#the deep red wine ugh I’m in love

[plegdoctor]

Heathcliff?

It’s me, Kathy!

Let me in your window

[mondaymelon]

Hihi!!! Saw your requests are open and maybe…. Just some cuddling hc or drabbles 🙏

I’m touch starved obviously, but it would be nice with kaeya, diluc, Alhaitham, and Ayato ?

My pookies, they need a hug fr 😔

₊˚ෆ "𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌." | kaeya, diluc, alhaitham, ayato, kazuha x gn!reader

not very familiar with writing this kinda stuff so added a little bit of variation for each one!! thank you for the request nonnie !!!

[ touch starved genshin men are so... chef's kiss... ]

Kaeya has been growing busier recently.

With the return of several reconnaissance missions, all sorts of paperwork have been shoved onto the poor man, and he’s spent every free hour away from his desk unwinding at Angels Share, where instead of getting pestered, he’s pestering any person close enough to hear his words. 

“I miss them…” He mumbled to no one in particular, swirling the deep reds of the wine in his glass, pressing his cheek against the wooden counter. His voice denied his dubious sobriety, and his hazy gaze certainly wasn’t helping his case.

The bartender just sighed, clearly fed up with Kaeya’s drunk antics, and turned to the crestfallen man while clearing away the bottles he’s downed in the past two hours. “Your lover? Why not just go see them?”

“...” Silence was the only answer from the male as his mouth dropped slightly ajar, his eye sparkling with realization. That’s right, why couldn’t he? Ignoring the jarring fact that it was well past a reasonable bedtime, he slammed his cup down on the table, before stumbling out the door. The path to your place was well-trodden and familiar, winding along the perimeter of Mondstadt’s walls and a cozy place to all. Kaeya could’ve sworn all he did was blink once or twice, yet he had already found himself with his hand raised, knocking on the wood of your door. There was quiet, then the soft steps of your sleepy footsteps. The door creaked open, and he practically flung himself at your pajama-wearing form, engulfing you in an embrace as he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

“K-Kaeya?” Your body swayed from the sudden weight, and you hesitantly returned the gesture, wrappping your arms around his lower torso. He mumbled into your skin, unintelligible sounds that just made your ears burn. “Hey, you reek of alcohol, just where have you-”

“Ugh, you’re too loud.” His voice was low, breathy, and he slowly walked into your house, closing the door behind him. “I just wanted to see you. Cuddles please, love?” He’s drunk, it’s clear from the red flush dusted across the cheeks and the way he stares, practically mesmerized by the sight of you.

You couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone an argument. With a sigh, you dragged his limp self to the bedroom, covering him in blankets and pillows before cuddling up next to him. “Happy?”

“No, I asked for cuddles. C’mere.” And just like that, you’re trapped in his sturdy arms, and he let out a content exhale as he snuggled himself into your form. 

“Warm. Can’t we just stay like this for tonight, love?” ₊˚ෆ

Diluc always came home late.

It’s no surprise that Mondstadt’s everyday occurrences and trifles kept him away from where he longs to be the most, and the fact that he’s secretly Mondstadt’s Darknight Hero wasn't exactly aiding him in this predicament. He let out a long sigh, rearranging the papers on his desk, and ignored the ink splatters that had gotten on his sleeves. His red eyes scanned the world past the large windows, the sun overhead shining down on the grape fields below. In just a few months, harvest season would arrive, and then the whole estate would be bustling with activity. Just thinking about it made his head hurt.

A walk would do him some good. As work-centered of a person he was, it wouldn’t do him any well to keep himself glued at his desk for countless archon-forsaken hours on end. He stepped out into the hallway, only to pause in his place as he spotted you, glancing around in confusion with a wicker basket dangling from your hold. All questions flew out of his head as he approached you from behind, pulling you into a back hug. “Love, what are you doing here?”

“Diluc!” You perked up as soon as you felt his touch, giving his red hair a light ruffle. He leaned into your touch with a soft smile on his lips. “It’s lunchtime, isn’t it? The maids told me you’ve been cooped up in your room all day, so I figured I’d bring a little something…” You held your picnic basket a little higher so that he could see, face growing red as he remained silent. “H-Have you already eaten…? Sorry, I’ll-”

“No, don’t.” He reluctantly let go of you, but took your hand instead, gently guiding you to the drawing room, where a long couch has been fixed next to the wall. He looped his arm around the basket and placed it on the table, then directed his full attention onto you. “But can it wait?”

You’re not used to him requesting things, and your eyes widened. “S-Sure, but what for?”

“So I can do this.” Suddenly, your back was against the couch, and Diluc was on top of you, his arms planted on either side of your form and effectively capturing you with his own body. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before leaning his head against your chest, letting out a breath of contentment as he fluttered his eyes shut. Your quickening heartbeat pulsed in his ear. “Do… Do what you did earlier. That… playing with my hair. Please.”

Who were you to refuse? You relented to his efforts and ran a hand through his crimson locks, letting a smile grace your lips at his sudden childishness. “You tired?”

He hummed in response. “Mhm.” Your touch was ever so gentle, and he yearned for it with a passion. Slowly, he reached for the hand on his head and held it, kissing the back of it delicately, as if you were made from porcelain.

“Thank you, love.” ₊˚ෆ

Alhaitham’s head is always stuck inside a book, that is no understatement.

And now was no different. Even with his duties relieved, it being a weekend, and despite the fact that he’s literally sitting right next to you on the couch, his nose is still buried in his novels, eyes scanning page after page. Yes, you could understand his love for reading, but did it really surpass his love for you? Call it childish, but it had been a long week, and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle into Alhaitham’s arms and listen to his half-hearted complaints. You pouted at the ashen-haired male, who hadn’t even looked up for the past two hours. This had to be a new form of torture.

“Haitham.”

“Mhm?” You could feel your frown deepen as he just hummed a response, not even bothering to look up. In situations like these, isn’t it better to be upfront?

“...Can we cuddle?” Alhaitham’s eyes widened the slightest margin, his multicolored gaze finally, finally shifting upwards to meet yours. His stare flickers as he spots the small pout fixed on your lips, and his own formed a smile.

“Needy, are we?” He said it with a dash of sarcasm, yet set the book away all the while. Uncrossing his toned arms, he glanced up at you with a brow raised. “Why don’t you say please?”

You huffed. Of course, he had to be like this, but whatever irritation you might’ve had was more or less swept away as you opened your mouth to speak once more. “Please?”

And just like that, you’re wrapped tightly in his arms, the side of your face pressed into his chest where you could hear the dull, just slightly faster than usual beat. His hand snaked its way behind your head, and he softly toyed with your strands as he buried his own face into your neck. Alhaitham’s skin was slightly cool to the touch, yet his warmth spread across every inch of you, and all of a sudden, it was hard to breathe with how much overtime your heart was putting in. You moved to speak, but your voice was completely dead, and when you tried to shift your position, Alhaitham’s firm hold on you kept you locked in place.

It’s not like you had any complaints. Even from this unflattering angle, you’re able to admire how long the archons spent crafting a man like Alhaitham, with his sharp jawline and fair skin, and gorgeous, marble eyes that’s colors blended like a painting.

“What, like what you see?” Alhaitham couldn’t even act exasperated, and the smile that’s reserved only for you was one filled with amusement.

“And if I do?” You could feel the flush on your face.

“Admire me all you want, since I’ll be doing the exact same to you.” ₊˚ෆ

Ayato is a man of many masks.

It’s something that’s needed for the life he leads. A situation that he’s been delved deep into ever since his birth. You certainly don’t blame him for it, it’d be impossible to. That, and that facade absolutely collapses whenever the two of you are alone together. His usual business politeness and mask of indifference simply cease to exist, and you become one of the only people who can see the man as he is, rather than just a political figure that you’ll shake hands with to maintain appearance. Instead, it’s the smooth-tongued and cheeky man who found you when you were at your life’s low, took your hand with a smile, and brought you back to the light. You had fallen for him, and fallen hard. To think that you were his lover now seemed like a delusion that your brain had crafted, but it was true, and it was found in small moments like these.

After a rather taxing meeting with the Inazuman officials, who were busy pressing for marriage between the Kamisato clan and another, you found him snuggled into your arms when you woke up in the morning. When he had joined you in your bed, you had no idea, but you admired the way his violet eyes were shut and how his long, dark lashes curled. You marveled at how ethereal the man was, the beauty mark that graces the skin just below his lips, and his long, silky tufts of light blues and indigos. “Pretty…” Your voice was barely a whisper, so as to not wake the sleeping male, but you already know your eyes are sparkling. “Archons, isn’t it unfair that you’ve given him all the beauty you could’ve given?”

You shake your heads at your odd thoughts, lightly touching his head, in awe at the softness of his hair, and his hazy eyes slowly fluttered open with remaining ebbs of morning grogginess. “Ah, you’re awake?”

Ayato merely smiled, pulling you closer and pressing into your form. “No,” he sounded pleased with himself, too pleased with himself. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “I’ve been awake all this time. Seems like you say some embarrassing things about me while I slumber?”

Silence. Your eyes are round, and your mouth has fallen slack as you stare in utter shock at the audacity of your lover before you. “Y-You-”

“Next time, don’t be too shy to say it to my face, alright?” ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) omg its finished hooray hooray !! first ever req on the main so jodafjlfjlksd dies are the characters ooc theyre ooc okay im tired lets honk mimim

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @solxima

[mylenapony11]

Ok I have some brainrot that’s been eating away at me for a bit now.

So ima write what I think the Obey me characters taste and smell like. Minus Luke for taste. Cuz he’s our son. And that’s gross.

And when I say taste I mean kisses. Not anything else.

Edit: to see Luke check the reblog. Tumblr is being stupid

Lucifer

This man works very hard

Yet he does greatly care about his appearance

I think that Lucifer smells like smoke. Not in a bad way of course.

He spends so much time in his office, and I 100% believe he has a fire place in there.

His smell is probably comforting to a certain degree.

As for taste…

100% he tastes like demonous and really dark chocolate

I don’t think he’d eat milk chocolate

Mammon:

I’ll probably get some shade from this, but I think Mammon probably smells if cash and cigarettes. Maybe a bit of motor oil too.

I’m not saying it because I think he smokes, no

I’m saying this because I think he’s offer around people who smoke

I would think during his many, often, casino outings he plays with smokers

Perhaps people who smoke only to show their wealth

Or perhaps folks he owes money too.

And money has its own weird distinct scent.

The man might be broke 24/7 but I can almost guarantee he smells like cash.

As for taste, I’m not exactly sure how to describe it.

I think Mammon would taste cheap, but in a pleasant way.

Like how some convenience store food is just so comforting.

Like that

Leviathan:

I love Levi, and I don’t think he’d smell bad necessarily…..

But I don’t think he’d smell pleasant either.

Kind of an in between

A love it or hate it kind of sent.

Honestly I can see him smelling the most natural of everyone. Like maybe on occasion he’d put on perfume (anime themed of course) but very rarely.

I don’t think he’d put on scented deodorant or anything, instead opting for more scent less stuff.

Taste however

Bitch most certainly tastes like Cheetos, or some sort of chip. Also some soda

Think of Doritos and Mt. Dew Baja Blast

Like, this would most certainly be an o sticks for others.

I myself might not mind, but ugh it makes me shiver

Satan

He totally smells like old books

The amount of time he spends reading and looking through old books and stuff, the smell has definitely seeped into his clothing.

I personally enjoy the smell of books, be if new or old.

As for taste, it might not make much sense, but I think he’d taste like red wine.

I don’t think he really drinks like that, but it just makes sense to me.

Asmodeus:

His smell changes so often it’s overwhelming

Honestly he probably just smells overwhelming

I strongly believe that he naturally has a seductive scent, being the avatar of lust, but he also uses perfume.

I think those scents mixing creates a nauseatingly potent miasma that either smells really good to people, or it’s so overwhelming it makes you puke.

Think of going into a bath&bodyworks

As for taste, I’m not to sure. I originally wanted to say strawberry but I don’t think that’s correct.

My next thought was pink, but that’s not right either.

I believe Asmo tastes like cherries. Unexpected, but let me explain

To me, the taste of strawberries and the color pink are cutesy. That’s all they are. Cute, mellow, a shy chaste kiss on the cheek.

Cherry however is passionate to me. Sure of itself, assertive, yet so full of love.

A cherry kiss makes me think of a passionate meeting of lips, perhaps dipping the other.

A kiss that leaves you breathless and swooning

A kiss that isn’t just a kiss, but says so much.

A kiss that confesses a love so deep, it hurts.

Beelzebub

His scent changes based off what he’s doing.

Sometimes he’ll smell pretty “gross”, such as when he finished working out or playing a game and hasn’t showered yet.

But when he’s clean I believe he smells faintly of coconut and cucumbers.

The scent would be so so faint, but it’s there.

And I find that nice.

As for taste, I’m not to sure.

I don’t necessarily think Beel tastes good in all honesty. He eats so much, and so many different things.

Even things that aren’t food.

So I can’t say for sure with this.

Belphegor:

To say I dislike him would be accurate. I don’t particularly enjoy him. Amazing character, but if I was MC (so my personal MC lol) I wouldn’t be friends with him.

I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

But needless to say, I think he smells like cotton or something similar. Not washed linens, no no no

But definitely a soft smell that makes you think of a comfortable bed.

As for taste, I’m not to sure. I’m thinking blackberries

It’s a bitter berry, yet delicious all the same.

Kind of how I think the fandom sees Belphie.

Diavolo:

This will probably be an unpopular opinion

But I think Diavolo would smell like roses, specially the roses if the Devildom that grow in the palace gardens.

I would think he could have custom perfume made from it, and use it.

The smell would probably be pretty calming and comforting.

Something to try and offset how scary and intimidating he is.

As for taste, I think his taste is very mellow. Perhaps some sort of tea, like chamomile with honey.

Barbatos

He smells like clean laundry

I will not change my opinion on this.

He has to smell like clean laundry with a hint of lavender

There might be a bit of dust mixed in there, but not much.

As for taste, I know it would make sense for tea, but I think he tastes like macrons. Because macrons are his favorite food, or sweet at least.

I think he’d eat them whenever he could. Perhaps raspberry is his favorite flavour?

Simeon

Simeon almost certainly has a faint floral smell, though not of any specific flower.

It’s calm, and peaceful you know?

But not being able to pin what flower it is can elude to his shady nature.

I personally don’t believe Simeon is this pure, all forgiving, perfect being.

Honestly I think he’s on par with, or potentially worse than, the brothers.

But that’s what makes him so interesting.

For taste, this will make little to no sense.

I think he tastes like the sky. Just the vas openness, the clean blue, the freedom.

But perhaps I think that because loving Simeon is a sin.

Solomon

Another one that smells like smoke.

But his smoke is a little different.

It’s putrid in a way, hints of magic and ingredients lingering with the smoky smell.

He is a scientist to an extent, doing many experiments.

And those experiments don’t always work, sometimes they explode.

As much as I’d like to say he’d taste nice, I don’t think he does.

I can’t shake the feeling that Solomon tastes of newts and frogs.

See reblog for Luke, Tumblr won’t let me write for him here

See reblog

Character limit, see reblog

That’s why I can vividly see him running up and hugging MC, assaulting their nostrils with the smell of sugar, dust, and sunshine

Which is why I can vividly see him running up to hug me, and my nostrils are immediately assaulted with the smell of sugar, dust, and sunshine.

[pearl-blue-musings]

bad idea, right?

Hi hi,

If you can’t tell this is absolutely inspired by the song by Olivia rodrigo. I just wanted to write something

Pairing: Byakuya Togami x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive situations, spoilers, takes place after all the despair, slight influence from fanmade redemption arc, fem/afab reader,

Word count: 1.4K

You didn’t think the Future Foundation would be keen on hosting holiday parties, yet here you are. The wine in your glass swirls and the aroma invades your nostrils in a good way. Maybe the idea of having parties and gatherings like this can boost morale for the world and have hope shine brighter? You’re not entirely sure as you take another drink from your glass. You do your best to keep your eyes locked on anything but the bespectacled man that is your ex.

You’re even more upset when those dangerously piercing green eyes meet yours and you quickly scamper away, attempting to chug the rest of your drink. You elbow and shoulder your way through the crowd and head toward the balcony of the building. You see the new headmaster of Hope’s Peak Academy getting red in the face over his fiancé making a passing comment to his core group of friends. It’s crazy that the foundation was able to bring everyone back with the redemption program, but you wish the former remnants of despair would be here. They understand their role as being the scapegoat but they didn’t have to leave forever! After reading their profiles, you took an interest in the 86th class and would often send them letters. Gundham was actually the most responsive and it gave you a sense of comradery and understanding you thought was long gone.

Now that you think about it, those letters and messages had led to one of your biggest arguments with your ex.

The minute your mind drifted off to your ex, he just happened to appear near you. Despite doing your best to avoid the man, Byakuya Togami somehow managed to be by your side right now. Of course the alcohol in your system isn’t helping but it’s not like that matters right now. His snarky and baritone voice still sends shivers down your spine and you wish you could teach your body to not do that. “I’m surprised to see you drinking red wine, you’re more of a white wine.”

Your eyes roll before you can control it, and you walk outside further onto the balcony. You anticipate the door shutting but don’t hear it until a few seconds later. “I admit I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” he starts.

You sigh curtly and take one final swig of your drink. “Really? Wanna yell at me for talking to the 86th class. Or is it specifically Gundham you have a problem with?”

Byakuya crosses his arms with a scoff, elegantly holding his champagne flute in one hand. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, you made that very clear in our failed relationship. I can say I did not enjoy you talking to him as much as you did, maybe you are more animalistic.”

“Ugh,” you grunt, “don’t you know the saying if you have nothing nice to say don’t say anything at all? And besides, you know,” you cough, knowing full well you’ll regret your next words, “I didn’t love him like I loved you. Pissed me off to no end you thought so.”

You didn’t think it was possible for the haughty man to retract in on himself so openly, but here he is. “Then it is quite possible, dear, you should have put my feelings into her consideration.”

“You know that’s not true! I always considered your feelings because I know you! Well, knew you.” You rub your forearm in vulnerability. Despite being broken up for months, he still found a way to climb over your walls. You take a deep breath and rub at the bridge of your nose. “Why did you break up with me? You know it’s not what either of us wanted.”

It takes everything in the executive in front of you not to reach out and potentially hold you, knowing that’s what would help you out most. He sighs and tries to step closer to you. “I’m sure you know why. It wasn’t for the best. You and I are two employees in this company. It would look bad if the world knew we were together for as long as we were. There are bigger problems than handling our own relationship. And-“

“I didn’t hear you say you didn’t love me anymore.”

That caught Byakuya off guard. Out of all the things he had predicted or thought you would say, that wasn’t one of them. Of course he couldn’t admit right away that you were right; he still loves you. He knows for a fact his love for you has been his strength and his weakness. If anyone related to despair found out an executive had a weakness in the company, he had to think rationally. And if he had to assure the safety of the world over proving his love for you, the world and the Togami name came first.

You wait for him to respond and try to walk away. “Talking to you is a waste of time,” you brush past him with a sway of your hips. You’re stopped suddenly when a slender firm hand wraps around your hips and you’re pulled into a firm and familiar chest. “What the fu-“

“As they say,” his breath dangerously close to your lips, “I'm taking a page out of your book…” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion before they relax as he kisses you. You feel his hand holding your waist tighten as he prods your lips apart with his tongue. He may not seem like it, but Byakuya was, well is, an incredible kisser.

The kiss abruptly ends and you’re left panting. Unsure of what to do, you slap him across the face. “What the hell is your problem?! You think you can just kiss me out of nowhere?!”

He licks his lips and shakes his head. “Did you not hear me say I’m taking a page out of your book? I remember you would kiss me out of nowhere when I was stressed or overworked.” He sighs out in defeat and finally lets down his guard. “Look,” he begins softly, “the two of us being together is dangerous, illogical…” he trails off as he sees you begin to tear up. He takes your chin in his fingers to catch your gaze. “But being with you made the most sense to me. You’re an enigma I cannot fathom most days and that’s why I would treasure every moment with you.”

You place your almost empty wine glass on a stool and pull Byakuya’s arm down. “If you feel this way, why break up with me and break my heart? Why put me through that?” You huff out and cross your arms. “Nope, nope. I’m not doing this.” You put your hand in front of his face and try to walk out for the second time. And for a second time he stops you, taking your hand and dragging you into his embrace.

“One night.”

“…excuse me?”

“One night with me. Give me a chance to explain myself. We can ditch this atrocity of a party and reconnect.

“Please.”

It’s the please that got you. He was never one to openly apologize easily or say please. His green irises plead with yours, searching for any resemblance of your past relationship. He knows he treated you badly toward the end of it, but he actually feels the need to explain his actions to you. Byakuya knows it doesn’t excuse his actions, but you deserve to know the truth.

Byakuya feels your arm muscles relax under his touch and a sense of victory overcomes him. He gives you a small smile as he interlocks his fingers with yours, a sensation he loved and has missed dearly. “I,” you stutter out, “I need to message my friends.” You see him nod as you pull out your phone. You send a quick text to Aoi telling her you’re heading him early. The two of you know the building has a secret exit and the two of you take that to make your escape.

When you step into his home, your level of comfort rises as you remember the many nights you stayed at his place. Specifically in his sheets. Your phone buzzes with a message from Aoi “thanks for letting me know! You’re home now right?”

It takes you a couple of hours to respond to her text. You unwrap yourself from Byakuya as he sleeps soundly next to you. Before you finally respond, you think very briefly:

This was a bad idea, right?

[vinetae]

______________________________________________________________

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Pairings: College Professor!Jimin x Student!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Sexual content, foul language, 18+ Confessions, vaginal fingering, (f.) masturbation, voyeurism, dom!Jimin, exabitionist themes, protective!Jimin. MENTIONS OF UNDERAGE RELATIONSHIPS.

Don't do that, yall. Ew.

Summary: You had asked your Psych professor for his signature in signing off your volunteer hours. Only a few weeks later, you two are caught at the same club.

Strip club to be exact.

Where you work, to be exact.

A/n: It's cheesy and late, but it's MINE. and I love these two.

And yes my baby fever peeped through at the end but we won't talk about that- 0_0

______________________________________________________________

Find my main masterlist here

Find part 1 - here

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“Okay..” You take in a deep breath, eyes flashing back and forth between the two options set out for you. Your hands graze over the black, a-line dress, watching as its silky fabric slips between your fingers. The material reminded you of a beautiful ocean. 

But that’s not the reason you bought it. 

