#to get them in these situations even if they don’t have the credit

[seeingivy]

espresso

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: espresso by sabrina carpenter

--

--

you don’t feel attached to every song that you write. and most of the time, there’s songs that you scrap for various reasons – the songs you write just to write something, ones that don’t fit on the record that you’re producing or the vibe you’re going for, or the ones that you lockbox into a vault, for your eyes and your eyes only. 

at certain times, it was to remind yourself what it feels like to write and flex the muscles associated with it in your brain. just a way to combat writer's block when it plagued you. at other times, the words were pouring out of you, so fast that you felt like your hands couldn’t even keep up with what was spinning through your mind. 

some songs were too personal. there was an air to them, something that was being said that you had to keep to yourself, keep buried in your chest because no one was entitled to those thoughts but you. 

other songs had no substance at all. filled with embellishment at the very least – just sweet singing and good production in the background. you couldn’t care less about them. 

they varied. existed in abundance. and when mimi found out about it, she made a simple proposition that you agreed to, after much discussion. 

when you signed on with studio eleven, you made negotiation deals for mechanical and performance royalties for songs that you weren’t too attached to. you gave free reign for other people to take your songs and perform them, change them up a little bit to fit their style, as long as you were still cited as the writer and got money for every time it was performed. 

you can still hear mimi’s words in your mind – if you’re doing the work, why not get paid for it? 

in the beginning, you felt possessive. that those were your words, and your words only, so why should someone else be entitled to sing them? but as time went on, you became more malleable to giving up control over it and sharing. soft encouraging words from mimi about money, getting on the good side of other creators, mixed in with every other reason that made you sign it all away. 

most of the time, it worked out fine. gave a few of the associated signed artists something to perform, to add in the middle of their record, and that put a little bit of money in your pocket. 

hell, sometimes you even got credited in award nominations for it. 

the current situation that you’re in though, seething over the fact that aimee will be performing this song with jake in two days, is the exact reason you didn’t want to sell your songs. 

they’d fall into the wrong hands. they’d be used against you. they wouldn’t be yours anymore, not in the ways that it mattered at least. 

the proposition meant that aimee lynch could buy one of your songs – one of the songs that you wrote about jake, with jake – and claim that she was the one who wrote it. that she was the one who wrote it with him. 

that the things you wanted to keep close to your chest would be for everyone to listen, interpret, and manipulate. other people could claim your feelings as their own, your thoughts, your words as something that they made out of thin air. something that they felt. 

that was the feeling that caused the most anger. the searing pain, that made you see blood red. having something stolen from you. again. 

“there has to be some rules about this type of thing. she can’t claim that it’s her intellectual property and say that she wrote it, can she?” eren asks. 

mimi shakes her head. after almost an hour and a half of questioning, from three very overbearing and well meaning friends, had fried her brain – you could tell that much.

you suppose that she should count herself lucky that megumi wasn’t able to attend due to his pr events, because without fail, he was always the worst of the bunch. and had a horrendous problem with mincing his words. 

“technically, they did credit y/n as one of the writers on the song if you look. i’m guessing that they changed a few lyrics here and there, since aimee and jake are listed as writers too.” mimi responds. 

“jake was an original writer on that song. we wrote it together.” you seethe. 

that’s the last time you share your songs with anyone. 

you can see historia and mikasa exchange a look with one another from the corner of your eye, something you guess is warranted by the vitriol laced in your voice. they were always wary when it came to these types of things, always a little nervous when it came to anger that you held in a reserve, that was almost never ending. 

they were shocked at how angry you could get. and while any rational part of your mind would be inclined to take a step back like they suggested, out of good faith of their concern, your anger always won out. 

most of the time, it felt like sheer spite was the only thing that kept you going. it was something that worked for you – so why would you do something else? 

“she’s allowed to change lyrics that y/n wrote?” mikasa asks. 

mimi shrugs. 

“it’s kind of murky waters when you take someone’s song as your own. they’re the ones who recorded and produced it, and since they properly credited as they were supposed to, so they can kind of do whatever they want.” mimi responds. 

eren groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he flops down on the couch next to you. 

“we can’t really police what they say. if she wants to say that she wrote the song with jake, there’s nothing that we can really say about that. she’s omitting information, for sure, but we…we can’t do anything about her lying.” mimi states, the tone in her voice final. 

“this wasn’t even one of the songs that she decided to sell. jake just handed it over to aimee because she asked, i’m assuming? they don’t have to ask for y/n’s permission?” historia asks. 

mimi pauses. 

“i’m assuming they got the same patent as the ones for the other songs, someone at the record label must have signed off on giving it up just because they assumed it was one of the scrapped songs. they couldn’t have taken it unless someone signed off on it here.” 

you can feel your eye twitch. 

“find whoever that is. who signed the song away.” you state. 

mimi shoots you one last apologetic smile as she leaves the room, pressing the phone to her ear as she slips through the door, and you sink down into the couch. knowing her, she was going to try her best to do damage control behind the scenes for whoever did sign your song away, just to save face and make sure that someone didn't lose their job.

her immediate retreat is one that sends historia and mikasa to their legs – their hands basically shoving eren to the side as the four of you squish onto the couch, their heads nestled against each of your shoulders. 

“what do you think happened? i mean…fully?” mikasa asks, the tone in her voice overexerted with an air of caution. 

you sigh. there was always more that met the eye with aimee lynch. things were always perfectly calculated, against your favor, and were never just from a sheer lack of dumb luck like she made it seem. 

you learned that the hard way. 

“if i’m guessing right, jake must have been really mad when i ended things with him. things were bad for a while and we basically fought the entire time at the end.” you state. 

“about?” mikasa asks. 

you shrug. 

“he’s really good friends with aimee or became really good friends with aimee towards the end of our relationship. seems she had some newfound interest in him. i…i had given him some idea of what she did and that it made me uncomfortable, but i guess she was pretty adamant and told him things on the side as well. he basically told me that he was allowed to be friends with whoever he wanted to be friends with and i couldn’t stop him.” you respond.  

“why he’d want to be friends with her is lost to me in the first place.” eren states. 

���either way, i’m assuming his ego is just hurt which is why he’s so keen on biting back right now. you know, with obsessed and everything. i’m sure he’s convinced that i loved him so much that i wouldn’t drag his name through the mud, even though he was the one who did it to me first.”

you pause. 

“it’s entirely intentional too. he knows that i wanted to release state of grace as one of the songs for the next album, him and aimee probably talked to someone here through her dad, and got the song first since i had already recorded the demo and given the lyrics.” you respond. 

“first things first, once mimi finds out whoever it was, they have to get fired.” historia responds. 

you nod thoughtfully.

“any ideas for a song?” mikasa asks. 

you shake your head. 

“i’m not sure if that’s the right move here. only because they both know me so well.” 

after almost six years of making music, there were certain fast facts and facets of the music industry that you learned very quickly. 

first and foremost – it was almost never about the music. not about the art. at least not for anyone else that was attached to the music besides the songwriters and the producers. 

the first priority is to get signed with a record label. the second priority is to make sure that you stay signed with your label – meaning you have to meet certain quotas, have your albums reach a certain standard of commercial success, and getting nominated for a few awards here and there. 

second – some music sells and some music doesn’t. if you find something that sells, you have to hold on to it and make sure that it doesn’t run off. even if that means being repetitive, even if that means creating songs that are similar – against your better creative instincts. 

there was one thing that you found out quickly. people loved love songs. but loved when you made angry, spiteful ballads aimed at people you were fighting with even more. 

and third – the image is everything. if you’re able to successfully market yourself – market the image and the persona – the fans will lead you to success. in your case, you had pinned the image down to a perfect craft. 

it was simple. people weren’t too fond of you. granted, that was a given – with so many people in the industry, there was bound to be some disagreements. ex-boyfriends who irritated you, talked about you in the press and sullied your good name. 

and your response was always the same. writing scathing songs about them, leaving hints and details in the lyrics and music videos so people would know that you were talking about them, so that it would give people something to talk about – and more importantly, a reason to listen. 

an image so perfectly curated that new releases almost promised attention, because people knew that you would be saying something in response to what had been floating around about you. 

it worked well in your favor most of the time. but you were fighting fire with fire on this one, because aimee lynch is surely the type to retaliate, someone well versed on your public image since she was the one who helped you curate it.

“i would obviously feel inclined to write a song about them, but i feel like they’re smarter than that. knowing them, they’ve probably stolen another song that they’re planning on using against me after the fact.” you mumble. 

there’s a dejected sigh from the group of them. 

“i can tell that she puts a lot of thought into the little cat and mouse game that the two of you play all the time.” mikasa states. 

“i fear she has nothing else to do besides play games with me. and it helps her image, which only gives her more reason to do it at this point. i know better than anyone that drama sells.” you respond. 

eren pushes up off the couch, pacing around the room and haphazardly messing with his air, as he thinks out loud.

you’re not sure why he does it, because every solution that he offers is some type suggestion involving a violent interaction where you shut her up for good. 

and while you would be inclined to take his advice, you avoid it against your better judgment. even your anger had its limits.

“can’t you steal her song back or something? talk to someone at dancing lady and do it right back?” eren asks. 

“as if they would give up a song of hers so freely. i’m sure they’d all go running and tell her dad right away.” you murmur. 

“you just have to hit her where it hurts, you know? like she’s clearly trying to make a point by taking something of yours, so you just have to do it back.” historia states. 

you scoff. 

“cool. let me just go steal her generational multi-million music empire while i’m at it.” you state. 

historia rolls her eyes. 

“you know i didn’t mean it like that. but you know, you just have to find some way to make her look like an idiot. someone who isn’t scared of her and isn’t particularly fond of her either, you know?” historia asks. 

that’s when the thought comes back to your head. the exact words that had been said to you only a day prior, that were entirely lost to you in the mix of the aimee mess. 

“trust me, the thing that pissed her off the most about me is that i didn’t take her side and took yours instead, y/n. you just have to find someone that will rally on your side that would drop her like that.” historia finishes, snapping her fingers in the air for effect. 

she doesn't even finish her sentence before you're running out the door to the closest studio.  

--

--

“you’re so skilled with balls.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes, only to turn to his left and find what might be his most agitating co-star, satoru gojo. 

“you have to know you sound like an idiot when you say that.” sukuna states. 

satoru frowns. 

“what did i say wrong?” he asks, the hint of a gleaming smile in his eye. 

“you should invest in a tape recorder. listen to the tape back at the end of the day and do some reflection.” sukuna states, shoving the bottle of gatorade against his chest. 

sukuna would rather die than tell satoru that he was his personal favorite to film scenes and do press with. there’s a plethora of things, irritatingly enough, that make sukuna so fond of satoru. 

the fact that he was so skilled at interviews, that without asking, he spoke well of sukuna despite the backlash that he was currently receiving, that he tried to support him in anyway that he could.

even if sukuna made missteps, he would never be one to say anything about it. only the one to pick him up and bring him back. 

“did you ever think about going pro? you’re kind of good at this shit.” satoru states. 

“i’m not that good. you guys are all just terrible.” sukuna responds. 

that much was obvious from how badly the other team was losing. and the fact that half of them had fell face first onto the court already. 

in their last few days of press, the marketing team for the show decided that the select members of cast were going to be participating in a charity all-stars basketball game. it was one of the most anticipated events of the year, with celebrities being on both teams, and special surprise performances for the halftime show. 

the combined sales of the tickets, signed jerseys, and meet and greets raised tens of thousands of dollars, and all in all, it was one of the better events that sukuna found himself being forced to attend. he liked meeting the kids, getting to sign jerseys for people who had chosen to buy his, and getting to take pictures with fans. 

he liked the company at the event a little less. considerably less. sukuna looks over to the other side of the court and catches sight of kim and aimee on the other side of the court, posing for the camera by pressing a kiss to each other’s cheeks, before leaning back in their chair, entirely bored.

the glee filled expressions were dropped the second the camera man walked away, something he had seen more than a hundred times before. 

satoru follows sukuna’s line of vision, before smacking him on the back. 

“did you talk to them?” satoru asks. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“shoyo would like…skin me alive. and i’d rather keep it lowkey for today since the premiere is tomorrow.” sukuna responds. 

satoru nods, almost like he’s mulling the thought over. sukuna finds himself distracted all together, only because it’s the first time that sukuna’s able to ogle this jake character in the real light. 

he finds it odd that someone as accomplished and skilled as you would ever consider dating him in the first place. he’s not entirely sure what you saw in him.

“satoru?” 

“yeah?” 

“what do you know about that guy?” sukuna asks, pointing over to where he’s seated on the bench, using a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. 

“who? oikawa?” satoru asks. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“next to him.” sukuna states. 

“jake?” satoru asks. 

sukuna nods. 

“just that he’s full of shit.” satoru states. 

“well i could have parsed that much out myself, dumbass.” sukuna responds, shoving him in the side. 

the lights in the stadium immediately dim, pink lights focused on the center of the court, and fog machines encasing the entire floor in a translucent sheen. there’s a booming voice that comes out of the speakers, that nearly makes sukuna jump out of his seat from being startled. 

“ladies and gentleman, please welcome our very last performer, our very special half-time show guest, y/n l/n.” 

sukuna nearly jolts up in his chair as the lights flash in the center of the court – to the sight of you wearing a light pink crew neck and a white tennis skirt – with a light pink ribbon tangled into your hair. 

sukuna grabs satoru by the collar, all but pulling up to stand close to him, so he can whisper in his ear. 

“was she always on the setlist?” sukuna asks. 

“don’t think so. i would have remembered that.” satoru mumbles back. 

