo’s usually playful expression had softened into something more serious, and geto’s concern was palpable, his eyes fixed on you with a quiet intensity. you could feel the weight of their gazes, and it almost made you want to laugh at how quickly their moods changed just from your little distraction.

catching the worry in their eyes, you gave a soft, almost amused smile as you held the scissors up slightly, pointing them in front of your face. “you know,” you started casually, your tone light but tinged with that familiar edge of mischief. “it’s kinda easy to just… snip the tip of your nose off.”

you demonstrated with a small, precise snip in the air, mimicking the motion as if it were the most normal thing in the world. you watched as their eyes widened just a fraction, geto’s lips pressing into a thin line and gojo’s brows shooting up, both of them clearly thrown off by your unexpected comment.

gojo was the first to recover, a small scoff of disbelief slipping past his lips. he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head in a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“what the hell, sweetheart?” he teased, the edge of worry melting away as he gave you a light-hearted glare. “trying to give us a heart attack?”

geto’s reaction was a little different. his eyes widened further, a slight flash of panic crossing his features before he schooled his expression back into a more controlled one. he took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly.

there was a beat of silence, and then you couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “relax, i’m not actually gonna do it,” you reassured them, the amusement in your voice a gentle attempt to ease the tension. “just got caught up in my head for a second.”

gojo let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as the tension eased from his frame. his eyes still held a hint of worry, but the playful glint had returned, his usual charming smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“you know, giving us a heart attack like that isn't funny, sweetheart. w-why, why?”

geto, on the other hand, didn't seem as easily swayed. he eyed you carefully, his gaze holding a hint of protectiveness and concern. he didn't say anything, his jaw clenching slightly as he seemed to be deep in thought.

you shrugged casually, not really looking up as you fiddled with the paper in your hands. “i don’t know… maybe intrusive thoughts?” you replied, your tone light, almost like you were asking a question yourself. your expression stayed nonchalant, as if the whole thing was no big deal, a small smile playing on your lips to brush off their concern.

gojo raised an eyebrow at your answer, his gaze narrowing slightly. he knew you well enough to sense something was off, something you were hiding behind the casual facade.

“intrusive thoughts, huh?” he repeated, his voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion. he watched you closely, trying to decipher what you were really thinking.

geto, meanwhile, leaned forward, his gaze intense. he took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking, his voice soft yet firm.

“tell us the truth, sweetheart. are you...having those thoughts again?"

you nodded, keeping your expression neutral as you continued to fold the paper, acting as if it was the most mundane thing in the world. “yeah, pretty much… with everything,” you said, your tone casual, like you were talking about the weather rather than admitting to something serious. you didn’t meet their eyes, just kept your focus on the task in front of you, pretending it didn’t weigh on you as much as it really did.

gojo’s playful demeanor faded almost instantly, replaced by a look of genuine concern. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving your face. he could tell you were trying to downplay it, but the casual way you brushed it off only made his worry deepen.

“really, with everything?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with a mix of confusion and concern. he was trying to understand the extent of what you were feeling, hoping to grasp how far these intrusive thoughts had gone. “what about the sink?”

he watched you intently, his gaze searching yours for any hint of what might be going on in your head. geto, meanwhile, sat quietly, his jaw clenched as he processed your response. his eyes stayed on you, unwavering and filled with that familiar protectiveness.

you snorted softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you looked up at gojo, trying to keep the mood light despite the heaviness of the conversation. “easy,” you replied, your tone nonchalant as you shrugged. “just put your hand in the carburetor and flip the switch.”

you said it like it was nothing, like you were talking about some everyday task, all while avoiding the deeper implications of your words. you kept your focus on the paper in your hands, folding it with practiced ease, acting as if the conversation was just casual banter, though you could feel the weight of their concerned stares on you.

gojo's heart sank at your response. the mention of the carburetor was a clear indication that your thoughts had taken a dark turn, and he couldn't help but worry about what else you might be thinking about.

he exchanged a look with geto, their expressions mirroring the same concern and confusion. gojo's mouth opened to speak, but before he could, geto beat him to it.

“and what else?” geto's voice was firm, but there was an undertone of worry in it. he wanted to know, needed to know, how far these intrusive thoughts had gone.

“what about the water bottle?” gojo ask.

you raised your eyebrows, a faint, almost resigned smile crossing your lips as you reached for the water bottle. you took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you spoke.

“well,” you said casually, setting the bottle down and looking at them, “while you’re drinking it, I’d just punch it into your mouth.”

you said it with a shrug, your tone still light, though the gravity of your words wasn’t lost on either of them. you continued to fold your paper stars.

gojo's eyes widened, his stomach twisting at the casually spoken words. he could see the resignation in your expression, and it only made his worry deepen. he didn't know what to say, didn't know how to process what you were telling them.

geto's jaw tightened, his eyes sharpening as he absorbed your words. he could feel his heart aching, a mix of fear and protectiveness overwhelming him. he wanted to grab you, to pull you away from these dark thoughts, but he knew he had to hear the rest first.

“the countertop?” he asked softly.

you scoffed, a faint hint of frustration creeping into your voice as you rolled your eyes. “oh, come on,” you said, your tone flippant as if you were explaining something obvious. “you walk, you trip, and bust all your teeth out on the corner of the counter.”

gojo's mouth opened and closed, his usual charm and quick wit faltering in the face of the worry in his chest.

geto, on the other hand, closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. he could feel your irritation, your attempt to brush off the seriousness of what you were saying. he could see the hint of self-deprecation in your expression, the way you dismissed your own safety without a second thought.

“the staircase?” he asked quietly, his voice holding a hint of resignation.

“you trip?” you ask confused.

gojo let out a shaky sigh, shaking his head slightly at the nonchalant tone of your response. he had to admit, you seemed remarkably casual about the dark nature of your thoughts.

geto, however, wasn’t as easily fooled. he could feel a flicker of frustration at your lack of seriousness.

“and if you didn’t trip?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge as he leaned forward slightly.

you snorted, a brief chuckle escaping as if the whole thing was just a joke. “if you didn’t trip?” you repeated, glancing up at geto with a hint of a smirk. “i’d just push you down the stairs.” you said it with a dry laugh, as if you found it funny, as if it was just another random thought that didn’t matter.

gojo's eyes widened at the nonchalant way you spoke about pushing someone down stairs. he was used to your darker sense of humor, but this was something different, something darker. something that made his stomach twist with worry.

geto, meanwhile, went completely still. his heart clenched at the casual way you mentioned something so violent, and he was having a hard time keeping his composure.

there was a beat of heavy silence, both of them trying to process what you just said.

“darling,” geto finally said, his voice tense but gentle. “that’s...not funny.”

you suddenly dropped the playful facade, your expression turning serious as you cleared your throat, mimicking their concerned tone. “oh, sorry,” you said, your voice deadpan, as if you were genuinely trying to be serious but couldn’t quite commit to it. you held their gaze for a moment, your eyes flicking between geto and gojo, and then you shrugged, the corner of your mouth twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “guess that one didn’t land.”

you went back to folding your paper stars, acting as though the moment had passed, but the tension in the room was still palpable, their worried eyes still on you, not quite convinced by your attempt to brush it all off.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick, uneasy glance. the lightheartedness you were trying to pull off didn’t ease the knot of worry in either of their chests. gojo ran a hand through his hair, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to keep his cool. he could sense geto’s frustration simmering just beneath the surface, the way his jaw was set tight, his eyes fixed on you with that mix of protectiveness and concern that was impossible to miss.

geto leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. his gaze softened, but the edge didn’t fully disappear. he was searching for a way to reach you, to cut through the nonchalance and get to the root of what you were really feeling. his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something more, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

gojo, picking up on the hesitation, decided to keep pushing, hoping that maybe humor would get you to open up more. he tilted his head, his eyes still focused on you, the hint of a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “okay, the hard one,” he said, trying to keep his tone light but there was a serious undertone to his voice. “what about the pillow?”

both of them waited, holding their breaths slightly, hoping that maybe this time, you’d let them in a little more.

you looked up at them, rolling your eyes with a dismissive wave of your hand. “oh, please,” you scoffed, barely missing a beat. “two words: suffocation device.” you said it so casually, almost like it was a punchline to a joke only you found amusing. you quickly returned to folding another paper star, like you hadn’t just dropped another dark thought into the conversation.

both gojo and geto’s eyes widened at your response. gojo’s stomach twisted at the nonchalant way you spoke of such a dark thing. his usual charming smile faltered, replaced by a look of true concern. he knew you had a dark sense of humor, but this… this was something different. something that made his heart ache to hear coming from your lips.

geto’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening slightly as he processed your words. the protectiveness in him flared, his mind immediately thinking of all the ways he could keep you safe from yourself.

gojo's breath hitched, his voice breaking slightly as he whispered, “wow.” his usually confident demeanor cracked, revealing the worry etched across his face. he ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and concern. he shook his head slowly, struggling to process your words, the weight of your casual tone sinking into him like a stone.

he swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto yours, searching for any hint of how serious you were. “sweetheart,” he asked, his voice soft and trembling, “you have these thoughts… like, every day?” his eyes were pleading, silently begging you to be honest, his breath still uneven as he tried to keep it together, his heart aching at the possibility of you dealing with this daily.

you nodded casually, not breaking your focus on folding yet another paper star. “yeah,” you answered simply, your tone matter-of-fact as if you were discussing something far less serious. your fingers continued to move deftly, folding the paper with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the gravity of your words.

when gojo’s eyes widened and he hesitated, asking quietly, “do you…want to do them?” you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as if the question itself was absurd. “of course not, i'm not crazy,” you replied with a dismissive snort, shaking your head as though he’d just asked something ridiculous, still maintaining your nonchalant demeanor despite the heavy atmosphere lingering in the room.

geto's expression tightened, his brows furrowing as he listened to your response. the casual way you brushed off gojo’s question didn’t sit right with him. his eyes darkened, filled with a mix of worry and frustration that he was trying hard to keep under control. he leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving you, searching for any crack in your facade.

“but you think about wanting to do them,” geto pressed gently, his voice soft but edged with a quiet intensity. “and… it happening?” his question hung heavy in the air, his eyes boring into yours, trying to understand the depth of your thoughts. he was struggling with the possibility that, despite your dismissive attitude, these intrusive thoughts held more weight than you were letting on. his tone was laced with concern, desperate to reach the part of you that was hurting, to pull you out of the darkness you seemed so intent on brushing off.

you nodded, picking up the scissors with your usual calm demeanor. “exactly,” you said, your voice steady, as if you were confirming something completely mundane. without missing a beat, you positioned the paper and began cutting, your movements precise and controlled. your eyes remained focused on your task, the sharp blades slicing through the paper with ease, seemingly unaware of the rising tension in the room.

you kept your expression neutral, not looking up at either of them, as if to emphasize that, to you, this was just another normal part of your day. it was your way of deflecting, of keeping everything surface level, even when the concern in their eyes spoke volumes. you didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate, just continued cutting, fully immersed in your routine despite the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between you all.

gojo’s heart ached at your confirmation, the casual way you admitted to having such dark thoughts. he clenched his jaw tight, his hands curling into fists, desperately trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill out. his eyes were wide, searching your face, seeking any hint of anything more than the nonchalant façade you were presenting.

geto, on the other hand, was barely containing his frustration. his eyes darkened as he saw the cutting, the way you just kept going, as if these thoughts were nothing more than background noise. his muscles were tense, his body rigid as he fought to keep his hands from shaking. his gaze flicked between you and the scissors, the sound of the blades slicing through the paper setting his teeth on edge.

“stop,” he said firmly, his voice hoarse and tight. “put the scissors down.”

his heart was beating wildly in his chest, his mind cycling through all the different ways he could keep you safe at that moment, his protective instincts on overdrive. you paused mid-cut, your expression one of confusion as you looked up at geto. the firm command in his voice took you by surprise, making you blink slowly as you tried to understand his sudden urgency.

“huh?” you said, furrowing your brows slightly. you set the scissors down slowly, your eyes shifting between geto and gojo, both of whom were now visibly tense. “what’s the matter?” you asked, your tone still carrying that hint of casual indifference, but now mixed with genuine confusion. you didn’t fully grasp why they were reacting so strongly, still caught off guard by the intensity of their concern.

gojo took a shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving yours. his heart was racing, his hands trembling as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

geto, meanwhile, was bristling with tension. his jaw was clenched tight, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your casual tone, the way you seemed to be brushing off the gravity of the situation. he couldn't believe, even with everything you'd just said, you were still acting so nonchalant about it all.