It was half off at a thrift store. 

Well, because the fabrics were half off as well. 

Safe to say that the dress was in shambles. Actually, it took more money to repair it than just buying a new one. 

But you loved that dress. 

So, you kept working at it. 

Stitching every seam, heming every end, and flattening each piece until it had been perfected. 

Soon, you had the most beautifully hand-stitched (halfway) A-line dress to call your own. You’d used a little bit more saved money to really make the piece pop. 

You chuckle at the irony, throwing the other dress back into your closet. “Why am I even debating this?” 

Your arms slip through the sleeves, watching as the glittery clear sleeves hug your forearms beautifully. The sweetheart neckline dropped to your shoulders, giving more hints to your prominent features rather than to conceal them in heaps of cloth.

Of course, black was a little too…

“Ugh, basic.” You groan, throwing the dress into the hamper near your chair. Your eyes scan your messy dorm, looking for anything that could be more appropriate. After a few minutes of looking, shoving and -quite frankly, a few breakdowns- you’d finally seen the perfect outfit. 

______________________________________________________________

Music calmly strings in the background, as overly-dressed students and faculty members had flooded the large ballroom. Well, it wasn’t a ballroom to be exact. 

But it felt like something you’d see in a Disney movie, that’s for sure. 

You inhale quickly, before taking the ticket from the handler. You flash a quick smile before making your way through the crowd. Your eyes landed upon what had seemed like millions of name brands. Some Armani suits, Gucci ties and loafers, Louis Vuitton bags, and some names that looked too expensive to even try and pronounce. 

Your Walmart purchased cheap heels clack against the marbled floors, trying to make your way through the large crowds of the Rockefellers.

You’re just about through the swarm of rich bees before your body crashes into a tall figure. You groan, picking yourself off the floor, taking a glance up. Her powered and proper face had been oozing with anger and mascara. 

“Are you kidding me right now!?” Her hands swipes out to examine her dress. The purple and deep-cut mermaid figure had been ruined by a huge, red wine stain in the front. You quickly stand, bowing deeply, muttering millions of apologies. 

“I-I’m so sorry, ma’am-” She laughs out, a malicious look plastered on her Botoxed features. “You’re s-s-sorry?” Her laugh is high-pitched and loud. The commotion had called over a few other viewers to watch the scene. Your hands come to wipe your own dress, thankful that not much had spilled on it. 

“This was Dolce and Gabbana, you little shit! How are you gonna pay for it, huh?” 

Her voice sends shivers down your spine. Once you’re finally off the floor, you take a look at the mess. 

“It’s a dark dress…I’m sure you could just take a sharpie and-” Her banshee-like screech attracts more witnesses. 

“Sharpie!? The only thing you need a sharpie for is writing me that check!” Your eyes lift slightly, scanning the room as people crowded around the two of you. Hushed whispers and posh comments used words you didn’t even understand. Her sparkly silver heel taps against the floor, hand extended to you. 

“Well? Where’s my fucking money, huh?” Her eyes were sharp and narrow. The high of her cheekbones had given away that she was not from here.

“I’m waiting.” 

“You’ll be standing there for quite some time, Miss Alachua.” A deep voice cuts through the thick commotion as his hand comes down to pick your body up off the floor the rest of the way. Your eyes flash, taking notice of his gray-ish toned suit. The little yellow handkerchief stood tall in the chest pocket of the suit. Blonde streaks with fading pieces accentuate his whole aura. 

“Jimin.” Her voice softens to a light banter. Anger is still prominent, however. 

He flashes a short but sweet grin towards her, extending his arm to exchange something in hand. 

“Nice to see you too.” He comments, sucking in a tsk at her dress stain. His eyes glance to yours, head shaking from side to side gently. 

“Did you do this, Miss Choi?” He watches your throat swallow a thick lump, trying to respond. 

“It was an accident..” Your hands clasp to the front, embarrassment settling over the whole situation. 

On your end anyways. 

He quicks a smile before clearing his throat, pacing his way over to meet with the woman. “She said it was an accident.” 

Her arms across her chest, heel continuously tapping against the marbled, echoed flooring as she scoffs. “She’s still gonna have to pay for it.” 

Jimin’s eyebrow raises at her tone, as he sets a palm on her shoulder. “Did you pay for it, Miss Alachua?” Her eyes blow wide at the comment. 

He smirks, lowering his voice to where only you two could pick up. “Mmm, that’s the thing about using daddy’s money for your own purposes. So technically, you got his dress messy, isn’t that right?”

Her head slowly falls down, then back up nodding at his sentence. He backs away, clapping. 

“Perfect. Then, I’ll get Miss Choi to transfer the money over to his account.” Her mouth falls open, quickly trying to protest. “But I-” Jimin holds up a hand, silencing her. He reaches over to grab your wrist pulling you from the terror of the crowd. Once you’re in a quiet section of the ball room, you’re quick to tug on his sleeve. 

“Jimin I don-'' He shushes you, pressing a finger to your lips. “I’ve got quite a bit of information on her father.” His eyebrows tease, signaling to you something, but you couldn’t quite catch on. He chuckles, motioning for you to sit down next to him as he lowers his voice. His finger guides your eyes over to the corner, as you both see a couple leaning on the wall of the ball room, hands entwined together as his older body towers hers. 

Your eyes glance back to Jimin’s, watching the smirk on his corned lip. “What are we looking at?It’s just a couple.” 

He chuckles, leaning back against the chair, sipping from his champagne glass. “Just a couple?” You nod, not following his words. He inhales deeply, enjoying the classical music sounding in the background. 

“Yeah, she’s fifteen.” He laughs at your wide-eyed expression. His lips wrap around the glass’s rim, fogging the clear set with his warm breath. 

“Still ‘just a couple’?” He teases as you hit his side. His eyes narrow at your action. “Watch it, missy.” 

“Yeah? Why should I?” His eyes said one thing, but his tone said another. His finger lifts from the glass, pointing around to the room. “I’m your teacher right now.” He watches your eyes roll back at his words. 

“Oh really?” Your hips rise from the lowered sofa, leading the way through a few doorways. Like before, his feet follow in your guidance, like a puppy on an imaginary leash. He watches your heels step out of the exit door’s frame. Your hands run up the curves of your body, watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down at the motion. Your hair blows in the night’s chilly winds, with little to no one around the two of you. 

Your feet plant themselves right at the entrance outside the building, as they keep themselves on the marbled floor’s inside. “What are you doing..” His voice lowers, eyes glancing around to take notice of no one’s presence. 

Your hands lift up to pull the hem of your off-shoulder neckline down, revealing the top of one of your breasts. His jaw tightens at the sight. 

“Y/n..” 

Your smirk edges him on. “It’s Miss Choi, Mister Park.” 

Your back hits the brick wall, finger trailing down the plains of your body to toy with your hemmed skirt. You lift the fabric up a bit, revealing a slimmer of your black laced underwear. His voice thickens at the sight, hands fisting at his sides. 

“Y/n.” The tone is commanding, yet you still toy on. 

“What? You’re my teacher, Mister Park.” His throat lets out a slight groan, chuckling at the irony of it all. “This is fucked up, Y/n.” 

Your lips curl into an innocent smile as you lift the option of your leg up, revealing more of your underwear’s thin fabric. “I’m just a student, trying to enjoy a little time to myself..” Your fingers toy with the hem of your panties before dipping in slightly. Your head rolls back against the brick wall, lips parting at the sensation. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/n.” His teeth clench at the sight. Your back arches, lifting away from the wall, your hand stuffed between the fabrics of your laced underwear. Your eyelids lift slightly, taking a glance at him before continuing. 

“Ah, feels so good..” You moan out, free hand scooping more of your puffed tea-length dress to reveal the glorious sight. He watches as your knuckles quickly turn white at the pressure. His voice can finally be heard. 

“Fucking minx.” Your teasing smirk only edges him as his feet step out the door. His body pressed against yours, quick to wrap his palm around your wrist to remove your hands from between your panties. “You wanna this game, baby?” Your arms try to wrap around his neck, but he’s too quick to pull away, not letting you touch him like you wanted. His task sends shivers up your spine. 

“My rules.” 

His hand grips yours, pulling you from the wall to lead you to the parking lot. His hand pulls from his pocket, clicking the unlock button on his car shaped fob. 

“T-This is your car?” He smirks, opening the door for you to slip in. 

“Ladies first.” 

Once you’re both settled in, he cranks the car, letting the engine run for a few seconds before pulling out of the parking lot. His hands clasp in the front, trying not to refrain from touching anything. He chuckles at your stiff body, hand coming to rub on the inner of your thigh. Your body straightens at the touch, mouth parting in agony at the feeling. His eyes glance over before removing his hand. You silently groan, breath heaving up and down from the frustration. 

“How much does the school pay you?” You question, looking around to notice the intricate details and emblems designed in the leather. His eyes flash to your movements before focusing back on the road. “Is that any of your concern?” You huff at his answer. 

The car suddenly speeds up, as your body sinks back into the seat. His hand clutches the stick, shifting gears faster than you could say ‘peanut butter’.

Soon, your body is following the curves of the road as your body is jerked around from left to right, as his body is completely still through all of the roller coaster turns. 

“Jesus, Jimin!” You yelp, gripping onto the handle on the door’s side. He chuckles, as the car comes to a sharp yet smooth stop. If you’d been breathing heavily earlier, you were possibly having a heart attack right about now!’

His seatbelt clicks undone, as he reaches over to undone yours. Once you’ve gotten your land legs, he helps you steady yourself in your seat. Your hair is a mess, and your dress is riding up your thighs. He takes notice of the exposed skin, smirking. 

“So, you like?” He asks, watching as you try pulling your soul back into your body. He chuckles at your distorted figure, stumbling to grip onto reality. 

“F-fucking fast-” You groan out, feeling a little sick from the rush. He nods, waiting patiently for the white to fade from your complexion. 

“Yeah, the first time I test drove it, I almost threw up.” He chuckles, remembering the day that seemed so recent. “I’ve had her for about two years now.” You groan, eyes rolling at his comment. “Her?” 

He nods, laughing at your messied self. “Why? Jealous?~” He teases, poking your cheek. Your head shakes, huffing in annoyance. “Why would I be jealous of a car?” His hand cards through the blonde locks, as a sheet of glimmer rises off his skin. 

“Don’t know.” His elbow rests on the middle console, a teasing innocent look paints his expression. “Why are you jealous of a car?” That makes you scoff. 

‘I’m not jealous of your stupid car.” He faints a pained expression, rubbing the steering wheel gently. “It’s okay baby, she didn’t mean it.” His voice makes you burst out laughing.

“Hey, don’t make fun of Nova.” You watch a simple, child-like expression peak behind his commanding demeanor. You laugh at his demand. “You named her?” 

“Well of course I did. Everybody names their car.” You scoff lightly, taking a peek out the window. The dark knight had disguised the road’s wavy ways. 

Wait.

Waves?

Your head cranes to the side, giving Jimin a certain glance. “Are we at the beach?” 

He nods, pointing out the front window. “You couldn’t tell?” 

“Yeah well I kinda was busy trying to hold down my lunch.” He chuckles before popping the driver door open. A few seconds later, he’s on your side. You watch as the door pops open softly, his hand extends out to offer help. You slide your hand into his palm, as he leads the way down a flight of wooden stairs. 

“Are you avoiding having sex with me?” He pauses at your comment, tilting his head to the side before flashing a quick smirk. “Who said we’re not having sex?” 

That sends butterflies to your stomach.

Your arm wraps around his, as you two walk in sync, head resting on his broad shoulder. He chuckles, swinging your entwined hands together to an imaginary beat only the two of you could hear. 

“This seems like a good spot.” He stops walking, laying the blanket down on the sandy beach as you take a look around, noticing the moon’s reflection shining brightly on the water’s clear surface. His hand reaches up to pull you down, settling you down right next to him. He leans back, arms supporting his body from behind as he takes in a deep breath. 

“I’ve always hated those events anyways.” His head tilts, flashing you a quick smile. You nod, admiring the cute little seashells along the blanket’s hem. You lay flat on your stomach, watching as the sand falls between your fingers as you try to dig for more shells. His soft laugh hatches more butterflies in the pit of your stomach. 

“Have you never seen shells before?” He asks, laying down on his stomach next to you. 

“Never been to the beach really..” You sigh, fixing yourself to prop your head up on your two palms. He smiles, lightly petting the crown of your head. Your loose bun had fallen long ago, right as the party had begun. His fingers trail along the curves of your spine, listening to your breath pitch in tone at his touch. 

“Do you like it?” His voice lowers, soft whispers brush against the shell of your ear. You nod, moaning quietly at the sensation. “Feels good..” You hear his chest let out a sharp chuckle. 

“I meant the beach, sweetie.” You quickly sit up, half-heartedly remembering where you were. You nod. “Yeah.. I do.” He smiles, brushing a few of your strands of hair from vision. You huff, leaning closer to meet his gaze as his hand trails up your outer arm. “You drag shit out too much..” He laughs. 

“I told you, I’m a gentleman.” You groan, scooting closer to his body, toying with the fabric of his tie like before. “But I don’t want a gentleman..” 

“But you need one.” Your eyes widen at the blow. 

“I need one?” He nods, humming. 

“What I mean, is that you’re too good for an asshole like the guys you work for.” You scoff, feeling the way his fingertips graze the dip of your collarbone. “I worked for you.” 

“Mmm, I’m an exception.” 

Your eyes roll at his cockiness. “High and mighty, are we?” He smirks, combating your tease. 

“Horny and impatient, are we?” You punch his arm lightly, making a few laughs escape from his chest. 

“I’m only still horny because you haven’t fucked me.” He shakes his head, laughing as he caresses your cute, chubby cheeks. 

“You don’t get the whole point of this, do you?” Your head shakes, as he sighs. “And you’re trying to get a psych degree? Psh.” You huff, crossing your arms at his comment. He smiles, leaning closer to your face, lips brushing the pads of your gently as he continues.

“You’re too impatient.” 

“I am.” 

He lets out a short chuckle, laying back on the blanket. Arms slipped under his head to support it. His breath is calmed and controlled. Opposite of yours. 

“Just enjoy this.” He sighs, taking in a deep breath of the salty air, closing his eyes softly. 

“I didn’t come all the way here to enjoy the pretty view.” His eyes peak open as a smirk presses his lips. “Really? Cause I did.” You’re quick to catch onto the little tease, making your cheeks flush red. Luckily, he couldn’t see the tint that well from lack of lighting. You groan, lightly hitting his chest against as he lets out a fake pained cough. 

“Owch.” He smirks, pulling you down to his level. You huff before throwing your leg over to straddle his lap. His eyebrows quirk at the sight. Hands come to toy with your hips, steadying you on his lower torso. “Alright, you’ve been your little gentleman long enough.” He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes creasing at the joint. 

“That’s not really your decision, now is it?” Your hips roll against his, yet you feel no sign of-

Anything. 

Groaning you roll off of his lap, sitting next to his sprawled out body. “Why don’t you wanna fuck me?!” He sighs, rising up to plant his hands behind his torso to prop himself up. 

“You’re right. I don’t want to fuck you.” You felt tears welling in your eyes. Your arm comes to hit him once more before sobs start leaving your lips. 

“Am I not pretty enough!? What! Do you like older women!? Huh! Tell me, fucking asshole!” His hands catch your wrists, stopping you from hitting him anymore. 

“Baby calm down.” His voice softens, as his arms wrap around your frame, holding you close to his body. Your eyes well with tears, a few slipping down from your cheeks as your struggles and throws start to become soft nudges instead. His hand guides your chin to meet his softened gaze. 

“You done now?” You sniff harshly, nodding. His smile makes you wanna knock his porcelain front white teeth out. 

“I’ve said it before. I don’t want to fuck you.” You push him away from your body, releasing yourself from his arms. “Then why not just take me home, huh? I’m don-” 

“Sweetheart, I want to make love to you.” Your eyes start to clear, now staring into his. “W..What?” His warm smile pulls you back in as he wraps you into his embrace once more. You’re slotted between his thighs, leaning back on his chest as his chin props itself on the crown of your head. 

“I wanna hold you like this..” He leans his head down, pressing his plush lips to your reddened cheek. “And kiss you like this..” you sniff, giggling at his cheesiness. You twist your torso to meet his gaze. 

“You don’t hate me..?” He chuckles, pecking your lips softly. “Why would I hate you?” You shrug gently, turning your attention back to the waves crashing upon the shore. 

You hadn’t really had a moment like this. You’d lost your virginity back in high school to one of the quarterbacks as a dare, and after graduation, you never really dated anymore after that. Only a few sleepovers that ended with the morning after pill. 

“I don’t want to just have sex with you, Y/n.” He coos, thumbing the tears from your stained cheeks. “I want stuff like this.” Your head leans back some more to nuzzle his chest. 

“I wanna wake you up with breakfast on the weekends.. And stay in bed all day, just cuddling like this.” Now, tears have been slipping from your ducts for a different reason. 

“How long..?” Your rosy cheeks burn with intensity as his hand comes to caress your softened jawline. 

“What do you mean?” His voice soothes the ache in your flushed face. Plump and soft lips brush the side of your ear, pressing a gentle kiss as you feel the rolls of his warm breath graze your heated skin. 

“How long have you.. You know..” He chuckles softly, pulling you head to tuck it under his chin. Your ear presses against his chest, hearing his calmed and patterned beating heart. The ocean’s salty taste leaves a bittersweet sting in your nose. Seagulls and other little creatures fill the silence, along with rolls of the waves crashing upon the drawn shores. 

His eyes narrow yours as a breath rolls from his lips. “Does it really matter?” 

You let out a soft giggle, snuggling closer to his warmth. His heartbeat matches the same patterns as yours, syncing with a light feeling. A brisk and colorful tone breaks your silence. 

“Y/n..” 

Your eyes glance up, meeting his own. His irises reflect the moon’s rays, similar to the ocean’s own surface. Specks of gold and white hues float behind his eyes. The once one-colored cast had been illuminated, showing millions of broken fragments. His nose scrunches at your rosy cheeks, nuzzling the tip into your neck. He sends you into a fit of giggles, as you hear the light sound of rhythm flowing through the atmosphere. 

“What’s that?” You question, head peeking up from curiosity. He shrugs before pointing over the horizon. “Look.” 

Your eyes squint, noticing a small, floating speck on the distant waters. The red and white colors clear as you notice the shape of a boat being formed. 

“It’s the ferry..” You observe, watching as the miniature piece floats by the two of you. He smiles, nodding. A few minutes go by before he comments. “Do you wanna go on a cruise?” 

“Huh?” Your head twists around, laughing at the idea. 

He smiles, shaking his head to pull you right back down into the safety of his arms. “Not right now. I mean, would you like to one day?” You hesitate, before nodding quietly. 

“My dad wanted to buy a boat..” You sigh calmly, entwining your fingers to play with his. His baby-like breaths make your heart swell. 

“Me too. It’d be nice, you know?” He leans back until you’re both almost completely on your backs, you still being tucked snuggly between his legs. 

“Really? What’d you name it?” You spin around, flashing your glassy eyes up to look at him. He giggles slightly, a red tint peaking through on his cheeks. 

“I don’t know. Don’t even know if I even want a boat yet. It was just an idea.” You hum, feeling the way his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. Your lips ghost his own, arms coming to coil around the base of his neck. Your leg is now positioned over his waist, but no longer emitting the eager and rushed spirit you’d onced forced. 

This had felt calm and-

“Patient.” Your lips fall open at the realization. A smile paints his lips. 

“You’ve finally got it.” Your lips tug into a grin at the word, testing it more on your tongue a few more times. He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to steady yourself on his lap. 

Your voice lowers, whispering into the shell of his ear. “I’m still kind of horny though..” He chuckles, reaching down to grip your thighs to pull you more up onto his body. 

“Mmm, wanna fuck?” He asks, feeling the way your hips shift over his. Your head shakes. 

“Nope.” 

“No?” 

Your lips ghost his jawline, hands coming to tug at the button on his white formal shirt. You could feel the way his heart paces at your touch. A sheet of sweat barely visible on the surface of his skin. 

“Touch me.” His chest rumbles as a low groan rolls from his lips. Your hands lower to bring his palms up to the round of your clothed breasts, guiding his hands to knead at the plush skin. 

“Oh fuck..” He groans out, palming at the soft mound while your hand slips into the fabric of his trousers. Hand brushing along the outline of his hardening cock, slipping between the two fabrics to wrap your hand around the base. He groans, lips sucking on the thin sheet of skin on the side of your neck. Blue and purple splotches bruise around the sensitive skin. 

His hand comes down to trail the soft of your tummy, following the invisible line that draws to your center. His fingers mimic yours, slipping between the fabric of your thin laced panties. You moan out, immediately lifting your hips for him to easily remove them. He chuckles, keeping his touch right above your pubic line. 

“So needy.” He spits, flipping the two of you over. He hovers over your frame, tall and broad shoulders tower your figure as he smirks. Silently, his hand removes yours from between his legs, before lowering further, lifting the skirt of your dress over his head. 

“Jimin what are yo- Oh fuck..” You moan out, feeling the way his tongue presses flat against your sopping core. He chuckles, thumb curling around the thin material, watching as it pops against your skin. 

“You were so quick to try and suck me off, baby.” His head raises up, finger trailing the outside of your clothed panties. “Why?” 

Your head lulls back, hips pushing up to try and feel more of his touch. “Mmm- I wanted to make you feel good..” 

He smirks, reaching to the flesh of your thighs, jerking you down to meet his leveled face. 

“Mmm, I’d much rather do this.” His fingertip trails the outside of your panties before pulling them down with his set of teeth. You moan at the sight, head rolling in a circle from the excitement. 

You feel a sharp point graze the inner of your thighs, his lips press flush to your skin, sucking some more splotches into the thick of your skin. Your hand reaches down, carding through his sandy blonde locks, mouth falling open at the sensation. 

“Jimin please-” You whine. His head lifts up, a smirk plastering his features. 

“Who?” You groan at his cockiness. You sit up, not really knowing what he wants. 

“Daddy?” You try the word on your lips, internally cringing. He chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Not quite. Try again, baby girl.” You huff, scooting further down for his breath to roll onto the surface of your tummy. 

“Master?” He shakes his head. He makes a loud buzzer sound, giggling at the joke. “Wrong.” 

“What the fuck Jimin.” Your eyes roll at his childness. 

“Come on, Y/n. You know it.” He teases, lowering his lips just to graze the outside of your sopping core. His finger cards through your slick folds, bringing the tip up to suck between his lips. His eyes flash to yours, waiting. 