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso 

sukuna supposes that it should be a bad sign that this is the second time in a few days that he finds himself being mesmerized by your presence.

and he figures that it’s a good sign that the two of you have ended up in the same room, at the same time – so he can make his case again. he could mastermind something if he thought about it hard enough. 

“dude. you’re like fucking drooling.” satoru  whispers. 

“shut the fuck up.” sukuna responds, shoving him to the side as he leans forward, trying to glean a closer look. 

past his line of vision, sukuna can spot three very irritated faces. jake, kim, and aimee – matching scrunched up irritation on their faces, each of them typing very fast on his phone. he knew enough about you to know what you were doing here – trying to spite them right to their faces. 

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya 

sukuna watches as you turn around, obscuring his sight of the three of them, and look right at him. sukuna can’t help but do it again, absentmindedly lift his hand to wave at you just like he did a few days prior – at the very least, just to get confirmation that you really are looking at him – just to get exactly what he wants. 

you wink back, sparing a laugh into the microphone as you stop singing and throw the sparkly microphone in your hand to one of your backup dancers. 

sukuna can feel his heart pounding in his chest – no, he can feel it drop to his stomach – as he watches you pull the pink crewneck over your head, only to reveal that you’re wearing his jersey – the jersey with his last name embossed on the back – underneath. 

it’s one of the most overwhelming feelings he’s had, a wholehearted and blissful exhilaration that pounds in his chest, coupled with the fact that there’s a resounding sound of cheers that erupt after the fact are music to his fucking ears. 

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya

“you’re such a dick. you weren’t going to tell us all that you guys were dating?” satoru asks. 

sukuna swallows hard.

did this mean that the two of you were dating? 

“hey, earth to fucking dumbass. are you so mesmerized that you can’t form a sentence?” suguru  asks, joining him at his side, the tone in his voice teasing as sukuna shakes his head. 

sukuna can’t even muster an irritated look to give back to satoru. or a retort back to suguru. only because he’s too elated, too excited that you’ve agreed with his plan – if that’s what this meant. 

“who fucking wouldn’t be mesmerized by that?” sukuna mutters. 

“that’s real cute, dude. the espresso thing.” suguru states. 

“what espresso thing?” sukuna asks. 

“you know. because you own the coffee shop and shit? isn’t that what she means?” suguru asks. 

of course that’s what you meant. 

if there was one thing he learned from the interviews and songs that he listened to, it was that you didn’t do things haphazardly. that every move that you made was intentional, because you knew people would connect the dots.

meaning, that at the very least, you were acting in his favor right now. and had agreed to be his girlfriend. 

sukuna can feel his heart pounding as you give one last wave to the cheering crowds, yanking your ear pieces out and letting them hang around your shoulders as you walk up to him. the sweet grin that you give him is one that sukuna can’t help but return. 

he’s so happy he might just kiss you on the spot right now. 

you place your hands behind your back as you give sukuna a sweet smile. only to turn immediately to his left and look at satoru. he can't help but feel dejected.

“hi.” you state. 

he watches as satoru spits the gatorade back into the bottle, before standing up and running his hands through his hair. sukuna narrows his eyes at satoru and prays to god that this isn’t the time that he chooses to be an idiot. 

“hi?” 

you extend your hand out.

“i’m y/n.” 

there’s a sudden irritation in sukuna’s chest that suddenly festers when satoru lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss against your hand. 

“satoru. satoru gojo.” he responds. 

you give him a smile. 

“cute.” 

you try not to relish in the way that sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek, trying his best to hide his frustration, as you look up at satoru. 

“to be honest, i kind of came here with an ulterior motive.” you state. 

“my favorite kind of motive.” satoru responds. 

you walk over to satoru’s side, linking your hand in with his as you stand in between him and sukuna and point to the other side of the court. 

“you see that empty black seat right there?” 

“next to aimee lynch?” 

“that’s my seat.” 

satoru looks down at you, as he leans forward.

“we can’t have you sitting there.” he whispers. 

“only if you insist.” you offer. 

satoru puts his bottle down and you watch as he retreats to the other side to retrieve the chair, as you turn over to sukuna and give him a bright grin. you can tell that sukuna’s making his best efforts to glare at you, but the smile on his face is deceiving him. 

“hi lavagirl.” you state. 

sukuna grins in response. 

“her hair is a little more neon than mine, but it’s always a pleasure, sharkboy.” sukuna responds. 

you give him a smile, noting the flashing cameras at your side, as you bring your hands forward, holding the sharpie up in between the two of you. 

“what’s this?” sukuna asks. 

“i got one of the last jerseys. it wasn’t signed.” you ask. 

sukuna feigns shock, crouching down so that the two of you could be eye to eye. it’s the first time that you think about how much taller he is than you. 

“my poor baby. we can’t have that, now can we?” sukuna jests. 

you shake your head as sukuna smiles, taking the pen from your fingers, before signaling for you to turn around with his pointer finger. 

and it makes you shiver as he places one of his hands on your shoulder, taking the time to move the hair to the side of your shoulder before scribbling on your back. and that burning warmth that pools in your stomach gets even worse as his breath tickles your neck, before he leans over and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“one thing.” he whispers. 

you swallow hard, the whisper in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“what’s that?” 

you watch as satoru walks up, placing the chair right next to his, as you and sukuna shoot him a smile. 

“try to rile me up and it’ll be more than that next time.”

you turn around, rolling your eyes at him, as you stand on the tips of your toes, leaning against his shoulder as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek. you can feel people lifting their phones to take a picture from your peripheral vision, as you pull back. 

satoru returns with the chair and doesn’t return alone, because aimee and jake are right behind him, hands balled into fists at their side as they walk right up to the two of you. sukuna seems to get the hint at the same time as you do, as he wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you closer as they approach. 

“y/n. sukuna.” aimee states, acknowledging your presence as she crosses her hands over her chest. 

“what can i do for you, satan?” sukuna asks. 

“what the hell is this?” aimee asks. 

sukuna looks down at you, offering you a confused look, before looking back at her. 

“me congratulating my girlfriend after her performance? what the fuck does it look like?” sukuna asks. 

girlfriend. you can tell that the word doesn’t roll over well, with either of them. but it sends the blood rushing right to your head, the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“girlfriend? you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” aimee scoffs. 

“do i look like i’m kidding to you?” sukuna deadpans. 

“this is how you repay me after everything i did for you?” aimee asks. 

sukuna gives her a confused look. 

“what the hell did you do for me? besides give me a herpes scare?” 

you laugh into your hand, particularly at the fact that jake’s eyes go wide at his words. 

“i’d get checked if i were you dude. you never know.” sukuna adds, giving jake a smile. 

aimee turns over to you, pointing an accusatory finger your way, as she gives you a cold glare, a glare that you’ve seen hundreds of time, one that you used to cower to at one point. 

“you better watch yourself.” 

“she’s fine where she is. i’d suggest you fuck off while you’re ahead and quit embarrassing yourself the way you are.” sukuna responds. 

aimee rolls her eyes. 

“i hope that you know that i cheated on you with jake the entire time that we were together. while he was dating y/n.” aimee responds. 

sukuna laughs. 

“and i hope you know that i was never really into you in the first place. why would i be when she’s around?” sukuna responds back. 

you’re not sure if sukuna knows what he’s done. if he intentionally rubbed salt into the wound, into the exact wound that’s caused you so much pain at aimee's hands, but you can’t help but linger on it.

"don't forget that i was the one who broke up with you. not the other way around." sukuna states.

you ignore it. only because the pouty face that she makes as she retreats is one that fills you with so much joy, that has sukuna smiling down at you like he's the sun.

“do you want me to beat him up for you?” sukuna asks. 

“who, jake? he didn’t even say anything.” you respond. 

sukuna squints his eyes at you. 

“she just mentioned that he was cheating on you. and i’m figuring it’s with the last person that you would have wanted it to be.” 

“i mean. yeah.” you respond. “i’ll repeat. do you want me to beat him up?” sukuna asks. 

you shrug. 

“eh. not worth the trouble. sure his ego is bruised enough as it is.” 

sukuna narrows his eyes at you again, the whistle of the referee sending him back to the court as he presses one last kiss to your knuckles and you take a seat on the chair on the side of the court that satoru pulled up for you.

you aimlessly scroll through the texts on your phone. 

[mika]: WTF WERE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT 

[mika]: BRO SHE LOOKED SO PISSED

[hisu]: you’re so right he IS KIND OF CUTE

[hisu]: also song was TEWWW GOOD. you’re so beautiful i love you so much don’t ever die.

[eren]: I don’t see it. 

[mika]: shut up eren 

[megs]: Are you dating, Sukuna?

[megs]: I didn't even realized that you guys knew each other.

you look up from your phone to focus back on the game, only to find you’ve started paying attention at an opportune time. because you swear sukuna sticks his leg out to trip jake, sending him falling right to his face right as he runs past.

your suspicions are confirmed when sukuna gets flagged for it. you can tell that he doesn't seem to care too much, only because the smile on his face betrays him.

--

--

an: two dream girl chapters oopsie

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[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader Fandom: attack on titan (modern au) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics / gif by pankago

part one. / part three. | masterlist

There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours—

A noisy bar quickly becomes background white noise.

—if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.

And within a breath, the world ceases to exist.

You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say, but it sure as hell isn’t that.

(He gets paid to be a smooth talker, but holy shit, it is catastrophically different when you’re saddled with the reality that you can walk — run — straight to the man inviting you to his home.)

Before you can even think, your voice blurts out of your parted lips:

“I don’t mind.”

Not.

At.

All.

Annie will forgive you.

Hell, you bet everyone crowding that tiny high-top table will forgive you come Monday morning when you’re back in the office.

Half of them won’t even remember that you were there in the first place. It’s a win-win situation.

There is no hesitation in the way you pick up your purse from the countertop and rush towards the front entrance of the bar, your eyes zeroed in on a patient Levi.

It takes some serpentining, but eventually you burst through the doors.

Levi turns towards you, his cell phone still held to his ear. 

There’s a little pink in his cheeks — from the nipping bite of the cold evening weather or his quick-witted pick-up line, you aren’t sure.

“Sorry,” you exhale like you’ve run a marathon in such a short distance. “I should’ve said bye or something before running out here, but I figured—”

The fringe of his hair shakes in his eyes as he holds up a finger to his lips.

Silence.

A stern expression replaces the debonair, and for a moment, you wonder if something is wrong.

But then—

“Yeah, no, I’m calling out for the evening,” he states. “Will you relay, Petra?”

Petra.

You know that woman’s name.

(The hotline receptionist responsible for connecting you to him.)

“Not an emergency, no,” he reassures, brows briefly knitting together. “Just taking some time off.” A pause. “Why are you laughing?” Another pause. “Forward them to Erwin. I trust him not to run my damn clients off. Thanks.”

Oh.

He’s—

“Sorry about that.”

Pocketing his phone, he squares his shoulders and waits expectantly. 

A suspicious crawl of embarrassment runs through your veins, like somehow being spontaneous — selfish — inconvenienced him.

“You had a shift tonight?” you ask belatedly.

“I did,” Levi admits, that buttery-smooth voice curving with a lift of amusement. “And now I don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to mess up your—”

“I have over a hundred hours of time accrued,” he interrupts in the very tone he’s used in your sessions before when you chalk up your existence as being a nuisance to him: stop. “If anything, it’ll get them off of my ass for never using it.”

Your brows raise. “A hundred?”

“Over,” Levi corrects, “so you’re doing me a favor — if you’re still in the mood for tea, of course.”

There’s a pause. A taxi flies by to fill the anticipating void.

I’m well past the mood for tea — is what you would say if you were a psychopath.

Instead you clamp your mouth shut and nod. 

Levi nods with you, seemingly exhaling a breath he may have been holding. As he steps forward, one foot in front of the other.

His attention drops from your face, searching your form in a way that makes you feel exposed.

Wanted.

Then he clears his throat and raises a stiff elbow — a polite gesture.

Take it.

The sheer idea of touching him is so fucking daunting.

Until now, you haven’t done anything but fantasize about him, but he’s flesh and blood and right in front of you — if you’re willing to simply take.

So you do.

Slowly you glide your hand over the crease of his elbow, tucking it against his side until your bodies are looped. The sheer cut of his bicep in his 90-degree angle threatens to make you lose your composure.

Jesus, it’s so solid.

(It’ll be a miracle if you even make it back to his apartment in one piece, let alone your own after everything is said and done.)

He walks. You follow until you match his pace.

For most of the journey, the two of you step in silent tandem. 

While he stares ahead, stopping you both whenever you reach a crosswalk, you can’t help but look over his profile. His cheekbones are even higher than you imagined, chiseled from the Gods, with dark hair that fades in an undercut at the nape of his neck.

Levi is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life, and you live in a pretty damn busy city, so you’ve seen a lot of men.

“Stairs or elevator?” he asks once he breaks the rhythm of your feet to move two paces ahead, grabbing the door with his fist. He detaches from you to pull open the door, offering you to walk through first. 

You’re so giddy over the chivalry you nearly miss the question. 

“Wait, what?”

“Stairs.” He nods his head, the stark black fringe waving with it. “Or elevator.”

“You live on the sixteenth floor.” 

“Yeah.”

“Wait — Levi, do you walk the fucking stairs?”

Levi blinks like he has to remember that isn’t normal before clearing his throat.

“Sometimes.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t want to get complacent after losing my job at the gym,” he states, changing his trajectory as he heads for the elevator instead.

You’re grateful that, for once, you’re not trying to act brave — or stupid.

Your big mouth doesn’t try to say that sixteen flights of stairs is totally fine just to impress him.