“the matter...?” he repeated, his voice tight. “you just admitted to having intrusive thoughts about hurting yourself!”

they exchanged another look, a mixture of worry and helplessness passing between them. “sweetheart,” gojo's voice was soft, his usually confident demeanor slipping momentarily. “is... is it always like this?”

you nodded, the weight of their concern finally starting to sink in. “yeah,” you said softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability you hadn’t shown before. “pretty much since ever.”

you met their eyes, the casual facade slipping away as the depth of your feelings became more apparent. you could see the worry etched into their faces, the genuine fear and concern that had replaced the playful interactions you were used to. the seriousness of the situation was starting to hit you, and you realized just how much your nonchalance had masked the gravity of what you were dealing with.

gojo's stomach twisted at your admission, a wave of guilt washing over him. how had he not seen it before? how had he missed how much you were struggling, all this time? his heart ached at the thought of you dealing with such dark thoughts alone, acting so casually about it when it was obvious how much it was affecting you.

geto's eyes softened further. his protective instincts were flaring again, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. he wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms, to shield you from all the pain you were carrying around.

but they both knew that addressing it needed to be done carefully. they didn't want to make things worse. gojo took a cautious step towards you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, desperately trying to keep himself in check. “sweetheart... have you ever... tried anything?”

as the question left his lips, he hated himself for even asking, the mere thought of you harming yourself making his stomach twist into knots.

you shook your head quickly, the denial almost instinctive. “no,” you said firmly, your voice a mix of reassurance and frustration. “i haven’t tried anything. i’m not crazy, okay? i mean, at least not something that will hurt me.”

as geto carefully took the scissors away from you and sat beside you. gojo approached slowly, his expression softening with concern as he settled next to you as well.

you could see the worry in their eyes, and their presence was comforting yet overwhelming. you tried to meet their gaze, wanting them to understand that, despite your dark thoughts, you weren’t acting on them. you wanted to keep the conversation open and honest, hoping that by addressing it, you could find a way to ease their concerns and, perhaps, your own.

their relief at your immediate denial was palpable, but it was clear that neither of them wanted to take any chances. gojo's eyes softened further as he moved to sit next to you, his hand instinctively reaching out to take yours.

geto nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your reassurance, but he couldn't shake off the lingering concern. his eyes were fixed on you, his fingers twitching subtly, as if resisting the urge to just protectively grab you and hold you close. “but,” gojo began cautiously, his grip on your hand tightening, “why haven't you tried anything?”

geto’s eyes widened in shock at gojo’s question, and he didn’t hesitate to react. In one swift motion, he smacked gojo’s head, his frustration evident. “don’t encourage her, you fucking idiot!” he snapped, his voice a mixture of anger and exasperation.

he turned back to you, his eyes softening as he tried to counterbalance the unintended provocation. “ignore him,” he said more gently, his tone filled with concern. “we just want to understand what’s going on, but we don’t want to make things worse. we’re here for you, okay?”

he leaned closer, his protective instincts flaring up as he tried to offer comfort while grappling with his own frustration at the situation.

gojo winced at the smack, rubbing the back of his head slightly, more out of hurt than actually pain. he looked sheepish, realizing his mistake. “oops...” he muttered, shooting geto a sheepish smile. “sorry, i didn't mean—”

he paused as geto spoke, his eyes darting back to you, a mix of shame and worry in his gaze. he was silently cursing himself, knowing he had messed up. “yeah,” he said softly, “ignore me, sweetheart, i'm a moron.“

you let out a soft laugh, the sound a gentle counterpoint to the tension in the room. you couldn’t help but find gojo’s sheepish expression amusing, his self-deprecating comment breaking through the heaviness of the conversation.

geto relaxed slightly as he heard your laugh, the sound a warm but unexpected surprise in the tensed atmosphere. he shot gojo a sidelong glance, his expression a mixture of relief and mild annoyance.

gojo sighed heavily, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “i guess i still have my comedic timing, even when my brain-to-mouth filter fails me.” he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting between you and geto, silently pleading for forgiveness.

geto rolled his eyes at gojo’s attempt at a joke, clearly not amused by his antics. “you're an idiot,” he said bluntly, but there was no malice in his voice. he shot a quick glance at you, checking your reaction to the lighter tone.

gojo tried his best to look remorseful, but his gaze quickly flicked to yours, seeking to gauge your response to their exchange. his hand unconsciously squeezed yours tighter, a silent request for reassurance.

“anyway,” gojo continued, his voice taking on a serious tone again. “i'm sorry, sweetheart. i shouldn't have asked that. i don't want to put any ideas in your head. i just...” he trailed off, swallowing hard as his grip on your hand tightened slightly. “i just... you scared us, yknow?”

geto nodded in agreement, his expression still serious as he added, “yeah, sweetheart. you can't just downplay this stuff. it...”

his voice caught in his throat for a moment, the fear he felt at your casual attitude still lingering clearly in his eyes. “it terrifies us,” he admitted quietly, his free hand clenching into a fist, desperately holding onto his composure.

you reached out gently, cupping geto’s cheek with a tender touch. your gaze softened as you looked into his eyes, trying to convey the sincerity of your feelings. “i get it,” you said softly. “just because i think about stuff doesn’t mean i want to do it. i’m not struggling, really. it’s just... something that crosses my mind for a second, and then it’s gone. i can barely even remember it afterwards.”

you gave him a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the fear and worry etched on his face. “i appreciate how much you care, and i promise, i’m okay. it’s more like a fleeting thought that doesn’t stick around.”

you looked at gojo, giving him a similar reassuring smile, wanting them both to understand that, despite your dark thoughts, you weren’t in immediate danger and that their concern meant a lot to you.

geto's eyes softened at your touch, some of the tension in his muscles relaxing as he looked into your eyes. his expression was still serious, but there was a hint of relief in his gaze. he knew you were trying to reassure him, and he appreciated it, even if his worry wasn't abating completely.

gojo nodded silently, echoing geto's relief. his grip on your hand relaxed a little, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin, a small gesture of comfort.

“sweetheart...” he began, his voice unusually hesitant.

you cut in before gojo could continue, your tone light but carrying a hint of seriousness. “it’s kind of like how satoru think about blowing up the entire higher-ups and the school sometimes,” you said, glancing at geto with a teasing yet understanding smile. “or how you imagine killing everyone up but never actually do it.”

your eyes then shifted to gojo, the warmth in your gaze continuing. “it’s just a thought that crosses my mind, not something I’m planning to act on. I’m not going to hurt myself or anyone else. It’s just... there, and then it’s gone.”

you hoped this analogy would help them see that, despite the dark nature of your thoughts, they were fleeting and not reflective of your true intentions. gojo blinked, surprised at your casual mention of his own violent thoughts. he chuckled softly, a mix of surprise and relief in his expression.

geto's lips quirked into a small smile at your analogy. it clicked for him, your words making more sense in that context. he could see the parallel you were drawing between gojo's fantasies of destruction and your own dark thoughts.

“yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter. “that's a good way to explain it... but....”

geto let out a shuddering breath as you assured them of your safety, visibly relaxing at your words. “sweetheart, you don't understand,” he said softly, “we... it's not just that we're worried about you acting on those thoughts. even having them in the first place...”

he paused, his hand trembling slightly in yours. “it's... it's not normal, sweetheart. it's not normal to have thoughts about hurting yourself all the time. it's concerning, no matter how much you try to downplay it.”

gojo nodded fervently in agreement, his grip on your hand now almost protective, his eyes filled with concern. “yeah,” he echoed quietly, “you can't just brush it off like it's nothing. sweetie, it's not... it's not right, to be thinking about stuff like that all the time.“

geto leaned in closer, his own hand still holding yours gently, “please, sweetheart, understand that we're not just worried about you doing something you'll regret. we're worried about the fact that you even think about it at all.”

they both exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of worry and helplessness. they wanted more than anything to take away the darkness in your mind, the shadows that haunted your thoughts. but they knew it wasn't that simple. gojo spoke up again, his voice hesitant but sincere. “we're not trying to shame you or make you feel bad about it. we just...”

geto cut him off, unable to contain his own concern any longer. “we just want you to be healthy. mentally, emotionally, physically. and those thoughts... they're not a part of being healthy, sweetheart.”

you let out a deep sigh, the weight of their words settling heavily on your shoulders. you looked at them both, a mix of resignation and confusion in your eyes. “so, what do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice soft and tired. “i’m not sure what you expect from me right now. I don’t want to worry you, but these thoughts are just part of how my mind works sometimes.”

you searched their faces for guidance, hoping they could help you find a way to navigate through these thoughts while still feeling understood and supported.

gojo's expression softened even further at your question. he squeezed your hand reassuringly, silently pleading with you to understand that they were only trying to help.

“we're not expecting you to change overnight,” he said quietly. “we just... we want you to know that it's okay to talk about these thoughts. to tell us when they're there.”

geto nodded in agreement, his own expression filled with empathy. “we're not asking you to pretend they don't exist. we just want you to share the burden, sweetheart.”

“you don't have to go through it alone,” he added quietly. “we want to support you, to help you carry the weight of those thoughts when they're too heavy for you to handle.”

gojo nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “we're here when you need to talk, no matter how dark or intrusive those thoughts are. we're not going to judge you, or think you're crazy. we just want to be there for you.”

you looked at them both with a mixture of gratitude and calm acceptance. “i know that,” you said softly, your voice steady. “that’s why i’m not scared of my own thoughts. i’m aware they’re there, but i also know you’re always here for me. you’re the ones who would stop anything that might hurt me.”

you gave them both a reassuring smile, the weight of their concern grounding you. “it’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in this. i appreciate everything you do for me, and it helps more than you realize.”

you squeezed their hands gently, hoping to convey your appreciation and the deep sense of security you felt with them by your side.

gojo's grip on your hand strengthened, the tightness of his expression fading slightly. he could see that though you still harbored those dark thoughts, the reassurance of their support was helping to give you some measure of comfort.

geto's shoulders relaxed slightly as well. he had been so tense with worry, but your words and touch were like a soothing balm, soothing his anxiety and making him feel a little less helpless.

gojo spoke up again, his voice soft as he searched your gaze. "do you promise us something, sweetie?"

you looked at gojo with a mix of curiosity and warmth, sensing the sincerity in his voice. “what is it?” you asked gently, your gaze steady and attentive, ready to listen to whatever he needed from you.

gojo squeezed your hand a little tighter, his expression serious. "promise us you'll come to us whenever those thoughts get too loud, okay? we don't want you to suffer in silence, even if it means waking us up in the middle of the night."

geto nodded, his own eyes imploring. "yeah, sweetheart," he added, his voice soft but firm. "we want to be there for you, and we can't do that if you keep it all internalized."

you looked at them, your eyes shimmering with gratitude and warmth. a soft, genuine smile spread across your face as you took in their earnest concern. the depth of their care touched you deeply, more than words could convey. it was one thing to understand that everyone had intrusive thoughts, but their level of concern for your well-being and mental health was profoundly comforting.

you nodded slowly, the smile on your lips growing. “okay,” you said softly, your voice steady. “i promise. if it gets too much, i’ll come to you. i won’t keep it to myself.”

you reached out, gently squeezing their hands in return, letting them feel the sincerity of your promise. “thank you for caring so much,” you added, your voice filled with emotion. “it means a lot to me, more than you know.”

gojo exhaled a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding, his expression visibly relaxing at your promise. he could see the determination in your eyes, the assurance that you would reach out to them when needed.

geto's shoulders eased further, the tension draining from his body as well. he smiled softly, his grip on your hand tight but affectionate.

"we care about you, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. "you're so important to us. we just... we want you to be happy and healthy, in every way possible."

gojo's gaze softened as he looked at you, a mixture of hope and concern in his eyes. he shifted slightly, his fingers still gently holding yours. “sweetheart,” he began cautiously, “are you open to the idea of going to therapy? it might help to talk to a professional about these thoughts and feelings.”

geto nodded in agreement, his expression serious but compassionate. “yeah, therapy can be really beneficial,” he said softly, his eyes reflecting the same hope and concern as gojo’s. “it’s a safe space to work through everything and get the support you need. we’re here for you, but having a professional to talk to could really help. we just want you to be as healthy and happy as possible.”

you looked at them with a gentle smile, your eyes softening as you asked, “if i go to therapy, will you both be less worried about me? will it make you happy to know i’m getting help?”

you were genuinely seeking their reassurance, hoping that taking this step might ease their concern and show them that you were taking their worries seriously.

gojo was taken aback by your question, his expression filled with surprise. he had been expecting you to protest, to resist the idea of therapy, but your openness surprised him.

geto's expression mirrored gojo's surprise, but his eyes brimmed with relief and gratitude. "yes, sweetheart," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. "we would be so happy and relieved if you went to therapy. it would make us feel better to know that you're getting the support and help you need. it's not that we don't trust you, but it's... it's about your well-being."

you nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face as you squeezed their hands gently. “okay, then,” you said softly. “i’m willing to give it a try. if it helps you both feel better and supports me, then it’s worth it.”

gojo's face visibly relaxed at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing. he smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling with relief and gratitude.

geto's expression mirrored gojo's, and his grip on your hand tightened slightly with affection. "thank you, sweetheart," he said softly. "this means a lot to us. we just want what's best for you, and we're so glad you're willing to give therapy a chance."

you didn't really feel like you needed therapy, but seeing how much it meant to gojo and geto made you reconsider. if that was what it took to ease their worries and show them that you were taking their concerns seriously, then you were willing to give it a try. their happiness and peace of mind mattered a lot to you, and you were ready to take this step for them.

you smiled warmly at their reactions, feeling a swell of affection for them. “i know,” you said softly, “and i appreciate you both being so understanding and supportive. i’ll make sure to take this step seriously.”

you could see the relief and happiness in their expressions, and it made you feel a deep sense of connection and gratitude. gojo's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with gratitude and relief. he gently squeezed your hand in return, his grip firm and comforting.

geto's expression mirrored gojo's, and he gently rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture of reassurance. "we're so glad you're open to it, sweetheart," he said softly. "just keep in mind, not every therapist is a perfect fit. if the first one doesn't feel right, don't be afraid to try someone else. therapy is supposed to be a place where you feel safe and understood."

gojo's eyes lit up with a warm, reassuring glint. “we’ll find the perfect therapist for you together,” he said, his voice brimming with determination. “and don’t worry about the cost. we’ll cover it. you deserve the best support, and if that means getting a pricey therapist, then that’s what we’ll do.” he squeezed your hand gently, his smile unwavering, showing just how committed he was to making sure you got the help you needed.