“Uhm..” You glance around, trying to think of something else to call him. 

“Sir?” He smirks, flattening his tongue to your clit. You whine out, squeezing his head gently between your thighs. Your head lulls back, gripping at his roots for support. 

His head lifts for a second to slot his middle and ring finger into the space of his mouth, sucking on them slightly before inserting them into your sopping core. You moan out, chest heaving heavily as his fingers pump in and out at a slow pace. 

“S-Sir! Oh- Fuck Ji-Jimin- Fuck!” You could feel his lips form into a smirk against your clit, sucking gently onto the throbbing bud. Your head falls back into the soft, comfy blanket. Your back arches off the ground just to fall right back down from his edging tease. 

“Ji- sir please.” You whine, watching as his head lifts up. A trail of saliva connects from his lips to your core. 

“Magic word?” He teases, flashing you a cheeky grin. You growl from frustration, pulling his body up from the ground, rolling over until you’re straddling his lap. Your eyes narrowing into his. 

“You know what? My turn.” 

You’re quick to lean down, crashing your lips against his. Mimicking the waves colliding into the shore. Swallowing the water’s contents whole. His chest heaves a deep groan, vibrating against the passion of your mouth. Which in turn, had made you moan just as loud. 

Your hand reaches down past the hem of his boxers, wrapping the base of his cock with palm. His head falls back, hands coming to pull your sleeves from off the shoulder to completely off the shoulder. His warm palms cup the rounds of your breasts, thumbing over the erect of your protruding buds. 

“Y/n I- Oh fuck.” He groans, cock twitching in your grip. You smirk, free hand softly tracing the sharp of his jawline. You tug at the hem of his button up. 

“Off.” He chuckles, making quick work of his buttoned shirt. He throws it onto the sand somewhere, watching as your eyes trail along the plains of his chiseled chest. 

“Don’t drool on me.” He teases, closing your mouth while chuckling at your reddened cheeks. 

“S..Shut up.” He laughs, leaning back in a more relaxed position. 

“Wanna switch?” 

“No.” You gripe, trying to assess what to do next. 

He chuckles, watching your face contort with focus. “You sure?” 

After a few seconds, you groan, rolling off of his body. 

“Fuck me, will you?” 

“Y-”

“If you don’t fuck me right now I will walk myself all the way back to the dorms.” He chuckles, gripping onto your thighs before flipping the two of you over. 

“Ironic, seeing how we crossed a bridge to get here.” Your eyes roll back, as he pulls the rest of your dress’s fabric down, making sure not to mess with any of the seams. You glance down, raising any eyebrow. 

“Don’t wanna rip it off?” He shakes his head. 

“If it was Gucci then maybe.” He smiles, folding the piece of fabric next to his thrown button down. 

“But it’s not.. It’s less expensive.” His hands reach around, pulling your body flush against his. 

“Not to you.” Your face tints at his words, as he continues his explanation, and undresses the both of you. 

“Didn’t you make it?” You nod. “How’d you remember?” 

His hands pull the last bit of fabric of your strapless bra down, watching as your breasts bounce from the sudden revealment. 

“You said you sewed.” Your head nods slowly, as you watch his fingers tug the hem of his boxer-briefs to circle his knees. 

“Says that so casually while unsheathing himself.” You chuckle, watching the interesting. His eyes glance up, narrowing towards you through his fallen blonde locks. 

“Unsheathed? What are you, an English major?” He laughs, reaching over into his trousers to pull a tiny foil packet from the pocket. 

“Was. Changed my major last minute.” He hums, quirking an eyebrow to you. “Really? Why?” 

You shrug, laying flat on the soft blanket. “Didn’t think it would pay enough. Gotta make a living somehow, right?” He chuckled, nodding before slotting his figure right between your parted legs. 

“Sounded like shakespeare to me.” He teases before hovering over your frame. You smile, lifting your head to lock lips with his. He pulls away, giving you a quick look over before continuing. 

“Ready?” You laugh, nodding. “Thou shall penetrate thy self with thine phyllu- Oh fuck!” 

He lets out a fit of laughs, slowly pushing past your velvet walls. “You’re gross.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple before slowly rolling his hips. Your teases are quick to cease, being replaced with a string of moans. His laughs fade to more of the same, as your legs wrap around his waist, hips rising to meet his own slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck- shit oh my God, Jimin!” He groans, hip starting to pace faster. “Oh fuck baby-” His head falls to your side, supporting itself on your shoulder as his hands grip onto both sides of your hips to steady you. 

“Mmm baby sounds good.” You tease, feeling his lips nipping at the blotchy and bruised skin of your neck. He groans,  one of his hands coming up to knead your breast with his palm. 

“You’re not getting a baby.” He chuckles, harsh groans rolling from his lips. You fake a frown, flipping the two of you over so that you’re straddling his lap. He scoffs softly, watching your hips rise before snapping down. Hands come to steady both sides of your waist, bodies flush with one another’s. 

“Mmmm you’re getting kinda old, sir. Don’t you wanna- fuck- ..c-carry on your line?” He chuckles at the thought, leaning up to capture your lips in a passionate exchange. 

“Not right now.” He growls, taking one of your erect buds into the cavity of his mouth, lips wrapping around your hardened nipple. Your arms wrap around his head, body being thrown backwards slightly at the sensation. Your lips part, letting a few little words slip. 

“I love you!”

_____________________________________________________________

Oooooo cliff hanger. Hehe.

Alot of people seem to think my one shots are SERIES I'm starting but guys like- you can ask for drabble of my stuff but- I'm already swimming in unfinished series I had started a LONG TIME ago.

Example: Full Circle, Friendly Favor, Love me Leave me, Snow Drops, etc.

So uhm- thank you for all of the requests but these are not going to continue as series. You can request drabbles and ask questions about the characters but other than that, I leave my one shots alone.

This one was a little bit harder to end, so I just left it on a cliff hanger. (Kinda one of those things you can imagine your own ending if you want.)

If you'd like to me finish this, comment or send me a submission <33

Thank You!

______________________________________________________________

©vinntaege 2023. I do not condone any translations, copies, modifications, or

repostings anywhere for ANY of my works.

[disneyreactor]

Deadly's Piggy-sense

Uncle Deadly doesn’t remember how he began to be close with Miss Piggy, but he is at her house with a fresh bottle of wine. He places the bottle on the coffee table and sits next to the divine diva. The phantom can tell when something’s wrong with his–dare he say–best friend. 

He takes in the solemn look on her face. Her eyes are red and teary, her face is stained with dried tears, and her left leg is shaking too much for his liking. 

“Piggily, dear, what’s the matter?” He asks, rubbing her shaking knee. 

Piggy doesn’t respond right away, which is another clue as to the obvious observation. Something isn’t just wrong, no, no, something is definitely wrong. 

“Piggy–”

“Moi is just fine.” Piggy finally responds, her monotone voice shakes slightly, but Deadly isn’t buying it.

“And I’m the president of the United States.” He retorts. 

Piggy takes a deep breath. “Deadly, as much as I love you, you being president is a scary thought.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” he adds. “My good looks would only deteriorate soon after. But what has made you so upset dear?”

Piggy looks as if she’s debating to open up about whatever has her so down. If Deadly learned one thing, it’s how Piggy hides in the diva facade for her own protection. 

“I don’t know.” 

He finds herself rubbing her shoulder. “The frog has been looking for you.”

“Me or Denise?”

“You.”

“About?”

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly like conversing with the frog.” 

“Why not?”

“He hurt my best friend, and no one hurts my best friends and have a hell-free life.” 

She laughs and looks over to her friend. “Passive aggressive, aren’t we?” 

“Of course.” 

Deadly pours them a glass, hands one to her, and leans back against the couch. 

“How is that one man show going?” She asks. 

“Wonderful, deary, you should come back to see it.”

“I shall.” 

“Good. I need someone who knows how to turtle me.” 

She grins, and Deadly can relax knowing that his dear friend will be just fine.

@rikareena @imtoffe

[bonvoyagenoona]

I found Matchmakee because of the jungkook is jealous ask and now i’m going insane over it 😭 It’s such a fun read and honestly i really do love y/n, she’s really inspiring to me and well spoken. I feel like she always tries to stay calm and collected, but i have to ask what she’d be like if a girl was trying to talk to jk/get his number or whatever >:) if jk has to feel the pain so does she heheh

I’m so glad you liked Matchmaker! And I’m touched that you enjoyed this Y/N! She’s so cool?! The story and interactions are based on a lot of stuff that I and fellow female colleagues have experienced as we’ve been working in our STEM-related fields and our businesses. Namely, the sexism. So this was an opportunity to kind of examine and almost retcon those moments!  We’ve got one more “official” part to the drabble / prequels to go before the story is closed forever-ever...

But on the heels of the Jungkook is Jealous drabble (!!), here’s what Y/N does when the tables are turned! (This is the full version of this snippet from a couple of weeks ago!)

source: cokodive

Jungkook Gets Hit On

Bina’s gimbap rolling skills are getting better with each dinner that she hosts, and you tell her so with such an encouraging smile that she breaks into tears when you say it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” you exclaim. “Are you OK?” You rub her back and pull her shoulders into your chest. Your mind confirms that you probably haven’t, but the words tumble out anyway. “Did I say something wrong?”

She sets down her knife on the cutting board and places her palms flat on her clean, crisp, chalk quartz kitchen counter.

“No,” she sniffles, “you’re so sweet for saying so!” Her eyes rise to yours and widen as she shares, “I’m trying so fucking hard!”

You blink as quickly as your mind reels. “For us?” you ask.

You’re confused, but not by the emotional admission of effort. Bina’s hard work is more than evident, as every family dinner that you have had at her and Namjoon’s house has been delicious, heightened to absolutely magical by the candlelight and warm laughter floating in from the dining room.

“Beens, everything has been perfect, but, I mean, if this has been stressing you out, you don’t have to try so hard. You’re incredible. And, like, we’re so grateful, but, y’know… it’s just us.”

Looking at you desperately, Bina whimpers, “It isn’t.”

Namjoon’s laughter grows louder as he pushes the door to the kitchen open with his scrunched back, his upper half hunched slightly over as he brings stacks of nearly empty plates to the kitchen counter.

Bina rolls her teary eyes as she uses her pinky to kick and then catch the swiveling butt of her knife handle, the sharp edge aimed away from Namjoon as he teeters next to her by the sink, spilling aioli and soy sauce on that no longer clean, crisp, chalk quartz kitchen counter as he haphazardly dumps the plates into the deep well of the stainless steel sink.

You both wince at the porcelain clatter.

“Joonie!” Bina whines.

“What!” Namjoon exclaims. “The empty plates are a good thing! The gyoza was a hit! Everybody polished them off already! Is the gimbap done yet?”

As he turns to inspect the cutting board, Namjoon’s raspberry-red face shines at you.

“Oh, hey! I was wondering where you were! Jungkook’s already at the table!”

“Did you happen to save any of the appetizers?” Bina asks, picking up her knife and resuming her careful work. “I haven’t eaten all day!”

Namjoon’s chin sinks back and down into his neck.

Bina frowns.

“Joonie.”

“This is probably also a bad time to tell you that we’re also out of wine.”

Nothing rivals Namjoon’s soft, apologetic pout, save maybe the way he leans to the left, rakes his fingers into the hair at the back of his head, and scratches up and down.

You feel your heart turning to mush.

But then your stomach growls.

“Ugh, it’s fine,” Bina mutters, cutting the last gimbap slice and quickly plating it onto a serving dish. “Bring this outside.”

Namjoon’s gleeful eyes alone threaten to swallow all of that gimbap up as he whisks the plate away to the dining room.

The swinging door fans your hair slightly back and shuffles your feather-light summer dress. You feel some air at your exposed breastbone.

A minute ago, you thanked yourself for going with the deeper neckline. It’s hot outside, and the dress is fun. Makes you smile.

But as you meet Bina’s gaze, the air feels chilly. Her eyes are less tearful, and more fearful.

And yours are searching empathetically for an answer.

“Namjoon’s aunt and uncle are here,” Bina explains, seamlessly moving from the counter to the stove, attending to the pajeon that has just finished frying up. “And his cousin. Their daughter. I’m meeting them for the first time, and his uncle already doesn’t like me.”

“Impossible,” you coo. And you have evidence to back up the sentiment. Tons of positive reviews and debriefs. Notebooks full.

Bina smirks back at you as moves the frying pan off the flame. “He won’t be a fan of yours, either.”

Your brow furrows.

“Apparently,” she explains, switching off the burners, “he takes issue with how we met.”

As you sigh, you shrug your shoulder, and you feel one strap of the tote that you haven’t had a chance to set down just yet fall down your upper arm. You reach into your bag, and you smile back at Bina with the same encouraging grin that you greeted her with as you materialize a hefty bottle of wine.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I brought this.”

**

“If you ask me, it’s all a waste.”

Uncle Bitgaram smacks his lips as he chews and talks.

Apart from his erroneous presumption that anyone did ask him, he seemingly has plenty to be confident about. Not many men his age have sustained a successful business for as long as he has. And not many men his age have ever had his hairline or looks in the first place, much less have sustained either hairline or looks for as long as he has, either. This is maybe why Namjoon, Jungkook, and the rest of their side of your found family watch him with such rapt attention, eager to soak up anything that he might be willing to bestow upon them, hopeful that it will lead them to whatever utopia that he, Aunt Ha-rin, and their daughter, Sung, have descended from to grace you all with their presence.

His words are still echoing in your wine-drunk-growing-wine-angry mind.

“I essentially told Namjoon the same thing!” a tipsy Jungkook exclaims, as he elbows you in the side.

“Oh. I remember.”

You eye the strings of pork stuck between Jungkook’s two front teeth.

“You know what he means,” Jungkook says with a porkier grin.

“Actually, I’m not sure that you know what I mean, Jungkook,” Uncle Bitgaram goes on, reaching for his drink.

He looks around at Hobi, Jimin, and Taehyung, all staring in admiration.

He looks so much like the execs you’d attempted to recruit to help Matchmaker take flight. Marks on their lips that tell you whether they smoke their cigars out of the left side of their mouths or the right. Gold rings or bracelets — in Uncle Bitgaram’s case, one of each— that annoyingly catch the light and beam it right into your pupils, but not so gaudy that you’d write him off entirely. Somehow, their suits always bring out their eyes. And, in this brief moment of careful hope, where you think you might have a rare ally, you happen to let an interesting observation in.

The enamel cufflinks at Uncle Bitgaram’s wrist don’t just bring out his eyes. They are his eyes. Like snake eyes. Black. Piercing. Threatening. Voids.

After a generous nip, he starts to set his wine glass back down on the table. “Matchmaker is a brilliant idea,” he says, his arm extending slowly, “but it’s disappointing that you went through with it.”

As a child, before you knew the rules, you had a bad habit of jamming your chopsticks into your rice bowl. You have the urge to do it now.

But you don’t.

“Care to explain why?” you offer.

“Well,” Uncle Bitgaram starts, “you’re clearly a beautiful and intelligent woman. But you lack a certain sophistication that just can’t be taught or bought.”

He glances over at the dish of kim chi. With a simple flutter of just Uncle Bitgaram’s eyelashes, Aunt Ha-rin leans forward, gently reaches for the dish, and turns to her husband. They share smiles as her arm glides across the table.

Hers is doting. His is approving.

And both disappear when they look back at you.

“Imagine the kind of power couple you and a smartly chosen husband could have become,” Uncle Bitgaram says. “Imagine waking up to a million think pieces about him overnight. Your net worth would be skyrocketing. And you wouldn’t have to worry your beautiful — and, again, surprisingly sharp — head about having to do any of the work that comes with it. You’d just get to reap the rewards. Though, I guess your family’s status doesn’t really allow you access to the upper echelon prospects. If you had started life off in, ah, let’s say…”

His eyes search for as tactful a term as he can muster.

Which isn’t tactful at all.

“A worthier context…”

His eyes grow even more distant.

“Well, anyway. You’ve gone through with it now. Whoever accepts you now might get a nice bump in their portfolio. But it can’t truly fulfill its potential, since it can’t really be separated from you.”

He shakes his head, his eyes scanning your outline. Not lasciviously.

Like you’re livestock.

“Like I said. A waste.”

Uncle Bitgaram says it so lightly. If his eyes are voids, his words are hollow. Maybe that’s why they sting so badly. They’d only punch if he needed any effort to say it.

“And there’s something else.”

He catches Bina in a blink.

“Call me sentimental, or old-fashioned—”

“Or sexist, or narcissistic,” Bina mockingly mumbles in your ear.

“—but I just don’t think anything beats the feeling you get,” Uncle Bitgaram goes on, “when your soulmate finally walks into your life.”

He smiles happily at Aunt Ha-rin.

But she doesn’t do the same.

Instead, she turns to you.

And she gives you the nastiest, most self-pleased grin.

If a man like this has such a snake-like suit, it’s because someone knew it would favor him.

“Lies,” Bina warningly whispers into your ear. “Joonie said they went on one boring date, and Aunt Ha-rin ended up pregnant. With whatever you call that.”

You follow as Bina’s sneer lands on the cheek of cousin Sung, who has swooped into the seat on Jungkook’s other side, and who hasn’t taken her eyes off of him all dinner long.

Now, her hand joins them, landing on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Jungkookie,” she says with a knowing chuckle, and a too-familiar pat, “you’re supposed to be looking out for our sweet Namjoonie just like he’s always looked out for you. You told him the same thing that Appa just said, and he still didn’t listen?”

“Well, um, no,” Jungkook stammers, “like, I did, uh, tell him that, but it’s not that he didn’t listen… and it’s like, good that he didn’t listen? But, like, he listened, he just did it anyway, and I’m glad he did because then we…”

He turns slightly toward you.

You’ve seen him do this a few times before, especially when he’s drunk. His brain juggles the pieces of the sentence he wants to cobble together, but he’s almost too good at juggling, moving too quickly to do anything except keep them in the air.

You also wonder if his sudden discombobulation has anything to do with the low cut neckline of Sung’s nearly see-through top.

She tosses her hair over her far shoulder as she leans in.

Her collarbones are straight and well-defined. Like two dashes that lead to something really captivating.

You hate them.

“I know our Joonie well,” Sung coos. “Can’t blame him if he doesn’t hear things every now and then. He’s so tall. And those goofy ears. Clouds like cotton balls inside.”

She grins, her neck craning left toward Jungkook’s ear as she leans even closer.

“And I know you, Jungkoookie,” Sung replies. “I’ve seen you work. I know how… persuasive… you can be.”

Her smirk gives her away. As lofty as she sounds, it’s clear that she’s had these words calculated for quite some time.

“Not that someone as naturally, hmm, compelling, as you…”

Her eyes drink him in much the same way Namjoon’s eyes drank in that plate of gimbap.

“…needs to work that hard to convince anyone of anything.”

Aunt Ha-rin encourages her with a wink. She would know. She taught Sung well.

Just after you balk, and as Uncle Bitgaram clips his chopsticks to underline Sung’s point, Bina leans over to you and whispers, “Do you think you could text Yoongi to get us out of here?”

You think of Yoongi pouting at Jungkook calling him “Tinkerbell”, and you’d bet a million dollars that you’re making the same face now.

“Tonight is Cabernet Canvas.”

Bina looks at her empty wine glass. “I thought this was pinot noir?”

You sigh. “Yoongi’s painting class.”

“Jin, then?”

“He’s there too,” you remind her. “That’s why they couldn’t come to family dinner tonight.” And then you scowl. “We don’t need them, anyway. Because we don’t need saving.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bina mutters. “I need something to get me through whatever the rest of this is going to be.”

As she leans back in her seat, you reach over to the center of the table in order to, at the very least, pour her more wine.

“Hey, wait! My ears aren’t goofy! And they’re listening perfectly!”

Namjoon’s cotton-cloud brain has finally caught up, and he grimaces as he interrupts Uncle Bitgaram’s self-righteous droning. “And what’s with all this dumping on Matchmaker? Without it, I wouldn’t have met Bina! And I’d like to remind you all that Bina and I are very happy! I’d searched for so long, had countless ridiculous conversations that were true wastes of time, doubted myself, felt judged, felt like I’d never find anybody to share my life with, and all of it led to her.”

Drunk Namjoon tends to get a little weepy. But even your practical heart is starting to simper along with him.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Because Bina is… she’s…”

His eyes meet Bina’s, and suddenly, he looks exactly the same as he did when he sat in your office, sharing what brought him in. Unfamiliar with the process. Unsure of how it would go. Unaware of how wonderful of a catch he truly is. And is proving to be so, now.

“Bina is everything.”

Bina dips her head a little in sheepish gratefulness. “Aw. Joonie.”

Namjoon takes her hand in his.

“She changed my life completely.”

And he glances at you before adding, “So did you.”

You beam.

Now’s your chance.

You swivel your hips, bringing your legs to the side of your chair on Jungkook’s side, your knees bumping his thighs and pulling his attention away from the other side of the table.

Away from Sung.

And back to you.

You ignore the feel of his huge, intrigued eyes as he follows the hem of your skirt traveling up, but you know just how tortured he’s starting to feel when you lock your hip in place against the back of your seat, pinning your skirt’s hem before it slides up too far.

You turn to Uncle Bitgaram, Aunt Ha-rin, and Sung, and you begin.

“I may not have whatever sophistication your old money brings you. And I may not know what it’s like when your soulmate walks into your life…”

You smile, almost fanatically.

“But I really love being the mastermind who opens the door. Excuse me.”

You stand and walk out of the dining room.

Someone’s following fast on your heels.

**

You take some tissues out of the box and mop up some of the cold water that spilled onto the powder room sink.

Three more quick knocks bounce against the gorgeous wainscotting on the door.

“Occupied,” you huff.

“It’s me.”

“I know.”

You hear a sigh. And then, in a little bit of a whine, “C’mon. Open up.”

You look at yourself in the mirror again, appreciating the black subway tile that is definitely more Namjoon’s taste than Bina’s, and propping your upper body up with locked arms, fingers gripping the beautiful, matching, glossy black opal sink.

You take a deep breath.

In the middle of your long, tired exhale, you hear, “Pleeeeeeease?”

Grumbling the rest of your breath out, you reach over and turn the door handle, hearing the small click of the lock in the center popping back out.

Jungkook twirls the knob, and twirls inside, closing the door with his back, quick to move even though no one’s behind him. His eyes are still wide, but now, with concern.

“Hey, are you OK?”

“No, I’m not OK,” you mutter.