(This man has already heard what you sound like when you orgasm on more than one occasion. In some twisted way, the two of you are way past the surface stages of courting, but it doesn’t make this any less daunting.)

Once more he tracks ahead to hold the elevator door for you. Waiting until you’re comfortably inside, he presses the grayed ‘16’ button on the panel. It illuminates in an outdated hazy yellow — forcing your attention to the grayed ‘10’ just below it.

Six fucking floors, all this time.

Once the doors close, Levi Ackerman leans his back against the metal wall, his arms crossed and forearms barred from his rolled-up sleeves. 

You stay put in the dead center of the lift, watching him stare at the elevator panel until he lifts his chin to look back at you.

Neither of you look away.

The prolonged eye contact feels like an acknowledgement of a solved mystery between two people.

He knows you better than most people. You’d wager you may know him just as well.

“You okay?” he asks, softer this time. 

The intensity of his gaze doesn’t waver.

You find yourself nodding before you realize it. 

“Are you?”

Levi takes a moment to drop his attention an indiscernible amount, mulling over your question, before meeting your eyes once again.

“Yeah. Better than.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nothing can stop the smile growing on your face, not even by pressing your lips together.

“Never told me your preference,” he states casually, shaking some of his black fringe from his eyes. “In tea, I mean.”

“I’m happy to have whatever you have,” you promise. “I’m not picky.”

“You can be,” he promises right back. “Trust me, I have every type of tea you could think of.”

“Hoarding?”

“Hopelessly addicted, more like.”

The elevator pauses and gives way to the sixteenth floor’s hallway. When the door opens, Levi unfurls his arms to hold his hand out for you to take — only to seem to think better of it and fish for his keys instead as he takes the lead.

Instinctually your hand flexes at the ready to accept, but it falls limp to your side with the decision to simply follow behind.

(Yeah — you’re not used to the proximity yet, either.)

After passing a few apartments, Levi pauses at a door identical to yours and fiddles with the lock until it gives. 

He pushes it open, gesturing for you to walk in first.

A part of you wants to hesitate.

The rest of you refuses.

His apartment is clean to a degree you’ve never seen before — for a person who had no idea he was going to end up coming home with a stranger, you’re impressed by the lack of clothes lying about or…

Really anything.

Everything appears pristine. 

Taken care of.

So meticulously in order that you quickly toe each shoe off before stepping inside to leave the dirt and grime of the city at his doorstep. 

Levi follows suit, removing his shoes and closing the door behind him.

As you stand awkwardly by the door, he shuffles around you to the kitchenette mirroring yours a few apartments below. 

He reaches up into the cupboards to take out two mugs, preparing a kettle on the stove.

“Make yourself at home,” he offers, glancing over his shoulder towards you.

Right.

At home.

At home in the apartment where you got your shit verbally rocked for a week straight.

Afraid of offending him, you begin a slow mosey around the perimeter.

To the right is a cluster of framed photographs hanging on a wall — one portrays a tall, handsome blonde wearing dog tags around his neck and an all-smiles brunette with glasses cinching a less-than-enthused Levi between them. 

The proximity suggests they could be his friends, though the keys each person holds in the photo makes you realize a second later: 

In the background is a boxing ring, barely unpacked.

The co-owners of the old gym, maybe?

Considering the one person has dog tags, you can only assume they all met in the army and found themselves in the same city after deployment.

Another framed photograph has Levi in a similar annoyed disposition, arms crossed and unenthusiastic in contrast to the surrounding smiling young adults. They crowd him in various poses of muscle flexing, proudly sporting Survey Gym tees.

So his gym was called Survey Gym, huh?

The name rings a bell, if only in passing.

The young faces surrounding him must have been his trainees. His fighters.

(The people he held dear before the gym went under and he had to find a new path.)

“Trying to find dirt on me already?”

His voice makes you jump out of your damn skin.

“Oh — shit, sorry,” you sputter, stepping away from the wall. “I was just—”

“That was a joke,” he interrupts, the corner of his lip twitching. 

Levi takes the initiative to walk over to you with both mugs in hand, steaming from freshly brewed tea.

He holds out a no-frills emerald mug to you, and the scent finally catches your nose:

Lavender.

“Those are my friends, if you’re too polite to ask.”

“I was relying on context clues,” you confess, mindful of the heat when taking the mug from his hand. You sip until a familiar warmth spreads through your body. “Co-owners?”

“Used to be,” he answers after his own gulp. His free hand gestures to the photo with two people. “Hange’s probably clinically insane and Erwin’s not much better.”

“The guy you mentioned over the phone to Petra?”

Levi nods, taking another long sip of his tea. You follow suit, enjoying the taste.

“Same guy who got me into the hotline, yeah.” He switches focus to the other photo. “Some of my fighters. They’re busy training with other coaches and shit now.”

“Would you ever go back to training fighters if you could?”

“Probably,” Levi replies, “but I’m not exactly the easiest to work with. If I’m training anyone, it’s alongside Erwin. No exceptions.”

Silence settles between your bodies.

As you continue to stand there, allowing the aroma of the tea to calm your senses, you know — the longer you stand here, the more what ifs begin to plague your mind.

What if you met his friends, became a part of his life?

What if you don’t measure up to his expectations?

What if you just said what was on your mind without holding back — would it scare him?

When you feel your mug suddenly grow light, your instinct is to clench your hand around the ceramic handle.

However, you come back down to Earth to realize the person maneuvering the cup is Levi, who has in turn moved closer to you —

So close you can smell the faint scent of a woody, musky cologne.

Angled towards your body, he pauses in removing the mug from your hands when he feels your muscles tense. “You’re disappearing on me.”

So he noticed, even in person.

Say it.

Say it, idiot.

“Just…” 

Trailing off, you find yourself trusting him; letting go of the mug freely so that he can take it back. Levi sets both mugs down on a slender table situated just under the photographs, placing them on swirling marble coasters.

“Just?” he repeats, a mere murmur this time.

“This doesn’t feel real yet,” you confess. “Being here with you. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I wanted this but in my own apartment. Hell, it feels like this is my apartment because we have the same fucking layout — but yours is so much cleaner, I won’t even lie to you.”

It brings you both to laugh under your breath, octaves intertwining. 

When he shakes his head, you find yourself gravitating to his orbit.

“Doubt it’s bad.”

“Oh, it’s a pigsty compared to this place,” you nervously giggle, moving even closer. “Like, I should go home to clean it – but later.”

“Definitely later.”

“Like tomorrow kind of later," you accidentally joke.

“Agreed.”

Oh.

Before the realization hits you, your breath tickles his cheek. Levi is practically toe-to-toe and warm, so very warm, to the degree of dizzying every reservation you had.

You don’t have the confidence to stare anywhere but his lips, parted with little puffs mirroring yours.

“And what is that you want now?” he adds quietly — a question that shoots straight to your core, twisting it with an intense desire that it nearly takes your breath away.

You know.

And if you were a gambling woman, then you suspect that he knows, too.

Three words exit your mouth, straight from your very soul:

“To be selfish.”

It’s all it takes.

As if released from a leash holding you both to your leads, you meet Levi in a passionate, suffocating kiss. 

His hands reach for your face the same time you reach for his, mangling your limbs in a race to touch, to hold — to feel.

Manners are left behind as you press your lips to his, kissing him like you’ll die without. Your own hands bury themselves in the softness of his hair, dragging through the freshly-buzzed undercut and earning yourself a groan.

Shit.

He sounds even better in person.

“Levi—”

You part your lips with a shuddered breath when his tongue leisurely slides across it. All coherent thought ceases to exist.

It’s just him pushing closer — guiding you backwards — until your back hits something solid.

A surprised grunt melts into another groan as he moves one hand to cradle your head, mindful that the back of your skull doesn’t slam against the wall.

Levi tastes like the pineapple seltzer you abandoned back at the bar.

You want this.

Him.

Never in your wildest dreams have you considered sleeping over a man’s apartment before the third date, let alone the first, yet the heat of him — the taste of him — opens brand-new possibilities that mostly focus on the rest of that body underneath his gray long-sleeved shirt.

You're already grabbing the hem of your shirt. The fabric feels too tight against your blazing skin.

Off.

Everything needs to be off.

“Hey,” he exhales in-between kisses, catching your lower lip in his teeth to tug at it. Instantly you whine into his mouth, an involuntary (and fucking embarrassing) noise. “Hey—”

If he asks, you’ll say yes. 

To hell with the unwritten rules.

You’re consenting adults, it’s clear you both want this, and when push comes to shove —

A hand shoots out, covering yours before your shirt can lift over your bra.

“Baby—”

All motor functions effectively freeze when you realize Levi is pulling away, forcefully creating some distance between your panting bodies.

“Baby, listen to me.”

As if in pain, he grits his teeth and pulls away from the kiss, eyes damn near black. 

You’re left watching, stunned and disheveled and painfully aroused.

Worries go from nonexistent to overdrive in a matter of seconds.

“What’s wrong?” you quietly ask despite your budding panic. “Fuck. Sorry, did I do something wro—”

“No. Shit, are you kidding?”

Those stormy eyes catch yours, and you feel another sharp wave of desire flow through your body.

“You’re perfect,” Levi continues, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re fucking perfect, it’s just—”

Just.

One word acts like a splash of cold water.

You’re perfect, but something is imperfect about this. 

You’re perfect, but he still wants to stop.

Levi scowls, voice rough. “Oi. I can hear you thinking a mile a minute.”

Heat rises to your face. “Me?”

“Yeah, you — so don’t.”

For good measure of reassurance, Levi leans back in to gently peck your lips. It’s less heated but by no means less passionate.

You belatedly press your lips back to his before watching him pull away. 

His lips are slick with saliva and exertion. 

There’s a deeper flush on his face that wasn’t there earlier.

“It’s just that I don’t want to rush this,” he states as calmly and evenly as he can.

Objectively, you get it.

Objectively, Levi is making a whole lot of sense. Rushing into things could end up with a lot of heartbreak and confusion. Taking it slow hurts way less than speedrunning the firsts of a new dating-situation-whatever this is.

Subjectively, you’ve heard him moan in your actual face and you would very much like to hear it again and again until it’s burned into the back of your brain like a core memory.

“And I’m not trying to say that we can’t — trust me, I want to — but you’re not some one-night stand to me in any capacity of the damn phrase.”

Unable to help yourself, you nervously roll your eyes and shrug a shoulder. 

“Technically we’re kind of way past one night stands considering we’ve had, like, six.”

A wicked smirk flickers across his face. 

“Yeah, no fucking kidding — but that isn’t what I mean.”

Taking yet another slow, even inhale, the dark-haired man runs his thumb affectionately over your cheek.

“Let me do right by you. By this. Even if it’s corny as shit, I’ll try it.”

Pausing, he drops the hand on your face to gently take your hand.

“I want to take you out on a date. A nice date. Something proper — starting with finishing our tea, then walking you home so I know you got to your apartment safe.”

“I’m six floors away, Levi,” you tease.

“I’ll settle on taking the elevator with you,” he retorts, teasing right back. "Still: let me prove I can be good to you. That I can earn you."

He pauses, jaw clenched.

"Earn us."

Reluctantly you both detach, the taste shared on your lips. He wastes no time to take your hand in his, squeezing it for emphasis, before giving you back your cup of tea.

Although the room is charged with tension, you both behave.

Sipping tea.

Holding hands.

Staring.

As much as you want to act on your desires, you’re flattered he’s so adamant to take this slow.

It only grounds this fantasy further into the woven fabric of reality — of what’s to come in your life.

Levi is good on his word: he walks you to the elevator, through the corridor and to your apartment.

And when you’ve managed to wriggle your keys into the door, he gently calls your name.

Just as you turn, he places that warm hand on your cheek and presses his lips back to yours.

This time it’s chaste, sweet — lingering.

They brush yours methodically, as if committing your body to memory, before reluctantly pulling away.

“Goodnight, formerly Scarlet,” he states under his breath for only you to hear.

“Goodnight, still Levi,” you return, mirroring his intimacy in tone.

Satisfied, he kisses you one final time before pulling away. 

You watch as he walks backwards towards the stairwell of the apartment complex, a certain glow about him as he asks:

“Will I see you at the gym in the morning?”

As if you’d ever skip a leg day now.

.

Author's Note:

First of all, much love and appreciation for your patience as I finally found the mental capacity to write this chapter. Naturally it was easier to write in the summer, and fall has been A Time (TM). I have a lot of big life events coming up in the next few weeks, but I will keep the dash posted on when they should expect part three.

Thank you for any likes, replies, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[jikooklove9795]

With the news just of JKs series, which seems to be the film split from the trailer, just with extras, am I wrong to pray that we don’t get a documentary for Muse?

I just have this really bad feeling that Jimin would say something more unhinged than he did during the Bangtan bombs we got and the interviews with p dogg, when he said he couldn’t remember the last time he had a crush, that he was alone, and he couldn’t relate to the love songs. That telling the producers what he wanted for Who was like them reading his diary, basically that whole segment is sus, and technically debunked Jikook. I can imagine him saying he’s never been in love etc. I just know he would do that. We’ve got Jimin choosing Who, about not having love, and JK chooses all songs about being with the one you love, so I wasn’t worried about him saying anything, just Jimin.

I am wrong to feel this way? I pray every night for it not to happen

Hi Anon!

First I need to tell you this before I go further on explaining why MUSE, the album as a whole does nothing to debunk Jikook:

As much as I love celebrating Jikook's bond and relationship I'm not someone who has any kind of expectations from both Jimin and Jungkook. I won't demand them to behave a certain way so that I get the confirmation my ship needs. Having such kind of expectations is not ony wrong but also unfair to them.