geto nodded in agreement, his expression reflecting the same determination and commitment as gojo. "yeah," he said softly, his voice filled with unwavering certainty. "money is not a concern when it comes to your well-being, sweetheart. we'll make sure you have the best therapist possible, even if it means paying more. your happiness and health are worth every penny."

you chuckled softly, feeling a warm, affectionate glow at their insistence. you nodded again, your smile genuine. “alright, baby, alright,” you said, your tone tender and playful. leaning in, you pressed gentle kisses to both of their cheeks, the gesture filled with gratitude and love. it was your way of showing just how much their support meant to you.

both gojo and geto's faces flushed a little in response to your tender kisses, their eyes sparkling with affection and appreciation. they smiled warmly at your gesture, their cheeks still slightly warm from the touch of your lips.

gojo chuckled softly at your response, his expression affectionate and adoring. “we just want to make sure you have all the support and care you need, sweetheart,” he said, the determination in his voice replaced with tenderness and warmth.

geto nodded in agreement, his own expression softly mirroring gojo's. “we'll do everything we can to make sure you're happy and healthy,”

you smiled warmly at their heartfelt words, feeling deeply touched by their commitment and care. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. you nodded, your smile widening as you added, “i really appreciate everything you're doing for me. i'm happy,” your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned in to rest your head gently against geto's shoulders, savoring the comfort of their support as your hands entertwined with theirs.

both gojo and geto felt their hearts tighten a little at your words, their commitment to your well-being strengthened by the obvious affection in your eyes. they smiled warmly in return, their own expressions reflecting the same genuine gratitude.

gojo reached up, gently stroking your hair as you leaned against geto, his touch gentle and reassuring. geto's arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his side as he felt the weight of your head against his shoulder.

gojo's eyes softened with a playful glint as he looked down at you, a tender smile on his lips. “how about we take a break from all this and go on a date tomorrow?” he asked, his voice light and inviting. he leaned in to kiss your hand gently, his touch warm and affectionate. “let's ditch the teaching for a day and just focus on us. what do you say?” he looks at you and geto for a second before back to you.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and agreement. “yeah,” he said, his tone light yet teasing, “a little break from all this academic nonsense wouldn't hurt. let's go on a date tomorrow, just the three of us.”

he glanced at gojo, a sly smile playing on his lips. “and if there's any teaching involved, it better be about the art of seduction, not mathematics or jujutsu.”

“what do you think, sweetheart?” gojo reached out and gently took your other hand, his grip firm and affectionate.

he chuckled softly, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and excitement. “yeah, a break from teaching and jujutsu is long overdue,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“we'll take the day off and focus on nothing but you,” he continued, his gaze firmly fixed on you, “no students, no curses, just us and a day of fun and relaxation.” geto nodded in agreement, his own smile mirroring gojo's. “sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate, “a day of pampering and affection, just the three of us.”

you snorted at their playful banter, a giggle escaping your lips as you nodded in agreement. “i like it,” you said, a bright smile on your face. you squeezed their hands gently, feeling the warmth of their affection and the excitement for the upcoming date. “i'm looking forward to it,” you added, your eyes sparkling with anticipation.

both gojo and geto chuckled at your reaction, their smiles widening at your agreement. they squeezed your hands in return, their grips firm but affectionate. gojo's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he grinned. “great,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “we'll plan out the perfect date for you, sweetheart. it'll be a day filled with fun, romance, and lots of attention on you.”

geto nodded in agreement, his own smile mirroring gojo's. “yeah,” he chimed in, his voice warm and affectionate, “no one will be ignoring you tomorrow.”

“we'll make sure you feel loved, appreciated, and the center of our world,” gojo added, his eyes sparkling intently. geto chuckled softly, his tone playful but sincere. “and don't even think about protesting or saying it's not necessary. we're spoiling you tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

you giggled excitedly, scrunching your nose and squealing with delight. “okay, okay!” you said, your excitement is palpable. “i can’t wait! I’m really looking forward to it.”

your happiness and enthusiasm were evident, and both gojo and geto couldn’t help but smile even wider at your reaction. they exchanged pleased glances, their hearts warmed by your joy.

both gojo and geto felt a surge of affection wash over them as they saw your excitement visibly spill out in your giggling and squeals. their expressions softened, a mixture of fondness and tenderness in their eyes.

gojo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement, “you're so cute when you get excited, sweetheart. it makes me even more eager for tomorrow.” geto nodded, his smile mirroring gojo's. “uh-uh,” he agreed, his tone affectionate and lighthearted, “our date is going to be something special, seeing this reaction is already worth every bit of effort.”

gojo reached out and gently poked your side, a playful smirk on his lips. “and we're going to make sure you don't forget this date anytime soon,” he teased, his voice filled with lighthearted mischief.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement at gojo's antics. “yeah,” he said, his tone teasing as well, “we're gonna leave you so spoiled, sweetheart, you'll be begging for more attention.”

gojo chuckled at geto's remark, their banter light and affectionate, “yeah, but tonight is all about relaxation and good company.” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze flickering between you and geto with a soft smile. “how about we find a cozy spot and put on a movie? we can order food in and just unwind for the rest of the evening.”

geto nodded in agreement, his expression filled with lighthearted satisfaction. “sounds perfect to me,” he said, his tone relaxed, “a quiet evening at home, just the three of us. i could really use some chill time after the week we've had.“

he turned to you, his eyes glittering amusedly. “what do you say, sweetheart? up for a movie night with takeout and cuddles?” you nodded eagerly, a wide grin on your face. “okay, okay!” you exclaimed, already brimming with excitement. “I’m going to choose the movie!”

you pushed away from the table with a burst of energy, practically bouncing up from your chair. without waiting for a response, you dashed towards the living room, eager to pick out the perfect movie for the cozy night ahead. gojo and geto watched you go with affectionate smiles, their hearts lightened by your enthusiasm.

gojo chuckled softly, his expression filled with affectionate amusement as he watched you dash off towards the living room. his eyes softened as he watched your excited retreat, his heart warm with tenderness.

geto couldn't help but smirk a little, his own gaze following your path with a slight shake of his head. he looked at gojo, a mixture of affection and fondness in his expression. “and there she goes,” he teased light-heartedly, “can barely contain her excitement for a movie and takeout.”

gojo nodded, his own smile widening. “she's adorable,” he said, his voice filled with sincere warmth, “can't blame her, though. we're all in need of some relaxation after this week.“

he got up from his chair, stretching a little as he began following you towards the living room. “we'd better hurry up,” he said, his tone laced with playful urgency, “or she might start the movie without us.”

[clawsdevour]

behind the dressing room curtains

wc: 1.9k content warning: smut, established relationship, public-sex, voyeurism, cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, one-shot, multi-fandom x reader, my booty writing, not proof read

✧･ﾟ

You know your man can be a bit impulsive but you didn’t know it’d lead to you both in the dressing room of a busy lingerie shop.

The other day you mentioned how you needed to purchase some new bras as the ones you’ve been wearing for about three years straight were starting to wear out. You also planned on picking up a few new panties, you know, you might as well sinceyou’re already there. 

Walking into the lingerie store with your man was a mistake to say the least. At least a fun one. His wandering eyes lingered towards the erotic pieces of lingerie, which you weren’t very interested in buying but he seemed quite into it. Thus piqued your interest a tad bit.

“I think you would look so good in this” he’d say and look at you with a slight smirk, then point at the mannequin wearing the displayed undergarments.

“What makes you think I’d actually buy that?” you rolled your eyes with a slight smile on your face. He was a bit goofy to say, somewhat like taking care of a manchild, but nevertheless you liked that about him.

You picked up three of the usual type of underwear you wear daily, two bras to replace the old ones, and one red matching set that you set your heart on purchasing just to see his reaction. Before that you headed towards the dressing rooms, your boyfriend trailing behind you.

“Just sit here and wait, I need to try these on” pointing to the little sofa outside your dressing room. He nodded and sat with his phone out, waiting for you even though you knew he was somewhat impatient.

The three panties you chosen were, well, the typical regular fit that hugged your curves and ass. The two bras gave your boobs that little push they needed to look good in every shirt you’ve ever worn. The last to try on was the red lacy set. You knew this set was definitely gonna get him excited that night, as in mood and that cock of his. Just when you put on the detailed set of panties on, tits bare and out, you heard a knock on the wall.

“Hey, are you finished yet? It’s like I haven’t seen you for like a whole three hours since you been in there for so long,” the curtain of your dressing room slid slightly to the left where you were able to make eye contact with him. Your hand covered your chest while you both looked at each other in shock. Your heart raced as you realized he’s already seen his surprise that was supposed to be awaiting for him that night.

You realize people were still in the dressing rooms and could walk in and out any minute from now. You pulled him into the dressing room with you, shutting the curtain tight. Letting anyone see what just happened would be your own downfall, at least in the moment it was.

There, your lean toned boyfriend stood and looked down at your curves which were accentuated by the panties. Oh boy was he flustered and surprised, especially down there. Your breasts just barely being covered by your hands, ass almost out on full display and covered by a thin piece of red lace for panties. He was spiraling when he saw the matching bra hanging on the hook and peered back down at you. You were also embarrassed at this sudden intrusion that you did on yourself. He relaxed a bit and took a moment to realize the situation. You, all shy and cute in public, ignited something in him. You saw it when his facial expressions shifted.

“What’s the meaning of this hmm? Are you thinking about surprising me tonight?” he quietly snickered at you, trying to hide his voice from anyone who’s potentially outside. He put his thumb on your chin, leaning in.

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t” you looked down and pouted in annoyance.

“You’re so cute you know that?” he grabbed your waist closer to his and kissed your neck which caused you to let out a small gasp. Your immediate reaction was to slap your hand over your mouth and your other arm to hang onto his shoulders. 

“Do you really need this pair of panties, or well, the whole matching set?” he questions while he started to kneel down, pulling down the red pair of lingerie with it. You shake your head as a no, still somewhat embarrassed.

“I don’t, but if you buy it for me.. then you could see me in it every night” you whispered under your breath, trying to control your racing heart. He let out a low sneer as he lowers his mouth towards your dripping cunt. 

His eye contact while licking r warm pussy clean makes you even more aroused. His thin warm tongue touching upon your bundle of nerves has your legs tense and you whimpering. You placed your right hand on your mouth to suppress the sounds you began to let out as he started to slowly go up and down your pussy with his tongue. Your left hand was pushing his head down further towards your sopping wet cunt that you, oh so wanted to get eaten. At this point, he’s grasping your ass so hard he could bruise your cheek. He pulls his head away for a moment and slips in a thick finger. You let out a low whimper as he adds in another finger and starts to edge you to the point where your head starts to tilt back.

“You look so pretty from down here. Trying to not get caught moaning for me. Even better without anything on your gorgeous body,” he mumbles to you from below, with his eyes full of lust and adoration. The words he said huffed air onto your warm pussy making you flinch a bit from the cool air.

“Do you want this dick? Hmm.. this dick? The only one that can make you feel this good?” He teased.

 You nod frantically as he slips in a third finger. You whine, impatiently waiting for him to take it out from his pants. You could see the outline of his boner that wanted to be freed so bad from the tightness it created.

“Turn around for me baby,” he whispered in your ear, to which you much obliged. You were shocked to realize that behind you was the fitting room mirror. He knew what he wanted to see.

He grabs your hips and positions his cock between your drenched folds. He slides between your slit a few times to get your slick as lube before diving head first into your aching pussy.

“Just put it in.. we might get caught and I can’t wait any longer,” you complained under your breath. Expecting him to go in nice and slow, he enters you in one immense thrust causing you to let out a silent scream.

Your body was pressed against the mirror showing you what your boyfriend caused when you pulled him into the fitting room. Watching yourself get fucked brainless by your boyfriend in the dressing room was such an erotic act you’ve never done before. The act alone made you feel horny, committing it in public drove your high to go insane. Seeing each thrust he puts into you, as if abusing your walls made you let out one big moan. You’ve never put both your hands over your mouth so fast. He’s giving you silent kisses on your neck and back, also watching through the mirror. He enjoyed watching your expressions go wild due to the thrill of being in public.

“Let’s make this quick, we’ve been in this dressing room for a.. too long nngh” he murmurs into your ear before kissing your cheek. You agree and nod out an Mhm as he continues slamming his hips into yours. Suppressing your moans while fucking secretly, almost discreetly, behind a thin curtain while being able to watch you and your boyfriend's every move felt like it was gonna last forever. The adrenaline you got out of this thrilling act of indecency made you even more excited. The ramming of his dick into your pussy continuously, made your body start feeling the building tension in your abdomen. You were gonna cum and he knew it from the way you looked in the mirror.

At this point your boyfriend was also starting to chase after his release. He started to suck harder on your skin and tighten his grip on the sides of your ass, causing crescent shapes to appear on your skin. 

“I’m c.. cumming..” you breathed in between moans, still, trying to subdue your voice. Your brain felt numb, your cunt was more than content while getting punished by his twitching cock. Your pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was close to climaxing.

“I.. I am too” was heard when you looked at him in the mirror. His face was twisting into his peaking expressions, knowing he was about to unleash his white goo into you in a few more thrusts.

“Cum in me. I’ll hold it in.. ah-ah.. until we’re, home..” you were able to mumble those words to him when you reached your climax. He notices that you came, knowing it’s time to finish and get out of the dressing room, he mouthed the words okay. You plot on keeping his essence in you until you go home right after you pay and leave the lingerie store. You were too tired and messy to go into another other shop after this sudden quickie.