“You’ve been in here for a bit.” He pouts. “Is it your tummy?”

He reaches for your stomach, and you chop his arm at the elbow.

“Ow!”

“Don’t!” you snap, still facing the mirror above the sink, your own elbows bending and circling around your torso as you cross your arms.

His right hand reaches for his left wrist, and he starts unbuttoning his left sleeve, pushing it up to his elbow, his watch flashing in the light.

He takes a deep, calm breath, and he watches you intently as he brings his hands to his gently opening mouth. He smirks a little as he breathes warmly onto his palms, rubs them together gently, and reaches for your stomach.

“C’mere.”

You feel yourself leaning into him, eager for whatever he’s about to say or do, aching for whatever salve he’s about to offer.

“Seriously, though. I can rub your tummy while you sit on the toilet. Tae-Tae did it for me once when I took a bunch of pills at a rave from some dude with a golden fanny pack and got suuuuper constipated, and it really helped.”

You swat his hand away.

His knuckles bang against the counter.

“Owww!”

“Shit — sorry,” you say curtly, your voice a katana’s blade, swiftly and nearly soundlessly slicing through the air, “but, no, that’s not what’s wrong, so I don’t need you to rub my tummy while I sit on the toilet!”

“Then what’s up?” Jungkook asks.

There’s an ever-present twinkle in Jungkook’s eye. It’s something you’re now more than used to waking up and seeing first thing in the morning, even with his nose nudged into the pillow. You see it when you peek out of the corner of your eye to gauge his reaction to a scene he’s cackling at during a movie. It even sneaks its way into photos you take, where he looks like a professional model, and you look like the stand-in, sub-par, fill-in whom he has to figure out how to make work for the shot.

Not even the Jungkooks of the world can work that kind of miracle.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you mumble.

Jungkook frowns.

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it’s not true!” you whisper harshly, arms suddenly waving around. “Damn it, Jungkook, don’t do this to me!”

He tilts his head and smirks again. “Do what?”

When it’s unavoidably clear that you’re going to lose it if he pushes any more, he takes a step forward and places his hands on your shoulders.

“OK, OK, look. They’re kind of the worst.”

The scowl in your brow deepens. “Sung definitely is.”

“Always has been.” Jungkook shakes his head. “But ultimately, it means nothing. They mean nothing.”

He looks at you, gaze weighted with everything that you’ve learned since opening up to him and giving him a chance. How good he is. How patient he has been. How willing he is to open up to you, too.

“She means nothing.”

His thumbs rub the top of your shoulders, flirting with the straps of your dress.

“Has she always meant nothing?” you mumble.

His eyes follow his thumbs down to your collarbones, maybe less-defined than Sung’s physically, but clearly more-defined meaningfully in Jungkook’s mind. How many times they’ve housed his temples. How many kisses he’s laid there.

His lips part, and even though you no longer need him to, he says, “Sung has never meant anything to me”. That soft look in his eyes tells you that even though Sung’s shoved her collarbones into Jungkook’s face all evening, he couldn’t pick them out of a lineup.

His fingers grip your shoulders a little tighter.

“Look… you and Beens… you haven’t really met our families yet, but…”

There’s an ever-present twinkle in Jungkook’s eye. And you’ve never seen it die before.

He runs his hands down your arms, squeezing you in places, before letting you go and jamming his hands into his pockets.

“…that’s for a reason.”

And you know. You know because it’s your job to know. It’s your job to know what the twinkles in people’s eyes mean. Where they come from. What sparks them. And what kills them.

How long have you both been angled like this? Not just with your left hip leaning against the sink, and his right shoulder resting on the door, but facing each other, truly head-on?

So many moments pass by. You just watch each other. Thinking.

You bunch your lips up and push them into the bottom left corner of your chin. “What about the other thing?” you ask.

His left temple tilts. “What other thing?”

You roll your eyes, and there are so many roller-coaster hills in your voice that make you sound so disdainfully mocking. Which is ironic. Because you’re the one who feels it.

“The portfolio talk.”

You sigh.

“Are you only with me because you think my company is a valuable asset to add to your portfolio?”

After a deep breath of his own, Jungkook firms his stance, back muscles straightening.

“Absolutely not.”

You start to smile.

“Aw!”

“N-no,” Jungkook admits, his eyebrows raising. “I mean that… Well, even with as much as you’ve changed Joonie’s life, and as revolutionarily brilliant as Matchmaker truly is,” he starts to wince, “you, uh, well, you still have fewer than a million active subscribers, and even fewer are paid, so… you’re actually quite terrible for not just my portfolio, but most anybody else’s…”

He widens his eyes and smiles with all of his teeth.

“But I like you anyway?”

You’ve never scoffed a scoff that shredded your tonsils before.

Jungkook places his hands on his hips as he shifts his weight slightly forward. He sighs, looking down at the floor and wiping his nose with his knuckle before looking right at you.

“How about this?” he tries. “The day you met me, I threw out your salad. Yesterday, I spent 45 minutes at the cafe in your building, where I am definitely persona non grata—”

“Rightfully so,” you mutter.

“—standing within arms length of an entire team of angry baristas who probably would have loved to throw scalding hot coffee all over me, and definitely spit in my espresso, and I was thrilled about it because it meant I would get to see you.”

Why is the crinkle that forms between his eyebrows when he pouts so damn delightful?

You give him a once-over. “You drink that espresso anyway?”

Jungkook smirks. “Every last drop.”

“Gross,” you smirk back.

He takes another step forward, the rounds of your shoulders, and your hips, and other, softer things and other things starting to touch.

His voice is gentle, but rumbling, when he speaks again.

“You know all of that is just noise, right?” he asks. “I like you. I like how powerful you are. I like that you’re at the top of the world. I like that you let me stand next to you. I like how dizzy you make me feel.”

You shake your head.

“Fucking disgusting,” you smile.

He knows you’re going to kiss him. He knows before you do. His arms are already around you when your lips meet his.

Your head is going hazier than Namjoon’s admittedly usually cloudy brain as you feel Jungkook’s hands run over your tummy, and a soft moan inches its way out of your throat.

He breaks your kiss and presses his forehead against yours, his busy hands starting to run down and hike up your skirt a little more.

His hands feel almost as firm as that black opal sink as he helps you up onto it.

“Can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else,” he reminds you as he breaks your kiss and presses his forehead against yours. And your lips smile into his cheek as he adds, “Glad to know you feel the same way.”

“How could you not already know that?”

“Someone likes to play their cards a little close to the vest. But I guess they have to in order to, say, start their own company.”

“Mm. Maybe I’m slipping a bit,” you say playfully, legs spreading as Jungkook slides in between them. Your arms reach around and hug his neck. “Turns out I’m not as successful as I thought I was.”

Jungkook takes one of your hands from its newly nestled spot and instead runs it down his chest, down his torso, down his thigh, to his almost painfully woken cock.

“You sure about that?” he asks, as his own hand slips between your pussy lips.

You laugh softly as Jungkook presses kiss after kiss onto your neck.

He licks a spot, telling you to crane to the left.

“Tell me what to do.”

All these hands. All so busy. Fingers and palms swirling and rubbing. Yes, heated, at his hips, and at your entrance, but also, reassuring, like in the way he braces his arm along your back, or how you make gentle, caressing circles along his.

You both still want each other. You both still want this. You both only want this.

“You know what I want.”

“Don’t have much time,” Jungkook whines, “but—”

“You always know what I want,” you whisper, pulling his hand away and placing it on your thigh, feeling his soaked fingers starting to stain that skirt that is hiked up way too high. “Give it to me.”

As you lock into another deep, slow, longing kiss, you slide your hand out of his pants and undo them fully, hearing the clinking of belt prong against belt frame, the tinkling of zipper against track, the sound of fabric crumpling on the floor.

He grunts softly as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance. Your impatience burns when he does this. Maybe he’s testing to see if you’re ready for him, even though you kind of always are. Maybe he’s also giving himself a moment to see if he’s ready for you, even though he kind of never is.

Your hands run up his torso and spread along his chest, fingers teasing his nipples. And then, he slowly presses into you, your moan threatening to bulldoze his giggle.

He quickly swallows you into another kiss, your moan considerably dampened against Jungkook’s mouth, your eyes falling shut as you pour everything into him.

When he breaks your kiss, you whine.

“Shh!” he whispers happily. “They’re going to hear us!”

Pouting, you lock your legs behind him, pulling him closer, sliding him in deeper. How he’s able to keep his composure, you aren’t sure, though when you open your eyes again, you see him biting his lip so hard that you’re worried his left canine will pierce it.

His hips pull back, twisting a little. Slow. Your eyes roll back because they have nowhere else to go. Almost like they’re making room for him to slide inside again. The sensation of him filling you up is intoxicating, but the feeling of him wading back, especially with that twist, like the tide in a sideways storm, pulls you so strongly, tugs at you so powerfully, that you’ve shivered and surrendered control with just his crown inside of you, pulsing upon a threatened exit.

All of your muscles rushing to fill the space he leaves behind. Your limbs going crazy as they reach back out for him. That dire feeling of almost losing him. It makes you lose yourself completely.

You go rigid, trying to hold onto him, and he clicks his teeth when he hears another unavoidable groan starting to rise up from your throat.

He nudges it away with his nose at your neck. A sneeze disrupted. An orgasm edged.

For now.

“Open your mouth for me,” he whispers, only when he’s sure you won’t make a sound.

You do, and he places his knuckle between your lips.

“Bite down.”

You don’t question it. You hold his forefinger between your teeth. Delicate.

For now.

His hips push forward, and you do as you’re told.

He grunts quietly, much more quietly than you would have squealed had you not channeled it into his flesh and bone.

He moves back again, cadence starting to quicken, but never losing that bit of twist, making your insides bunch up and twist inside you, too. That delicious turmoil, the knot messing and tangling at your core. That heat, equal parts friction and flow. Each time you feel it, you feel so overwhelmed. Even though you know it’s coming, it always feels like you’ve never felt it before.

Jungkook sighs. “Fuck.”

You feel his hand leave your back. You hear his watch against the sink, and the faucet let out a loud waterfall.

HIs voice buzzes against your ear. “Fuck, fuck.”

You whimper as he starts to slam into you.

You whimper again when his crown no longer teases you at your entrance but buries itself into the deepest parts of you, stroking that front wall so tense that you need your release to cut that tangle out of you.

He whimpers when you clench even tighter, his body hugging you even closer.

As your head falls back, your drooling lips take with them his knuckle, and then his entire finger.

His own drooling lips search down the trunk of your neck to find your collarbones.

And when he finds them, he bites down, too.

**

Everyone in the living room blinks curiously up at your tousled hair, misaligned buttons, wrinkled shirts, and, for some reason, Jungkook’s missing left shoe.

“It’s from last season. Just throw it out if you find it,” he tells a tormented, doubled-over, giggling Bina.

“You take another monstrous shit, Jungkookie?” Taehyung asks innocently, his eyes roving over to you. “Were you on tummy duty?”

Jungkook, still out of breath, says, “Nah, I wasn’t on tummy duty. We were…”

His eyes slope down your figure, tucked into his side, under his arm.

“You wanna tell me what we were doing, again?”

You curl into Jungkook, your giggling chin resting on his shoulder as you whisper what he needs to tell them next.

Uncle Bitgaram has no idea what’s going on and is simply waiting until you’re done so that he can get back to whatever story he was telling.

Sung rolls her eyes and turns her attention to her phone.

Aunt Ha-rin frowns disapprovingly at you.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle as he says, “We just wanted to tell you thank you for such a wonderful dinner, Beens, Namjoonie-aaaa—”

You smirk to yourself, and bite your lip. When you paused mid-thought and wondered if you should lick his ear, you thought it’d be funny. You weren’t expecting that a gentle, joking tracing of his lobe with the middle of your tongue would make him tense, suck the air in through his teeth, and grab your ass so tightly that you buck your still-swollen pussy into his thigh.

“ —aahhhh! Ahh, but uh, we have some, uh, portfolio matters that have, uh—”

You chuckle, and Jungkook smirks.

“—just arisen.”

Taehyung lets out one no-longer-innocent chuckle, and it seems the rest of the gang isn’t far behind.

“So, uh, we need to take our leave,” Jungkook finishes, “to discuss, uh, our future. Growth.” His smirk deepens into his cheek. “Long-term growth.” He stifles a laugh. “Long, strong, rigid—”

Jimin chokes on his drink and nearly spits it out on the couch’s velvety upholstery. Hobi, like Bina, is desperately trying not to scream out his laughter.

You scoff.

He turns into you.

“—turgid, swollen, veiny—”

Beside them, on the arm rest, Namjoon has solidified into the boulder he had been steadily transforming into throughout your prolonged, obvious, loud absence, lanky legs bent over the sofa, elbows on his knees, fists propping up his cheekbones, head facing so deep into his own torso that he almost looks like he’s collapsing into himself.

“—stable,” Jungkook goes on, his voice getting softer, “meaningful… happy… long-term growth.”

He smiles softly at you, that twinkle shining at you full-force.

And after sharing it with him, you shift the aim of your most self-pleased grin.

Right at Aunt Ha-rin.

**

Read Matchmaker here

**

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Thanks for reading! 

[starryhyuck]

just like magic. (m)

pairing: fuckboy!jaehyun x fuckgirl!reader

words: 4k+

summary: jung jaehyun’s body count is almost as high as yours. however, after yuta spreads a nasty rumor, you learn that jaehyun’s always imagined those girls to be you instead.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: multiple sex partners, public sex, sex on the roof, multiple orgasms, degradation, wall sex, creampie

Your head rests on the bathroom mirror, inhaling and exhaling loudly as Mingyu finds a wipe to clean you up.

“Ugh. I can’t believe we did it in Bambam’s gross bathroom.”

Mingyu chuckles, the deep sound echoing in the small space. “Please. Don’t act like you’re so disgusted now.” You roll your eyes at his comment while he cleans the cum smeared on the inside of your thighs. “Besides, it’s not like you were having fun at the party anyways.”

You shrug and jump down from the sink, straightening out your skirt and trying to look somewhat presentable.

“True,” you murmur, fixing your hair in the mirror. “Jungkook couldn’t come tonight so it was way easier to find you.”

He scoffs. “As if Jungkook could fuck you better than me.”

You laugh and find the lipgloss sitting at the bottom of your bag. “Oh, he can. He’s not a little gym rat for nothing, you know.”

Mingyu huffs, leaning down to pull your panties back up and straightening your skirt. This scene isn’t unfamiliar to the both of you, although doing it in Bambam’s bathroom certainly was. You’re pretty sure Bambam smoked a shit ton of weed before his party started, and Mingyu opens the bathroom window to release some of the odor.

“See you in 104. Did you finish the extra credit paper already?”

You shook your head, opening the bathroom door and hearing the lively party continue downstairs.

“Nope, not planning to,” you give him one last kiss on the cheek. “Nice fuck, Gyu. Tell Jungkook to show up next time.”

He rolls his eyes again and you two depart, almost toppling over as you bump into Jung Jaehyun on the stairs. His arm quickly slides around your waist to prevent you from falling. He smiles at you.

“How was Mingyu?”

“How was Jennie?”

He chuckles. “Good. As always. You really have to start expanding your little black book. Mingyu and Jungkook aren’t always going to be around, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow and step away from him, shooing his arm away from you. “You don’t think I have backups, silly? Doyoung is at my beck and call, I assure you.”

He smirks, raising his red solo cup to you. “If you ever need me.”

You dismiss him, walking down the stairway of Bambam and Yugyeom’s place. You and Jaehyun had always been similar in many ways, especially in the way you ‘connect’ with other people. If you two ever had a body count competition, it would surely have Johnny’s head spinning all night at the numbers. You never fucked Jaehyun, however, simply because you had no desire to. You’ve known Jaehyun for as long as you’ve known Mingyu, but the only personality trait you’ve ever deducted from Jaehyun was that he’s excellent in bed.

That, and the fact that during your first year of college, Yuta spread some rumor that Jaehyun masturbates to the thought of you.

No big deal.

You find Minghao and Sicheng speaking in the kitchen, and you whine when you clutch Minghao’s arm.

“I’m tired, Hao.”

“You leave us to go fuck Mingyu for a hour and now you want to go home?”

You can hear the condescending tone in Minghao’s voice and you do your best to ignore it. You offer him your best toothy grin. “Come on, designated driver. You’re not even doing anything remotely fun!”

“Hey!” Sicheng interjects. “We were actually just talking.”

You lean over to pinch his cheeks and Sicheng nearly growls at you.

“You’re cute, but you and Minghao talk all the time. Nothing new. Plus, all of us are roommates, dumbass! We could talk at home any time we want to.”

“Fine, fine,” Minghao concedes, laying his cup down on the kitchen counter. You ignore the fact that Yugyeom’s tongue is shoved down some girl’s throat only five feet away from all of you. “Did you already clean yourself up? I don’t want any of Mingyu’s germs in my car.”

“Are we sure it was Mingyu?” Sicheng counters. “It could’ve been Jungkook or Doyoung or Wonwoo or Jinyoung or-“

“Alright, alright,” you glare at him. “And yes, it was Mingyu. He already cleaned me up so you won’t get any Gyu germs.”

“Good.”

Minghao still has trouble trusting you after that one time you wore a skirt with no panties and let Kun’s cum spill all over Minghao’s front seat. Sicheng is still extremely traumatized from the situation.

You exit the house party with your roommates, almost stopping at the sight of Kunhang looking like a fucking dream near the speakers-

“Come on, you horny asshole,” Sicheng grunts, pushing you out the door.

—

“Did you hear the news?”

Your eyes flutter at the sight of Nakamoto Yuta, who is leaning over your desk, smiling. You sigh and decide to entertain him.

“What is it now, Yuta?”

“A little birdy told me that a certain Jung Jaehyun has fallen for Mingyu’s girl,” Yuta’s smirk widens when you furrow your eyebrows.

“Mingyu has a girlfriend?”

He huffs. “You, dumbass.”

You giggle at the thought of dating Mingyu and roll your eyes. “You’re full of shit, Nakamoto.”

He stands straight, his figure towering over you. You peek your head out to see if the lecture has started yet so Yuta can get the fuck away from you.

“Then why did I hear Jaehyun calling your name when he was getting his dick wet this morning?”

The accusation has your eyebrows raising. You barely know Jaehyun, only from fleeting stories from Mingyu and Jungkook. You also know that Yuta’s always full of shit, spreading rumors about various people just because he can.

“Get your head out of your ass, Yuta.”

He laughs at your dismissive nature, leaning in again. There’s a troublesome glint in his eyes.

“And what if I told you Mingyu said Jaehyun’s loved you since you were five?”

You challenge him. “I would say that the cum in Miyeon’s panties say otherwise.”

He smiles and steps back when the professor finally enters the room.

“Whatever you want to believe.”

That conversation with Yuta was three years ago. He’s graduated long since, but the rumor about Jaehyun still pops up here and there. Jaehyun never addressed it with you, and when you asked Mingyu about it once, he just laughed.

“A lot of guys on campus jack off to the thought of you. Are you surprised?”

You think about the memory as you watch Soojin straddle Jaehyun, her hair falling over the side of her face as she leans in to kiss him. The rest of the party ignores them, mainly focused on how Bambam is nearly toppling over trying to do a keg stand.

A hand slides around your waist and you feel someone’s lips attach to your neck.

“Gyu told me you were looking for me the other day,” Jungkook murmurs lowly in your ear. “Did you miss me?”

You smile when you feel his fingers inch closer to your breast, hands roaming all over your body.

“Yes. Your absence made me fuck Mingyu in Bambam’s germ-covered bathroom.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound shoots straight to your core.

“I’m here now, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Your eyes drift upwards again, startled to find Jaehyun already gazing at you. Soojin’s sucking at his neck, but his eyes are locked on you, watching the way Jungkook paws at your breast.

Yuta’s voice rings in your ears. Jaehyun’s loved you since you were five.

You push the thought away as Jungkook’s mouth envelops yours. Jaehyun couldn’t love you, Yuta was just full of shit.

—

“You’re late.”

You narrow your eyes at Mingyu, who brushes off the time. He promised to meet up with you yesterday to finish your project for 104 and give you a quick lunch time fuck. You’re a little disheartened to see he’s tugged Doyoung and Jaehyun along.

“Don’t be so upset, frowning doesn’t look good on you,” Mingyu teases, sliding in the chair across from you. Doyoung sits next to him, and Jaehyun awkwardly takes the spot next to you. “We were just playing a little basketball outside. The time slipped my mind.”

“Well, I guess it slips my mind that I’m supposed to fuck you before your next class.”

Doyoung laughs and seizes the opportunity. “I, on the other hand, never promised anything and my schedule is conveniently free for the whole day.” He winks at you, his gums showing brightly as he smiles.

You smirk when Mingyu elbows him in the side. Jaehyun is oddly quiet and you turn to face him while Mingyu hisses at Doyoung.

“I saw you and Soojin getting it on last weekend. How was it?”

He smiles tightly. “Good, as always. Jungkook per usual?”

You nod. “The little gym rat won’t stop exercising. He was talking to me about his routine all night. I almost just got myself off instead.”

Something flickers in Jaehyun’s gaze, and it’s gone so quickly that you might’ve missed it.

“I can’t imagine why that would be preferred, especially when you have most of the male population lining up to get a taste of you.”

There’s a hidden implication in his words, and you take the chance.

“Are you part of that male population?”

He smirks at your question. Before he has a chance to answer, Mingyu’s voice fills your ears again.

“Anyways, my dorm is free and I can afford to miss my next class. Wanna head up? Promise I’ll go down on you as an apology.”

You scoff at Mingyu’s half-assed proposal, and stand to leave. “I’ll pass. Get a watch next time if you want your dick wet. I’m assuming you’re going to finish most of our project since I was waiting here for over a hour.”

Mingyu frowns. “But-“

“But?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

His shoulders slump. “Fine. I’ll finish the damn project.”

You lean over to pinch his cheeks. “Good Mingyu. I’ll see all of you at Minghao’s birthday bash.”

You depart without another word, ignoring the burn of Jaehyun’s stare. When you arrive back to your apartment, Minghao is organizing his wine cabinet while Sicheng talks to Tzuyu at the kitchen counter. You sigh and throw your bag across the island.

“Boys are dumb.”

Tzuyu laughs. “Did Mingyu forget what time it is again?”

“As always,” you confirm, searching for anything consumable in your fridge. As expected, no one’s gone grocery shopping in a week. Guess you’ll have to raid Wonwoo’s apartment tonight.