Anon, I hope I don't sound condescending which is not my intention at all. I'm just saying this in your best interest. I hope you'll take it in the right spirit.

Now I'll share my views on why MUSE does not debunk Jikook.

MUSE is a conceptual album as opposed to FACE which was autobiographical. As stated by Jimin and the producers they were following a storyline for MUSE. Also, when it came to MUSE Jimin had so much to share, ideas to give and discuss while for FACE we didnt get that, did we? Since FACE was about his own life and the struggles he went through, he was hesitant and holding back not letting us know much about it. Which was not surprising knowing how serious he is about his personal life.

And something which I think you're forgetting is that Jimin is an artist. An artist who will experiment with his work and explore diverse genres in order to bring to the table different stories for the fans. Stories which fans also can relate to. Stories which aren't about his personal life and experiences. His work is not always going to be solely focused on his personal life. So, try to separate his work life from his personal life.

Also, taking into consideration his situation (his country, the industry he works in) its highly unlikely for him to say "Hey! Jungkook is my bf. We have been in love for a long time now". That's not gonna happen anytime in the near future. So, what we will be getting instead is "I'm single for as long as I can remember. I don't even know how having a crush feels like".

This is the exact reason why "Letter" gets passed off as a fan song in the general fandom. Cause Jimin is not in a position to say "Letter" is for Jungkook. That's a sad reality. But its for their own safety and well being. Which provides them a cover, a protection. The same cover cause of which they were able to enlist together. Which in my opinion is the most important for them, I mean being able to stay together rather than risk everything and expose themselves.

However Jimin did provide a few hints here and there for those who are willing to listen.

And an even BIGGER HINT with this one here:

The billboard falling at the same time Jimin goes "Who's my heart waiting for". Someone whose facial structure is not that of a woman but of a man. A man with doe eyes. A man who stole his heart all those years ago. A man with whom he's happy and very obviously in love.

Have a nice day Anon!

Credits to the owner of the video

[intobarbarians]

i was looking online at houses and saw in this city a bunch of houses being sold for under 60,000.

many of the houses were in rough shape or only had one or two exterior photos posted, so i started reading the descriptions and it turns out some landlord is offloading their portfolio.

the descriptions listed whether or not the houses were vacant or had tenants and what those tenants pay in rent. almost all of the houses with tenants were listed as being month to month or in the process of eviction.

what’s worse is that you can see the estimated mortgage payment against the rent the tenants pay—the rent is at least three times higher than the mortgage cost.

anyway, tell me being a landlord is evil without telling me being a landlord is evil

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌊🐟🌊

Credit: @astroismypassion

🌊 Cancer Sun men (some other Cancer placement can be that as well like Cancer Venus, Cancer Mercury) are I noticed veryy indecisive. But they are masking that indeciveness behind “oh I just haven’t met the right person for me yet”. As partners they tend to get lazy, more controlling with time, but paint a very very almost this ideal picture in the beginning. You might not be able to find anything bad, because they seems so ideal on paper. They could be cheap too. They also dislike paying, prefer to split 50/50, but make sure that they are spending LESS than you, so they still feel taken care of. They pay only what is theirs and if something is shared between both of you, they expect you to take care of it.

🐟 A lot of Taurus Sun people are gym/workout freaks secretly, but can be inconsistent with it, so you might never openly know this about them.

🌊 I find it’s a slight, small and funny difference between Scorpio Moon and Scorpio over the 4th house native. Scorpio Moon is so secretive, private and doesn’t disclose information easily. You might be their best friend, but still don’t know their family situation to the full extent. But with Scorpio over the 4th house I noticed can kind of be oversharers?? It’s harder for them to keep a secret and when they vibe with someone in a nice conversation, they end up overspilling information.

🐟 Your partner can be a mix of your Juno, Jupiter and sign over 1st, 4th and 7th house. 1st house because there could be found people that are so “in your face”, because you were literally meant to meet them in this lifetime, 4th house is people you introduce to your parents, take home and 7th house are people that are similar to you, yet different enough that you feel they complete you and that you can learn from them.

🌊 Your IC sign shows some of the deepest parts of you that have been instilled in you and have been in your family for generations and generations. It is also what you know best, what already comes to you naturally. For example: Aries IC you are unafraid of conflict, you are not scared to be confrontational.

🐟 I noticed Taurus over the 12th house or Taurus Lilith are more prone of wanting to steal something material from you, like a material item, if they feel you hurt them emotionally. Watch out for Taurus Lilith especially, because they feel like they are never abundant enough, I noticed there is something missing when they are around you, like you might start missing your umbrella or something little and mundane.

🌊 I still think about 8th house Synastry that usually both people need to change. So it’s not about pointing fingers that planet person or house person. It’s usually not enough just one doing the changes and the other not, for the connection to run more smoothly.

🐟 I noticed Composite Libra Rising couples really struggle with other people. Usually the only conflict these two have is about other people. You might not even complain about each other, but when there is tension, it is about other people. Like your/their friends, how much time they are spending with certain other people.

🌊 Composite 1st house shows the things you liked about each other in the beginning, but these are the very same things that you resent with time or dislike later on and complain about. For example: Composite Aquarius Rising: you will like that you are still able to be with them and chase your dream goals, you like that you still are able to have your independent life besides them, that they give you enough freedom and personal space. But later you will start noticing that you “drifted apart/didn’t take enough time for each other”.

🐟 Taurus Venus natives really crave a partner that pays for them. But I noticed once they get older, it reverses from what I’ve seen? They are usually the one getting taken advantage of and paying eveything or a lot of the things for their partner.

🌊 Venus in the 8th house in Synastry chart gives energy of “We are not in a partnership, but I also don’t like you trying to date other people”. 😅

🐟 Composite Pisces Mars, Mars at 12 degrees or Composite Mars in the 12th house will really hold you accountable, even when you will be trying sweep thoughts, feelings, conversations, under the rug.😩 Like yes, it is known for sweeping topics under the rug, giving too many chances, forgiving. But you will notice things go wrong or poorly/bad in the connection when you just let it slide. Like the universe won’t allow you to do that, if it’s not genuine. You might not vocalize certain of your genuine thoughts, ideas, feelings for the sake of keeping peace in the connection that one time, but it will blow up in your face later all at once, because the universe won’t let it slide. 😬

🌊 Often when people say “Oh my partner did that for me in the beginning, but they don’t do it anymore now”, I suggest look at your partner’s Venus sign. This is how they behave towards you to attract you. This is “the attractive you” you are usually in the beginning, early stages of getting to know someone or when you are going in for y job interview. For example:

Aries Venus: they will asking YOU firstly jokingly “Are you trying to flirt me?😂”, they can slide this one casually in the conversation.

Taurus Venus: buy you a little gift (but usually great great quality), treat you to a meal out or sharing snacks with you. might also gift you clothing for the very first birthday you have, which is their way of telling you they like you.

Gemini Venus: helps you out a lot (sometimes forces their help onto you😅), pays for drinks, seems like they will help you or be there for you if anything happens every day out of the week.

Cancer Venus: they usually potray themselves as the emotional one and describe people around them are all “so stone cold”, they are more emotionally open in the beginning to lure you in, but later you realize they are quite stoic actually or even nonchalant.

Leo Venus: gives a lot of attention mostly in the beginning. because later they wanna experience being the one that is the center of attention in the relationship.

Virgo Venus: will text you consistently and always make sure that they are there for you, also the one to likely help you out, but with ulterior motives😅

Libra Venus: another one that pays for your meals, they will take you out, wine and dine you, you will feel like they know all the good restaurants.

Scorpio Venus: now, this one is hard. it’s usually in their stares. If it’s there, it’s already in the EYE CONTACT. If you don’t know what I mean by eye contact, then the sparkle is not there. but quite soon, they will have a a little, but manageble jealous episode, when you mention your female/male friends and that is how they reveal themselves that they care about you.

Sagittarius Venus: oh this one will take you places, organize that bike trip, show you a city they know really well and take you around, feed you with their stories and impress you with their many life experiences.

Capricorn Venus: acting too busy, burdened with duties, but actually hanging with their parents in the free time or playing video games. oh gosh, they give such air of being on their own constant strict schedule, that you will feel like they don’t have time for you, so that when they give you their time, you will think it is special.

Aquarius Venus: this one is unique, will likely organize a set up, group situation with a few of their trusted friends with you going for a drink/meal, but it’s a test try, to see how well you would merge in, another type is acting super busy and productive with you, but actually hanging with friends, partying.

Pisces Venus: lure you in by giving you things, items for free or impressing you with their musical talent, sing you a song, make you homemade art, treating you to a nice sweet homebaked treat, they will give the impression of being naive, but that’s quite far for it.

🐟 You might argue less with people how have Saturn on your Ascendant, because you will feel like you need to level up mentally and act more mature when you are around them, so you are likely to avoid petty fights, but only when you are with this person.

🌊 We often watch TV series, films with actors who share the same Moon sign as us. For example: I noticed Sex and the City TV series is very popular among Aquarius and Capricorn Moon people (also Sagittarius Moon to certain extent) and main actresses have these Moon signs too.

🐟 Aquarius Mars people are few of the actors who actually don’t mind being known for THAT one movie/TV series role and don’t try to run away from that image, they instead embrace it. For example: actress Eva Longoria (Aquarius Mars) who still to this day doesn’t mind being asked about her well-known and iconic role as Gaby Solis in TV series Desperate Housewives.

Credit: @astroismypassion

[avocado-writing]

Hello there dear! If you are still taking requests how would you feel about writing something for logan x reader x wade, where reader gets between them while they're arguing/in a fight and gets hurt by accident? And how they would react to that.

Totally fine if you don't like the idea. Thank you for giving us all these lovely works!

It’s hard to know which one of them started it. Probably Wade. It’s usually Wade, saying something stupid or offhand which irritates Logan into a physical reaction. But occasionally Logan forgets to mind his mouth, especially when he’s had a couple of drinks, and then they’re just at each other’s throats with knives and claws. 

They have gotten better to be fair. Calmer. More adjusted to living in the same space, being together all the time. Plus you beg - beg - them not to fight in the apartment, there just isn’t enough room for it. 

To their credit they only get into fisticuffs at Wade’s place. Your home, with your boho throws and favourite posters, has remained unscathed. It is Switzerland in this damn war of testosterone. 

You’ve had Wade’s spare key forever now, he even got you a little unlicensed Deadpool charm to put on it, and you have your headphones in when you open the door. The sound of 80s rock covers up the noise of carnage inside, and that is why you’re so totally unprepared when the bottle comes flying at you. 

It does not hit you to be fair. It shatters on the doorframe, showering you in glass. You gasp. From where Logan has Wade in a headlock and Wade is trying to stab his way out, your boys freeze. Clearly Wade tried to bottle him, Logan swatted it away, and the situation at hand was created. A beat passes as you try and recover from what’s happened, and you feel a small trickle of blood run down to your jaw from your cheek. 

You rip the headphones from your ears, more angry than you’ve ever been. Their faces drop. 

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, you two?! I’ve asked you not to fight because of shit exactly like this!”

You use the plain of your hand to wipe your face and grimace when it comes back red. This seems to break the two of them out of their stupor and your boys are immediately on their feet. 

“Fuck, pookie, we’re sorry—” Wade says, at the same time Logan starts, “Baby, we didn’t mean to—”

You hold up your bloodied hand in the universal sign for them to stop. They do, like a pair of trained dogs. 

“Fuck this shit. I’m done,” you snarl, because if you don’t rev up the anger you know you’ll start to cry. Tears are starting to prickle in the corner of your eyes. Before either of them can say anything you’ve turned on your heel and left the building. 

When you’re home, a glass of Sauvignon blanc deep and with a band aid on your cheekbone, you realise you didn’t really mean it. You’re not “done”. Done with their squabbling, maybe, and done with the situation in that moment, but not done done. You should probably call Wade up and apologise to them both, but honestly you’re still sort of angry at the whole scenario. 

You shove a handful of Cheetos in your mouth and stab the play button on the remote, sinking into the sofa as the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy plays, determined to be distracted in any way possible… when there’s a knock at the door. 

When you open it of course it’s them. They look like repentant schoolboys. Logan’s holding half a dozen boxes from your favourite pizza place, Wade has a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around the neck. There’s a tag on it. It says “we’re sorry :(“ with a little doodle of them both in Wade’s hand. 

You soften. How could you not?

“We fucked up, we know!” he says quickly, anticipating that you might slam the door on him. “We’re sorry. Isn’t that right, peanut?”

“Yeah,” Logan sighs, remarkably accepting of the nickname when he’s grovelling to you. You drum your fingers on the doorknob. “Sorry you’ve got a couple of knuckleheads as partners, honey.”

Knuckleheads. That about sums them up. What a cute word, though; you forget how adorable they can both be, when they’re not trying to kill each other.  

“Did you get the mozzarella sticks?” you ask, nodding at the pile of food. Wade grins. He knows they’ve won. 

“Two portions, honey.”

“Hmm, okay. You can come in.”

They do and you shut the door behind them. Wade wastes no time in heading to your glass cabinet and decanting a drink for each of you, Logan clearing your coffee table so he can unpack the pizza. He grabs a slice of pepperoni as you sit down between the two of them, ready to imbibe. 

“We really are fucking sorry. Seriously, pookie, we won’t do it again,” Wade reiterates as he pushes a drink into your hand. You hum. 

“I know. I’m fucking serious though, boys. I’m done with your squabbles. Next time you wanna go at each other, one of you leave the room and take a walk around the block to cool down. Even if you don’t want to, think of me and do it anyway. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wade agrees quickly before looking at Logan with intent. The older man sighs. 