There it was. He let out a muted groan as his white paint spreads and coats the inside of your tight walls that gripped his dick. You both were trying to stop yourselves from breathing too heavily, trying not to get caught by the workers or people around you. Careful to not let it drip out, he pushes his seed deeper into you with another thrust or two. When he pulled out, he puts his cock back into his pants and zips it back up. Quickly he scanned around the dressing room, finding the panties you came in wearing. You’re standing there, legs numb and still spread out, holding in his cum which could burst out any minute, hand still on your mouth and the mirror. 

He gently sits you on the little stool the dressing room provides and kneels down to slip on your underwear and bra. Your hands grip his shoulders and you cooperate. 

“My clothes..” You point at your clothes hanging on the wall, signaling him to hand over your clothes. 

“Don’t worry baby, I got you” was softly spoken from his mouth as he slipped your arms into the sleeves. Pulling your shirt over you as well as your pants.You keep your arms up, he notices and helps you stand up making sure you’re able to walk normally after getting fucked brainlessly.

“I can walk, you dumbass” you said while holding onto his right shoulder.

“Well.. I think you’re gonna have to hold onto me cause it looks like you need some help” peering at you, chuckling as he grabs your bag for you and the items you took to the dressing room.

He looks back at you, cunningly. You sense a sly smirk appearing as he starts to open the curtain that you’ve both been hiding behind. 

“I’ll buy you the red set you so badly wanted to wear for me.”

*.༄ GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU, CHOSO KAMO, KAEYA ALBERICH, WRIOTHESLEY, DABI, HAWKS, OIKAWA TOORU, SUNA RINTARO, KUROO TETSUROU, TSUKISHIMA KEI, ATSUMU MIYA, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE (ALL AGED UP/POST-TIME SKIP), and of course any of your favorite characters!!!

masterlist here

[1-800-c3dr1c]

GIRL I NEED A SMUT OF CORIOLANUS SNOW BUT LIKE IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN BUT A SEX POLLENNNNN

YOUNG! CORIOLANUS SMUT ONESHOT.

submissive! reader. dominant! coriolanus snow. female reader. reader is shorter than coriolanus. established relationship (boyfriend and girlfriend). aphrodisiac used in drink unwillingly (reader getting drugged because of it). consent (but technically not because the reader’s under a drug?? ..would’ve consented even if not under a drug). fingering. unprotected sex. mean! coriolanus snow (if you squint). overstimulation. ANOTHER WARNING, NSFW IS AHEAD.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in my tag list for whenever i post anything related to young! coriolanus snow under this post as well, or in my inbox!

i hope you like this, anon!! i did change it up slightly, so that it’s an aphrodisiac instead! i hope that you like it, but if you don’t, i can of course rewrite it to fit the request completely! <3

word count: 2,431

your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, was stressed. you could tell, even by the slightest of things. the pull of his eyebrows going downward, or the small crease of a frown on his mouth. you knew.

you wished you could help him, you really did. and at times, you’d pipe up and ask if he wanted help. disappointingly, he always denied your offer to help him, brushing you off while trying to sound nonchalant about it, letting you know that he could deal with it all by himself.

your boyfriend was a terrible liar, but you chose not to press on whenever he’d deny you of your help. however, it had startled you quite a bit when he had come into your room, a steaming cup of your favorite tea clasped in his hands.

“hello, darling.” he said softly, kissing your cheek and setting the cup down beside you. “i made you some tea.”

“oh! thank you, corio.” you turned to him, a bright smile on your face. “do you need help with anything?”

“no, i’m quite alright. thank you, though.” he lifted a hand to ruffle your hair, smiling back at you.

you found his actions genuinely surprising. he was never one for affection, especially due to how busy he always seemed to be. the problem was, you had no idea how he had gotten so much supposed free time. first he’d made you tea, and he was even talking with you?

“are you going back to work?” your voice was soft as you asked the question.

“hm? no, i have a few hours to spare. i finished what was most important, the rest can wait.” he told you, watching you pick up the cup of tea, softly blow on it, and then drink some of it.

you didn’t pay attention, but if you had, you’d notice that a slight smirk had formed on coriolanus’ face. he was up to something.

“..is something wrong?” you asked, noticing him staring at you.

“mm? nothing’s wrong, love. everything is fine, no need to worry.” he assured you, his head tilting just slightly as you continued to sip the tea. perfect. that’s exactly what he wanted.

“whatever you say, corio.” you shrugged, unbothered by it. after all, he usually kept to himself, and you knew that. it was fine with you, he would tell you if something was wrong when he was ready, and if there wasn’t? that was even better.

he simply put his hands in his pockets, watching you as if he were waiting for something. but what could he be waiting for? as your gaze wandered to his lips, you asked yourself this question. was he waiting for something from you? if so, you didn’t know what it was.

“are you waiting for something?” your voice was low, way lower than you had expected it to be. however, you figured it may just be sleepiness starting to catch up with you. and yet still, your gaze couldn’t help but linger on his lips. how peculiar, but it wasn’t very uncommon for that to happen, so you thought nothing of it.

“mm.. no. i’m not waiting for anything. i was hoping i could spend some time with you, though.” he sounded calm, way calmer than you’d thought he’d be. he seemed so sure of himself, as he always did. but for some reason this felt different. he carried himself slightly differently, as if he was on top of the world.

maybe he was. maybe he wasn’t. but coriolanus had told you plenty of times. snow lands on top. he had also told you that someday, if you’d ever want it, you’d be a snow, too. his wife. but you two were just getting into university, perhaps after your studies were over. for now, all you could focus on was work.

you had told coriolanus that before. that you weren’t thinking of marriage, or hell, even having children. however, for some.. unknown reason, these thoughts began to fade away. those thoughts became fuzzier, obscuring your thought process and no longer claiming it as your own.

..had coriolanus put something in the tea? no, he wouldn’t. he’d never do that to you. right..?

“corio..?” your voice was quiet, barely even audible to your own ears.

“yes, my love?” he replied, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

you couldn’t think clearly. disregarding your former question, which had been right on the tip of your tongue, waiting for you to ask it, you caught him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your height and kissing him roughly.

you couldn’t tell, but he was smirking against the surprising kiss, before placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. he let out a low groan, a guttural, almost animalistic sound emitting from the back of his throat. “fuck, love.” he murmured against your mouth, his breath catching in his throat.

“i- i’m sorry, corio. i dunno what came over me..” you whispered after having pulled back from the kiss in an attempt to catch your breath.

he didn’t say anything, cupping your cheek. “it’s alright, love. promise, it’s okay. tell me what you want.” he murmured, his lips right beside your ear.

you swallowed thickly. “i need.. need you.” you could barely think clearly now. your head was spinning, your thoughts running miles a minute. frankly, you didn’t quite understand what was going on.

coriolanus snow had put something in your tea. that much was obvious by now, but what? you didn’t know. it could’ve been anything. you were fighting with yourself, knowing that it was a losing battle.

give in, give in, give in. your mind was screaming, and your hands balled into fists as you clutched his shirt. “corio.. please.” you were nearly whining.

“whatever you want, love.” he said quietly, carefully guiding you to your shared bed. despite not being engaged, you two did live together. it was much less expensive, especially with the plinth family paying off nearly all of it for you anyways.

he carefully sat you on the edge of the bed, humming to himself. “what d’you want me to do, darling?” he questioned lowly.

“f- fuck me. please!” you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. frantic, you tangled your fingers in his soft, curly locks of golden hair. he smiled at you, and if your head were clear, you would notice that it was more akin to a smile of which showed that he’d won. as if this was a prize for him, something he’d rightfully deserved.

“sh, shh..” coriolanus soothed you, tracing patterns on the back of your hand with his fingers as he hummed, using his other hand to begin sliding your shirt off of you. “i’m right here, ‘m gonna give you what you need, i promise. alright? just be patient,” it was nearly as if he was mocking you.

he knew that you couldn’t be patient. not in these circumstances. what a fucking tease. you thought it unfair, pouting at him like a child would when they didn’t get what they wanted. “but corio..” you whined out, evidently needy.

“don’t say a word. i’ll take care of you, darling.” he said softly, finally slipping your shirt above your head and smirking at you. “you’re so gorgeous.”

you couldn’t think of a coherent reply to that. your head was fuzzy, and it was obvious that your thoughts only consisted of one thing in its entirety. coriolanus snow.

he busied himself with removing your shorts next, before your hand shot out and caught his wrist. “not fair.. that ‘m gonna be undressed and you’re not.” your voice was quiet, slightly slurring due to what’d he’d put in your tea, which still remained unknown to you.

he laughed, such a startlingly genuine laugh. he hadn’t expected that from you whatsoever. “alright, love. go ahead and off my shirt if you want. unless you want me to do it?” he offered, his tone suddenly seeping with an utterly surprising warmness laced in his words.

“i wanna do it,” you murmured absently, already unbuttoning the shirt. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move away from you. sometimes you’d pause, smiling giddily as you traced one or two patterns on his chest when it was exposed to you. after a few minutes of you fumbling with the buttons, you were able to get the last one unbuttoned.

he helped you this time, and thank goodness he did. you didn’t know if you could handle not being able to feel him. he slipped the shirt off of himself, letting it fall to the floor in a heap behind him. he caught your chin with two fingers, tilting your head up so that your lips met his own in a heated kiss.

this distracted you, making him able to slip off your shorts and underwear without much difficulty. after he’d done so, you shivered at feeling his finger beginning to trace patterns on the inside of your thighs.

“corio, please don’t tease.” you whimpered against his mouth. he smiled at you, as if a kind smile, before carefully slipping one of his fingers past your folds. this allowed for a gasp to escape your lips, and you broke off the kiss, resting your head in the crook of his neck. he used his vacant hand to pull you nearly impossibly closer, that you hadn’t even realized you two could even get any closer until he’d done so.

“tell me how much you need it, darling.” he cooed softly, evidently teasing you with how his tone was. however, this fact slipped past your mind, and you didn’t hesitate.

“need it so badly—need you so badly! corio, please.. please, please, please, please, please..” you whimpered, letting out a squeak when he slipped another finger into you, carefully thrusting them in and out.

if in any other circumstances, you’d be blushing in embarrassment at how lewd the noises of coriolanus thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy were. this time, it was quite the contrary. you didn’t care, your body trembling as you moaned out, pleading for more.

“need you, need your cock- please!!” you sobbed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. this felt so good, so so good!

“nuh-uh. ‘m gonna have you come on my fingers first so that you’re ready, mkay? don’t wanna hurt you, y’know.” if you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he actually cared a lot about that. but he’d fucked you plenty of times in the past, this was just his way of teasing. of edging you on, making you beg until he finally decided that he’d fuck you once he thought you’d done good enough for him.

it seemed like your lucky day, however. he seemed just about ready to fuck you, and before you could tell him you were going to come, the feeling of emptiness in your core suddenly fell over you. you gasped, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “wh.. what was that for?” you choked out, shaking. you needed him! he knew that! why hadn’t he let you come?!

“i think that you’re quite ready, love. i thought you wanted me to fuck you?” he grinned at you, a mischievous grin thar showed he fucking knew what he was doing.

you nodded, desperate. you couldn’t let your orgasm escape you, nor could you even think about not having his cock inside of you. in fact, it was all you could think about. it consumed your mind, leading you to be even more frantic than you had before.

you tried to take of his pants, but he’d already beat you to it. he was teasing you. he was making sure to take his time, slowly slipping off his pants before slipping off his boxers just as slow. it was excruciating, and you whined every time your need for him got even a bit worse.

he leaned over you without warning, pressing his cock against your folds, opening them slightly with his tip, but not pushing in. “tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” he murmured.

you nodded again, unable to speak clearly, and that’s all he needed. with a deep breath, he slowly pushed his cock into you. inch by inch he sunk into you, and it felt like heaven. you let out a moan, and coriolanus groaned out.

he slowly pulled back, keeping his tip inside, before he thrusted back into you at a somewhat faster pace. he continued this until he found a good pace to set for himself, a sheen of sweat adorning his face. he was concentrated, letting out breathy grunts and groans. to shut himself up, he leaned down and bit at your neck, beginning to suck on a specific spot.

you knew what he was doing. he was marking you, creating a hickey on your neck. showing everyone that you were his. you were coriolanus snow’s, and he wanted everyone to know. not that you minded in this state.

you were a moaning mess, sobbing as tears rolled down your cheeks. you were shaking so bad, and to stop you from shaking any harder, he pulled you closer to him, whispering sweet little nothings against your neck from time to time.

over time, his pace became utterly relentless. it was nearly inhumane, and it felt so fucking good. you were panting, chasing the orgasm that he’d denied you of from before, and chasing back the air you’d lost.

“oh, fuck.. oh fuck.” coriolanus gasped into your neck, and you knew what that meant.

he was close, and so were you. “love.. love, please. come with me.” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppier, his pace speeding up to the point where you hadn’t even thought was possible to begin with.

all you could do was nod, shaking as you let out a high-pitched moan, your orgasm crashing over you as stars blurred your vision.

coriolanus didn’t stop, however. he thrusted into you, helping you carry out your orgasm and allowing him to reach his own. with a loud groan, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck, he came hard, pushing his cum into you.

slowly, your thoughts began to clear up. you could think a bit more clearly, and as he lifted his head to look at you, coriolanus spoke.

“are you alright?” three simple words that formed a commonly asked question, and yet you knew the answer to that.

you were perfectly fine.