Sicheng huffs. “Good. I don’t need you getting any more Mingyu germs before Minghao’s party tomorrow.”

“And what does Hao’s party have anything to do with me getting laid?” Sicheng rolls his eyes at your question, and you smile sweetly at him. You decide to favor the leftover pieces of ham sitting at the back of the fridge. “Tzuyu, back me up here. Didn’t you have a good time with Jaehyun two weeks ago?”

Tzuyu’s cheeks flush as she recalls what you’re referring to. At Jungwoo’s party, she and Jaehyun were practically fucking each other in the middle of the living room.

“I guess. He was weird about some things.”

You frown, removing the lid off of the container and shoving a piece of ham in your mouth. “Like what?”

She looks embarrassed to be talking about such intimate things in front of Sicheng, but your roommate is unbothered. He’s heard enough of your escapades to be unfazed by any mentions of sex.

“He didn’t want to look at me when we did it. He told me I had to face the pillow or else he couldn’t cum that way.”

You shrug. “So he likes it from behind. Nothing too weird about that. Which way do you prefer, Sicheng?”

He glares at you. “None of your business.”

You giggle at how cute he is before Tzuyu continues. “I mean, it wasn’t just that. He didn’t really like it when I made noises. I had to be as quiet as possible.”

“Ugh, that’s fucked. Guys can grunt in the nastiest ways possible but they hate it when we make an ounce of noise. I hope you’re not that way, Sicheng.”

His glare burns. “None. Of. Your. Business.”

“Yeah, it was weird. He’s really good in bed though.”

You chuckle. “I would hope so. Anyways, who’s on the guest list for tomorrow night?”

Sicheng sighs, and you wonder if he thinks about moving out and living with a less horny roommate.

“Basically anyone you’ve fucked before since you’ve slept with all of Hao’s friends.”

You frown. “That’s not fun. I like someone new once in a while.”

“No funny business at Minghao’s party, I mean it. We can’t be cutting his cake while you’re getting railed in your room.”

You boop his nose. “No promises.”

—

Sicheng’s done this on purpose.

All of the men at Minghao’s party have flocked away from you, like Sicheng sent them all a mass text before the party started or something. You tried to slide up to Mingyu but then he was quickly taking the offer to do body shots with someone else. It’s as if you would bite all their dicks off with the way they’re running from you.

It’s the middle of the party when you grow tired of hearing Jieqiong’s banter with Jun.

You step out of the apartment for a few minutes and head up to the roof, arms wrapping around yourself to shield from the cold. You know you should’ve went to Wonwoo yesterday, especially since Sicheng has apparently made it a no fuck zone for tonight.

You jump when you feel a jacket moving over your shoulders. You’re even more startled to see Jaehyun next to you.

“Oh, hey. When did you get here?”

He smiles, and it hurts your eyes a little by how pretty he is.

“About a hour ago. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, considering I could feel your rage from five feet away.”

You laugh dryly. “Did Sicheng send you a text too?”

“No, but Mingyu told me about it. I assume he only sent it to the guys you’ve slept with before.”

You nod. “Yeah, probably. I’m off limits to all males tonight.”

The two of you stand together in silence, gazing out at the view of your city. You’ve never felt an urge to get an answer from Jaehyun before about Yuta’s rumor, but now that he’s here, it’s all you can think about.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about the rumor Yuta spread around in freshman year?”

His back stiffens. The seconds pass in a deafening thump, and you’re starting to feel like you shouldn’t have brought it up.

He finally sighs. “How long have we known each other?”

You blink. Did he really have to respond to a question with another question?

You think back to when you first met Jaehyun and Mingyu. You were only five then, and you screamed in the middle of the classroom because Mingyu had spilled paint all over the front of your shirt. You remember Jaehyun handing you a wipe to clean yourself up, ears bright red.

You grin at the memory. “Since I found out Mingyu was the clumsiest kid on earth.”

He chuckles. “You never really saw it, did you?”

“Saw what?”

You’re even more confused by Jaehyun’s vague ass answers. He averts his gaze from you, and you suddenly feel a lot colder on this rooftop.

“How much I liked you.”

The statement causes you to freeze. So Yuta was right - Jung Jaehyun has loved you since you were five. Still, it doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been fucking Mingyu since high school and Jaehyun never seemed bothered by it, considering he and Mingyu were still best friends. In fact, you’ve been in bed with most of his friend group and he’s never said a word about it. His friends never even mention his liking for you, so you have to assume that they don’t know of it either.

As if he could sense your rampant thoughts running wild, he squashes them.

“I thought you loved Mingyu. I thought that when the two of you first started sleeping together, it would develop into something more. It’s why I never said anything to him. He knew, but I’m sure he thought I didn’t mind.”

You’re baffled. You don’t even know how to respond to this newfound information. Maybe you should’ve stayed downstairs at the party.

“Mingyu is an asshole,” you finally conclude. Jaehyun’s shoulders relax when you speak. “And so am I. I swear, I didn’t know, Jaehyun. I would’ve-“

“You would’ve stopped seeing Mingyu? And Jungkook? And Doyoung, and Wonwoo, and-“

“Okay, okay,” you raise a hand up to stop him before glaring. “You’re not entirely innocent either. I’m friends with most of the girls you’ve slept with too.”

His eyes darken. “And have you asked them what it’s like to be with me? How I have to turn them over and imagine it’s you before I can get hard? How I have to keep them quiet because their moans are too loud or simply because it doesn’t sound like you?” How-“

“Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling like the wind has gotten knocked out of your chest. You’re also trying to ignore the wetness that’s pooled in your underwear. “Are you saying-“

“I’m saying that I’ve been running circles around you since we were five and you’ve never noticed. I’ve had to hear countless nights of Mingyu and Jungkook talking about how sweet your pussy is when they slide into you. How pretty you are when you’re stuffing their cocks far down your throat. How you let them take you anywhere, any time, because you enjoy it as much as they do.”

You swallow. He’s inches away from you now, hands dancing around your waist carefully. You quickly check the time.

One hour before Minghao cuts his cake. That should be enough.

You grab the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt, pulling him to you as his lips crash into yours. He grunts, gripping your sides and pressing you against the railing. Your eyes glance down briefly to see how high up you two are.

“Drop me and I’ll kill you.”

He laughs, chasing you again and quickly moving to undress you. You ignore the goosebumps rising on your arms when Jaehyun nips at your neck, fingers dipping into your panties. “So pretty,” he murmurs, licking a stripe across your collarbones. You moan when he slides a finger into your heat. “That’s it, baby. Sound so fucking good.”

He slips another finger in, basking in the glory of your moans. “We have to hurry,” you mumble breathily. “Sicheng will come looking if he knows I’m gone for too long. It’s like he can sense when I’m fucking someone.”

Jaehyun laughs, moving back up to kiss you. “He can watch if he wants to then.”

“I wanna-“ you gasp when he curls his fingers. “I wanna suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. He’s fingering you faster now, and you can hear the squelch of your wetness fill the air. You gasp, desperately holding onto his forearm. “I’ll fuck your mouth next time, I promise. I need to see you cum now.”

You unravel in no time, moaning loudly as you fall apart on Jaehyun’s fingers. He coaxes you through your orgasm, murmuring praises in your ear. You whimper when he pulls away from you, licking up the remaining essence on his fingers.

“Jaehyun,” you say frantically, pawing at him. “I need you inside me.”

You turn over so that your back is facing him, and you think he’s about to slide your underwear down but instead, he swivels you around.

“Need to see you,” he whispers. “Jump.”

You do as he says, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him with much more fervor. You moan when his hands grip your sides roughly, pressing you against the concrete. You sit on the ledge of the rooftop, trying to ignore the genuine fear of falling.

He’s quickly shoving his jeans down his thighs and you whimper.

“Hurry, Jae.”

“Fuck, baby. I’m here, I’m right here,” he hisses, pulling out his cock and giving it a few strokes. Your eyes widen at the size — he was surely bigger and thicker than Mingyu or Jungkook. He chuckles at your stare, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Bigger than what you normally have?”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me you idiots had a dick measuring contest.”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

Then, he’s pushing your panties to the side and sliding into you. You gasp, his fingers roughly gripping you in place to make sure you don’t fall. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, thrusting rapidly as soon as he feels you.

“Good little slut,” he grunts. “So pretty and pliant for me. Is my cock too big for you to take, baby?”

“You’re gonna fucking,” you pant, whining when his cock hits you deeper. “You’re gonna fucking split me in half, asshole.”

He grins mischievously. “That’s the goal.”

You’re so lost in the feeling of him that the both of you fail to hear the door to the rooftop open. You’re startled when Sicheng’s voice booms in the air.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! We haven’t even cut the cake yet!”

“Sicheng, I-“ you shamelessly whimper when Jaehyun hits your sweet spot, not slowing down in the slightest despite Sicheng watching. “W-We’ll be d-down before Hao c-cuts the cake.”

“Horny assholes,” you hear your roommate mutter before the door to the rooftop is closing again.

Jaehyun chortles. “He should’ve sent that text to me too if he was so concerned.”

“Fuck him,” you groan. “And fuck me harder.”

He listens to your command, pushing into you so deep that you almost fall off the ledge. You scream as your upper body dangles off the rooftop, but you can hear Jaehyun’s giggle. Your fear is overtaken by arousal when you realize his cock is hitting you deeper in this position.

“Cum, cum,” you whisper. “I’m cumming.”

He groans when you tighten around him, convulsing around his cock. When you recover, he’s hoisting you back up, bringing your chest to his as he carries you. You have no idea where he’s going, but with every step, his cock slides deeper into your soaking cunt.

The door to the rooftop is opening again and you realize you’re in the stairwell.

“Get down, hands on the railing.”

You shakily follow his command, ignoring the wobble of your legs as you grip the metal bars. He’s pushing into you again before you can take a breath.

“I-I thought you needed to see me,” you say, your back turned to him.

“You’re right.”

Then, he’s pushing you against the wall with force and abusing your pussy. You practically scream, clawing at his back while he pounds you into the wall.

“Do you want to know exactly what Yuta heard three years ago?” He groans against your neck. You can barely form coherent sentences, and you’re pretty sure you had another orgasm that you haven’t even revived from. “He heard me desperately fucking my cock into my hand, whimpering your name. All I could imagine that day was the little short dress you wore to Yugyeom’s party, and how Jungkook’s hands were all over you as soon as you stepped through the door. I fucking came so hard that I had to wash my sheets before Mingyu came back to the dorm.”

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” you whisper frantically. You’re unraveling again — cumming around his cock while he fucks you hard. “Cum with me. Inside, cum inside. Please, please.”

He grunts lowly. “Yeah? You want my cum? What about the rest of them — how many of them have spilled inside you?”

“I’ll keep it in,” you promise him, just wanting your hole to be filled. “I’ll walk around Hao’s party with your cum dripping down my thighs. How does that sound?”

And he’s groaning, giving one final thrust before he empties inside of you. You gasp at how much cum he has to give you, some of it spilling down your lips and onto the floor.

The both of you are panting lowly, trying to recover from your orgasms. You faintly hear a chorus of people singing Happy Birthday two floors down.

“Fuck, Sicheng’s gonna kill us.”

[romanarose]

Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside: Chapter 14

Masterlist here

Chapter 13 : Chapter 15

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

This is a part of an ongoing story, but you can read as a separate fic using context clues.

Fic Summary: Steven meets Sam and they strike up a quick relationship, both kindhearted and loving, they fall fast. But both have a lot going on. Steven had Marc and Moon Knight, and Sam has mental health problems of her own. Slowly, Steven starts to put together pieces of her story as Sam starts to get to know Marc and Jake. The four of them learn to navigate Sam's depression, family, and traumatic past as Sam helps Steven Marc and Jake navigate each other.

Chapter summary: Sam has something important to tell Marc, Steven leaves for the evening to give them privacy. Antics ensue lol

Chapter warnings: SMUT!!! Finally, we get good Marc content. P in V sex, ass smacking, dirty talk, choking, general rough sex and manhandling stuff.

Bold is Steven's thoughts

Italics are Marcs

No Jake this chapter but I promise more Jake is coming

Marc, you have to promise to behave. Steven was walking the stairs to Sam’s apartment, where she was going to surprise Marc with dinner. It was a friday night, which they almost always spent together.

God, what are you talking about now

We’re going to Sam’s and I’m gonna leave

What? Why? Isn’t she supposed to be at work? It’s only 5.

Listen, it’s supposed to be a surprise, but she’s cooking you dinner, she wants to talk. Jess is covering her afternoon and she skipped her last class to prepare this. 

Why would she do that? What the fuck does she want to talk about?

Christ Marc, why do you have to be such a cock? It’s not bad

Then tell me what it is!

Marc just be nice. She skipped class right before finals, you don’t have to… ugh I can’t tell you what it’s all about but you just have to be nice, you don’t have go reciprocate, but don’t be a fucking dick. I don’t want a repeat of the scarf incident. 

Jesus, are you still mad about that?

Am I still mad about my loving girlfriend making you a scarf and you throwing it in her face? Yeah, I am

For fucks sake Steven I didn’t throw it in her face

You may as well have. They arrived at her door Now come to the front

No, not when you guys are ambushing me. 

We’re not!- ugh. Steven calmed himself Can you please just front? I’ll leave the headspace but I’ll come out if you need me, okay?

Marc sighed mentally Fine. Don’t be far.

I won’t

Marc fronted and gave himself a few breaths before knocking

“Come in!!” He heard Sam call from the inside. He recognized the tinge in her voice; she was nervous too.

Marc took one more deep breath and walked in. There she was, standing with the table in front of her, wearing a red dress and black tights (her favorite color combo). Her face was smiling, but the crease between her eyebrows was a dead give away how anxious she was. Sam’s face was all done up, so was her hair, curled into ringlets that went past the neckline of the dress that showed far too little cleavage. He loved her face as god made it, but something about when she wore dark red lipstick… Man, that drove him crazy. Did she know that? Was that on purpose?

“Hey” she squeeked out nervously, trying so hard to be casual.

Marc took a few steps forward, closing the door behind him “Hey Brightside… what is this” he circled the table. Was that Challah? “Sam, what’s going on?”

Marc noticed as soon as her breathing picked up “Oh god, this is weird, isn’t it? I knew it was weird the whole time I was making this.”

“Sam, it’s not weird… what exactly is it?” Red wine was on the table.

Sam wrung her hands together “Well… I wanted to talk to you so I decided to make you dinner for it and then I thought… well… it’s friday… oh god this is probably super inappropriate huh?”

“Is this…” he glanced at the table, then at her “Did you make me Shabbat dinner?”

“I mean, not really, I’m not Jewish… I just looked up traditional foods and made some kosher stuff… Well as Kosher as I could get… It started with the Challah and I just dove into it and next thing I knew… It was a whole thing…” She looked like she could burst into tears “I’m sorry if this isn’t something I’m supposed to be doing or if you don’t like it-”

“How long did this take you?”

“It’s nothing I just… I was hoping we could talk?” she pulled back a bit.

“Yeah, yeah of course… Are you okay?”

She finally smiled again “Yeah, I’m great, Starlight… There’s just something I wanted to tell you and I wasn’t sure when the right time was and I wasn’t sure how you’d react” 

Marc thought of the scarf and how hurt she looked when he rejected the gift. “What is it?” he was feeling anxious, she said nothing was wrong, but he wasn’t sure he believed her

“Well, you and I have been spending a lot of time together, sometimes without Steven and I really love seeing you-” Sam started rambling.

What the hell is she talking about? I’ve been an ass to her.

“And I remember you coming to get me from the bar, and us dancing to Mr. Brightside-”

Oh god, she remembers that

“And the way you dipped me and… and we kissed-”

She’s mad about that, I should’ve never let her kiss me drunk

“I think about that kiss a lot, I’ve been thinking about it all week, I want… I’ve wanted to kiss you again…”

What? She wants to kiss me?

“I think about you all the time, Marc-”

This is all wrong

“I love you” Marc blurted out, hardly believing he let it slip “Shit, sorry I wasn’t supposed to say that…” Marc began panicking. No, no backtrack you idiot. Take it back, you’re all wrong for her.

“You love me?” Sam couldn’t help but notice how much this scene mirrored her and Steven saying I love you the first time.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, I’ll go, I’m sorry” Marc started pacing the room “This is all wrong, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he tugged at his hair with his right hand, but Sam grabbed his left, forcing him to look at her.

“Starlight, whatever could you be sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have said that, Steven’s gonna kill me, I-”

“I love you too” She looked at him with a mix of love and concern.

Marc pulled his hand away, shutting his eyes. “No, don’t say that” he whispered.

“Why” she seemed so small, so quiet.

“I’m wrong for you. Steven is what you need, not me” he was squeezing his eyes closed, begging for this to all go away.

“I need both of you”

“No, no you don’t I will only hurt you, I hurt everything I touch…” Marc opened his eyes finally, as he echoed the words Steven had said to him when Marc first began revealing himself.

“No, you don’t Marc” Sam took his face in her hands, focusing him, grounding him.

He looked into her eyes, bright and blue, she looked so innocent, he couldn’t stand if he took that spark out of her eyes “You don’t want any part of this…”

Sam wanted to kiss him on his full lips, but opted to pull him in for a hug, arms wrapping around his wide center “I want every part of this. Do you know why I call you Starlight?”

He returned the hug. He knew he should pull away, but didn’t “No…”

“Steven is my Sunshine, that’s obvious. He’s like a golden retriever. He lights up my day. But days can’t last forever. Sometimes things get dark. But in the dark, there's always the light from the stars. It doesn’t take away the dark, but that’s not the point of the stars. The point is to guide, to orient. And that’s you. When things are dark, you are there to guide me. You are my star light, and I love you…”

“I don’t want to hurt you” he tugged her tighter.

“I know baby, I know. I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“You could never hurt me”

“People hurt people. It happens. We can work through each other’s problems, it’ll be ok… I just want to be with you. I want to hold you, to kiss you, protect you” She wanted to protect him? No one had ever said they wanted to protect him before…

Marc, despite his best efforts, felt himself getting hard. He tried to pull his hips away, but he didn’t want to end the hug.

“I will keep you safe, Brightside, I promise. No one will hurt you under my watch.” He stroked her hair, his other hand tracing her back “I just want you to be happy…”

“I want to spend my life making you smile…” Sam felt him growing hard as their bodies were pressed against each other “Marc…” She pulled her upper torso back, smirking at him “Love, are you getting hard at emotional intimacy?”

Marc laughed softly and touched his forehead to hers “Maybe…shhh” he wrapped a hand into her hair, tangled up in red, to take her into a kiss. 

When their lips clashed together, Sam knew immediately that despite sharing a body with her beloved Steven, he felt different. How that was possible, she didn’t know. Steven was passionate, Marc was desperate. He kissed her like she would disappear, like she was pleading with her to stay, god she wanted him. He pulled her closer, hand running through her body, trying to feel every bit of her at once. The hand in her hair tightened, pulling at her scalp as she lowered her hand to grab his ass. God, he really was thick everywhere “Fuck, what are you doing with all that ass”

 “I could ask you the same thing” Marc chuckled, smacking Sam’s butt.

Sam ground her hips against his at the feeling of the smack, she hoped that would continue tonight. She moved to his pants and started fumbling with the belt, but he stopped her, grabbing her hands.

“Ah, ah, ah. We gotta have dinner first”

Sam whined “Noooo”

Marc pulled back, fixing her hair and smoothing out her dress as she pouted at him, lip jutting out “You prepared this thoughtful meal, we’re going to eat it.” He walked behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her, swaying her a bit “Just think about all the things you want me to do to you, consider it foreplay” He let go, and pulled out a chair for her.

Sam sat down, squirming against the chair as Marc pushed it back in “Hell of some fucking foreplay…” she muttered.

The dinner was thick with tension. Marc kept the conversation going, despite the straining in his pants growing. Oh, the things he wanted to do to her… He wondered what she would let him do. It occurred to him that she might not have liked when he smacked her ass, given her past… she didn’t seem to mind though... Marc made a mental note to make sure to ask her.

The dinner was delicious. Marc was genuinely touched by the effort she went through to make something resembling Shabbat dinner. Of course, memories were brought back, memories of his childhood, his mom, his dad, the synagogue, Randel… But for some reason, the memories were good. That’s what she did to him. She always looked on the bright side of things despite everything life had thrown at her. Marc supposed it was infectious. And god, the way she was eyeing him all night… The way she would look at him, bite her lips and wiggle in her chair… he knew she was thinking of him, thinking of him taking her… I’m gonna take real good care of her… This is going to be everything she needs… I gotta make sure she’s happy… 

When diner ended, Marc took his plate and walked around to get hers, the look she gave him was pleading. He liked teasing her like this, making her squirm. He did the dishes for her as she leaned against her counter “Marc, please…”

“Please what?” he teased as he put the last dish away, even as his cock was aching for her.

“Please fuck me” She asserted.

He stared at her, open mouthed. Well, how was he supposed to refuse her?

Marc sped around the counter, yanking her to him, bruising his lips in the kiss, and even more so when she bit his lower lip.

“Tell me” he muttered into her neck as he kissed along her collar bone, hand floating up to her breasts “Tell me how you want it”

“I want” a gasp “I want you to do whatever you want to my body”

Marc growled, the things I want to do… but he needed more “That’s not gonna work, I need you to tell me…”

“I want…” Sam wriggled in his arms, catholic guilt stopping her from saying what she wants.

Marc’s tone softened “I don’t want to hurt you or do something you don’t want… I need you to be clear, because the things I want…”

Sam cupped both of his ass cheeks in her hands “I want what you want, I want this to be good for you… ” She spoke between kisses along his jawline.

Marc looked at her, concentrating on her features “Love, this will be good for me, no matter what. Just you is enough” A deep kiss on the lips.

“I want… Oh god this is awkward…” She cringed “I want you to be rough… I want you to manhandle me and… I liked when you spanked me…” she winced, but smiled.

Marc smiled back broadly “That’s what I want too… Are there things you don’t want? I don’t want to hurt you… Well, I don’t want to hurt you in a way you don’t want” he winked.

Sam giggled, hiding her face in his chest “Sorry, I’m so awkward about this…”

“It’s okay brightside, it’s okay”

“I don’t really have anything I don’t want… besides what I told Steven, do you remember?”

“Yes, of course”

“I wouldn’t really know what else I don’t like… Can we, how about I just tell you if I want you to stop?”

Marc pulled her off his chest, holding her chin in his hands “Of course, you tell me if you don’t like something, okay?”