“Okay,” he agrees, hand on your knee in acceptance, “anything for you. Sorry again, bub.”

You squeak as Wade reaches over to press a kiss against the band-aid on your cheek. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Making it better.” His kiss lands on your lips this time. He tastes of grease. Must have sneaked a piece of garlic bread on the way up, cheeky bastard. You feel Logan’s hands slip around your waist. 

“Mmm, boys, the pizza…”

“Can be reheated. God gave us microwaves so that we could give you orgasms,” says Wade, happily, “or we can feed you mozzarella while we eat you out, your choice.”

You look at Logan for his opinion on the matter and he shrugs. 

“Sounds good to me.”

You grin, and the pizza grows cold.  

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[mingis-orangejuice]

Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 4: Sylus

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) Here's Sylus' part its the longest part, but also my favourite. hope you like it. also, I probably mixed up Luke and Kieran multiple times so just ignore it lol.

Genres/Warnings: lots of Luke and Kieran shenanigans, a bit of angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 1936

Previous Parts 1 2 3

You were spending the day with Luke and Kieran, it was supposed to be with sylus but something came up. He didn’t want you to waste your day off so he arranged for them to escort you around Linkon and basically do whatever you want for the whole day. While you were happy to have a chill day with your bodyguards/friends Luke and Keiran you were really looking forward to spending a whole day with Sylus. But recently lots of things have come up and he kept rescheduling all your dates. Was he trying to tell you something, is this his way of saying he’s not actually interested in you romantically but he’s too chicken to tell you? No, he wouldn’t do that, Sylus is one of the most direct people you know, if he didn’t like you, he’d just say so. So then why does it feel like he’s just stringing you along, when is he going to make you two official?

“MC?...MC?...” Luke’s voice snapped you out of your train of thought. 

“What? sorry I was a little spaced out.” you turn to the twins standing above you while you sit at one of the tables of the Linkon Mall foodcourt.

“I said where do you want to go for lunch? There's so many choices” Luke gestured to the row of different restaurants among the foodcourt.

“We could always have the boss’s favourite, ever since you let him try your instant ramen that's all he asks the chefs to make for him when you’re away,” Kieran suggested as both boys took a seat next to you on the other side of the table. “There's a ramen place right over there”

“Umm… I’m not sure… I’m not really hungry right now” You looked vacantly across the mall foodcourt starting to space out again

“The boss said there's no limit to how much we can spend today so we don’t have to eat here. Or if you can’t decide on what to eat we can buy a bit of everything and you can taste them all” Kieran suggests while taking out Sylus’ black credit card from his pocket.

“You have to eat something, the boss doesn’t want you to skip meals he told us to make sure you eat something or else” Luke warned in a fake threatening voice.

“Well, I guess if I have to in order to save you two from Sylus’ wrath, then I want something homemade, not this cheap generic stuff, so let’s go back to the base and see what we can cook up, what do you say?” 

“Anything for the Boss’s girlfriend,” Kieran said with a smile, he stood up and put out his arm for him to escort you to the car.

“Huh… what did you say?” You stopped reaching for Kieran’s arm at the word girlfriend.

“Anything for the boss’s …girlfriend…. I’m confused, are you not his girlfriend” Kieran looked embarrassed like he might have misread the situation.

“Well yeah…but .. he’s never said it before…so I didn’t think he thought of me as his girlfriend.” you stood awkwardly looking at the floor and playing with your hands.

“Of course he thinks of you that way he gets all smiley when he or anyone else mentions you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the boss smile so much before you came along” Luke grabbed your bags as you guys started to head to the car. “The boss just has a hard time expressing his emotions. ”  he mentioned brightly

“Yeah for the first year of us working for him he pretended not to remember our names cuz he didn’t want to seem soft, even tho he could already tell us apart after the first day even with our masks on.” Kieran said as he looked up to the sky like he was reminiscing on the Good-old-days 

“But he always calls you his girlfriend around us” 

“Right, he even calls you his girlfriend in the task memos he sends us” Luke shows you his phone with all the tasks set out by sylus. He clicks play and a voice recording of Sylus starts. 

“1. As I’ll be away for the day take my girlfriend to the mall and get her anything she wants, to keep her happy

2. Make sure she eats something for lunch, she tends to skip meals and gets really tired halfway through the day because of it. If she doesn’t eat anything, a punishment will be waiting for you upon your return.

3. Carry everything for her no matter how much she buys, rent a truck if you have to, I don’t want her straining herself before tonight’s special event…”

“Wait” you click pause on Luke’s phone. “what event, he never told me about that.” 

“Uhh…oops” Luke quickly puts away his phone “You weren’t supposed to hear that. Just pretend it didn’t happen”

Kieran slaps Luke’s arm “You idiot, that was supposed to be a surprise, the boss is gonna kill us”

“Just what is he planning?” you interrogate the twins. Both of them looked at each other as they opened the car door and helped you in.

“our lips are sealed.” they both said in unison while placing their fingers in an X over their lips

You guys were now in the car on the way back to the base. You’ve fallen silent thinking about this special event. just what kind of event was this? It couldn't be something bad, right? Was he breaking up with you? Is that why he let you use his card with no limit, to give you one final good day then he’d cut you off??? You couldn’t take the suspense anymore, you had to know. You took your phone out of your purse and called Sylus. Your phone was connected to the car’s speakers and Kieran saw that you were calling him and got a little nervous. Sylus picked up almost immediately. 

“Yes, Sweetie? What's wrong, are Luke and Kieran not treating You well, do you need me to get rid of them for you? I’ve been looking for some new Henchmen anyway” He said with a chuckle

“Hey, we’re right here you know?” Kieran said in a hurt voice

“I know, that's why I said it” “Sylus joked

“And you wouldn’t get rid of us, right boss?” Luke asked, “We’re your favourite henchmen, right?”

Sylus completely ignores Luke's question “...So why did you call sweetie? Remember when I said I was very busy today and that we’d see each other later tonight?”

You didn’t want to beat around the bush so you got straight to the point.“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to ask about, what exactly is happening tonight? What's the Special event and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

There was silence on the other end and then an annoyed groan. “Did you two tell her?” Sylus sounded like he was about to jump through the phone and punch both of them in the face.

“No boss we promise all she knows is that there’s an event tonight she doesn’t know anything else,” Kieran said frantically “Please don’t get rid of us”

Ignoring them again he sighed. “Where are you right now babe?”

“We were on our way to the base for lunch.” You informed him

“at least those two can do something right” he sighs. “Ok then I’ll be waiting for you at the base and I’ll explain everything.” *Click* he hangs up

Now you were even more curious, what was sylus planning?

“Do you think the boss is really gonna get rid of us?” Luke asked you in a scared voice.

“I doubt it, you guys mess up all the time and he hasn’t gotten rid of you yet, what's one more mess up” you say in a joking tone “Plus if he’s as nice as you say he is, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Later back at the base you all walk into the living room to see Sylus sitting on the couch reading a book. “Oh, you’re back.” Sylus puts down his book and pats the space next to him for you to join him on the couch. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” as you sit he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. He then looked up to where the twins were standing. “You two, I’ll deal with you later. Leave us be for now.”

“Yes boss.” they both say and hurriedly walk out of the room.

On the way to the base after the phone call you just couldn’t stop thinking about what this event could be and mixed with your thoughts from earlier you were only coming up with every bad result it could be. All those thoughts and emotions were boiling inside and before Sylus could say anything they overflowed “What are we?” 

“Huh?” Sylus looked confused “Sweetie, what do you mean?”

“Why do you keep avoiding me and why won't you call me your girlfriend? Apparently, you’ll say it in front of everyone else but me.” You moved back so you were out of his grip 

“Those two, I’ll fire them for sure this time,” He says under his breath.

“And what is this event? Why didn’t you tell me about it, is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” Your voice slightly cracked on the last word and your eyes started to get misty.

“Woah, slow down, if I knew it would make you feel like this I would have explained sooner.” He pulls you close again, holds your face in his palms and wipes your tears with his thumbs  “First, We are Sylus and MC the strongest and most feared couple in the N109 Zone.” He chuckled. “Second, I’m sorry that I made you feel this way. I knew you were curious but I didn’t know the curiosity would get to you this much. I wasn’t avoiding you, I’ve been setting up the special event that I’ll tell you more about in due time. But, as for your third question…” Sylus pulls your head in closer and places a soft kiss on your lips that nearly takes your breath away. He pulls away and looks at you with a smirk “You’ve also never called me your boyfriend so I guess we’re even” 

“Yeah well…I didn’t want to assume… I” You start to stutter both from the kiss and his accusation.

He stops you and places another kiss on your lips “I guess we both felt that way” 

“So then what about the event?” you’re now sitting closer to him his hands on your waist to keep you close.

“Oh yeah, the event… I was gonna let you watch while I fire Luke and Kieran. I set up events every time I want to fire one of my men, why do you think I had you keep them out of the house the whole day?” He joked.

You softly slapped his chest and rolled your eyes “ I know you’re joking those two might be idiots but you’d never fire them. Come on seriously what is it really?”

“Ok, I'll tell you, if you can tell me something first, what day is it today? He asks, hoping you’ll know the answer.

“Uh, Sunday?” you say confused as to why this day of the week had any significance.

“You can’t even remember yet you want me to call you my girlfriend,” Sylus said pretending to be offended “It’s the anniversary of when a little kitten first wandered into the N109 Zone and…” he pulls you into a hug “ into my life”

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt.5

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

🔮 When Venus is transiting your 5th house, you tend to become more active on social media (posting pictures, TikToks, videos, etc.) and you feel like going out of your comfort zone a bit more. It's a very fun time with a lot of playful energy 🩵✨

🔮 Can we talk about how good a Cancer Mercury's memory is? THEY have that photographic memory and remember everything so vividly. Also, they are such good listeners. If you’re a yapper get yourself a cancer mercury friend cause you best believe they’d genuinely be interested in listening to you yap away haha😭. Such a good placement to have imo (esp if there are no harsh Neptune/Saturn aspects)

🔮 A question for those with prominent Sagittarius and 9th house placements: Did y’all ever just stay with your grandparents for a long time, be it on vacation or something?

🔮 Lilith square Moon natives are afraid to express their emotional needs and feel embarrassed when they do. They immediately regret being vulnerable and wish they wouldn’t have let their guard down. It’s so sad to see honestly :((, y’all deserve the tightest hugs fr 🫂

🔮 I've noticed that people with Sagittarius placements often end up being the butt of the joke. Most of the time, they laugh it off, but it does bother them. They don’t want to ruin the “vibe” by bringing this up so they end up just going along with it 🥲

🔮 Virgo men and playing the victim in situations where they are confronted in go hand in hand plus the amount of self pitying that goes on is ridiculous 💀. Every Virgo man, when at fault, will say things like, "I know I AM a burden to you," "I know you hate ME, I would hate MYSELF too," "I know I AM a loser, and I don't know how you even stayed with ME" like boi stfu😭😭😭

🔮 Mercury trine Mercury synastry could possibly indicate having similar music tastes. The type of couple who’d share earphones and just vibe to songs together 🥺🎧

🔮 Virgo women (especially Sun, Venus, and Rising) pull off the ‘no-makeup makeup’ look so effortlessly. Natural beauties right here 🥰🤩

🔮 When it comes to celebrities or idols you really like, there's definitely some 1st house/5th house/8th house or 10th house synastry involved 👀

🔮 Aries moon friends are the best type of friends to have fr, no bs and the realest ones out there. They’re extremely motivating and will definitely help in uplifting your mood no matter what. A true ride or die friend unless you piss them off 😭🤪

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[zouisalmightie]

.

[skzdarlings]

birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock.  He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do.  You were already jittery before the jump-scare.   

“Seungmin! Sorry!”  You put a hand over your heart.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.”  He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile. 

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood.  You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well.  He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness.  He is reliable whenever you need a hand.    

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy.  His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag. 

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says. 

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered.  “Seungmin!  You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips.   While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out?  You’re all dressed up.” 

“Oh, um, yes.”  You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered.  You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual.  Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun.  You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night. 

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush. 

Because, yes, you like Seungmin.  A lot.  Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working.  You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it.  You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything.  His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination.  Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought.  You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all. 

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months.  You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction.  Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all. 

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet.  You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling. 

He brushes some hair out of his eyes.  They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels. 

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles.  “I like it.” 

“Oh gosh,” you say. 

It makes him laugh.  Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.” 

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say.  “I don’t even know where we’re going.  Probably just some food and stuff.  You know me.  I’m very simple.” 

“I do,” he says.  “I’d like to know you better, though.  Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time.  I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too.  His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.    

“I will,” you say, smiling so big.  “Page fifteen.  Noted.” 

“It’s a date,” he says.  “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction.  You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide. 

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling.  “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly. 

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling. 

-

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment.  You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity. 

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers. 

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you.  You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed. 

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything.  It makes your sister and friends laugh.  It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused.  Your shy character is the opposite of… this. 

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles. 

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing.  “Or, hm, an act of feminism!  It’s about equality.  We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”   

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles.  You shake your head, smiling with amusement too.  You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.  

Amusing is the best word for it, though.  None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed.  Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining. 

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you. 

“No, I don’t,” you say.  You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.   

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.” 

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head.  You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine.  There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage.  You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view. 

You promptly spit your drink everywhere.  Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you. 

Not just any dancer.  

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him.  It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely. 

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face.  Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face?   He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair.  The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck.  Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated.  He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door.  Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed.  Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets.  He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate.  Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye.  There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine. 