[choerypetal]

Lace Skirt. / Mike Schmidt.

summary : mike had been in a lot of under pressure lately. he needed a distraction. a distraction you will never forget of.  warning: fluff – smut a little?? enjoy! 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺

Mike made a quick phone call, asking you to fetch his security jacket. His excuse? Claiming he was too fatigued to remember it. However, you were well aware that this was just a clever ruse to slip into the restaurant unnoticed using a straightforward yet highly effective code. With full knowledge of his true intentions, you couldn't help but stifle a chuckle on the other end of the line. In response, Mike subtly cautioned you to maintain a sense of "calm" to avoid raising any suspicion. This was one of the ways he enjoyed exerting control, a concept you'd previously touched upon when discussing "alphas."

While it might have come across as somewhat cringeworthy, Mike successfully conveyed your emotions and encouraged you to embrace your fantasies, especially when it had the potential to enhance the bond between you two. If there was one thing Mike despised above all else, it was the thought of losing you.  

Upon your arrival at the Pizzeria, you took a moment to ensure your attire remained impeccable and unblemished before stepping inside. In contrast, the establishment appeared somewhat lackluster and unwelcoming, which made you consider mentioning it to Mike beforehand. Just before entering, you swiftly retrieved your phone and sent Mike a brief text message, a playful reminder that read: "Hello, handsome. I've arrived. XO."

The "XOs" at the end of your message were unmistakably your signature when Mike felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, prompting him to grab it eagerly. Without any delay, he responded with a thumbs-up, signaling that the door was ready to swing open for you. In his subsequent text, he added, "I hope you wore that Lace skirt I adore."

Certainly, you complied with Mike's request. In fact, before entering the venue, you took care to adjust your skirt a bit lower to combat the cold that greeted you. This adjustment wasn't in your favor, as you had been specifically instructed to wear the shortest skirt possible, which meant enduring the chill and the eerie atmosphere of the place. Mike was clearly in control. Another notification beep sounded just before you tried to signal him poorly with the light from your phone, and you received a message that read, "Meet me in the monitoring room, on the left." 

Clear and efficient. You quickly managed to sneak in correctly with the directive Mike had gave you. Although the animatronics did scared you shitless, you were able to finally arrive in his office. Meaning you’d have to knock on the door, unless Mike was to busy focusing in his monitors, you though. Wrong. Mike had been waiting for you all along, especially when you heard the thick metal door opening. “Coming..” And a voice so familiar, it send shivers down your spine. 

Mike's voice was noticeably hoarse and deeper than usual, and as you approached him, you could see the redness under his eyes. Though it deeply concerned you, with the hope that he would soon find some rest, seeing him in such a state oddly ignited a desire within you for reasons you couldn't quite explain. With a subtle smirk, Mike observed you as you walked closer to him, his fingers revealing an eagerness to touch your skin. However, he wanted to examine something first. He said, "Spin for me, darling."

You obliged, and as you spun around, you felt the flare of your skirt gently brushing against your skin. There was an electric tension between the transparency of the fabric and the chill in the air, and amidst it all, you could have sworn that you caught Mike sneakily lowering his head to steal a glance. In response, you deliberately made the peek more noticeable, swirling a bit longer. In the process, you lost your balance, and your foot accidentally tripped on a cable. But Mike was quick to catch you, securing you in his lap as if it were a graceful rescue. His arms wrapped protectively around your waist, and he playfully remarked, "Seems like your coordination has improved."

"Shh..." You interrupted him with a hushed tone. "I brought your jacket as you requested. Should I...?" He silenced you with a gentle gesture, his fingers lightly brushing against your plush lips, eliciting an uncontrollable blush – a quality he adored about you. As you settled comfortably on his lap, arranging your legs with his, you couldn't help but notice a growing hardness between his thighs. You smirked innocently, hoping he wouldn't notice, and you caught a few muttered curses under his breath. 

While he attempted to conceal his desire, you seized the opportunity to speak for yourself. "Seems like someone is in the mood for a little teasing, huh?" Mike tilted his head, an intriguing glint in his eye, and he contradicted your observation when his fingers sensually trailed from your lips to your thighs. Just as casually, he lifted your skirt, leaning in to place a few tender kisses along your neck. "Well, look who's talking..."

At that instant, you became acutely aware that tonight, your mission was to divert Mike's attention. Regardless of the gravity of the situation, he had mastered your tactics and was keen on applying them beyond the confines of the room. His fingers firmly cupped your butt cheeks, prompting a surprised whimper to escape your lips as your eyes locked with his. With the most wicked smirk, he declared, "I'll make sure everyone knows you belong to me, my princess. I'll ensure it." 

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[hannieehaee]

HOW SWEET (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: after years of an unspoken fight between you and your self-proclaimed enemy, you find yourself forced to work with your life-long rival, kim mingyu, as your father offers him a position at the family bakery. with such forced proximity and endless arguments, how are you supposed to cater to your duties when mingyu's presence brings so much tension to the kitchen?

content: baker!mingyu, enemies to lovers, pining, one sided crush that becomes two sided!, afab reader, smut, teasing, semi public sex (its done in a public establishment but no one is there), breast play, food play (frosting on tits basically), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.2k (teaser); 8.4k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: december 20th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: i dont think ive ever actually done enemies to lovers so i hope i did the trope justice!!

masterlist | patreon

Twelve years.

Twelve years dedicating yourself to your craft, attending summer camps, taking elective classes, paying for extracurricular classes, working summers at your dad's place, making all effort known to man, yet this is how it all ended.

Maybe claiming this to be the end was slightly dramatic, but that's how it felt at the moment. As you stared up at your dad and the excuse of a man standing next to him, far too cocky for you to allow your anger yo subside.

Today had been an average day. Throughout your life, you were content to admit that most of your days could be categorized as good, especially after years of having found comfortable employment at your father's renown bakery soon after high school (thank you nepotism). Attending culinary school whilst managing a part-time job at your dad's place had been anything but difficult. It was quite an easy and enjoyable job, one in which you could proudly say you'd had the chance to grow up in.

Your father had owned the place since before you could even walk, building it up to become a favorite in your city. Business was always booming, and it just so happened to fulfill your passion for baking — one which your dad had obviously passed down to you, but you weren't complaining. You occasionally took up shifts during high school, only becoming a full-fledged part-time employee during university, recently graduating and upgrading to full time. Life was good and steady.

So, it was fair to say that most of your days were good.

However, there was the occasional day that was ruined by the mere presence of a particular individual.

You hadn't meant to dislike him as much as you did. Anyone who knew you could vow for your likable personality and charismatic demeanor, meaning it was difficult for you to bump heads with people (at least most of the time). But there was just one particular person who made your blood boil from the day you met him. It had been so long ago, you couldn't date back the moment — nor the instance — in which your dislike had begun brewing. Fortunately, the dislike was completely mutual. You didn't have to feel like an asshole for scowling at the man any time you saw him, because you were usually met by a mirror of your expression or an annoyingly frustrating smirk — similar to in this moment.

The frustrating man in question was none other than Kim Mingyu, the resident heartthrob and well known for his passion and talent for baking. Hatred for the insufferable man aside, his abilities as a baker, and chef in general, could not be denied. The mere implication of praise made you gag, but you liked to think you were mature enough to admit talent when you saw it. This was something you'd never verbalize, however, knowing the man to also be one of the cockiest people you'd ever met.

There were a myriad of reasons as to why your current predicament ruined not only your day, but likely many upcoming ones. The main reason could be boiled down to the smile on Mingyu's face as he stood to your father's side. The cockiness emitting from him was enough to get your blood boiling and to create a carnal desire within you to beat him to a pulp.

The reason for his smile, however, was what truly took the cake.

Within the past moments in which you'd been processing your father's words, you remained silent and stagnant before them, leading your father to repeat the cursed sentence once more.

"Mingyu's going to be working with us from now on," he'd said with an innocent smile on his face, unknowing of your feud with the man in question.

Everything had come crashing down in that moment, but any more silence from you would mean Mingyu won this round, which was something you simply could not have — even under these circumstances.

Shaking all the anger and hateful memories from your head, you straightened your back and morphed a smile onto your face, one good enough for your dad to buy and for Mingyu to be unable to judge. Your hand extended as a courtesy, offering itself to Mingyu as a form of welcome, something which your father likely expected from you.

"In that case, welcome to the team," you spoke for the first time, sweetly enough to grant you a satisfied smile from your father. The poor man was blissfully unaware of your dislike for Mingyu, so no blame really fell on him for his blind decision.

Grasping your hand in his larger one, Mingyu shook hands with you, satisfied smile still on his face, "Looking forward to working with you," he said, far too content for you to not want to take him out back and-

"I know you kids already know each other from back when you were in school, so it should be easy for you to show him the ropes, right, kid?", asked your dad, interrupting your violent thoughts.

Your head whipped to him, "Show him the ropes?"

"Yeah. I was thinking you could train him? He's already an amazing baker, but maybe he should shadow you for a few weeks. You know, just in case," your father clarified.

Mingyu's close-lipped grin grew wider somehow, almost as if the knowledge of your discomfort at being around him overpowered his own dislike of your presence.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, dad," you found yourself agreeing against your will.

Your dad clapped his hands once in satisfaction, then proceeding to patting your back in encouragement as he tended to do.

"Thanks, kid. Well, I'll leave you two to it," he then turned to Mingyu, "Welcome to the team, son. Y/N here will show you where you can get your apron and give you a general overview of the place before your first day tomorrow," and with that, he made his exit.

Behind, he left a fuming you and an overly pleased Mingyu. Silence filled the room for a few moments until you found it vital to curse out the infuriating boy in front of you.

But, as per usual, he beat you to it.

"Happy to see me, cupcake?"

God damnit. You forgot about the annoying nicknames he'd insisted on calling you by since meeting back in high school.

Cupcake, baby, sweetheart, sweetiepie, babe, honey, darling. And these were the more tame ones. You did not want to think about the instances in which he'd called you hot stuff or sexy in public. They'd led to public displays of aggression you weren't exactly proud of.

"I thought you were studying culinary abroad. What happened? Got yourself kicked out?," you grumbled, walking over to the back of the restaurant with him following close by.

"Nope. Just decided my expertise could be used back home. And clearly since you seem to be the best they got around here."

It was as if he was allergic to not bugging the shit out of you.

You turned to face him, blinking harshly at the unexpected proximity before taking a step back and responding to his smirk with a frown, "Listen, Mingyu. You heard my dad. I'm in charge of you. If you disregard my authority, I won't hesitate to send your ass running. Do you understand?"

This made his grin grow bigger for some reason. Knowing he was getting under your skin was great for his entertainment.

"Yes, ma'am," he bit his lip in amusement.

...

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[animeyanderelover]

May or may not write in the next few days also some poly!relationship with Morticia and Gomez Addams (as portrayed in the two movies in the early 90s). For now I would like to try my skills with my currently other hyperfixation. We're talking about the Wolverine version as portrayed in the first 3 X-Men movies.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, death

Wolverine Hc's

The situation would be quite difficult and most definitely unexpected for Logan. He has spent years just aimlessly wandering around with no clear recollection of who he is and how he came to be, spent years just getting by somehow before Professor Charles and the X-Men offered him the closest thing to a family he has had since he came to be. He's loyal yet still sees himself as a loner who prefers keeping to himself. He's very conscious of his own feelings above anything else and even though he's known for his short temper and crude attitude he is by no means a bad person which is why he tries to put some distance between the two of you, fully aware that you shouldn't associate with him. At that point it is most likely too late already. For Logan to get so attached to you to the point of obsession it's likely that the two of you have known each other for a while now and that you've opened his heart up without even being aware of it. You've essentially just gained yourself a guard dog who will take any physical harm for you all too gladly.

Whilst Logan can be very possessive, especially in an established relationship, above all he is very protective. He spends most of his days just watching you from a distance, usually able to track you down by scent and sound alone. Normally his days do not require him to be overly busy unless Professor Charles needs something from him so he has a lot of time on his hands which he gladly devotes to you. All too often you have him always a few feet away from him, watching over you and willing to interfere as soon as anything or anyone should pose a threat to you. As someone who doesn't like when his own freedom is limited Logan at least gives it a try to not be too protective yet the fact that his senses are so much keener do not make this task easier. Never think that he isn't good in noticing your current mood. He hears it when your heart starts racing and his elevated sense of smell makes him very sensitive to changes in your body odor as he's able to detect the chemical changes when your emotions change. This plays a role in how he reacts and if his darling is highly emotional or on a more anxious Logan will be naturally more protective.

Your existence is a blessing as much as it is a curse for him simply because you make Logan aware just how painfully lonely he feels now that he has started yearning for you. You make him miserable in more than one way. Somehow he makes the situation even worse for himself though whilst being your devoted watchdog from the shadows. He's usually there when you spend time with friends or family outside, observing from a safe distance all whilst feeling a strange sensation tugging at his heartstrings, a strange sensation edging between warm comfort and cold loneliness. He'd like to be by your side too but knows that there are things he still has to work on. Jealousy is one of a few emotions that tends to make you aware that there is in fact a man following you around and the first time you hear that guttural growl from behind you you believe for a short moment that a beast is standing right behind you. One may call him too protective but he isn't irrational when he's jealous for neither his nose nor his ears lie to him. He knows exactly when you feel attracted to someone or vice versa.