“Okay. Now please” She grabbed his shirt tightly, staring into his chocolate eyes with wide-eyed passion. “Fuck me, Marc Spector”

He moved close to her ear “I thought you’d never ask, Brightside.” Without any warning, Marc turned Sam around and shoved her over the couch, lifting up her red skirt and smacking her right ass cheek, hard. 

“Ah! Harder, please” Sam begged

Marc obliged, hitting her harder and making her cry out, he soothes the red spot over. “Too hard?” His tone was light, but the question was genuine.

“It’s perfect” Sam squirmed her legs together, which gave Marc a front view of her ass moving in front of him, red underwear still covered in the mesh of her tights.

“Fuck, fuck baby…” Marc couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed two fistfull of her tights and ripped the tights open.

“Marc!” Sam cried out.

Marc knelt down beneath where she was bent over “I’ll buy you new ones” he grumbled, moving one of the legs up to the couch to allow him access. He dove in, burying his face into her crotch, slipping a finger into her vagina and sucking on her over the underwear. Sam gripped the cloth on her couch, trying to keep herself up right but her leg was growing weak under the pleasure flowing through her. “Marc, fuck, just like that.” He ate her like a starved man, like it was his last meal on death row, Sam gripped out the couch as she was devoured, the stubble rubbing against her thighs. Marc moved a finger to swirl over her clit

. He worshiped at the shrine of her, kneeling, praying to the goddess that was above him. The only thing compelling him to change positions was that he needed to see her face, feel her body, and pull that beautiful auburn hair.

“MARC! Marc, fuck, I’m so close already” dinner really was forplay. 

He loved the sound of his name on her red lips “Not yet” Marc removed his mouth from her, making Sam whine.

“Marc please!” She pleaded, rutting against the couch, slipping a hand down to bring herself her own release.

Marc grabbed the hand, and put it behind her lower back, holding it there “You don’t get to get off that easy” He released his throbbing cock from the restraints of his pants “You don’t cum until I say you can, okay?”

“Okay” Sam groaned as Marc moved aside her underwear.

“Can you say ‘Yes sir’?” He lined himself up at her entrance, teasing her hole with the head.

“Mmmmm” Sam wiggled her hips against him, trying to get some sort of feeling.

Marc pressed the hand that was behind her back into her, holding her hips to the couch “Use your words.” He continued to tease her, dipping ever so slightly into her, feeling the wetness. He unzipped the back of her dress, giving her more room to breathe.

“Yes sir!” She cried out.

“Good girl” Marc muttered, ramming his cock into her, making her scream his name loud enough the neighbors probably heard. Good He thought. He let her hand go, and used it to brace himself against the couch, as the other moved to trace around her neck. “Can I choke you?” He asked gently “You can say no” He was ramming hard into her, hitting the spot deep inside her.

“Please” Sam said through pants.

Permission granted, Marc reached out and took her throat in his hand, squeezing along the sides. He was careful not to hurt her and not to actually make it hard to breath, but when she thrust her head back Marc saw a smile.

He drew his free hand back and smacked her again, hard. And he felt her body jolt forward from the pain. He watched her body, bent over the couch in the red dress raised up for him as he disappeared into her. He ran his handover her body: fingers entagnled in her hair, squeezing her tits, holding onto her hips. He had to know she was real, this couldn’t be a dream, not again. It felt like a dream. He knew he wasn’t watching Steven, no, Steven would never have her like this. But it didn’t stop him from doubting his eyes. It didn’t make sense, and yet, here she was. Bent over in front of him, her cute skirt riding up her ass, watching himself fuck her. “You like this baby? You like when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-yes sir” She mumbled.

Marc grinned, she was being fucked so dumb she couldn’t hardly put two words together, all because of him.

He pulled out of her, leaving Sam empty again. Before she had a chance to orient herself he pulled her to the bed, shoving her down on the comforter. Marc knelt down, ripping her weak underwear in his large hands, making her gasp “You gonna buy, hmmm, me new underwear too?” Sam teased as she felt him grip her thighs with a force that would surely leave bruises.

Marc was mesmerized at the sight of her cunt dripping for him “Baby, whatever I need to buy to get another night like this… I’ll do it” He slid two fingers inside her.

She laughed, entangling her fingers in his dark hair. “Just underwear will do.”

Marc wasn’t hardly paying attention “I’m gonna buy you so much fucking underwear”

When Sam felt his mouth go to her clit as his fingers worked inside her, she threw her head back and swore. Marc worked his hands and tongue against her, occasionally curling his finger up just to feel her hips buck when he hit that right spot.

“MARC!” Sam called out.

“Not yet, don’t fucking come yet” He muttered underneath her.

She writhed against the comforter, attempting to hold back the orgasm.

Marc came up, climbing onto of her to bring her in for a wet his, tasting herself on his lips. Marc assisted Sam in getting out of the dress, then the bra, taking her tits in his mouth as soon as he saw them. He swirled her tongue around the nipple, Sam rubbing Marc’s naked back in encouragement. He kissed down to her stomach, gripping her sides as he focused his mouth on the part of her body he knew she was insecure about. “So sexy…” He kissed around her belly button, to her hip bones, giving a gentle bite at her right love handle, giving the left side a squeeze.

Her hands were in his hair as she whispered “What are you doing?”

He looked up at her briefly before he sucked right below the stomach, hoping to leave marks on the sensitive, pale skin. “Appreciating every inch of you.” He moved over her, kissing on the scars on her thighs.

Sam felt her heart swell at the intimacy, how he loved the parts of her she hated. 

He kissed his way back up her body and cupped her face as he kissed her again, sucking on her tongue before he pulled away and smacked her tit.  “Hands and knees, Brightside” Marc thought Steven did not take her like this nearly enough. Steven said he liked to see her face. Marc liked having her submit to him.

“Yes sir” Sam did as she was told and scrambled to her knees, facing away from him. 

“You behave, and I’ll let you come, Okay? Can you do that?”

A small whine “Yes sir.”

Marc took a moment to marvel at the sight of her ass before him, caressing her, memorizing her. He couldn’t help himself, he bit down on her right cheek, hard. Sam screamed into the pillow. Marc went back to work, fucking her until sweat dripped down his face “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re taking me so well. I love the feeling of your tight cunt around me, the little sounds that come out of your mouth, you’re so fucking good, I just want to ruin you.”

“So ruin me” tears were brimming in her eyes.

Marc growled loudly, shoving her face into the pillow by her neck. When he released her so she could breath and she pushed herself up onto her arms, he smacked her tits as he pounded her. The sounds coming from between them were sinful; the pants from his mouth, the whines from hers and the wet squish from her cunt, god, he just wanted to imprint everything into his memory.

“You’re doing so good, such a pretty girl, such a good, pretty girl… Doing fucking amazing for me…” He took her hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling her head up.

“Marc…” she whimpered “F-fuck baby, you feel so good”

Marc gripped her hips with a force, pulling her to meet his thrusts. He briefly thumbed over the indents her scars left on her body, he just wanted her to feel good, he wanted to make her feel good. “Are you ready to come for me?”

Sam nodded vigorously “Please, please let me come, please I’ve been waiting for this for months baby”

Another hard slap to her ass, then he reached around to play with the bundle of nerves right above where he was hitting, he leaned his sweaty body over her and put his face close to her ear “Come for me, Brightside.”

When the orgasm finally wracked through her body, Sam collapsed onto the bed. Marc adjusted his angle to keep fucking her, until he got his release. Sam didn’t even notice, too blissed out, her arms and legs were spread across the bed as the intense orgasm flowed through her. She felt like she was aware of every vein in her body, but somehow unaware of anything farther than the pillow she was on. Everything seemed so blurry, so peaceful. When she came to, it was to a warm washcloth on her back. Marc wiped her down, ending with cleaning her vagina of his come. 

Sam turned over on to her side, looking up at the man she loved. “Can you lay with me for a while? I gotta do some homework in a bit, but I want to just… be with you… please?”

“Of course, my love… Of course...” Marc laid down beside her, encasing his body around hers and tracing around her curves. He tried not to linger on the scars, he didn't want her to think he was staring at them, but he was. Some were so thick, some left indents and some were raised. Some were pink circles from the newer burns, and some were white circles whose scars pulled in the skin around them. The cuts were concentrated heavily at her upper thighs, closer to her hips but worked their way up. Marc ran the pads of his fingers over her stomach, feeling the scars etched in. He held back a wince imagining how badly that would've hurt. He imagined a young Sam, hurt and alone and scared, he knew that pain. It hurt him to think she was ever sad enough hurt herself, it angered him to think of every man that ever hurt her. He wanted to make her dad pay, he wanted to make Jordan pay. He wanted to make them suffer.

After a while of silence, Sam spoke “Marc?”

Marc snapped out of his anger, focusing instead on the woman in his arms. “Yes?” He was playing with an auburn curl.

“Can I ask you something, and you can’t laugh at me or make fun of me…”

Oh no “Of course not, what’s wrong?” Marc leaned over to look at her, but she was staring at a Bruce Springsteen poster on the wall. 

“You don’t think I’m… well, you like the way I look, don’t you?”

Mark sat up now, attempting to get her eye. “Of course I do. Whatever made you think I don’t? Did I say something?”

Still looking away, she answered “No, Starlight, you didn’t say anything, it’s just… sometimes I need reassurance… I feel your hands on my fat and I feel weird… I worried that once you had me, you’d realize I didn’t live up to expectations and… wouldn’t be attracted anymore”

“Baby… First of all, I’ve seen you naked countless times, I was already in love with how you look… And my hands are on your body because I love your body… I love every curve, your long legs, your tits, your pretty face, your blue eyes, the red in your hair… I love everything about how you look because it’s you. If anything changed, I would love that too, because I love what's in here” He tapped her head.

“Even when I’m a depressed mess?” she finally looked at him.

Marc chose his next words carefully “Not that I want you to be depressed, but I gotta say that fact that you are as incredible as you are all while fighting your brain… well that just endears you to me more.”

She smiled a little bit, looking at him with adoration. “That’s why you’re my Starlight”

Marc kissed her forehead “Take a nap, I’ll wake you in a bit to work on your homework.”

Marc stayed true to his word, waking Sam after she got half an hour of sleep. He wanted to watch her sleep forever, she deserved to rest, but he didn’t know how much she had to do. What’s that song? The one from that one movie with the chick from Lord of the Rings? “I could stay awake just to hear you breathing, feeling your heart beating while you’re far away dreaming” He hoped that if she dreamt, it was only good dreams. She sat up in her bed and asked Marc to hand her a shirt, he grabbed the one he had been wearing when he came over. Sam was finishing the final essay for her Preschool Practicum class, and she asked Marc to proofread after she had gone through a few rounds.

Marc was hesitant. “You sure you want me to look at it? Isn’t Steven better suited for this?”

“I’m spending the day with you, Marc. You are just as capable of picking up grammar mistakes as Steven is.”

“I don’t know about that… What if I change something to something wrong.” Marc muttered as he picked up the laptop.

Sam took Marc’s face in her hand and turned it towards her “Marc, honey. You are very smart. Just because you can’t list every single Egyption pharaoh doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Okay?”

Marc wanted to fight her, he wanted to shrug off the compliment with a joke or argue it. But she looked at him with so much love and sincerity… he couldn’t help but almost believe her. “Okay.”

Sam hugged him, it was a small, quick, and awkward hug, but a hug nonetheless. He would never tell her what the hugs meant. He wouldn’t want them to become diluted into something she just did because he liked it. No, he wanted them to come from her. He would never tell her how such a chaste, innocent, wholesome act melted his heart or how he felt like little pieces of himself came together with each one. No, no she wouldn’t know that. But every time she hugged him, he wanted to stay like that forever.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHOSE BEEN INTERACTING!!! I seem to get less and less interaction which makes me sad, but I have a story to tell and I will tell it! Reblogs really help a LOT! Tumblr doesn't really have an algorithim so reblogs (with or without tags) are the best way to spread my work! comments mean the world to me!! I literally get so hyped every time! I'm glad y'all seem to really like Sam as a character. I don't mind doing reader fics but I can't stand Y/N. I like my characters to be real characters, not just a blank slate.

Comment if you'd like to be added to ttag list!

I'm working on a one shot request for Moon Knight, I'd like to get more one shots going but between this fic, my Han solo fic on AO3 and really wanted to get another Bruce Springsteen fic out per a request, I got a lot to do and I'm moving to college soon!

@ahookedheroespureheart @cherryvalentine1 @kr-mlk

[erieren]

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 — 𝐈𝐈𝐈

pairing: goth!mikasa x loser!eren

content warnings: smut (18+), corruption, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, spit

summary: eren helps mikasa with her last minute prom shopping, and she returns the favor.

word count: 3.5k

note: this was supposed to come out months ago, but i didn’t have the motivation to work on it </3 also, reminder that minors and ageless blogs that interact with my nsfw content will be BLOCKED.

art credit: @Mnine5 on twitter!

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“should i go with this wine color or plum?” mikasa holds up one of the dresses to her body before switching to the other one.

eren’s standing behind her, watching as she alternates between them. “they look the same to me.”

“ugh! can’t men be more useful? the wine color is obviously more red,” mikasa sighs. the boy’s eyes widen from the insult, and soon he’s full-on panicking.

“i’m just trying to say that you look good in anything!” his comment falls on deaf ears when she moves away from the mirror to look for another dress.

he mentally face palms himself for not knowing better. it’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place; he just wanted to spend the day watching tv in his room, but mikasa had other plans for the both of them. and of course, eren would do anything for her even if it meant going on a three hour long—and counting—shopping trip.

eren doesn’t see the appeal of going to prom. what is there to enjoy about being in a crowded room full of people you couldn’t care less about, all the while having mediocre music blast through the speakers? he would much rather have a movie night with his closest friends, or something else like that.

mikasa comes back to the full length mirror with another dress that looked to be the same color as the wine dress she picked out.

“what do you think about this one? it’s mulberry. i really like the neckline,” she rambles.

“i think it looks nice,” is all eren says because in all honesty, he doesn’t know what to say. he doesn’t keep up with the latest trends, so he doesn’t know what’s hot and what’s not.

“ereeen,” she whines. “you’re not helping me at all.”

“you wanna know what i really think?” he’s starting to get fed up. “i think that jean will think you look good in anything that you wear. someone as simple-minded as him won’t even think about what you’re wearing if it’s just going to end up on the floor of his room.”

mikasa’s jaw drops at his sudden outburst, but her shocked expression quickly turns into an angry one. regret is simmering in the pit of eren’s stomach and he wishes he could take his words back.

“okay first of all, don’t fucking act out in public,” she seethes while jabbing her pointer finger into his chest. “second, when the fuck did i say i was going with jean, and why do you think i’m going to fuck him again?”

now it’s eren’s turn to be stunned. if she’s not going to prom, then who is she going with? he doesn’t recall anyone else asking her.

“you’re not going with jean…?” he manages to squeak out. mikasa can be so intimidating when she’s angry.

“no, dummy! i’m going with you,” she turns back to the mirror and holds the dress up to her body. “so what do you think?”

“huh?”

“i wanted to surprise you! so surprise, i’m taking you to prom!”

“listen, you know i don’t–” he starts.

“you don’t like large crowds and loud music. i know, eren. just please let me enjoy prom with you. we’re about to finish high school, and i just want to make it memorable,” she juts her bottom lip out and bats her lashes at him. who would he be to say no to her?

“okay, fine i guess,” he caves in.

“yay! i love you, eren. you’re the best. now let’s find a dress!”

she quickly threw her arms around the brunet before running off to the dress racks. he’s left stunned as her words replay in his mind.

mikasa just said she loves me, he thinks. this was nothing new, of course; she’s said it to him many times over the course of their friendship, but this time it seemed so different. maybe their recent activities have been getting to his head, and he was starting to have his doubts. is there any emotion behind what they were doing, or is mikasa just using him for her own pleasure? if she keeps coming back for more, then that must mean something, right? he feels conflicted, like someone is playing tug of war with his heart.

———

the next day, eren took mikasa out to go shopping for makeup. she spent a great deal of time debating which lip gloss shade—“devil’s food cake” or “cranberry pie”—matched her dress better. in the end, she settled with cranberry pie.

they’re currently in mikasa’s room; eren is lounging on her bed while she’s sitting in front of her vanity. she’s been trying to come up with a makeup look for the past—god, eren doesn’t even know how long he’s been here. he lost track of time as he endlessly scrolled through his phone. every so often, he would sneak glances at her reflection and admire her glossy lips before she wiped her face clean and started over again.

“hey, do you think i should ease up on the eyeliner?” mikasa calls out to him while steadying her hand to draw a straight line.

eren just lazily hums; he’s too focused on the art restoration video he’s watching. mikasa glares at him in the mirror before continuing to do her eyeliner. she moves on to do her blush, and then her lips for the nth time that afternoon. when she opens one of her drawers, something catches her eye; it’s a new liquid eyeliner that she had yet to test out. she’s about to wipe off her makeup again until an idea pops into her mind. a devilish smirk forms on her lips, but she hides it with a sickly-sweet smile when she turns to face him.

“hey, eren?” she attempts to grab the attention of the boy once more. “can i do your eyeliner?”

“mhm, yeah,” he mumbles as he continues watching the video. he’s completely mesmerized by the way the conservator in the video is perfectly color matching the paint that he doesn’t completely register her words in his mind.

she grabs the eyeliner from the drawer and makes her way over to the bed. eren’s eyes are still glued to his phone screen even when she stands in front of him, so she gently takes it from his hand.

“wha– hey, i wasn’t done watching,” he whines while trying to reach for his phone.

“and you just said that you’d let me do your makeup. so sit on the stool.”

eren reluctantly gets off her bed and sulks to the vanity across the room. he turns the stool around before sitting down. mikasa is right behind him, and she gives the pen a little shake before uncapping it.

“okay, so look straight for me,” she instructs as she brings the pen close to his face.

there’s just a slight problem: mikasa’s chest is right in front of eren’s face. the fact that she’s wearing a corset top doesn’t help the situation; her breasts are practically spilling out of her top as she leans forward. eren hopes that the blush on his face isn’t noticeable, but he’s sure it worsens when she nudges him.

“stop blinking so much, you’re going to make me mess up,” she mutters while taking a step closer. he wants to shut his eyes, but his imagination was running wild the way he was picturing her tits in his mouth.

“sorry,” eren squeaks out. he’s undeniably hard already.

mikasa continues working on his eyeliner, but quickly becomes frustrated when it doesn’t come out the way she wants it to. she gently wipes away her previous work before steadying her hand to try again.

“you know what? fuck it…” she takes another step forward and suddenly she’s straddling eren’s lap. he’s completely caught off guard, and his arms instinctively fly to secure her waist so that she doesn’t fall backwards.

“what are you doing?” eren whispers. now, her chest is really in his face and the plush of her thighs rests atop his.

“you have such pretty eyes,” she disregards his question and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before continuing. through his long lashes, she admires the green hues and how his pupils have grown wide.

he doesn’t know where to look, and he’s feeling light headed from being suffocated by her tits. his dick is starting to hurt from how it’s straining against his pants, wanting to be freed.

honestly, mikasa can’t even focus on doing his eyeliner anymore because she’s distracted by the not-so-little problem below her. her cunt was just a couple inches away from making contact with his dick; maybe she should back up a little–

her thoughts are interrupted when eren abruptly pulls her closer; his face is quite literally buried in her chest, and she’s sitting right on eren’s boner.

“i-i’m sorry! i thought you were gonna fall!” eren’s words are muffled against her skin. his whole face feels like it’s on fire, but he can’t bring himself to let go of her.

she tries freeing herself from his grasp, but his death grip on her waist only causes her to involuntarily grind down on his crotch. a pathetic whimper leaves his mouth when she pushes him back by the shoulders.

“ren, let go,” mikasa says a little too calmly for his liking. “let me help you.”

eren’s not sure if he heard her correctly because the blood ringing in his ears is the only thing he can hear. nonetheless, he finds himself loosening his grip before mikasa sinks to her knees in front of him.

they’re both staring at his lap; eren hopes that it’ll just go down, but mikasa’s in awe. she feels powerful knowing that she has this much control over him. she steadily reaches a hand up to his crotch and starts palming him and his breath hitches at the newfound sensation.

“is it okay for me to take your pants off?” mikasa asks while looking up at him through her lashes. he slowly nods his head in embarrassment, but she quickly stops her movements. “use your words, eren.”

“yes, it’s okay,” he says as clearly as he can. her long acrylic nails graze his skin right above the waistband of his pants before she starts to unbutton them. she makes quick work of the zipper, and he lifts his hips to help her fully take them off. he’s wearing a light grey pair of boxer briefs which his dick is straining against, and there’s a small wet spot right where his tip is.

eren hesitantly reaches for one of her hands and guides it to the waistband of his boxers. he’s never received head before and doesn't know what to expect, but he thinks he’s ready. mikasa uses the tip of her nail to lift his waistband up before letting it snap back against his skin, much like the way he had done to her the last time they were in this situation. he has to stifle a moan now that he’s on the receiving end.

“i have three rules,” mikasa drawls while palming him again. “one, don’t push my head down; i know what i’m doing. two, you have to communicate with me so i know what you like. three, tell me to stop if it becomes too much. got it?”

“got it,” eren repeats with wavering confidence. he knows that she’s messed around with other guys before, but hearing that she has experience with this makes him feel a little insecure. “but what happens if i… if… i don’t know, what if i lose control or something?”

“i’ll pinch your thigh and that’ll be your cue to stop. and if you don’t stop, i’ll keep pinching you.”

“o-oh. okay. i think i’m ready now.”

the wet spot on his boxers had grown just a little bit as precum continued to leak from his tip. then, mikasa starts to pull the tight fabric down his hips. he sucks in a breath as the cool air hits his sensitive skin and once again lifts himself slightly off the stool to allow her to fully take his boxers off. upon finally seeing his cock in all its glory, she bites the inside of her cheek. without its confines, she’s able to see its full size. it looks to be around eight inches, and he’s definitely got some girth to him. his balls hang heavy underneath, and there’s a slight upward curve. his tip is flushed a dark shade of red as his slit drools precum. she silently thanks him for keeping his hair nice and trimmed down there.

eren’s watching her intently, too scared that if he blinks, he’ll miss something. this is a memory he’d definitely never want to forget. mikasa’s eyes are half-lidded and clouded with lust, her glossy lips are parted and god damn she looks as beautiful as ever. she finally reaches for the base of his cock and his body stiffens up. he can feel how she applies more pressure when she slides her hand up before using less pressure as she goes back down. even though he’s done the same countless times to the thought of her, nothing could compare to the way her soft hand felt on his cock—at least for now.