You are not so practiced.  Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.  The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin.  Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite.  He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin.  He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room. 

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you.  It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt.  Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action.  Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp.  Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans.  Heat fills the core of you. 

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate.  He knows he has you. 

“Oh my god,” your friend says.  “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!”  You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe.  “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.” 

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside.  Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch.  Seungmin is polite.  He does not eye-fuck. 

Except you glance over the rim of your cup.  He is still looking at you.  It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink.  It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone. 

Oh. Gosh.  He is eye-fucking you. 

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.” 

-

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light.  You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt.  You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone.  You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight.  Once on your doorstep.  Once on stage.  And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider.  He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again. 

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats.  You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct.  You melt under the intensity of his stare. 

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says. 

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence.  For some reason, it is just as tantalizing.  You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans.  But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses. 

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that. 

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent.  You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall. 

“Breathe,” he says.  “That’s not a request.”  He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them.  He does not touch you.  He does not need to.  Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks.  “Good.  All right.  So… neighbour… Should we talk?” 

You think a thousand thoughts.  Yes, a conversation.  No, your friends paid for this room.  They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly.  You want to ask when he is free for dinner.  You want to ask how long he has worked here.  You want to know him.  You really, really want to kiss him. 

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 

He looks at you for another moment, still studious.  You swallow again.  Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean. 

“And you want to?” he asks.  “Do this sort of thing?” 

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment.  Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty. 

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him.  You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn.  He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction.  You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking. 

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little.  You look at him with wide, earnest eyes.  “Don’t we all?” 

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling.  Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says.  “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow.  He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest. 

A professional, you think.  It gets you undeniably hot.  You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him.  He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.  

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you.  He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him. 

You sit back, breathing harder already.  Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation.  You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body. 

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room. 

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”   

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh.  Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you.  He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder.  Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered.  He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat. 

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch.  It steals your breath like a real kiss would. 

“I’m going to touch you,” he says.  “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you.  Only if I like you.” 

You cannot find any witty quips to return.  He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else.  You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off.  Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning. 

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees.  Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them.  Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt.  You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more.  He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if.  He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry. 

“Oh,” is the only sound you make.   Your breathing is very loud.  It says a lot on its own. 

He is breathing a little harder too.  He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans.  He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off.  You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle. 

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says.  He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower.  His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it.  “But I think I like you, birthday girl.”  He opens another button.  “I think I can make an exception.”  He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.” 

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs.  You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements. 

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking.  You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease.  You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips.   Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face. 

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles.  You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you.  “What will you give me for it?” 

“Anything,” you say.  “You can do anything to me.  You can have all of me.” 

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases.  “By fucking your way out of them?” 

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout. 

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours.  “I am.  I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.”  He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.   

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips.  This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling.  This is all new, but he is also familiar.  You are enjoying this, him, you together.  

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders.  It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too.  He looks at you with more intensity. 

“You said I can anything?” he asks. 

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees.  He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat.  You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you.  Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh. 

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says.  “Our secret, remember?” 

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion.  You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax.  He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching.  He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves. 

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says.  “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake.  “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says.  “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me.  That’s pretty dirty.  What would everyone out there say?” 

Shocked.  They would be shocked if they even believed it.  You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago.  But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough.  You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance.  He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you.  “That just made you needier, didn’t it?  Tsk.” He sighs dramatically.  “I don’t usually offer that.  It’ll cost you.” 

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again. 

“What a bargain,” he says.  He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket.  He even seems to make a show of that.  He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath.  When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up.  He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat. 

“You know the rules,” he says.  “Hands there or I tie them up.  That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you.  He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again.  You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands.  He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt. 

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting.  He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room.  You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked.  Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin. 

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud.  He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that. 

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after.  He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you.  It is a scrutinous stare again.  You undoubtedly have questions for each other.   For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high.   “Well,” you say.  “That might have been worth page seventeen too.” 

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.  He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you.  It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago.  It leaves you as breathless as everything else. 

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.” 

[your-nanas-house]

I have an idea for a smutty dark/Dom Tommy fic if you're open to writing it! I'm not sure on a plot but involing him wearing and keeping on his leather gloves, thank you in advance!!!

Yessssss, love it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not a virgin anymore

(credits to the owner of the gif)

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X Finn's girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, age gap (both off age), fingering, dry humping, mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy checks if Finn's girl is as pure as he claims.

◇ Note: Sorry if it took me so long. A huge thank you to @mrkdvidal1989 that helped me so much, you helped me so much with my mood and the writing of this. Thank you 😭 Also It's pretty much a collab.

“I think I wanna marry her” Finn informed his brothers without being able to hold back a bright grin, his eyes scanning them as he waited for a reply, any advice or.. a comment of any kind at least.

He knew that he was quite young to think about marriage, since he hit adulthood just two years before, but the emotions he felt for this young woman were true.

As no one opened their mouths to say something, just continuing to glance at each other, Finn spoke up again ”I fookin’ love her” his mood still so eager and happy.. like a puppy in love.

Still nothing, everyone was mostly waiting for Thomas to say something, but the older man kept staring blankly at his younger brother, seated on his armchair.. legs open and arms resting there, supporting his head and cigarette as if he was lost in thoughts.

“Nothing to say?” Finn asked, getting impatient, his eyes glancing between the older ones, Tommy and Arthur.

As the youngest brother got clearly frustrated, Arthur cleared his throat.

“Hmm… you fookin’ know her for how long, eh? Nearly six months?” he reminded his brother, mocking him before being interrupted quickly

 “SO? When John married he didn’t even know Esme’s damn name!” Finn quickly pointed out, already getting riled up by the situation. 

Fin always did that. Hating how his brothers treated him because of the age difference, completely oblivious to the fact that he… was acting very childish too often for Tommy to see him as an equal to John or Arthur. 

His poorly thought-out decisions and lack of discipline when it came to listening to orders of his older brothers were playing a huge part in how Thomas viewed him. 

”Have you thought about the responsibilities that come with becoming a Shelby, Fin? Have you already introduced them to your chosen one? Risk Our ways and how we deal with things?.. Have you thought about that? Huh?” He pressed, leaning forward as his patience ran short with how snappy Fin was. Lack of respect was just another thing he despised in his younger brother.

”I-I…” The young man stammered out, looking for any line to defend himself.. unsuccessfully, making Thomas scoff while putting out his cigarette into an ashtray. 

”What’s her name again?...” He rasped out, his now free hand tapping impatiently against the fabric of the armchair, his cold gaze piercing his brother's face without a hint of any positive emotions.

“Y/n..Y/n Y/l/n” Finn replied in a murmur, his older brother’s comments affecting him more than he wished they would. 

The name kept repeating in Thomas’ head, before a cocky amused smirk cracked his serious expression.

“Now I get why yer want to marry her” he chuckled bitterly leaning forward, face to face with Finn. 

“She’s as good as her mother, eh?” he asked mockingly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey “You don’t marry whores, you just tame them, Finn. Am I right?” he asked his other two brothers with amusement in his voice, not really expecting an answer.

His mischievous mood changed quickly as Finn suddenly got up from his seat.

“She’s not!.. She’s not like her mother.. She's a good girl, goes to church, helps around and works in the local bakery." The youngest Peaky Blinder informed them, narrowing his eyes at Tommy’s reaction. Watching with a clenched jaw as the older man hummed mockingly, gulping fast down the strong drink before he spoke again, not changing his attitude.

 “A good girl, huh… I bet”, making the other laugh at Finn as well.

“It’s true! You… I’ll make you fookin’ meet her”

.

It took him just a couple of days to organise a meeting between them, inviting them all to her house. It was a pretty cosy, little, modest house settled in Small Heath. Nothing fancy but it was visible that the people living there were doing their very best to keep it nice. 

The male part of the family of Shelby's stood on the porch on the agreed day and time. 

Their expensive suits looking odd contrasting with the domestic and homey look of the building and little wooden decorations standing in the garden. 

Finn was smiling, standing at the forefront of the group while Arthur and John kept joking back and forth, in front of Tommy, whose face remained serious and uninterested as he waited. 

After knocking on the door, they didn't have to wait long before an old woman, probably in her 60s, appeared in the doorway. A friendly smile lingering on her wrinkled face that looked great accompanied by the dark pink dress she wore.

”Good morning, Mister” She spoke up seeing Finn, earning a polite smile from him. They clearly had met each other previously, so she wasn't very alarmed by the sight of four men in suits standing at the door. “Good morning, nana” Finn greeted, removing his hat for respect, cleaning his shoes before entering the familiar house, heading directly towards the living room. 

John was the next to enter the house, along with Arthur, a smirk still on his face due to the jokes they were sharing previously 

“Good morning, na— Mrs. Y/l/n” he corrected himself quickly as Arthur slapped the back of his head “Be fookin’ polite” he murmured under his breath, smiling at the older woman before kissing her hand as he bowed his head slightly “Good morning, ma’am, thank you for inviting us into your house” he stated, winking before following the direction Finn took, not noticing the weird side eye Tommy gave him as he cleaned his soles before walking in as well with the same unbothered expression. 

”Mornin’” Thomas nodded, keeping his cap on. After all he didn't come here for a tea, he had his own purpose. 

Purpose of proving Finn how wrong he was when it comes to little Y/n. 

The older woman’s eyes widened as she felt the weird, intimidating aura surrounding the middle brother. Mumbling her greeting, she quickly disappeared into the kitchen, chatting with Arthur and John as she put the kettle on the stove. 

As Finn tried to head towards the same direction, Tommy's calloused hand grabbed his shoulder roughly. Turning him to face him, he leaned to his level. The serious and business expression on his face. 

”I’m going to have a chat with your little fiancé, eh? You stay there and entertain the old woman and your brothers while I check if she is who you say she is.” he stated harshly in a fierce voice, his eyes glancing at the older woman and back at him before messing up his hair as if he was still a child. 

Ignoring completely the worried expression on his face, because Thomas was aware that Finn knew better than to ask questions. 

The younger brother stood still for a moment before nodding with a resigned expression, turning around and slowly walking away towards the kitchen. Practically leaving his girlfriend in the lion's mouth. 

It was Tommy’s first time in that house so he didn’t really know where to go, luckily for him Y/n’s soft voice led him to what it looked like a small studio. A pretty dark room, with only one window which was close, it was decorated with lots of books and a wooden desk where the young woman was standing behind, holding an old phone, busy talking with someone.

”Yes, aunty. I'll let her know” she replied with a smile, despite the fact that the person on the other side of the phone couldn't see it, her hand busy playing with the tiny golden chain with a cross. Her eyes moving from the spot she was staring at to move closer to the desk “I have to leave you now, we were supposed to have guests today.. I think they are here already” she informed her, glancing towards the door, getting startled by Tommy’s figure standing there as if he owned the place.

He didn’t say anything to interrupt her call, his gloved hands just woven together in front of him, his head tilted to the side as he watched the girl. 

“I love you too, auntie. Bye” she murmured, hanging up the call to give Tommy’s her complete attention

 “Mr Shelby— Welcome, I didn’t hear you come in…” she started, eyeing him suspiciously, her innocent girl facade. staring back at him.

“Nana doesn’t like when people wear caps inside of her house… it’s a way to show respect” she pointed out, already a bit annoyed by his attitude. Thomas chuckled hearing her words, as he adjusted the peaky cap on his head.

”Nana didn't offer me a cup of tea, which isn't really polite either, eh?” He spoke up with a hint of mockery before entering her room and closing the door behind, making sure to lock it.

“She’s probably still preparing it, we have fresh baked cookies, though.” Y/n pointed out as her expression softened. Her demeanour changed as she tried to keep her temper down. It should have been a calm day but a lot of things that set her off happened, so she wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

Be proper, Y/n thought just like she was always told. Plastering a small smile on her face, her eyes moving from Thomas’ face to the door and back. “They are in the living room, sir,” 

Tommy chuckled at her words, walking slowly further into her room, looking around with a grin as he hummed. 

“That's one way to decorate a girl's room, eh?” He scoffed, eyeing her suggestively, touching the colourful figurines standing on shelves. ”Definitely furnished to be a whore's own.” he casually pointed out, checking the books casually. “Guess they paid your mom good enough, huh? Family business it is, sweetheart?” the older man moved his gaze towards her standing form, smirking amused at her blank stare.

“Pardon?” she stuttered out through her utter shock, her head tilting  to the side.“You here to disrespect a dead woman, Mr Shelby? If so.. You can fucking leave!” she spat out angrily, staring blankly at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and looking away, playing nervously with her cross while she headed to the door.

“My condolences… I’m here because of the sick idea you put in my little brother’s head” Tommy spoke in an emotionless tone, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.. Lighting one without even asking for approval.

“Finn talked about you quite a lot lately, speaking about how pure, innocent, religious… and a good girl you are. You got him quite smitten, eh?” Thomas pointed out after inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing his chin “Well… what I was wondering about was how much of this is actually true.” He murmured, meeting her gaze with a smirk as he moved closer, hand reaching for her chin. “How much of a little saint you actually are, eh? Sweetheart.” he added, blowing out the smoke in her face, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as she looked into his empty, blue eyes. 

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his harsh tone, her eyes narrowing as her mouth remained shut. Struggling in his grip, she tried to free herself, unsuccessfully. 

She was losing her patience quite quickly and it wasn't something that happened frequently… but there she was, angrily standing in front of what was the most feared man of Birmingham.

“I am.. I'm.. intact, if that's your concern, Mr. Shelby” She informed him in a sarcastically pleasant tone, a hint of harsh arrogance clear as day, caused by how annoyed she was by the conversation they were having. 