People have insulted him more than once as being no better than an animal, a beast with no mind of his own. That is not true as Logan doesn't blindly attack people but killing others he will do if it guarantees your safety. There's a difference between arrogant stupidity that some may put up for show and the genuine bloodlust , the will that it takes to kill someone and Logan is able to tell the difference which often spares idiots their life as a few simple threats with his adamantium claws are more than sufficient enough to have grown men running away like little kids. Anyone who really comes for your life though will be met with the beast he has been called he is. Logan is fully prepared to murder anyone who would even dare try to lay a finger on you and his regenerative abilities tend to make him very reckless, fully prepared to use his own body as a shield and endure all injuries if it means that there isn't a single scratch on you. The one mistake someone could make though is triggering him to go berserk by hurting you, leaving him attacking and hurting anyone around him blindly, his mind clouded in red rage as he tears through blood and flesh.

In all the years since he has awoken without any memories of his previous life he has never been able to settle down once as a unease deeply rooted within his soul kept him moving from place to place, too restless to ever allow himself to sit still for even a moment. He has no place where he could keep you and Logan knows that yet strangely enough the longer he starts spending time near you the more he feels a previously unfamiliar ease washing over him, one that motivates him to give a permanent stay in a place a chance, something that previously used to be unimaginable for him. Even if he were to actually take that step and buy a small house he would still refrain himself from kidnapping you unless his trauma that lays dormant somewhere in his mind would resurface when he has to witness the heart-shattering situation of almost losing you, a vice on his mind that would taunt him forever that you almost lost your life because he couldn't protect you. The guilt will most likely only serve as an additional shackle around his soul yet his paranoia would ultimately outweight his guilt.

You may fall in the same trap as others do when they initially lay eyes upon the wild-looking man. Whilst Logan is gruff, crude and quite aggressive at times he is not only that. He's more but that is a side he only reserves for the people he trusts and you figure out that there is far more beneath his hardened surface. He's kind, he's loyal, surprisingly gentle and downright flirty once you get to know him better. He's usually careful with his touches, aware that his grip may hurt you more due to the adamantium that coats all of his bones. Your scent usually manages to calm him as soon as he gets a whiff of it unless it would be tinged with distress in which case his own emotions would quickly start stirring up with worry. There are still occasionally moments where he appears more uncertain and hesitant, moments where he questions just how much he should indulge in all of this and to a degree even how much he deserves it. At that point he's already aware that it is far too late to recover though as he'd leave half of his heart with you if he were to distance himself from you now, doomed to always live only half the life he could have if he were to have you.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (14)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 7.2k+

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: breaking in, mentions of blood, cuts, injuries, stitches, physical fight, violence, strong language

A/N: heyyy bbies, how are you all doing? jungkook went live yesterday, and I swear, I cried when I got the notification. it literally felt like life was worth living again. I missed him so much. anyways, this year is almost over, and next year, all the members will be together again. I can’t wait !!!

part 14: gearshift to wilting petals

5:46 am You yawn softly as you unlock the door to your shop, the faint chill of the early morning curling around you. The streets are still cloaked in quietness, a gentle hush lingering in the air as if the world itself hasn’t quite woken up yet. You slip inside, flipping on the lights one by one, their warm glow slowly illuminating your shop.

It’s unusual for you to be here this early. But today’s an exception, an urgent order for the school fair nearby has you here hours before your usual routine. The arrangements still need finishing touches and you want everything to be perfect.

Sitting down at your workbench, you roll up your sleeves, the familiar scent of fresh blooms calming you instantly. As your hands move with practiced precision, carefully arranging delicate petals, a small smile creeps onto your lips.

It’s unbidden, but welcomed as you immediately think of Jungkook. Somehow, even in the stillness of dawn, his face, his voice, the way he laughs... it all occupies the edges of your mind.

Thinking of him has become almost habitual now, slipping into your thoughts during moments like this... when the world is still, and your heart has room to breathe. The thought of him anchors you, a quiet comfort in the early hours.

A soft chuckle escapes as you tie a ribbon around a bundle of daisies, your mind wandering to him. Maybe he’s still asleep, hair tousled, soft snores slipping past his lips, one leg inevitably thrown off the bed like always.

But then just as your thoughts begin to drift, a loud crash interrupts you out of nowhere. The sharp sound shatters your calm, like a mirror dropped from a great height. Your fingers freeze, the flowers slipping from your hands as your head jerks towards the source.

A cold chill washes over you as your eyes land on the huge front window of your shop. The glass, once pristine and clear, now has a jagged, gaping hole right in its center. Shards glitter on the floor like cruel stars scattered across the surface, and lying amongst them, lifeless and heavy, is a rock.

And before you can process the moment, another rock comes flying through the broken pane, the violent impact splintering the remaining glass further. The sound is deafening, a crack of thunder in the stillness. Instinct takes over and you quickly cover your ears, squeezing your eyes shut as you flinch back.

Your heart plummets, sinking to the pit of your stomach, a hollow weight of dread pressing against your ribs.

After a few agonizing seconds, you cautiously open your eyes, your breath shallow as you take in the chaos before you. The giant broken window now yawns like an open wound, letting the chill of the dark morning seep into your shop.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each thud louder than the last, as your trembling fingers hover above the workbench. Your mind races, spiraling into a panic that your body can barely keep up with.

Your eyes dart towards the door, a fleeting thought of escape flashing through your mind, but the sound of crunching glass snaps your attention back to the shattered window.

Three men step out of the shadows, their figures looming larger than life as they approach. They're tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably menacing, each of them casually resting a baseball bat against their shoulder. The dim light of your shop catches on the jagged edges of the glass, framing their sinister grins in a way that sends a chill down your spine.

They don't hesitate. With practiced ease, one of them vaults through the broken window, the others following close behind, their boots crunching on the scattered pieces of glass. Your legs tremble as you instinctively stand up, your knees threatening to give away beneath you.

You don’t know these men... you’ve never seen them before. But their presence is oppressive, their sharp, predatory gazes pinning you in place. Their leather jackets are heavy, their style loud and aggressive, mirroring the wicked expressions carved into their faces.

Despite the faint glow of dawn creeping in, they seem to bring darkness with them, filling your shop with a suffocating sense of danger.

"Well, well, well…” the man in front drawls, his voice smooth and venomous, laced with an undercurrent of malice. He steps closer as his dark eyes rake over you, lingering too long, and your stomach twists in revulsion. You want to turn away, to retreat, but fear roots you to the spot.

"Didn’t know Jungkook’s little girlfriend was this pretty." he sneers, his grin stretching too wide, too cruel. The men behind him chuckle, a low, guttural sound that feels like claws dragging across your skin. But when you hear Jungkook's name, it cuts through your panic, your mind stumbling over the implications. These men knew him?

The air feels heavy, as if the shadows in the room are closing in around you. You take a cautious step back, your pulse thundering in your ears, but the man only smirks wider, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. He’s savoring this, feeding off your fear.

"Who… who are you?" you stammer, your voice trembling like a fragile thread about to snap. “Oh, how terribly rude of me..." he quickly says, mockery dripping from his tone as he places a hand dramatically over his chest.

"Forgive me, sweetheart. I forgot my manners." His sarcasm is a knife, twisting deep with every word. He takes another step closer, and your instincts scream at you to run, but you’re frozen, trapped by the weight of his presence.

“I’m Mingyu.” he says finally, his grin sharpening as he gestures lazily over his shoulder. “And these fine gentlemen are... Kihyun… and Jaemin.” He names them like they’re old friends, but the glint in his eyes is anything but friendly.

You glance at the others. Kihyun leans casually against one of your displays, his gaze cold and calculating, while Jaemin’s smile is twisted, his hand firmly gripping the baseball bat that glints ominously under the faint light of your shop.

"What... do you want?" you demand, trying to sound braver than you feel, but your voice wavers, betraying you. Mingyu tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “What do we want?” he echoes. "Didn’t Jungkook ever tell you about us?” He arches a brow, his smirk growing darker. You curtly shake your head, your throat tightening.

“No?” he questions, pretending to be surprised. "Well, that’s a shame. We’re his… let's just say... his very good friends." The way he says it makes your blood run cold.

You don't respond, you don't know how to respond but before you can even process everything, you suddenly notice Jaemin moving. Without a word, he lifts his bat and swings it with terrifying force, smashing into the wooden shelves against the wall behind him. The sound is deafening, splintering wood and shattering pottery echoing like gunfire in the small space.

You flinch violently, caught completely off guard by his sudden actions. The delicate plants you’d lovingly cared for tumble to the ground, their pots exploding into shards, soil spilling like blood across the floor.

“Stop… STOP IT!” you scream, your voice cracking as you lurch forward, desperation overpowering your fear. But before you can reach Jaemin, Mingyu’s hand snaps out, gripping your arm like a steel trap and yanking you back.

His fingers dig into your arm with bruising force, and you gasp, struggling against his hold. “Oh, sweetheart...” Mingyu says in a low, taunting voice, leaning in closer. The heat of his breath brushes against your cheek, and you shudder. “We didn’t want to do this, you know.”

His words are laced with venom, and your heart pounds in your chest as his gaze pins you in place. “But your boyfriend...” he spits the word like it’s poison, his smirk twisting into something darker. “He doesn’t know how to stay out of my way.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare at him, your mind racing to make sense of what he's saying. “He’s always picking fights...” Mingyu continues, his tone growing colder with every word. “Always thinking he can win. Like some kind of hero. But heroes…”” He leans closer, his face inches from yours now. “Heroes make the worst enemies.”

Behind him, Jaemin swings his bat again, sending another shelf crashing down. The sound shatters what’s left of your composure, and you choke back a sob as you watch your shop... the place you’d poured your heart into, reduce to ruins.

"Jungkook brought this on you." Mingyu hisses, his voice a venomous promise as his grip tightens “And if he doesn’t learn his lesson soon…” His words trail off, and his grin transforms into something grotesque, almost close to a nightmare. “Well, let’s just say this is only the beginning.”

The unspoken threat lingers in the air, oppressive and choking, like the weight of a storm ready to burst. Tears spill hot and unchecked down your cheeks as Mingyu shoves you backwards. You stumble, your knees buckling, the ground seeming to tilt beneath you.

For a moment, the world blurs with your tears, but the sound of splintering wood snaps you back. Kihyun moves like a shadow, his boots crunching over broken pots as he kicks a large ceramic planter. The crash echoes in your chest like a hammer against your ribs.

You don’t hesitate. Fueled by desperation again, you lunge towards Kihyun, grabbing at his arm with trembling hands. “Stop !!” you cry, your voice raw and broken. But he barely acknowledges you, his strength overwhelming yours as he harshly shrugs you off like you’re nothing more than a fly.

The force of his shove sends you sprawling backwards. The edge of the workbench hits your head as you fall, pain lancing through your skull like a hot knife. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as your palm lands on a jagged shard of glass on the ground, slicing through your skin.

You gasp, the sting of the cut mingling with the wet warmth of blood trickling down the side of your face. Your vision blurs, but not enough to fade the destruction unfolding around you. The sound of your beloved shop, the place you’d built with love and care, being torn apart is a symphony of horrors.

“Please.” you breathe out, your voice barely audible over the chaos. But they don’t hear you. Or worse, they don’t care. The men laugh and hoot, their voices cruel and mocking as they wreck everything in sight.

Your chest heaves with sobs as you press your uninjured hand to the ground, trying to steady yourself, trying to stand, but your legs tremble beneath you.

From the corner of your eye, you see Mingyu approaching, his bat swinging with terrifying precision as he breaks more pots. He doesn't even spare the lamp that stands near your counter. He’s grinning and so focused, as if destruction is his art.

Your head throbs, the glass shard in your palm burns, and the crushing weight in your heart feels like you're going to stop breathing. The tears come faster now, mixing with the blood dripping down your face.

You’re gasping, choking on sobs, your hands trembling as you try to stand up, but it's like all the strength in your body is gone. Everything hurts... your body, your heart, your very soul as you helplessly watch your world crumble into ruins right in front of you.

Above the ringing in your ears, the laughter of the men echoes, cruel and victorious. The destruction of your sanctuary is their triumph, and you, broken and bleeding on the floor, are their prize.

//

Thankfully, Yoongi’s got his car today, a rare stroke of convenience Jungkook barely registers in his rush to get to the hospital. He throws himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door with a force that rattles the frame. His elbow presses against the window, fingers tugging restlessly at his lower lip as his thoughts churn like a relentless storm, each wave crashing harder than the last.

He can’t stop thinking about you. How terrified you must have been, how much pain you must be in, and then there’s also your shop. Your haven, the place you poured your heart into. Now in ruins.

The image grips his chest like a vice, tightening with every thought. His breaths grow shallow, each one scraping against the ache that claws at him, raw and unrelenting. It’s not just the destruction of a place... it’s the invasion of your world, your safety, and a sharp reminder of the danger you never deserved to face.

"You okay, Kook?" Hoseok’s voice comes from the backseat, hesitant, like he already knows the answer. Jungkook doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches so tightly it aches, his nails digging crescents into his palms. Whoever did this crossed a line they’ll wish they hadn’t. And when he finds out who it was, he’s not going to hold back.

"This is insane." Hoseok mutters, louder this time. "Who the hell would do something like this?" The question lingers in the air, unanswered, heavy. The hum of the engine is the only sound for a moment, its monotony doing nothing to ease the tension coiled in the car.

Yoongi grips the wheel tighter, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. He exhales, the sound cutting through the silence like a warning. "I think it’s Mingyu and his gang." he says, his voice low. Jimin’s sharp intake of breath is immediate. "Mingyu?" he echoes, the pieces clicking together in real time. "Holy shit. That actually makes sense."

Hoseok leans forward, his brows knitted together. "Why would they go after Y/n though? She has nothing to do with them."