“oh my god,” eren chokes out when she presses her thumb right under his tip. “please do that again.”

“do what again?” she replies innocently.

he bites his lip in embarrassment; the words sound too vulgar to come out of his mouth, as if that mattered in their current situation. he can’t bring himself to say it, but he doesn’t dare to break one of her rules.

“squeeze me here,” he sighs as he guides her hand back up his cock. “fuck.”

eren’s surprised that he even managed to last this long. with the way mikasa looks at him while languidly stroking his cock, he could’ve easily blown his load all over her face. he starts to picture his cum spurting onto her skin, messing up her makeup that she’s desperately been trying to perfect for however long he’s been in her room. he’s fighting the urge to let go, but it fights back even stronger when his dick is suddenly in her mouth. his mind blanks for a moment; he’s not sure if he just came in her mouth or not, but she’s still sucking him off. her tongue expertly circles around his tip before she releases him from her mouth with a pop.

mikasa lowers her face and while working the tip of eren’s cock with her fingers, she flattens her tongue against his balls. it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there. everything feels so new and he can’t decide if it feels good to him just yet. she’s got her eyes trained on his face, searching for any signs of discomfort as she licks a broad stripe up his entire length before taking him into her mouth again. her lip gloss is smeared all over her mouth and on his cock.

eren feels like he’s dreaming. the pleasure sent him all the way to cloud nine, and he doesn’t feel like coming down any time soon. that is until mikasa starts fondling him balls while harshly sucking at his tip. with a death grip on the edge of the stool, eren lets out a loud moan and subconsciously bucks his hips into her face. she garbles out a warning along with a pinch to his thigh, and the embarrassment finally settles in.

“sorry… sorry,” he pants out. he wants to keep watching her, but he knows he won’t last much longer if he does. so he chooses to screw his eyes shut as she brings her hand to the base of his cock. mikasa relaxes her throat as she prepares to attempt to take his full length in her mouth. she doesn’t even know if it’ll fit because she’s already stuffed full, so she once again pulls her mouth off of his dick.

“how are you feeling so far, ren?” her voice is low and sultry.

“so good. you make me feel so good,” he opens his eyes again just in time to see her raise one of her hands to his face. he stares at it and quirks one of his brows up.

“spit,” is all she says, and he happily obliges. he collects a blob of saliva in the front of his mouth before letting it fall onto her open palm. she rubs his spit down his cock. “i’m going to try to deepthroat you.”

“what? hey, you don’t have to– fuck, mikasa,” he tries to stop her, but it’s too late. he cuts himself off with a moan as she pushes herself to take his whole length down her throat. her little mouth is stretched as wide as it can go, and a few garbled moans resonate from her throat. the vibrations send a chill down eren’s spine. he’s so close.

eren gazes at her in admiration as she pulls off again to breathe. her chest heaves as she brings her head to rest on his thigh.

“you’re really big,” she says with a pout on her swollen lips. eren never really thought of himself as big, but hearing mikasa say that about him gave him an extra boost of confidence. he also kind of feels bad for her, even though she chose to deepthroat him. his mind is swarmed with the thought of going down on her afterwards.

mikasa kisses his tip before taking it into her mouth again and twisting her hand around the base. she figures that he’s close by the way his core tenses. she’s got tunnel vision as she starts sucking harder, and she’s so nasty with it. some spit dribbles from the corners of her mouth and she catches it with her hand that’s jerking him off. eren is biting down on his lip so hard, he’s sure to draw blood if she doesn’t slow down.

“m-mikasa… oh fuck. shit, shit, shi— fuuuck—i’m cumming,” eren whines as he feels himself teeter over the edge. his orgasm comes so hard that he momentarily blacks out as he releases into mikasa’s mouth. thick, white ropes shoot onto her tongue, but she doesn’t let go yet. she swallows his cum down, despite it being a little too bitter, along with his cock like she’s trying to milk his balls dry. once he’s given her everything he has to offer, she gives him one last lick up his entire length.

“how was that for your first blowie?” mikasa asks while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. her voice sounds more raw and strained, and now he really feels bad.

“is it always like that? like, does it always feel that good? i don’t think i’ve came that hard in my entire life,” he admits sheepishly. his face is beet red and his hand is cramping from how hard he gripped the stool. he feels icky watching mikasa wipe her hands on his pants.

“i mean it’s different for everyone,” she says with a laugh. suddenly, the feeling of insecurity comes back. there are other guys out there that got their dicks sucked by mikasa.

“why’d you swallow?” he blurts out.

“it’s less of a mess to clean up,” she shrugs as she finally stands back up. her knees start to ache as she stretches her legs out.

eren’s thoughts are so clouded that he doesn’t even realize that mikasa leaves her room. when she comes back, he’s still sitting pantless on her stool.

“you alright?” mikasa furrows her brows upon seeing him in the same position she left him in.

“huh? oh. yeah, i’m good,” eren says. the gears in his head are spinning again as he gets himself together. “can i kiss you?”

“i swallowed your cum.”

“i don’t care.”

mikasa becomes flustered at his statement. usually after she gave head to guys, they would refuse to kiss her even if she didn’t swallow.

she takes a couple steps closer until she’s standing right in front of him. he’s blinking his eyes as fast as his heart is beating until he lets them flutter shut as she leans down to his face. her breath fans over his lips and he grabs the sides of her face to connect their lips. her lips are just as soft as he last remembers, and he can taste himself on her tongue. he can’t help but smile into the kiss.

“put your pants back on,” mikasa playfully chides with a pat to his cheek. she climbs onto her bed and gestures for him to come beside her. after struggling to put his legs through his jeans, he lays down next to her. she throws an arm over her chest and snuggles into his side.

“stay with me. just for a little longer.”

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

[cleoooelizabeth]

I Want To Try Something

Masterlist

Harry Styles x Black Femme Reader

Warning: smut, cock warming, language.

Synopsis: You and Harry are having a movie night, of course the movie ends up being forgotten about.

“Let’s watch Titanic!” Harry suggests with enthusiasm.

“Ugh again, Harry?” You complain.

“C’mooon, you know you love it.”

“Yes, I do. But this is surely the 5000th time we’d be watching it.”

You and Harry certainly had your favourite movies, but the old Titanic DVD you had was well and truly rinsed out at this point, you were surprised it continued to function.

“Fine, but let me sort myself out first.” He huffed playfully and left the bedroom.

You had just gotten out of the shower, thankfully you had braids in so nothing needed to be done to your hair. You decided to forgo underwear, feeling a little frisky. Throwing on some loose pyjama shorts and one of Harry’s t-shirts, you skip down the stairs to find him shuffling around the kitchen.

His strong tattooed arms were filled with snacks, a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the kitchen counter. You grabbed them, realising he couldn’t carry everything, even with those abnormally large hands of his.

“Thank you, darlin’” He said, with a soft, damp kiss against your forehead.

You get comfortable on the sofa, as he puts down the snacks and opens the bottle, your core fluttering as his biceps strained to remove the cork. He pours you both half a glass of wine each and places your sock covered feet into his lap.

“I got sweet and salty popcorn, I know it’s your favourite” He says to you, you kiss him on the corner of his mouth appreciatively. You grab the bag and throw a few into your mouth, humming at the combined flavour.

You’re about an hour and a half into the movie, and you feel yourself getting heated, knowing that the steamy car scene is coming up. You and Harry had gotten through more than half of the bottle of wine, and his agile fingers had been massaging the soles of your feet, which did not help the situation between your legs. You attempt to press your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure, hoping Harry wouldn’t notice. He always notices.

“Baby?”

“Yes Harry?” You reply sweetly, trying to hide your obvious arousal.

“Are you horny right now?” He questions you with a chuckle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You lied.

He pushes a hand in between your thighs, cupping your heated core through your thin pyjama shorts.

“No underwear, huh? And so wet baby.” He hums, his eyes rolling slightly with arousal.

He takes his hand away. “Come here.” He demands.

Without hesitation you straddle his strong thighs, holding onto his shoulders. Before you can do anything, his powerful hands latch onto your hips, preventing any movement. You pout at Harry, you were so turned on, you just needed him to do something, anything.

“We still need to finish the film, Baby.” He whispers against your neck, leaving a few gentle kisses against your sensitive spot, just below your ear.

“But-” He cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you breathless, completely immersed in his taste. Mint toothpaste, red wine and… him. His hands move from your hips to your ass, pressing you down as he pushes his hips up. Your mouth falls open in pleasure, your eyes flutter closed, finally feeling some relief.

“I want you inside me Harry.” You whine against his mouth, rotating your hips over his rock-hard dick.

“Ok baby, but I want to try something.” He removes you from his lap, and you stand next to the sofa as he repositions himself until he is laying down on his side.

“Lay here, pet.” He pats the space in front of him. You lay on your side, your back pressed to his chest and his dick pressed between your ass cheeks.

You feel him shuffling around behind you, your head falling back as he moves your shorts to the side and presses the tip of his cock against your soaking folds. His right arm is under your armpit, hand wrapped gently around your throat. His left-hand presses against your abdomen as he slides himself inside you, not stopping until he’s tapping your cervix.

You push one of your hands into his hair behind you, the other gripping onto the cushion of the sofa. Impatience begins to take over your body as he stops moving. You try to wiggle your hips against him, his hand still on your abdomen, stopping you.

“I told you, we gotta finish the film.” You feel him smirking against your neck.

You give up, knowing he was much too strong for you to overpower, and turn your eyes back towards the film. It had reached the part where they noticed the ice berg so you knew there was ages to go yet and the very thought had your pussy clenching around Harry. He moves the hand that was around your neck to one of your breasts, pinching your nipple lightly through the material of your (his) shirt, making your eyes roll back into your head and your toes curl inside your socks.

“Behave yourself, pet, or you’ll get nothing at all.” He says as he proceeds to nibble on your ear lobe.

30 minutes later and you can feel Harry is getting just as antsy as you had been this whole time. You turn your head to look at him.

“Baby, please move. I can’t take it anymore.” You whimper against his lips. “I promise, I’ll behave, just make me come… please.”

He says nothing in reply. You turn back around feeling defeated and horny as fuck. As soon as your eyes focus back onto the TV, you feel his hips move back slowly and slam himself back inside you to the hilt. You scream, gripping onto the sofa and his thigh, surprised by his actions.

He wraps his left hand around your thigh, holding your leg up as he pounds his dick inside your pussy. Not fast, but deep, as deep as he could go. You push both hands into his hair behind you, pulling on the roots, an uncontrollable moan leaving his mouth.

“You feel so good, Baby. I’ve wanted to do this for the last half an hour.” He sighs against your cheek. You feel the heat eminating from him as he still had his jumper on, but neither of you could care less at this point.

“You asshole. You mean to tell me you could’ve been fucking me into oblivion 30 whole minutes ago?” You say as you push your ass back against him, both of you moving in synchrony with the other.

“I just wanted to see how frustrated I could get you. You know I love it when you’re dripping wet and begging for me to fuck you.” He laughs, but you know he’s serious.

You exhale as he pulls you on top of him, your back still against his chest.

Sitting up slightly, he holds you under your thighs as he presses his feet into the sofa. He begins bucking his hips up into you, your head falling back, unable to handle the depth he was reaching in this position. You grip the sofa behind his head as he sucks a hickie into the space where your neck ends and your shoulder begins. You can feel a warmth spreading over you, beginning at your toes. Harry groans into your ear as your walls squeeze down on him.

“Fuck, Baby.”

“I-I’m so c-close, Harry. Please don’t s-stop.” You mewl.

Harry drops one of your legs and grabs your face, turning your head, his green eyes looking into your big brown ones. His lips latch onto yours, kissing you with so much love as he fucks up into you as hard as he can.

You can feel yourself falling over the edge, your orgasm about to hit you like a tidal wave, and then Harry moves a hand down to rub circles into your clit.

“FUCKING HELL, HARRY!” You shout, body spasming and pussy clenching around him, forcing him to cum immediately after you, his hips jerking sporadically.

You feel the thick ropes of cum coating your walls as he begins slowing down. His fingers still gently rubbing your clit, he likes to make sure your high lasts as long as possible.

The film totally forgotten as he slips out of you and turns you around so that you’re facing each other on your sides. He gently slots his lips against yours as one of his hands travels down your spine, back to your heated core, he exhales as he feels his cum leaking out of you.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too, you have no idea how much.” Harry responds, you are staring into each other’s eyes, feeling the love between you.

“Sooooo… Round 2?” He laughs, taking the tension out of the atmosphere.

“You’re so annoying.” You giggle as you straddle him. You feel his dick is already hard again when you grab it, pushing him back inside you.

“I’ll take that as a y-yes.”

-----------------

This is an original piece of work. I give no permission for it to be translated or copied. Do not repost it onto other sites. Reblogging only.

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 14

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Going to Florida on vacation also seemed to be the perfect time to find out where the other boys came from and their pasts. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): The boys share their pasts, which can be rough. Mentions of suicide, past abuse, PTSD. There’s also quite some drinking in this chapter.

“He’s fine. Just a little bit too much sun.” You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Jin under the blanket. With that, you exited the room with the 6 others. The oldest had felt a little faint after playing in the sun, which led to his current state.

“We should-”

RINGGGGGGG

“Ugh, one minute.” Jimin took his phone out of his pocket, walking away to answer his call. You and Jungkook looked at each other, shrugging. You headed to the living room, with you draping your legs over Hoseok to watch television, not that Hoseok minded.

“Jin hyung is asleep... That means his snacks are unguarded!” Jungkook shot up from the couch, running to the pantry.

“Nothing stand between him and food.” Taehyung raised an eyebrow. Namjoon shook his head and chuckled, bidding all of you goodbye before leaving with a book tucked under his arm.

“What’s for dinner?” Yoongi asked.

“I think steak and pasta.” Jungkook said, mouth stuffed to the brim with cookies. The staff that worked here had the same schedule as those back in Korea.

“What shall we do tonight?”

“I don’t know. We should stay in on our first night. To just... chill.” Hoseok shrugged and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Even when we put a vacation notice out, work doesn’t seem to stop coming.” Jimin stormed in, complaining. Taehyung raised an eyebrow at his best friend, shifting to let him sit on the couch.

“That’s what you get for opening a new place 2 weeks before the vacation. And a big place, with a lot of manpower needed.” Jungkook scoffed. Jimin sighed, full of regret. He had opened a new male host lounge for ladies 2 weeks ago and safe to say, the business was booming. His phone was ringing non-stop from wanting business partners.

“I’ll just leave it to the others to handle.” Jimin said.

“Yeah, put the phone away. You’re here to relax.” You put your hands behind your head.

“I’m guessing you did the same?” Yoongi faced you.

“My family knows I’m on vacation. There’s an emergency number if they really need to reach me, which I doubt they will. It’s my last vacation before I have to hear my mother start nagging me again.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nag you?” Taehyung tilted his head.

“My brother’s, her star child, is coming into town with my very pregnant sister-in-law for the birth of her second grandchild.” You explained and the boys all nodded, understanding. At the ball where they met your parents, there was a brief mention of your older brother.

“I was an only child. Never had siblings. Omma was worried that if she had another, he or she would come out sick like me.” Jimin forced a smile.

“I’m sorry, Chim.” You reached over to hold his hand.

“It’s okay. Fortunately, Yoongi hyung was there to break me out of the hospital.” He turned to the older, who was sitting on the adjacent couch, sipping from his red wine glass.

“You broke him out of a hospital?” Your eyes widened. Yoongi let out a long sigh, placing his glass on the table.

“Since she couldn’t figure out the reason why Jimin was always sick, Mrs Park thought the only way to provide Jimin the care he needed was to lock him in a hospital.” He explained. Jimin cleared his throat.

“I first met Yoongi hyung at a martial arts convention. Since I used to train in kendo, omma let me go but I couldn’t participate in the demonstration. When he found out that omma checked me into the hospital, he got me out and brought me to join the family. Even when I was sick, Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung took care of me.” Jimin gave a small smile.

“I mean, since we’re telling our family stories, my mother abandoned me when I was younger, at an amusement park. I joined an orphanage after.” Hoseok said.

“Yoongi hyung’s father adopted me to be hyung’s playmate but that was it. We could only see each other during playtime. Other than that, I stayed in the small hut in the backyard.” Hoseok continued.

“It was practically a tool shed with a mattress.” Yoongi said bitterly.

“Yoongi, so your father...”

“He was rich, powerful, as was Namjoon’s father. We had been friends for a long time since our fathers were friends. After our fathers died, we dissolved their associations and formed our own.” Yoongi explained.

“I see... I didn’t know both your fathers were also... in the same line of business.” You tried to speak.

“With the way my father treated Hoseok and my mother, we don’t bring him up. Same with Namjoon.” Yoongi said but there was a warning tone in his voice.

“I-Is it, my turn?” Jungkook lifted his head.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You comforted. Jungkook took a deep breath, shaking his head. If anything, he trusted you and wanted you to know his background.

“I was quite a small kid, so I was generally quite quiet in school. I had one older brother. Mum and dad worked a lot so it was mostly my brother and me. At first, hyung was the best brother I could ever ask for. He took care of me, protected me, everything.” Jungkook gulped.

“Then one day, he started treating me like I was invisible, at school and at home. That progressed to him hitting me and bullying me, hurting me.” He said sadly.

“Jungkook...” Jimin said sadly.

“Namjoon hyung was passing by an alley when my brother almost beat me to death. He brought me to the hospital to get treated. Since then, I’ve been living with him.” Jungkook finished.

“Did your parents come find you?” You asked.

“They never believed me when I told them hyung hurt me. He must have told them I ran away or something since he thinks he left me for dead.” 

“But you’re stronger now.” Taehyung patted Jungkook’s head. Considering Taehyung didn’t start his background story, the others assumed that he already told you about him.

“Dinner is served.” The butler informed, breaking the thick tension in the air from all the heavy conversations. 

“I’ll get the others.” You said, going to head upstairs. The first person you checked on was Jin, he was still fast asleep, which you let him be. Namjoon was standing in the hallways, outside of Jin’s bedroom.

“I heard what the boys told you.” He said. You nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“(y/n), I think you know that with such backgrounds, it’s not all black and white for them. On top of always falling ill, Jimin lived with a fear of being a burden, like how his own mother treated him. Yoongi hyung lives with the guilt of how his father treated Hoseok. He feels the need to make it up to him with his life.” Namjoon started.

“Hoseok is afraid of abandonment. Taehyung dealt with meltdowns, panic attacks, so much trauma. You’ve seen it, he’s still not over what happened to him.”

“And Jungkook, I can’t tell you the number of times I had to stop him from taking his own life. He was afraid of being hurt by the one he loved, just like before.” Namjoon sighed.

“I know, Namjoon. It must have been a lot for you and Yoongi to face, along with your own fears. But look at who you saved. Where would they all be now if you and Yoongi didn’t help them?” You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Everyone comes with their own battle scars. But that’s what makes us human and survivors, right?” You smiled.

“You always know what to say, doc.” Namjoon chuckled.

“Of course. I’m the best, am I not?” You nudged him, making him laugh even more. With that, the two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, where the others were seated around the table. Namjoon sat at the head of the table while you sat between Jungkook and Yoongi.

“Let’s eat.” Namjoon waved for the wait staff to bring in the trays of food and pour the drinks. Even if the dinner was quieter than usual, it wasn’t suffocating. You’ve reached a new level of understanding with the boys. 

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Jimin asked. 

“I wanna go look around the city. If possible. Maybe buy some things for myself.” You shrugged.

“Yes! Shopping! We’ll come too!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheered. You smiled, somehow knowing that it was going to be chaotic with the boys. Hoseok clapped his hands in excitement. 

“What if I wanna go on my own?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“No way! It’s not safe for you to be on your own.” Jungkook shook his head, putting his arms in a cross. 

“Are you saying I am not capable to defending myself?” You asked him with a smirk.

“Ooh, you’ve done it now, Kook.” 

“Yeah, even I don’t go there.” Yoongi decided to join in on the fun of teasing the maknae. Jungkook’s eyes widened when he realised what he did, immediately facing you and rubbing his hands together in an apologetic matter.

“I’m sorry! You are very much capable of defending yourself! Even better than me or anyone else because you’re a strong, independent woman! I would never doubt your strength! Please don’t kill me!” He rambled on. You threw your head back in laughter, reaching over to pat his head. Even the others just looked on in amusement. 

“Alright, let’s stop teasing, Koo.” You said. 

After dinner, everyone was gathered back in the living room, watching some show that was playing on the television. 

“The night is young! We should party!” Hoseok declared. 

"This is not going to end well.” Yoongi clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. It was obvious he had to deal with his drunk brothers multiple times before. 

“I brought drinks and snacks!” Jungkook brought two big trays out, one with different alcoholic drinks and the other filled with snacks, courtesy of Jin’s stash. You took a bottle of beer. Hoseok and Namjoon did the same, clinking bottles with you. Jungkook grabbed some soju.

“Hyung? You want one?” Jungkook offered a filled shot glass to Taehyung. Taehyung, who doesn’t usually drink, shrugged and accepted it. Yoongi stuck to his whiskey like always.

“Honestly didn’t think the drinking was gonna start on our first night here. But I’m not one to complain.” You shrugged. 

“We’re on vacation. It’s always drinking time.” Hoseok said. 

“I agree!” Jungkook grinned. You snorted in response. Jimin decided to have soju with the other two, taking an empty shot glass. Jungkook happily filled it up for him. 

“Hey...” Jin stood at the stairwell. 

“Hey, Jin. How are you feeling?” You asked as you stood up to head to him. Jin gave a small smile and a thumbs up. 

“Are those my snacks?!” His eyes widened as he marched over. 

“Shot?” Jungkook offered as a consolation. Jin glared at the maknae but took the tiny glass, glancing over at you. You shrugged, nodding your head in approval. Hoseok and Taehyung shifted to give Jin space to sit down. Everyone with their drinks, cheered to your first night on vacation, taking a swig. You leaned against Jimin’s side. 

“Do you want dinner, Jin?” 

“Nah, I’m fine with the snacks and drinks.” He waved you off. 

“Alright but if you feel dizzy again, stop and rest. And tomorrow, please remember to hydrate yourself when out.” You lectured. The boys all groaned, even if you were only directing your words at Jin. 

“Now you’re nagging.” Taehyung boxed his ears, whining. You rolled your eyes, reaching to smack him. 