Her small hands curling into fists, squeezing tightly when Tommy just nodded almost mockingly, his icy stare moving across her body slowly, carefully measuring each part of her body. Not worried about gentlemanly manners, Thomas stared, as if he was checking her out.

“Sure” he simply said, the tone of his voice intact, but the look in his blue eyes wasn't trying to hide how little he believed her. Putting out his cigarette, he threw it on the floor while keeping eye contact, showing disrespect to her words and the place she lived. Simply because he could. 

Y/n gasped at his behaviour, quickly moving towards his silhouette as she pushed her finger against his chest, threatening.

“I fucking am, fucking check if you don’t believe me.” she whispered yelled, staring in his eyes boldly as he looked down at her, not a single emotion visible on his face. Almost like he was a statue carved from stone.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, his cold stare piercing her own, before lowering down to her chest which kept heaving with her deep breaths, caused purely by the anger she felt. 

His hand moved to the edge of her dress, grabbing onto the fabric as he tried to raise it up, making Y/n realise his intention quickly and act impulsively… her hand made an impact with his cheek suddenly, throwing his face to the side slightly. Only after a second she realised what she's done, eyes widening in fear at the sight of his skin turning red.

The loud noise echoing in the room, as Tommy’s, now, dark gaze met her fearful eyes. Not a word was exchanged as his hands grabbed her roughly when she tried to escape from him, manhandling her smaller body harshly against the wooden surface of the desk. One hand kept her body flat against it, pressing painfully on the centre of her back, while his other gloved hand pulled up her dress.. revealing her white panties to him.

A hum of approval escaped his lips as he kneaded her flesh, ignoring her whimpers and pleads to stop. The view in front of him, so strangely innocent and pure, made his cock hardening in his pants, in a quite painful way. 

Lowering his icy eyes with his hand he moved her thighs apart, rubbing slowly two thick fingers against her clothed folds.

”Look at that, already wet” he cooed mockingly as he moved his fingers, spreading her wetness by using the fabric of her panties. 

His left hand digging in the flesh of her covered back, to hold her down and to keep his urges under control. It took much more self-control than he thought it would, not expecting that a girl that pretty would take interest in his inexperienced little brother.

Her eyes were tightly shut, forcing her mouth to stay closed, to make sure she wasn't making any noises. Her mind was a mess as his hands travelled down her heat, touching the places that nobody else ever saw. 

As soon as his thumb pressed on her clit, her hips involuntarily jerked forward as she bit her bottom lip, trying to muffle the sigh that so desperately tried to escape her lips.

”So needy, eh? What would your grandma think?” Thomas chuckled, feeling how her body tensed, her hands trying to reach him, and push him off, unsuccessfully.

The young woman was so focused on trying to make him stop that she didn’t notice the moment when he pulled her panties to the side, allowing the cold breeze of the room to hit her wet bare pussy. 

“No, please– sir!” she yelled in a moment of panic, Tommy’s free hand quickly covering her mouth as he toyed with her folds, opening her so that he could take a look that sent shivers down his spine. That sure was a pretty pussy, he thought while daring to move his index finger to her entrance. 

Her sweet nectar wetting his gloved hand, making it even more noticeable “Look at you, sweetheart” he cooed mockingly again, as his finger pushed slightly deeper, in need to find out the truth.

Angling it slightly to the side, with a tip of his digit he could feel the thin barrier that was in the way of her tight tunnel.

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, his wet lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

”So innocent, aren't you? Such a small, untouched cunt.” He breathed out, the urge to fuck her becoming increasingly stronger.

Letting out a breath, he pressed his index finger inside without even warning her… just grunting quietly into her ear, as she bit down his hand because of the pain.

So tight and warm, he thought. Tommy could feel how wet she was as he moved his gloved finger against her walls, biting on his bottom lip as he kept going further.

By the way she was moving it looked like it hurt her, as if she was feeling the burning sensation. One felt by a pure woman when her cherry was about to be popped.

“I guess you were right, honey” Tommy hummed, now circling her clit with her gloved hand, his middle finger helping his index one to feel her hymen before pressing against it harshly. Leather covering his hands caused his fingers to appear even thicker, stretching her pussy out so much that they both had to fight the urge to groan at the feeling. 

Tommy's cock was fully hard at this point, leaking with precum into his underwear as his fingers explored the depths of her virgin pussy.

His eyes daring to close, so that his mind could wander in places it shouldn’t. The mere thought of his thick cock wrapped and squeezed for dear life by her pussy was driving him wild, making his finger start to thrust faster as he moved his hips against nothing, just unable to fight the fantasy that he was inside of her precious cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey” he praised, moving his wrist in a quick motion, leaning closer again. His hot breath hitting her neck with each exhale. ”I knew you were a little slut.” He rasped out in a shaky voice, struggling to keep his composure while feeling her pussy clench down on his fingers like a vice. 

“Can feel your filthy cunt squeezing my fingers. Yer fookin’ close, aren’t ye?” he growled in a low tone, parroting back mockingly her noises of pleasure. 

Y/n cried out at the humiliation and the overwhelming feeling in her lower belly. Despite her desperate attempts to not give into it, she couldn't fight it as he kept fucking her with his thick, gloved fingers.

”Give it to me. Stop fighting it.” He commanded through his teeth, as he felt his cock throbbing impatiently in his pants, demanding attention. 

”N-no!” She pleaded quietly, trying her best to suppress the tension that pushed her on the edge of her first orgasm. Breathing deeply, she caught his wrist, trying to stop him, but Tommy just laughed quietly. 

”There you go” He whispered, leaving a small kiss on her temple before shoving his fingers knuckle deep, fucking her with hard and quick strokes, curling his fingers up to hit her g spot with each thrust. 

His other hand was clamped over her mouth, which she ended up biting as he made her cum so hard, that just a couple seconds into the orgasm, her body shook and vision went blurry as her juices shot out on his hand, wetting his glove when she squirted for the very first time in her life. 

Y/n’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she trembled, muscles relaxing as the feeling got… way too much. She was too long gone in her pleasure to notice at first the sound of his belt clicking open, the zip of his pants being pulled down with the fabric, so that his cock was finally free. 

After licking his gloves from her wetness, he grabbed a hold of her hips, pressing his rock hard cock against her flesh, hsi eyes fluttering shut when he started to move his hips. Grinding at an animalistic pace, his main goal his own pleasure.

He needed to rub his cock, keeping it squeezed tightly between their bodies, for a couple of minutes to finally shoot his load on her lower back.

As they both breathed heavily, he moved carefully away from her, gathering his cum with his hand to shove it in her mouth before fixing his suit and walking out of the room without a word.

He walked followed with the same powerful aura, at a fast pace towards the front door 

“Let’s go” Thomas ordered his brothers while walking to the front door, patting Finn’s shoulder with a serious expression 

“She’s not a virgin… anymore” he informed him as he stole a cookie and walked out, nodding at the old lady with a crooked grin. 

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter, @mrkdvidal1989

[celestialxgarden]

· ──── · ♡ · ──── · What will you love most and dislike the most about your future spouse?

· ──── · ♡ · ──── ·

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘Disclaimer: I do not own any of these images. All credit belongs to their original owners. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Within, your flesh is an endless light. Within, your veins contain a tranquility.”

- Ingeborg Bachmann

•··············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•··············•∘•·············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•···············•

Pile 1

What you’ll love most.

You’ll love how responsible they are. Your future spouse is really good at managing different aspects of life. They are incredibly organized and are able to keep track of a lot of things. I have a feeling that they’ll probably be a Virgo or have Virgo placements quite prominent in their chart.

You’ll also love how adaptable they are. Your future spouse is able to adjust themselves to different circumstances really well. This is something you’ll appreciate because they will also be this way with you. I get the sense that if you guys were ever in a disagreement that you’ll be able to come to a compromise fairly quickly.They don’t have a rigid way of thinking. They are also not the type to be holding grudges. I get the vibe that they are able to move on from difficult situations fairly easily. They don’t tend to hold on to the past. Your future spouse also has a very forgiving nature and they tend to want to see the best in people.

I get the idea that they might have different forms of income. They seem like they’re very financially stable. They are really good at managing their money. This is someone that probably has very good credit.

What you’ll dislike the most.

You future spouse is someone that likes to be alone a lot. I get the vibe that they are not the type to go out much. They have a more introverted personality. I also get the impression that they won’t often share what exactly they’re doing when they’re spending time with themselves.

This could potentially bother you in some way. They are probably not up to anything bad. I get the feeling that the reason this side of them bothers you, is because they’re shutting you out in some type of way. They’re not fully letting you into their world. Your future spouse is the type of person that just needs a lot of alone time to reflect and recharge, it’s nothing personal against you. They are also just generally a very private person, so they don’t really like to share their thoughts and feelings. I also feel like they could come across as detached some times or a bit distant. They are not really an expressive person, so they could seem to be more indifferent. I think it might bother you that your not able to read them easily, that your not sure what’s going on in their head. I think you’ll worry sometimes if they even still like you.

Your future spouse is someone that shows affection by doing things for you and by making sure that you are alright, that you have everything you need. They’ll probably like to buy you gifts to cheer you up.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚ ｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩

Pile 2

What you’ll love most.

Your future spouse is a very dynamic and active type of person. They like to partake in a lot of different activities. They have a lot of energy. They don’t like to sit still and do nothing. They have to be able to do something or get their body moving in some way. You’ll really like this about them. You’ll love how active and full of energy they are.

Your future spouse is also someone that is very quick to act. When they want to do something they just do it. They’re not the type to ponder over it first. They have a bit of a impulsive personality. This could get them in trouble sometimes. I feel like sometimes they’ll just say something without thinking and it could offend someone or hurt their feelings.

Your future spouse is someone that is always on the go. They’re always trying to progress in some way.

I also get the feeling that your future spouse is someone that likes to party a lot. They are very social and they like meeting new people. They have a lot of friends. They really like to have fun and to indulge in the pleasures of life. Sometimes they indulge themselves a little too much.

What you’ll dislike most.

I feel like your future spouse spends too much time with their friends or other people like their coworkers and this could bother you. There might be some type of project that they’ll be working on with multiple people, so a lot of their time and energy might be going to that. I also feel like they can be kind of deceptive at times. They might for instance say that they are at work, but in reality are doing something else. Your future spouse may also come across as superficial. They are very concerned with their overall image. They often think about what others might think of them. They also strongly focus on their accomplishments a lot and what they have achieved. They bring this up often and like to boost about it and this could annoy you potentially.

I get the impression that your future spouse is a bit of a flirt. They’re sort of a social butterfly, so sometimes they’ll unconsciously start flirting with people. They’re not necessarily trying to do this on purpose, but it kind of happens uncontrollably. This may make you feel jealous. I don’t get the impression that they would cheat on you though, they’re just very flirtatious.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚ ｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩

Pile 3

What you will love most.

Your future spouse is a natural born leader. They have this compelling sort of charisma that draws people towards them. They very naturally inspire devotion from others which makes people respect them. They also know how to take initiative. They’re the type of person that knows how to make things happen and take control of their life. They have a very strong amount of self belief and are very confident. You’ll really love this about them.

I feel like this is someone that has not received a lot of help in their life. They’ve had to accomplish a lot of things on their own and this is something you’ll really respect about them. They’re not the type to ask for help or handouts, they prefer to do things on their own. I feel like this has given them a lot of strength and made them very determined.

Your future spouse is also very ambitious. Once they have a goal in mind, they’ll do anything to achieve it. They are someone with a strong vision. When they imagine something in their head, they want to make it a reality. They’re not afraid to take risks. They’re very fearless in that regard. Your future spouse also has a very intense, strong aura. They radiate a lot of heat and energy. This person has a lot of masculine energy. Their energy feels very potent and direct. They come across as very intense. I also feel like they feel things very intensely. I think your future spouse has strong Scorpio placements.

What you’ll dislike the most.

Your future spouse can be emotionally immature at times. Because they feel everything so deeply, they sometimes overreact to situations when it isn’t necessary. At times their inner world is very chaotic and they can have extreme forms of emotional outbursts. Their emotions can get very turbulent to the point of being destructive. These type of outbursts generally happen when they feel very stressed or when they feel like they’re under a lot of pressure.

I get the impression that your future spouse purposefully puts themselves in high stress environments where they’re pushed to their limits. They like putting themselves in dangerous situations where they’ll really be tested. They have this idea that this is where I have to be and this is what I have to do in order to grow, to become better.

I think the reason that you’ll dislike this the most is because they won’t always take responsibility for what has happened. I feel like they fall into a victim mentality at times. They’ve kinda accepted that this is who they are and they feel like they’ll always going to be like that. They sometimes have this martyr attitude towards themselves or they view themselves as this tortured person, which is really interesting because other people view them as this radiant being who has a lot of personal power.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚ ｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩

Thank you all for reading 💜

[baby-yongbok]

His

Boyfriend!Seungmin x Afab!Reader x Best Friend!I.N

♡ Genre - Explicit Sexual Content [MDNI] - Non-idol ♡ Word Count - 1.9k ♡ Summary - No matter where you are or who’s around you are his. His and only his. 

♡ Warnings - Dom!Vocal Racha & Sub!Reader, light BDSM themes, Creampie, Orgasm denial and control? ♡ A/N - I rarely write for I.N and I wanna change that. I have some other works about him but I never finish them (I have so much that I've never finished) anyway, I thought I'd give it a shot with a little Vocal Racha smut! Hope you enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI

✧ Masterlist ✧ Banner Credit to @rookthornesartistry

You asked for this. You begged for it actually, you got on your hands and knees and blinked up at Seungmin with pretty brown eyes and blushed cheeks for this. And he said yes.