Jimin shakes his head, frustration bleeding into his tone. "Come on, Hobi. Mingyu’s not stupid. He probably saw Kook and Y/n together and figured out she’s important to him. So, what does he do? He goes after her to provoke Jungkook. Classic move."

Hoseok leans back, the weight of the realization settling over him. "That’s so fucking messed up."

Jungkook’s grip on his knee tightens as the conversation continues. His mind spirals deeper into the truth, piecing together the fragments with a clarity that only fuels his anger. Of course, it’s Mingyu. It had to be. Their rivalry has simmered for years, a powder keg of animosity threatening to explode at the slightest spark.

Since that day at the beach, when you’d looked at him with those pleading eyes and told him to stop getting into fights, he’d done his best to stay out of trouble. For you. Almost three weeks without a single fight, no retaliations, no confrontations. He thought it would be enough to keep the peace.

But Mingyu couldn’t leave it alone. And now you’ve paid the price for Jungkook’s history.

The enmity between them? Petty, childish even, born from the sort of ego-driven posturing that only bikers like them could indulge in. It started over something laughably insignificant... a race at the local strip, where Jungkook’s sleek, custom-built bike had left Mingyu’s way behind in a trail of dust.

It should’ve been a one time thing, but Mingyu couldn’t let it go. Accusations of foul play, whispered insults about engines and riding skills... what should’ve been harmless banter escalated into full-blown hostility.

Then there were the encounters at the garage... a neutral ground that turned into a battlefield. Jungkook’s gang and Mingyu’s gang would throw thinly veiled barbs at each other while tuning up their bikes, always on the edge of a brawl.

There was the infamous night when Mingyu “accidentally” tipped over Jungkook’s bike during a meet-up, scratching the custom paint job Jungkook had painstakingly worked on for weeks. Retaliation came swiftly, with Jungkook swapping Mingyu’s high-octane fuel for regular gas before a major race.

It was a constant game of one-upmanship, a cycle of pranks and punches that spiraled into something darker over time. What began as silly biker squabbles grew into a deep-seated hatred, their clashes no longer confined to the track or the garage.

Jungkook’s lost count of how many times they’ve fought... fists flying, adrenaline pumping, bruises and bloody knuckles carried home like badges of pride. Each altercation was a declaration of dominance, neither willing to back down, each fight feeding the fire between them. But this... this is different.

This isn’t about scratched paint jobs or petty insults. This is calculated, cruel... a planned attack meant to hurt not just him, but you. Mingyu’s crossed a line, dragging you into their feud, and the thought is enough to make Jungkook’s jaw tighten, his breath coming short and sharp.

He’s never felt this kind of fury before, not even in their ugliest moments. It’s not the usual anger that comes from a bruised ego or a lost fight. It’s deeper, heavier, a protective rage that simmers just beneath his skin, threatening to boil over.

Jungkook leans his head back against the seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Mingyu might have thought this was just another move in their twisted game, another way to provoke him. But this isn’t just a game anymore.

This is war.

"Stop the car." Jungkook suddenly demands, his voice low but carrying the weight of a storm brewing inside him.

Yoongi’s head snaps towards him, his hands tightening on the wheel as he glances at Jungkook in alarm. “Kook—?” he starts, but the look in Jungkook’s eyes silences him, his sharp glare cutting through the space between them. “Stop the damn car, hyung.” His voice is deeper now, rough with barely contained rage.

Yoongi swallows hard, inhaling sharply before checking the mirrors. Reluctantly, he signals and pulls over, the tires crunching against the pavement.

The car barely comes to a halt before Jungkook throws the door open, stepping out without a word. His strides are long and purposeful, his body radiating with a kind of anger that demands release.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi shouts, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out as well. He jogs after him, his shoes scraping against the uneven ground. “Kook, stop!” But Jungkook doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even glance back, his shoulders set, his focus sharp.

“Where the hell are you going?” Yoongi yells, his voice filled with frustration as he quickens his pace. Finally, he reaches out, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and spinning him around.

Jungkook's jaw is clenched, his eyes burning with fury that seems to pulse under his skin. “I’m going to Mingyu.” he states flatly, his tone devoid of hesitation or remorse. Yoongi’s eyes widen, his grip on Jungkook’s arm tightening.

“Kook, no.” he says firmly, his voice laced with urgency. “What about Y/n? You need to see her first. She’s hurt, Jungkook. You can’t just—”

“How the hell am I supposed to face her?” Jungkook cuts him off, his voice loud and raw, his chest heaving as he steps closer to Yoongi.

Yoongi’s breath catches, startled by the sudden outburst, his gaze searching Jungkook’s face. The younger man’s features are tight, his lips trembling just slightly, betraying the storm of emotion threatening to consume him.

"How can I face her, hyung?" he asks again, quieter now, the rage giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. "How can I see her and pretend like it’s not my fault she went through something like this?" His voice wavers, thick with guilt. "How can I act like I’m not responsible for her injuries? For her shop getting destroyed?"

Yoongi’s heart aches at the sight of his friend, the usually unshakable Jungkook now on the verge of breaking. He tightens his grip on Jungkook’s arm, grounding him as he searches for the right words.

"Kook, this isn’t your fault." Yoongi says firmly, his voice steady, each word carefully chosen to pierce through the storm of guilt swirling around Jungkook. "Mingyu did this... he’s the one to blame. Not you."

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening, lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to physically hold back the wave of emotion threatening to take over him. "But if I wasn’t in her life..." His voice falters, raw and unsteady. "If Mingyu didn’t have a reason to target her, none of this would’ve happened."

Yoongi steps closer, his eyes softening, but his tone remains resolute, unwavering. "Don’t do that." he says quietly, yet there’s a firmness that anchors his words. "Don’t let Mingyu’s actions make you question your worth in her life. Y/N needs you now more than ever, Kook—"

"I can’t, hyung." Jungkook cuts him off, his voice cracking under the weight of his turmoil. He looks away, fists clenched at his sides as he battles the war raging within. "I just... I can’t." His chest heaves as he takes a shaky breath, forcing his gaze back to Yoongi, resolve hardening in his eyes. "I need to go to Mingyu first."

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh, a mix of frustration and resignation etched into his features. He knows there’s no stopping Jungkook when he’s like this... when his emotions burn too brightly, blinding him to anything else. "Kook..." he tries again, softer this time, but Jungkook is already turning on his heels.

Without another word, Jungkook walks away. Yoongi watches him go, his hand falling limply to his side, the weight of helplessness settling over him. He knows he can’t follow, knows that right now, Jungkook needs to burn through his rage before anything or anyone can reach him.

//

You sit on the hospital bed, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the hem of the thin blanket draped over your legs. Your gaze is fixed on the sterile white wall ahead, but your mind is far from the confines of the hospital room.

The doctors have done their part... stitched the gash on your head and cleaned the cut on your hand. Nothing serious, they said, but the dull ache lingers, a reminder of the chaos you just survived.

The cops had come not long after, their questions forcing you to relive the nightmare. You had described everything, each word had felt like reopening a wound. The images play on a loop in your head petals scattered like confetti among shards of glass, shelves overturned, your sanctuary turned into ruins.

But your physical injuries and the investigation feel like background noise compared to the turmoil inside you. Your thoughts keep circling back to Jungkook. Where is he? Is he okay?

You replay his voice in your mind, his touch, the way his presence always makes you feel safe. You miss him, desperately. The fear from earlier still clings to you like a shadow, refusing to let go, and you know nothing would feel right until you see him.

The sound of the door creaking open breaks through your spiral of thoughts. Your heart leaps, and you snap your head towards the door, expecting him. Your chest tightens in anticipation, only for it to deflate when you see your friends step in.

Seokjin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Juwon rush in, their faces etched with panic and concern. “Y/n !!” Seokjin exclaims, his voice strained as he strides towards you with quick steps.

His sharp gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the bandage wrapped around your head and the way your injured hand rests gingerly on your lap. His lips press into a thin line, betraying the anger and worry simmering beneath the surface.

“We came as soon as Mr. Kwon called and told us about the break-in.” Juwon says, her voice trembling slightly. She steps closer, her hands clutching the strap of her bag tightly, as though grounding herself. The others nod in silent agreement, their faces reflecting the same whirlwind of emotions... shock, worry, and relief that you’re still here.

You offer them a faint smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. It’s small and fragile, weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering fear that coils tightly around your chest. Words seem unnecessary, you don’t know what to say that could make the moment any less heavy.

Taehyung moves to sit beside your legs, careful not to jostle the bed. His hand gently rests on your knee, his touch warm and soothing. “We’re sorry this happened to you, Y/n.” he says gently, his deep voice carrying a tenderness that makes your throat tighten. His dark eyes search for yours, silently offering comfort and understanding.

Your friends exchange glances, their unspoken agreement clear. They won’t overwhelm you with questions, not now. They don’t need to hear every detail to see the toll the day has taken on you. For now, they’re just thankful that you’re here, alive and whole, and that nothing worse has happened.

Namjoon pulls up a chair, sitting across from you. “You don’t have to say anything.” he says carefully, his calm voice like a steady anchor. “We’re just here for you, okay?” Seokjin nods, his stern demeanor softening as he stands at the foot of your bed. “We’ll figure this out together... we'll get your shop fixed and take care of everything. You’re not alone in this.”

Their presence fills the room with a sense of warmth and safety, a stark contrast to the sterile hospital walls and the cold reality of everything you’ve endured. But even as they surround you with their love and reassurance, a hollow ache persists in your chest, growing with each passing second.

Because unfortunately, they’re not the person you've been waiting for.

//

Jungkook stops by the familiar garage, the scent of motor oil and burnt rubber instantly hitting him. The dimly lit space is alive with a raucous energy... Jaemin and Kihyun are horsing around by a row of bikes, Kihyun laughing as he sprays Jaemin with a hose meant for cleaning the vehicles.

Jaemin swats at him, water splattering across the concrete floor as their voices echo off the walls. Mingyu lounges casually on a sleek black bike, his posture oozing arrogance as he scrolls through his phone, entirely unbothered by the chaos around him.

Jungkook’s rage flares at the sight of them, his vision narrowing on Mingyu like a predator locking onto its prey. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jungkook strides towards him, his steps echoing with purpose.

Mingyu glances up, sensing a presence approaching him, but he’s too slow to react. Jungkook’s hand shoots out, grabbing Mingyu by the collar and yanking him upright with a force that makes the bike creak behind him.

The sound startles Jaemin and Kihyun, their playful banter cut off as they turn to see their leader in Jungkook’s grasp. They spring into action, fists clenching as they move towards Jungkook, their expressions dark with intent. But before they can get too close, Mingyu raises a hand, signaling them to stop.

Jaemin hesitates, his jaw tightening as he looks to Kihyun for confirmation. Kihyun, equally tense, eventually takes a step back, though his sharp gaze remains locked on Jungkook, ready to jump in at the slightest provocation.

Mingyu meets Jungkook’s furious glare with an infuriatingly calm expression, his lips curling into a smirk. “Well, well...” he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s the occasion, Jeon? Finally decided to drop by for a friendly chat?”

The smugness in Mingyu’s tone and the amused glint in his eyes only fuel Jungkook’s fury. His grip tightens on Mingyu’s collar, pulling him closer. “Cut the crap.” he snarls, his voice low. “You think I wouldn’t find out it was you? What the hell were you trying to prove?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence as he tilts his head, almost uninterested. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve been very busy lately.”

Jungkook’s patience snaps. He slams Mingyu back against the bike, the impact making the metal groan under the force. “Don’t play dumb with me, Mingyu!!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the garage like thunder.

“You went after Y/n. You hurt her... you destroyed... you destroyed her shop!” His voice cracks slightly, the raw pain seeping through his otherwise firm tone. Mingyu doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he smirks, a cold expression that only fuels Jungkook’s rage.

“Yeah, and?” Mingyu asks, his voice calm and almost mocking, as if Jungkook’s accusations were trivial.

Jungkook grabs Mingyu's collar again, his knuckles whitening with the effort to hold back. “You’ve gone too far this time, Mingyu!” he barks, his breath hitching. “You couldn’t get to me, so you used her? You dragged her into our feud?!” The veins in his arms bulge as his fists curl even tighter.

It’s taking everything in him to not just drop everything and swing a punch across Mingyu’s smug face, but he remembers the promise he made to you... the one thing keeping him from unleashing the storm brewing inside.

Mingyu scoffs and with a quick shove, pushes Jungkook back. The smirk on his face deepens as he adjusts his jacket, standing straighter. “You’re wrong, Jungkook.” he says, his voice laced with mockery. “I didn’t get her in between us. You did.”

Jungkook freezes, his chest heaving as Mingyu takes a step closer, the smirk on his face as smug as ever. “You’re always acting so high and mighty...” Mingyu continues, his words dripping with venom.

“Like you’re untouchable, like the world revolves around you. But here’s the truth, Jungkook... you’re predictable. You’re weak. All it took to shake your world was her... your little girlfriend. One small push, and you’re crumbling.” he laughs.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his breaths coming out in short, ragged bursts as Mingyu circles him like a predator savoring his victory. “Damn, biker boy got too soft, huh?” Mingyu taunts, leaning in closer, his voice low and mocking.

“The great Jungkook, protector of the weak, savior of the helpless... brought to his knees because of one girl. And for what? To prove a point? To show you how easily I can get under your skin?” he scoffs.

Jungkook’s fists tremble, every fiber of his being screaming at him to swing, to hit, to make Mingyu regret every word spilling from his mouth. But he clenches his jaw, trying to control himself.

But then Mingyu tilts his head, his voice low and venomous, cutting through the air like a blade. "You should’ve seen her face…" he starts, his tone dripping with malice.