That night, when all the boys retreated to their rooms, passed out drunk, you were in your room spending some alone time. There was a knock on your door and you stood up from your bed, shuffling over to see who it was. 

“Hobi?” You were shocked. 

“C-Can I come in?” He rubbed the back of his neck. You nodded your head, stepping aside for him to enter. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked softly. 

“Just a lot on my mind.” He admitted with a soft sigh. You sat on your bed, legs dangling off the side. You patted the space beside you and Hoseok gladly accepted, sitting beside you as the moon shined in. 

“Bringing up the past isn’t easy. It opens a lot of scars you thought were healed, memories that you thought was locked away, feelings that you thoughts were gone. It’s okay, Hobi.” You whispered with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around him. Hoseok placed his head on your shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” You comforted. 

“She left me there, all alone. For strangers to take me. And I probably will never know the reason why until the day I die.” He said aimlessly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Hobi.” You squeezed his hand. 

“Yoongi hyung still feels so guilty for what his father did when he adopted me. But I always think that even if he did treat me badly, I still got to leave the orphanage and meet Yoongi hyung.” 

“And then you met the rest of the boys. Look how inseparable you all are now.” You stroked his head. 

“I also got to meet you.” Hoseok added. 

“I’m just there to clean your cuts and take care of you when you’re sick.” You laughed. 

“That’s not true. You mean a lot to me and everyone else, more than you’d think, (y/n).” Now, it was Hoseok holding your hands, looking into your eyes, his full of honesty and sincerity. 

-

You woke up the next morning, rubbing your temples, feeling the slight effect of the alcohol from the night before. Hoseok was still passed out beside you, sleeping soundly. You got out of bed quietly, washing up before heading downstairs. The house was quiet, signalling that maybe no one else was awake, still sleeping the alcohol off. 

“You’re up?” You nearly jumped when Yoongi appeared, drinking a cup of iced coffee, his hair slightly damp and messy from his shower. 

“Yeah. I need a hangover cure and a coffee.” You went to the kitchen. The maid brought you a cup of water and the small bottle of hangover cure. You downed the bitter liquid following that with water.

“Here.” Yoongi fixed you an iced coffee of your own. 

“Thank you.” You sipped it.

“Hoseok... he’s with you?” Yoongi cleared his throat as he asked. You nodded your head with a hum. 

“Yeah. He came over to talk then we just fell asleep after.” You explained. Yoongi gave a nod, moving to sit out on the deck. You trailed behind him quietly, taking the seat across him. All you heard were the crashing of the waves and the strong wind rustling the trees. 

“I’m part of the reason he’s like that.” Yoongi spoke. 

“Why do you burden yourself with that?” You asked back. Yoongi blinked, seemingly surprised by your words. 

“You know it’s not true, you know that Hobi doesn’t think that, and yet you force yourself to live with the guilt. You know that you’re not like your father, whatever he did to Hobi was out of your control.” You said. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yoongi said with gritted teeth. 

“Exactly, I don’t. But what I see is you feeling sorry for yourself and Hobi being worried about showing his emotions because he doesn’t want you to start feeling guilty again.” 

“He said that?” 

“Not exactly. It’s pretty obvious to a bystander.” You shrugged. 

“Yoongi, I have better things to do than to stand here and taunt you. The only people there were you and Hobi. Will anyone ever understand what each of you went through? I don’t know. You and I both know that Hobi holds whatever happened close to him. But he sees the light, even in a dark situation. If he can do that, I don’t see why you can’t.” You said. 

“I know.” Was all he could reply. 

“I’m going to check on Jin, okay?” You stood up. But you were yanked back by your wrist. Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your middle. 

“I hate that you’re right.” He mumbled. You let out a soft hum, patting the top of his fluffy hair. When Yoongi released you, you looked down at him. 

“You saved so many of them, Yoongs. Give yourself more credit. They all look up to you for a reason.” You laughed. 

“Go check on Jin hyung.” He said, patting your hip. 

“Right on it, sir.” You saluted. That made Yoongi break out into a small smile as he watched you leave. You hummed a random tune as you headed upstairs to see how Jin was doing today. 

“Doc? You’re here.” He slowly opened his eyes, squinting to focus his vision on you. He gave you a sleepy smile. You smiled softly as you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you placed your hand on his forehead. He wasn’t warm to the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” You whispered. 

“Okay. Sleepy... Hungover.” He chuckled, a little embarrassed. 

“I’d bet. You can come down later to get some hangover cure. Luckily I told the butler to stock the house when we arrived yesterday.” You patted his shoulder, making him laugh. 

“(y/n)!” When you exited Jin’s room, you saw a shirtless Jungkook barreling down the hallway, headed straight for you. You jumped back but he caught you.

“Good morning, Koo.” You said in amusement as he hugged you. He mumbled something in his sleepy stupor. 

“What are you saying? I can’t understand you.” 

“I went to your room to look for you but you weren’t there. I thought Hobi hyung was you but it wasn’t. Why is Hobi hyung in your bed? Where were you? Ugh... I have a headache and I’m hungry.” He rambled. 

“Alright, alright. Slow down. I went to get some coffee to help my hangover and was with Yoongi on the deck. Then I went to check on Jin. Hobi just stayed the night after we talked. I have alka seltzer to help your hangover and I think the chefs are cooking hangover soup for all of us. Would you also please put on a shirt?” You answered all his questions, ending with one of yours. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I don’t know! My head hurts.” He whined. You sighed, patting his back as you led him back to his room. 

“You stay here. I’ll bring you a hangover cure then you can see how you feel after that.” You instructed. He nodded his head like an obedient child. You went downstairs to get a small bottle and a glass of water.

“Thank you.” He received the two, drinking one after another, cringing slightly at the bitterness. 

“It should help your headache and funny stomach. I’ll go check on the others to see if they need help.” You told him, tucking him back into bed under the blanket. 

“Will you come back?” He held your hand. 

~~

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[aboxthecolourofheartache]

Prompt for you! Essek (because I'm predictable) and "I belong to my mother’s fear" (because I'm... still predictable)

Somehow, comedy happened? cw:  innuendo, alcohol, fantasy-Catholic-flavored religious issues Sprinkle the weasel, occasional divine avatar, eats something many-legged and crunchy by the water’s edge.  Essek has nominal temporary custody of Sprinkle while Jester frolics in Rumblecusp’s surf with the rest of the Nein.  Veth is dry back in Nicodranas’ markets with her husband and son.  Caduceus found a mountain of kelp some three hundred yards down the strand and is engrossed teasing it apart with a stick. 

This means Essek is alone on shore but for the weasel, because while he does not necessarily mind the water, the sun is bright overhead.  So he moves with the circle of shade beneath the large umbrella and wiggles his toes pensively in the sand.  Yasha purchased him a pair of lenses made of smokey quartz.  They help against the worst of the glare.  Still, the sun lances off the water.  Essek only looks up occasionally to mind Sprinkle, dubious that a creature so beloved of a god’s favorite follower would be allowed to wash away or get eaten by a seagull.

Sprinkle drags an impressive kill back to the shade.  Essek looks at the weakly twitching crab and takes pity, giving the crustacean a mercy cantrip.  Sprinkle bristles and chirps furiously.  Essek snatches his fingers back and scowls.

“I do not want your crab.  Neither do I want to explain to Jester how you got your tail pinched off.”  He returns his attention to his book and tries to ignore the gnawing sounds.

“Ugh. I don’t want raw crab either.  Sprinkle, dear, you’re welcome to it but I am checking out for a while.”

Essek turns all-over gooseflesh.  He knows that lazy, honeyed voice.  He heard it in the depths of Aeor emanating from Sprinkle.  The weasel’s mouth is full of crab, beady black eyes squinted in mustelid bliss.  The voice is on Essek’s opposite side.

“Hello, hot boi.”  Artagan’s grin curls across his sharp-featured face.

Essek knows enough about fey, is distantly fey enough himself deep in the blood, to be very, very worried.  Artagan smells like unfettered magic, expensive cologne, and trouble.  Carefully, politely, without a word, Essek moves over so Artagan can share the shade under the umbrella.

“I’m not going to eat you,” Artagan sniffs as he takes far more space than Essek feels comfortable giving.  “Drow are too rich even for my palate.  And you are one of Jester’s friends.  Is there anything to drink in that basket?”

“White wine, I believe.”  Essek is reluctant to take his eyes off Artagan, not that it matters if he is looking.  He steels himself and turns to pull the basket closer.  White wine, kept refreshingly chill by the basket’s clever enchantment, and glasses.  Essek uncorks the bottle, pours a glass with a sommelier's finesse, glances back at Artagan, and fills the glass nearly to the brim.

“Clever lad!” Artagan reaches approvingly for the glass, but Essek draws it back.

“To whom do I offer this drink?” Essek asks.  “Jester’s deity, or…?”

Artagan’s eyebrow rises.  “Oh, clever lad.”  He plucks the wineglass from Essek’s fingers.  “Let us say we have a mutual friend in our lovely Jester, and that I also happen to be divine.”

Essek does not relax, but he does feel marginally safer.  Gods have rules.  So do fey, but the fey play fast and loose while gods prefer loopholes.  Meanwhile, Artagan pulls frozen grapes from the air.  Seeing Essek looking, he proffers one.  “Grape?”

Giving food to a fey is one thing; taking food another.  Artagan rolls his eyes and waves the grape. “Freely given and all that, yadayada….”

The divine archfey sighs.  While Essek should not try to read mortal emotions onto his face, Artagan looks almost disappointed under the shimmering heat-haze of his red hair and louche mien.  This is Jester’s god.  This is a god.

Essek takes the grape.  “Very thoughtful,” he says, because he does not know if thanks are safe.  He pops the fruit in his mouth and decides to hell with it.  This is a god.  And Essek has questions.

Pleased, Artagan sits up and conjures a bowl to set between them.  He preens at Essek’s observation.  “I can learn.”

“Did she teach you?” asks Essek.

“Hmm…”  Artagan considers this and makes an expansive gesture that should spill wine everywhere, but the wine stays neatly in its glass.  “I knew all of it in theory, of course.  It pleases her when I make the effort.”

Essek takes another grape from the bowl.  “So you’ve changed for her?”

Artagan picks a grape seed from between his teeth with a wickedly pointed nail.  Leaf green eyes slide to coyly meet Essek’s.  The archfey knows exactly what is going on, but he also likes talking about himself.  “‘Because of,’” Artagan corrects. “Not ‘for.’  I’m divine now.”  He laughs, discordant and musical.  “That woman is terrifying.”

Essek follows Artagan’s gaze out to the water where Jester leaps short waves with Beau.  The archfey rests a fiercely proud eye upon his first and best follower. 

“...what drew you to her?”

“I have a sense for movers and shakers.  She’s one.  She’s mine.”  Jester’s god smiles.  “But that’s how she netted you, hmm, hot boi?  Skipped in and rattled your nasty little mind around until you saw a bit of sense.”

Essek slowly chews a grape to avoid answering. 

Wine finished, bottle mysteriously empty, Artagan wills into existence a large, particolor drink with a jaunty skewer of pineapple wedges.  “I forget what they’re called, but they kick like a horse and taste like fruity death.”  After salaciously licking the crushed rock sugar rolled around the rim off the glass, he picks up needling Essek where he left off.  “Or was it the pretty wizard who caught you up?”  Artagan looks Essek up and down with experienced appraisal.  “The other pretty wizard.”

“Widogast and I are colleagues.”  If Essek is curt, it is because he wants to shut down this conversational avenue.  Unfortunately, the archfey does not find his chilly menace intimidating in the least.

“Brr! Excuse me!”  Artagan sips his fruity death drink.  “‘Colleagues.’ Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Our relationship is professional.”

Artagan makes a rude noise.  “Is one of you getting paid? No?”  He leans over to lay a consoling hand on Essek’s shoulder.  “Then it’s not professional.  It’s just eyefucking.”

Essek takes a long breath through his nose.  However irritating, this is a god.  A trickster god who loves mischief, wine, attention, and Jester.  Jester, who delights in taking people down a peg, defying social expectations, and enjoying jokes that make people just a little uncomfortable.  Time to up the ante, if he wants any information out of this encounter.  Some small humiliation and playing the stiff to Artagan’s jokes are worth anything he can learn from this opportunity.

Essek indicates Artagan’s drink.  “Is there rum in that?”

Artagan tilts his head beguilingly.  “There could be.”

After that, the game settles out.  Artagan gets to play and Essek asks questions.  He gets answers of varying value.  He also gets a growing headache.  And uncomfortably close to tipsy.  Artagan favors sickeningly sweet and sticky drinks which are not to Essek’s taste at all.  Considering the possibility of another vile, ice-and-syrup abomination makes his teeth hurt.

“What are you getting out of this?”  Not the question Essek meant to ask, but too late to take it back.  He pokes a curlicue of orange rind into the depths of his drink with a straw in lieu of imbibing any of it.

Artagan snorts.  “Not much.  You’ve been asking all the questions.”

This is alarming.  “Did… you wish to ask me questions?”

“No!”  Artagan gives Essek a look like he suggested something not only bizarre but somewhat insulting.  “I’m not that bored.”

“If you are bored, why do you continue to speak with me?”

Archfey, god, both, or neither, Artagan would not be here if he did not wish to be.  He shrugs and lies back on the warm sand, pillowing his head on his arms.  “Some of your questions are interesting.  I like curious people.”

“If someone else asked you these questions, would you answer as you do now?”

“Want to know if you’re special, do you?”  Artagan’s laugh turns into a yawn.  He ignores Essek’s bloodless face.  “You’re really not.  Lots of people have kicked off wars.  Geniuses are a silver a dozen, or a copper a dozen if you broaden your definition of genius.  You’ll live a long time if you’re not too stupid, but that time’s nothing at all to me.”

Essek swallows.  “Why are you speaking with me?  Why waste your time?”

Artagan rolls his eyes.  “I’m not wasting my time.”

No question follows this statement.  Artagan sighs and listens to the waves and the gulls and Sprinkle’s tiny weasel snores.

“Because you have eternity,” Essek says.

Artagan opens one speculative eye, waiting.

“You have eternity.  Thus, you cannot waste time and have no time to waste.”

“That,” says Artagan, pointing to Essek, “is why I am talking to you.”

Essek cannot keep the anger out of his voice.  One hundred and twenty years of inertia carry it forward.  “So what are you doing when you don’t answer her prayers?”

Jester’s god pushes himself up on one arm to narrow his eyes at Essek.  He runs his tongue along the backs of his teeth, considering, spookily sober.  He sets his response down carefully between them.  “That’s not a question meant for me, so it is not a question I can answer.”

Essek draws in a sharp breath and fails to savagely compose himself.

“You could have a taste of eternity.  I even smell it on you.  But not, hm… wedded with your essence.”

Perhaps Essek has had a bit too much to drink, or perhaps the looming buzzsaw of divine attention has him on edge, but he laughs.  One sharp bark into wheezy shakes.

“I belong to my mother’s fear, not her god.  There are many ways to eternity, and I worship at other altars.”

Artagan has enough experience with mortals and just enough learned thoughtfulness to let Essek put himself back together once the weird laughter stops bubbling up.

“You could worship at my altar,” he suggests, making no bones about the double entendre.

“With all good grace, I decline.”  Essek takes a sip of his flamingo-pink drink.

“That’s a shame.  You are awfully pretty.”  Artagan sighs.  “I might have the red hair, but I suppose you prefer your chapel windows blue.”

Essek says nothing and takes a gulp of tropical death.

[crackheadgeminibby]

pardon my french

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: age gap, fluff, language, tiny bit of angst if you squint

word count: 1.5k

a/n: enjoy this purely self-indulgent piece of fluff i wrote, also i'm pretty sure i put the meaning of all the french sentences explicitly or implicitly but i may have missed some so lemme know if i did!!

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

“Tu te fous de ma gueule?! Ugh, va te faire enculer, Gabriel!”

You slam your phone on the counter and squeeze your eyes shut while leaning over the sink. You’re taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down when you feel large, warm hands on your hips and soft lips on your neck. Chris leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your ear before whispering, “Baby… You know it gets me all hot and bothered when you speak French.”

You chuckle softly while shaking your head before answering, “Seriously, Chris?”

You turn around in his arms, putting your hands around his neck before continuing, “I was literally just telling someone to go fuck themselves.”

Chris’ face contorts in confusion, “What? Who?”

You sigh, your anger rising again, as you answer, “My sister’s piece of shit ex-husband. He’s suing her for the children’s custody, and he called to rub it in my face that he hired Max to be his lawyer.”

You see that Chris is trying to associate the name with the grievance: yeah, you didn’t make a lot of friends but that’s the price of being a lawyer.

You chuckle as Chris is still trying to figure out who you’re talking about.

“Max is my ex-partner. You know the one that tried to poach all of my big clients before leaving the firm.”

“Ohh, yeah.” Chris nods his head in acknowledgement before scrunching his face in disgust, “He’s an asshole.”

You smile, gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Yeah, well, birds of a feather flock together, right?”

Chris nods slightly before leaning in your hand that’s playing in his hair.

“So, did you have anything to tell me, or did you just want me to play with your hair?”, you smirk.

Chris opens his eyes before smiling a bit and rolling his eyes, “Yeah. I want you to teach me French.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at Chris’ statement.

“We’ve been together for like a year… Why do you suddenly want to learn French?”

You see a slight blush making its way from Chris’ chest up to his face and tilt your head in confusion before he answers softly,

“It’s hot… And if I want to make a good impression on your extended family at Christmas, I can’t just show up not knowing any French. Plus, I can show off that my girlfriend’s a great teacher in front of my family.”

“Hmm… Questionable reasons”, you chuckle softly “But sure, let’s do it.”

Chris beams at you before asking, “Okay, well where do we start?”

You think a bit before saying, “How about we do like 20 minutes a day where I teach you a bunch of words and then you have to try to use them in sentences?”

Chris reflects on your suggestion before nodding, “Sounds good.”

You smile and point at the black saucepan on the oven next to you, “Now, this is a casserole. Since it’s a feminine noun, you say une casserole.”

Chris thinks before trying to repeat after you.

two months later

You park the car in front of your parents’ house, seeing the cars of almost all the members of both your families up and down the street. You turn off the car before turning to Chris.

“Are you ready?”

Chris smiles at you and answers, “Oui.”

You smile softly, feeling your heart swell with pride before you get out of the car and make your way to the front door.

You open the door and take off your coats and boots before making your way to the animated living room.

As soon as you see Chris’ family interacting with yours as if they have known each other forever, you smile from ear to ear before saying, “Hi, everybody!”

Members from both your families get up to greet you. After everyone has asked the usual “How are you? How’s the job?” questions, you sit down on the arm of the loveseat where Chris is sitting. Chris squeezes your hand, and you look down at him: he was ready to show off his knowledge.

You smile encouragingly at him and mouth “You can do this.”

Chris nods before getting up, a bottle of wine in his hand, “Bonjour tout le monde. Nous avons… emporté du vin.”

You feel heat rising to your face as you see a smile growing on your dad’s face.

“Well, look who’s been practicing his French. Donc, vous avez emporté du vin?”

Chris immediately gets red and turns towards you, sending you a panicked look. You get up and put a comforting hand on Chris’ arm before saying, “On a apporté du vin…”

You turn towards your dad and frown at him, “Papa, arrête, il est déjà assez stressé.”

Your dad puts his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, I was just joking.”

Chris looks at you, confusion clear on his face.

“When you say emporté, it means you took something from somewhere and you’re keeping it but if you say apporté, it means that you bring something from somewhere and you’re leaving it there.”

Chris looks at you, getting even redder than he was before, and puts the wine bottle on the coffee table, sitting back down on the armrest. Conversation picks up again in the living room and you sit down next to Chris. He crosses his arms across his chest, looking at his feet. You bite your bottom lip softly, before putting your hand on Chris’ back.

“Hey, you okay?”

Chris looks at you, still slightly red, as he nods softly and responds, “Yeah… I’m just embarrassed, I thought I was actually learning.”

You feel bad for Chris and stroke his back before replying, “You are learning, Chris, you’re doing great actually. French is just a really hard language to master. And my dad was just trying to be funny, don’t take him too seriously.”

Chris nervously bites his bottom lip before saying, “I thought your dad liked me?”

“Oh Chris… He does, I promise. He just likes to be a little mean to guys I like… You know, to like test them or whatever.”

Chris looks at you sadly and nods softly.

You sigh as you run your hand through his hair, trying to help him get more comfortable.

Multiple hours and quite a bit of alcohol later, everyone was heading to bed. As time passed, Chris had gotten more comfortable and had even started to talk French again, feeling less self-conscious thanks to the alcohol.

You were now in your childhood bedroom, getting on the bed as Chris was brushing his teeth. He gets out of the bathroom and gets some pants from his luggage before getting changed. You look at Chris getting changed and bite your bottom lip as he’s pulling his pants on. He turns around and sees you looking at him. He walks slowly towards the bed and leans towards you, whispering, “Like what you see?”

You smirk at him and nod slowly, “Very much so.”

Chris cages you between his arms and kisses you softly. He strokes your cheek with one of his hands while deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth. His other hand makes its way downwards, sliding under your sleepshirt and caressing your hips.

Chris kisses your cheek before leaning towards your ear and whispering, “Pardon my French but voulez-vous couchez avec moi?”

You laugh loudly before saying, “Seriously, Chris? Lady Marmalade?”

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders, before replying, “I listened to a bunch of songs on your phone.”

You grin at Chris and put a hand on his cheek and say, “First of all, I’m so proud of you for learning French, Chris, I know it’s super hard.”

Chris blushes slightly and smiles shyly, looking to the side.

You continue, “Second of all, no, I’m not having sex with you while my parents are sleeping in the room right next to us.”

Chris pouts and whines at you, “Baby, please…”

You roll your eyes at his childish demeanor, “How about this? If you behave tonight, I’ll tell my mom that we’re gonna decorate the house while everyone’s running the Christmas Day errands and I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Chris’ eyes glint mischievously, and he smiles asking, “Anything at all?”

You smirk slightly back at him and reply, “Anything.”

“Well, seems like the choice here is pretty clear. Good night, baby.”

Chris lays down next to you and wraps his arms around you before kissing your shoulder, “Je t’aime.”

You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush as your heart skips a beat and heat rushes to your face.

You turn towards Chris and kiss him softly before responding, “Je t’aime plus.”

You turn back towards the window, laying your head on the pillow and intertwine your fingers with Chris’, still feeling butterflies in your stomach.

As you slip into slumber, you think about how there was just something so deeply endearing and attractive about hearing Chris telling you he loved you in your native language.