“Shaking already?” Your boyfriend circles you as you sit on display. There’s a spreader bar between your legs and a magic wand vibrator tied to your inner thigh in intricate shibari detail. The head of the vibrator rests against your clit, it’s set at a tantalizingly high setting that effortlessly milks moans from you. “Why haven’t you cum yet?”

He leans into your face and you pry your eyes open to meet his teasing smirk. There’s a sparkle of enjoyment in his eyes that sends a shock down your spine. “Trying.” You whimper. 

“Not hard enough.” He clicks his tongue, standing straight and turning his attention to the magic wand. He jostles it a bit, rubbing it against your swollen bud and making a heavy tear fall from the corner of each eye. “Ya better hurry, I didn’t charge this thing.”

You whine, a new wave of desperation sweeps over at you with the anxiety of the vibrator dying hanging over your head. “Cock, please fill me, please.”

“Who are you asking, baby?” Seungmin coos, you can hear the smile in his voice. “Me or him?”

You turn your head to the other side of the bed and your gaze meets Jeongin’s instantly. He’s made himself comfortable. His jeans and boxers are pushed down just enough to free his dick. The length is throbbing in his hand that lazily strokes his shaft. 

“Him.” You use your sweet tone. The one that you use on Seungmin to get you out of situations that you know won’t work in your favor. Your boyfriend has become immune to the tone but his best friend isn’t.

“You want me?” Jeongin cocks an eyebrow as he stands, letting his heavy length hang free as he makes his way to you. “You want me to dick you down?” You’re shaking your head fast and hard, just how you want him.

“Did you earn it?” He’s in your face, his fox eyes stare into yours and your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ve been good.” Jeongin and Seungmin both tsk, they share a glance before Jeongin brings his long fingers to your pubic mound. “Please, Innie.” You use your sweet tone again.

“You haven’t cum for us yet.” Jeongin trails his hand over to the shaking head of the vibrator and presses it down against your clit. You scream, trying your best to close your legs against the bar holding you open but it’s no use. 

“Can't, c-can’t. Oh fuck fuck.” Your orgasm rushes up your legs before you can even blink. It sends chills up your spine and makes your cunt clench in dripping need. It’s gonna hit you, you’re gonna cum. It’s coming, coming, gone.

“Ah, looks like it died, princess.” You cry into the hot air. Tears stream down your cheeks as your throbbing clit nearly burns with the desperate need that’s built up behind the nerves. 

“I warned you.” Seungmin laughs as he undoes the knots of string keeping the vibrator attached to you. He strokes the inside of your thigh softly as he watches you, checking to make sure that you’re still okay. “I’ll be nice today.” 

Seungmin’s fingertips brush up and down your leg as he scans you. His eyes gloss over your heaving chest and the sweat beading at the curls of your hairline. “I’ll let it slide since you’ve been so good, but if you don’t cum on his cock you won’t be cumming on mine.”

You nod your head as Jeongin wipes away the stray tears trailing down the side of your face. “Thank you, sir. I’ll cum on his cock I promise.” Your boyfriend smiles down at you before looking over at his best friend. 

“Tell him that.” Seungmin orders and you waste no time following. 

“I’m gonna cum on your cock, Innie.” You look over to the copper haired man leaning over you with one hand resting gently on the side of your face and the other lazily stroking his cock. 

“Yeah? Let’s see.” His fingers wrap around the bar between your legs and he pulls you over to him to position you correctly. Your ass is at the edge of the bed, the bar is in one of his hands while he lines himself up at the hole of your cunt with the other. “Look at your boyfriend for me.”

Seungmin’s finger is tilting your chin up and to the side before you can even comply. He has his dick out now. It’s heavy in his hand and you watch for a second while his fingers polish over the blushed head. “Look me in the eye, pup.”

You obey, shifting your gaze quickly and blinking up at him with that fucked out glaze that he loves. 

Jeongin is pushing into you before you can even take a deep breath to prepare for him. He splits you open so deliciously. His cock sinks in with a lewd squelch that earns a groan from Seungmin, It was either that or the way that your eyes crossed and fluttered shut once Jeongin bottomed out. 

This is what you wanted. This is what you begged for. 

“She’s fucking tight.” Jeongin nearly whines as you clench around him. “Fuck, this cunt is gonna make me nut fast.”

“I told you.” Jeongin pulls his hips back, thrusting into you slowly a couple of times to get used to the way that he fits inside of you. “She’s got a perfect little pussy. Gotta fight not to finish quickly with her.”

You grip the comforter beneath you as Jeongin sets into a steady pace. He’s a tad thicker than Seungmin so the drag of him along your walls sets a new fire up your spine and against the arched soles of your feet. You’re moaning, whining, crying. Any and everything that you can think of to show them how you feel, to show them how good this feels. 

You force your eyes open to watch as Seungmin leans back on his elbow and fist his dick at the sight of his best friend fucking you. His brows are knit together and his mouth is just slightly agape as he bites the tip of his tongue. 

“C’mon, gotta cum before I do, baby.” You turn your attention to Jeongin as he growls above you, he presses the spreader bar back more towards the mattress, opening you up further for him to abuse new parts of your cunt. He sinks deeper, thrusting faster into that sweet soft spot that makes you see stars. 

“Innie, fuck fuck, too deep. So deep so so - shit, Jeon- fuck.” Words dissolve on your tongue as he sets into a brutal pace. His balls smack against your ass and sweat drips down the valley of your breasts as he pants above you. He’s watching you with a keen gaze, studying and savoring you. 

“You said - you said that you’d cum on my cock, baby.” He pounds into you, pushing himself to the hilt and swirling his hips against you. The tip of his dick kisses your cervix and you scream. You’re crying again, tears flow down your cheeks as the hot prick of your orgasm tumbles towards you. 

As good as it feels, it’s all too much. Too intense, too good. You put your arms out in front of you and push against his toned torso. Your fingers splay over his strong stomach as you beg for him to slow down. He doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because you don’t want him to. You have a safe word and if you really wanted him to stop you’d use it just like Seungmin taught you to. 

“Don’t be like that.” Jeongin grunts above you as he gathers both of your wrists with his free hand. He pins your hands above your head with what used to be his only free hand. “Take it, Seungminnie said you’d be a good girl.” 

You look over at Seungmin mid moan. “Don’t embarrass him.” Your boyfriend stares back at you, angry red tip of his cock in his hands. Its swollen and ready to fucking burst. Just one more swipe over the tip and he’s cumming. 

“Holy shit, pup. That’s it, that’s it. Fuck.” He blows his load all over his hand, it leaks down to his thighs and covers the expanse of his pubic mound. He watches his leaking tip with pinched brows as he huffs heavy breaths through flared nostrils. It’s hot, so fucking hot.

“Shit, baby I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking nut if you squeeze me like that.” You squirm under Jeongin’s tight grip. Your orgasm is right there. It’s right there, it’s coming. He feels so good, he fills you so perfectly but you just can’t. You just can’t fucking cum. “Oh fuck, baby, please cum.”

Jeongin is begging you and you’re starting to feel desperate. You blink up at him with fraught and hazy eyes. You can feel it. The pleasure is pricking behind your clit so deliciously but it just won’t spill over. It just won't -

Seungmin’s fingers wrapping around your throat snap you out of your desperate haze. His glazed eyes stare back at yours with a domineering gaze. You stare back at him and you feel yourself slipping into a trance. One that only your boyfriend can control.

“Four, three, two, one. Cum.” You’re screaming. Writhing underneath Jeongin so violently that he has to let your wrists go to hold your hips in place so that he doesn’t slip out of your cunt. Jeongin fucks you through your climax as his own washes over him. 

“Fucking hell.” Seungmin’s groans and grunts mix in with Jeongin’s as the maknae fills you with ropes of his overflowing seed. It seeps out of you even with his cock plugging your clenching hole. 

“Ah, fuck you’re so full.” Jeongin hisses as his orgasm subsides. 

He pulls out once he starts getting soft, leaving a sticky trail of cum behind before plopping back against the empty side of the mattress. “Color?” Seungmin asks in between heavy panting

“Green.” You murmur, your head is still spinning and after shocks are still jolting through you as you try to catch your breath. 

“Get that leg, Innie.” Seungmin unbuckles the ankle on his side from the spreader bar and Jeongin does the one on his side. Your legs slump against the mattress once they’re free. You keep just enough space between them to not overstimulate yourself.  

“Did you cum again, hyung?” Innie asks as he holds your hand and soothes you through your floating headspace. 

“I did, yeah.” 

“Just from watching, noona cum?” Seungmin shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he watches you. His sweet fucked out, baby. He doesn’t answer, instead he just hums as he grabs the aftercare kit. 

He wants to say that Jeongin would cum untouched too if his girlfriend needed him in order to climax. If his pretty baby wouldn’t cum for any other man but him he’d find himself leaking at the mere thought of it. 

They clean you up as you drift in and out of your sleepy haze, still fucked out and submissive. You do as Jeongin tells you while they clean you up. Lifting your arms and legs as he asks and Seungmin smiles as he watches because even through everything that just happened you proved something to him. 

You proved that no matter who you invite into your bedroom. No matter where you are or who’s around, you are his. His and only his.

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[mymegumi]

GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library—all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.”

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never… pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

[screeching-bunny]

Need more of our yan slasher,he's so pookie,i wanna bite his cheeks (in a affectionate way) and cuddle with him until the end of times,he's such a cutie 😭💗

Yandere! Slasher Pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

After reading the message sent by Yandere! Slasher, everyone subconsciously looked at you. Never in your life did you want to go home more badly than you did right now. Why did you even decide to go to a party in the first place? You don’t even like people in general! You were definitely never going out to socialize with others after this. If only there were more booze around here you really didn’t want to handle this situation semi sober.

You: “... What are you all looking at me for, they gave out a very vague description of someone. This could literally be anyone in this room with similar features to me.”

The next minute the phone screen immediately lights up with a message.

Yandere! Slasher: “I’m talking about you.”

You: “...”

After a few more seconds of silence, you finally managed to suppress the fear and uneasiness in your heart. You took the phone from the person beside you and carefully looked back at the messages that were sent by Yandere! Slasher. Finally looking down at the text box you begin to slowly type a message.

You: “Sorry, I don’t like guys with dark hair.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I can always dye it.”

You: “I don’t like your face.”

Yandere! Slasher: “There’s always plastic surgery”

You: “How do I know that you're rich? What if you’re lying and actually not broke.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I’ll buy you whatever you want right now. I can even send you my credit card information if you decide to be with me.

Damn you were broke but not broke enough to allow yourself to be with some killer. If it weren’t for your morals you would have probably folded by now.

Yandere! Slasher: “Well it’s not like you have a choice anyways. I plan on making you my spouse either way. You can either come with me willingly or I could take you by force…. Well looks like you’re taking too long. I'll decide for you.”

With that text message sent, you immediately began to feel queasy. You were struggling to keep your eyes wide open and your body was beginning to become very sluggish. Slowly but surely your senses were starting to stop and the last thing that you were able to hear were the sound of your peers screaming for help. With one last attempt to get out of your situation, you try to slowly crawl away. Only for your attempts to be interrupted when someone gently picks you up. “You’re not going anywhere cutie.” and with that you were now fully unconscious.

—

The next morning you woke up with the world’s worst hangover in the world. Never in your life did you feel this fucked up and and groggy all at once. You begin to raise up your body but soon realize that your body was tightly restricted by some rope and you were wrapped in the arms of some guy. The immediate thought in your head was that this was, last night was either the kinkiest night of your life or some random weirdo had ended up kidnapping you. Due to your movements the man next to you begins to wake up and looks over to you with a smile on his face.

“Cutie! I’m so glad you’re awake. We have so many things that we need to discuss right now! I’ve been thinking about the names of our future kids. Do you have any preferences? I don’t really mind what we name them but I want a lot of kids! Wait! I’m being so inconsiderate right now. I never even asked you if you wanted kids. If you don’t like them we can adopt as many pets as we physically can and we–”

As he was rambling it finally hit you. He was the fucking weirdo from the night before. You wanted to fucking die. Never in a million years did you think that you’d have to deal with a serial killer and an extrovert at that. Maybe if you pretended to be deaf he would stop talking to you. You begin to look at him and begin to make gestures with your head and facial expressions to signify that you were deaf. Yandere! Slasher looks at you for a few minutes before laughing.

“Sweetie, that's not going to work. I’ve been stalking you for the last couple of years. I know that you’re not deaf. Besides I’ve looked at your medical, you're perfectly healthy right now. Which reminds me, my precious little darling must be starving right now. It’s my job as your future husband to take care of you. Now wait right here for me.”

With that he leaves you entrapped alone in the room. Although your eyes were still a little blurry you were still able to make out the contents of the room. Scanning the room, your eyes fell upon a glint of metal under a desk —a discarded tool left by neglect or chance. Adrenaline surged as you inched closer, your heart racing in synchrony with your movements. With trembling fingers, you grasped the tool, the cold touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of determination, you started sawing at the ropes, each movement a blend of agony and hope. The metallic smell of blood filled your nose as the sharp edges of the tool cut into your skin. With each passing second, the knots loosened, freedom within tantalizing reach. With one last rough movement you were able to be free of your binds. As you made your way towards the window. A creak soon shatters the silence and the door swings open. Revealing your kidnapper's looming silhouette.

“Look at you all covered in blood because I left the room. Did you really think I would leave the room without any monitors watching you? I was hoping that you wouldn't try to escape but I guess I’ll have to be training you from now on cutie. Guess I’ll have to punish you right now. Do me a favor and lay down won’t you?”