"The way she cried, the way she trembled when I kicked over her stupid pots. Smashed her shelves. Oh, the look in her eyes when she begged me to stop... it was priceless." he giggles like he's telling something funny.

Jungkook freezes, the world narrowing to Mingyu’s face and those cruel words. His vision blurs, red creeping into the edges of his sight. The storm he’s been holding back finally roars to life, shattering the fragile restraint he clung to.

"You son of a bitch !!" Jungkook yells, his voice raw with fury as he lunges forward. His fist connects with Mingyu’s jaw, the force sending the man stumbling back against the bike. The metallic crash echoes through the garage as tools scatter to the ground. Mingyu groans, clutching his face, but Jungkook doesn’t stop.

"You think this is a game?" Jungkook shouts, grabbing Mingyu by the collar again and slamming him against the bike once more. His knuckles ache, blood smeared across his hand, he doesn’t even know if it’s his or Mingyu’s. "She begged you to stop, and you kept going? You’re nothing but a fucking coward Mingyu, using her to get to me !!"

Kihyun and Jaemin exchange uneasy glances, their instincts screaming to intervene, but Mingyu raises a trembling hand yet again, his bloodied smirk unwavering. “Stand down.” he mutters, his voice laced with defiance despite the crimson streak trailing from his lips.

The air crackles with tension, and his gaze locks on Jungkook. “There he is.” Mingyu rasps. “That’s the Jungkook I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t keep the beast caged for too long.”

Every ounce of self-restraint dissolves as Jungkook lunges forward again, his fist colliding with Mingyu’s jaw with a sickening crack. Mingyu staggers but barely has time to recover before another punch lands, followed by another. The garage echoes with the sounds of brutal impact, knuckles against flesh, the crunch of bone, and Mingyu’s muffled grunts of pain.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He’s lost in the storm of his anger, each punch fueled by the image of your tears, your trembling hands, and the shattered remnants of your beloved shop. But the movement behind him pulls him back to reality... Kihyun and Jaemin. They can’t stay idle any longer.

“Enough!” Jaemin shouts, springing into action alongside Kihyun. They grab Jungkook from behind, dragging him away. Jaemin lands a blow to the side of Jungkook’s face, causing him to stumble, while Kihyun strikes his ribs, knocking the breath out of him.

But Jungkook fights back, his movements fueled by pure adrenaline. He elbows Jaemin in the chest, sending him reeling, and swings a swift kick at Kihyun, who dodges just in time.

The fight descends into chaos. Jungkook takes hits from every direction but keeps charging forward, his sheer determination to make Mingyu pay outweighing the searing pain in his body. Blood drips from a split lip, his knuckles are raw, and his breathing is ragged, but he refuses to fall.

Finally, with a burst of strength, Jungkook shoves Kihyun aside, his glare pinning Mingyu in place. "This ends now." Jungkook states, his voice shaking with a dangerous edge. He steps back, his entire body trembling as he takes a moment to collect himself, his fists curling at his sides.

Mingyu groans as he pushes himself off the ground with his elbows, blood streaking his face. Despite his battered state, his smirk remains, a mocking ghost of triumph. “This isn’t over.” he croaks, his words barely audible over his labored breathing. “You think I’m going to let her off that easily? You think this little tantrum changes anything?”

Jungkook freezes, his breath hitching. Slowly, he turns back to face Mingyu. “Don’t you dare touch her again.” he warns, his voice low but laced with venom. Mingyu chuckles, spitting blood onto the ground. “Ah, ah, ah.” he drawls, his words slurred.

"Not so easily." he sneers, the corners of his bloodied lips curling into a triumphant smirk. Jungkook's breath stills, his fists clenching as he glares at the man in front of him. For a moment, the only sound is the faint echo of their ragged breathing in the dimly lit space, the weight of unspoken tension suffocating.

“You want her safe?” Mingyu questions, his eyes glinting like a predator savoring its prey. “Fine.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his breath hitching as he processes the words. He doesn’t break eye contact, his gaze fixed on the smug figure before him, trying to decipher his next move.

“Give me your bike, then.” Mingyu finally demands, his voice sharper now, the smirk on his face growing wider as he watches the flicker of hesitation cross Jungkook's features.

Jungkook freezes, the words crashing over him like a thunderclap. His bike. The one thing he held close, his most prized possession. Memories rush forward... scraping together allowances, working grueling hours, enduring the endless grind just to afford it. That bike wasn’t just metal and wheels... it was freedom, pride, and a testament to everything he had fought for.

But then, your face eclipses it all... your smile, your warmth, your safety. Somehow, even in this moment, as blood drips from his split lip and his body aches from the fight, all he can think about is you.

The memory of your laugh filters through his mind like a lifeline, grounding him in the chaos. If giving up his bike guarantees your safety, if it means sparing you even a fraction of pain, then there’s no question. The bike he worked so hard for... the sacrifices, the late nights, the endless grind, it all pales in comparison to what you mean to him.

Jungkook swallows hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him, but he doesn’t let the weight of the moment linger. He digs into his pocket without a word, pulling out the keys to his most cherished possession.

With a flick of his wrist, he throws them towards Mingyu on the floor, the sound of the metal clattering against the concrete echoing in the tense stillness. Mingyu’s smirk widens as he looks down at the keys, the glint of victory in his eyes unmistakable.

“Didn’t think she meant that much to you.” Mingyu sneers but Jungkook doesn’t answer as he finally walks away and doesn’t look back.

With each step away, his heart grows heavier... not because of the pain radiating through his body or the loss of his bike but because of the crushing realization that as long as Mingyu exists and as long as you’re part of Jungkook’s world, you’ll never truly be safe.

//

"Here." Juwon says softly, guiding you carefully to your couch. Her grip is steady, her expression lined with worry. Finally back from the hospital, you sink into the cushions, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. The day has drained you... physically, mentally, emotionally. Every moment felt like a battle, and now that you're home, the weight of it all feels unbearable.

Your friends linger, their eyes filled with unspoken concern. Namjoon hesitates by the door, his reluctance mirrored by the others. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asks for the third time, his voice low, almost pleading.

You force a small smile, trying to reassure them even though your heart isn’t in it. "I'll be fine." you mutter, your voice barely audible. "I just need some rest."

With heavy hearts and reluctant nods, they eventually leave, each of them urging you to call if you need anything. The door clicks shut behind them, and for the first time in hours, you're alone again.

The quietness of your apartment wraps around you like a heavy blanket, the silence amplifying the whirlwind in your mind. You sit there for a moment, staring at nothing, the events of the day replaying in a loop. The fear, the pain, the worry... all of it feels suffocating.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your phone. Scrolling through the unanswered texts and missed calls you've made to Jungkook, the ache in your chest deepens. Did he not know what happened to you today? Or worse, did he know and choose not to come?

The thought tugs sharply at your heart. At the hospital, every sound of approaching footsteps, every faint knock on the door, had sparked a flicker of hope. You kept anticipating his arrival, imagining his face breaking through the chaos to bring you the comfort you so desperately needed. But he never came.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss the hurt that creeps in. Maybe it’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Maybe he had a reason.

But even as you try to convince yourself, your fingers betray you, dialing his number again. Pressing the phone against your ear, you hold your breath, clinging to a sliver of hope that this time, he’ll pick up. But like every other call before, there’s no answer.

The emptiness of the line mirrors the void in your chest, and finally, the tears you’ve held back all day spill over, hot and relentless. You miss him so much it feels like a physical ache, a wound that refuses to heal. All you need, to forget the horrors of the day is to hear his voice, to feel the comfort of his arms wrapped around you, grounding you in a way only he can.

Your resolve crumbles, and before you know it, you’re rising from the couch. The stillness of your apartment feels unbearable, the walls closing in with every passing second. Moving on instinct, you shuffle across the living room, your hands fumbling to grab your coat from the hook by the door.

The fabric is cold as you drape it hastily over your shoulders, but the chill doesn’t register. Your mind is already miles ahead, focused on one thing. Him.

You step out of your apartment, the quiet click of the door behind you echoing in the hallway. The night air greets you, sharp and biting, but it barely matters. Your legs carry you forward as if they have a will of their own, a magnetic pull guiding you straight to the one place you know you need to go.

//

Jungkook stands under the relentless cascade of cold water, the chill biting into his bruised skin. His eyes are tightly shut, the shower a harsh contrast to the storm swirling inside him. The events of the day repeat in his mind like an endless loop, each image sharper than the last.

He doesn't think he can ever face you again. Not with the way he's failed you, not with the guilt that’s suffocating him. He feels responsible for everything, as if every bad thing in your life has somehow traced back to him. He thinks of the walk he took after leaving the garage, stopping by your flower shop.

It was still the same, nothing but destruction. The windows were shattered, the shelves smashed, petals scattered across the floor. Caution tape blocked the entrance, a painful reminder of how his presence had only ever brought disaster.

He stood there, at the threshold of your shop, staring at the wreckage, and all he could think about was how much of this was his fault.

He had been the chaos in your life from the moment he moved in next to your shop. He remembers how he disrupted your peace when you were just trying to get by, how he was rude to you at the town fair meetings, how he pushed you away despite wanting nothing more than to get close.

He remembers every harsh word, every inconsiderate act, and now this... the one thing he never could have imagined. His fists clench in frustration as he curses himself. He wanted to protect you, to shield you from harm, but all he’s done is drag you deeper into a mess that has nothing to do with you.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Jungkook steps out of the shower, the water dripping from his hair as he grabs for his usual tshirt and sweatpants. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, noting the bruises still visible on his face, the cuts that refuse to heal. His body aches, but it’s the weight in his chest that hurts the most... the guilt, the shame. His own reflection seems to mock him.

He hears the familiar buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. He doesn’t need to check to know it’s you. His heart clenches as he stares at the phone, each vibration a painful reminder of the distance he’s created between you and him.

He should be comforting you right now, he should be easing your fears, yet here he is... avoiding you, unable to face you without feeling like the one who’s hurt you the most.

He lets the phone continue to buzz, drowning in the weight of his own failure. His hands tremble as he looks down at the floor, wondering if you’ll ever forgive him, if there’s even a chance for him to make things right.

The silence in his apartment is deafening, the kind of silence that gnaws at the edges of his thoughts, until there's a series of bangs on his front door. The sound rips through the stillness of his apartment like a thunderclap, shaking him from his spiral.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest as he walks out of his room, his mind racing. As he stares at the front door, the banging resumes. It’s frantic now. "Kook..." your voice pierces through the chaos, fragile but clear. "Please.... please open the door, Kook."

<- part 13 // part 15 ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[myhornysaga]

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, mdni, graves x reader

Part 1, series masterlist

You and Phil have been married for over a decade now. You watched him and helped alongside in creating his brainchild, The Shadow Company, a private military company.

Fate is such a peculiar thing that you also happen to be a criminal lawyer who has quite a good track record of fair share of wins and losses.

But you had quit your career as a lawyer for a while. Yet, you offered Phil to be the head of his company's legal team which he solidly refused.

Even though you are good, he doesn't wants you involved in his dirty mercenary business in any shape, way or form.

But you know how to make him do what you want, wrap him around your little finger like your puppet.

A good blow job and licking his balls and he's a mess. Even better if you swallow his cum and lick your finger tips.

And then all you have to say is, "fuck me like a whore", with wide doe eyes...

Your words wake his primal cave man instincts and goes into an absolute rampage with only one mission on his mind which is to make you see stars in broad daytime.

Letting him rut his cock in you like a hungry dog in heat with your head shoved into the pillow. He drags you and throws you onto the carpeted floor and then starts thrusting his dick like horny rabbit while you grab pull his gorgeous blonde hair. He hisses at the pain but then leans down to suck on your nipple, making you moan, giving you pleasure only to then bite and make you yelp. Oh the pain and the pleasure...

After a certain tragic incident, he has mostly avoided cumming inside you. But oh Lord he'll be damned if doesn't comes inside you now! God, does he wants to fill you up. And he just does that. Sensing he's closer, he bites on your shoulder while you dig your freshly manicured red nails on his freckled back. And with that, he came in you.

You expected him to pull out honestly, like he usually does but god oh god does it feels good as Phil's cock twitched in you, you could feel his warm seed inside you. Oh god, thank god he came inside. You had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Graves had his head in the crook of your neck sucking on your neck, making sure he leaves his mark on you. You caressed his golden hair and pulled him to cup his cheeks.

Good Lord he is so beautiful. The muted sunrays made him look so... beautiful, ethereal almost.

You scanned his features like its the first time. His eyes, tired and blue, oh so blue. His lips, pouty and adorable, his nose and his cheek. Ah that damned scar on the apple of his cheek that stretched till his ear. Your fingers ran through his scar subconsciously and kissed it, with love and affection.

Graves knows he loves you but damn its like the first time again. Falling in love with you all over again because you accept him as he is, flawed, scarred, broken, tired.

You were so lost in the moment that you forgot your mission for which you now laid on the floor, legs wapped, naked with your husband on top and his cock in you as the cum dripped...

And.... done! He's yours now!

You have noticed for over a decade of warming his bed that Phil gets very vulnerable after sex. Its like, he will do whatever you ask of him, however crazy or insane it might be, he would gladly agree!

And that is how, you secured your position in your husband's private military company as the Head of Legal Team and department, Marketing and Finance Advisor and the Public face or public front for Shadow Company.

Its a lot of important roles but its not like you are incompetent. Your degrees, years of experience and having a family generationally involved in Finance and Law has helped you, a lot.

♧◇♧

M.list