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soft4gguk · 3 months ago

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yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever.

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself.

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people.

You think of him.

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close.

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter.

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too.

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call.

You check the time.

2:32 A.M.

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with.

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know.

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh.

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore.

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being.

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone.

He gets it now – the pull.

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you.

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase.

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes.

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now.

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, that too.”

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter.

Yearning.

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it.

Yeah – yearning.

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away.

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how.

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now.

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them.

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer.

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life.

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome.

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass.

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from.

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face.

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.”

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side.

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears.

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.”

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you.

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you.

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat.

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question.

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking.

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really?

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?”

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count.

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out.

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom.

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him.

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him.

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again.

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours.

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same.

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his.

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug.

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.”

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet.

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment.

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in.

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen.

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years.

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction.

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close.

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him.

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you.

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours.

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him.

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly.

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now.

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back.

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit.

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm.

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him.

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again.

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough.

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at.

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully.

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go.

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure.

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.”

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again.

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive.

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock.

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.”

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ.

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game.

He said he’d never forget that day.

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say.

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh.

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap.

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips.

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind.

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his.

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips.

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited.

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably.

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest.

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall.

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you.

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you.

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away.

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper.

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too.

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down.

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior.

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts.

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.”

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

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truetogaia · 1 year ago

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I had too much alc yesterday jesus.

#oops this almost looks like a confession to jesus #HAHA #i had two pink drinks #three shots #one gin tonic #one passion fruit drink or something #KEEP IN MIND THAT ALL THESE HAD 1-2 SHOTS IN THEM #and another one that was a mix of #like raspberry and passion fruit #MMMM

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zae-heeyyy · 5 months ago

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Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

#peep the angel number word count #all banners made by be #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 photography #read dead redemption 2 photography #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #wait i used 3 word counters and they all gave different numbers so idk what that's about. grammarly says 2222 though so 🤷🏾‍♀️#zaefic #amje

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rafeyybabyy · 21 days ago

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max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

fluorescent - @scuderiahoney

“motorsport is a dog eat dog world, and you know that better than most. it’s not often you meet someone who understands, who shines a light on all the darkness, but max might just be the perfect person for it”

first loser - @itsgodepi

“in the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. your every move and word being dissected for days on end as you simply try to navigate your rookie year in formula one. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken max verstappen, whose relentless jabs only add to your frustrations”

zandvoort, nl - @frogstappen

“you watch max's home race from the red bull garage”

a different light - @userlando

"you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend)"

coming of age - @keerysfreckles

“in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season”

tying you to me - @pierregazly

“[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you)”

denial is a man’s best friend - @marlenesluv

“ y/n and max have been friends since karting years, and now? now, they’re teammates at redbull. they are one of the best teammate duos in the grid, but what happens when max catches feelings?…or when everyone but them notices they are in love but themselves”

baby steps - @forteafy

“you've always been mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. all it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all”

pick you up - @scuderiahoney

“when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls”

temptations - @no-144444

“you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?”

never an interruption- @fastandcarlos

“you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life”

little big fan - @thef1diary

“your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted max, her favourite driver. meeting you, max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. so of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the dutch grand prix”

series

rule breaker series - @coff33andb00ks

“max has it all...right? besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. until... you moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles”

smau

yuck! series - @maxlarens - smau

“your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear”

won gold - @maxverstappendefender - smau

“olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)”

miami baby - @norrisainz33 - smau

“actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush”

worlds biggest fan - @astonmartinii - smau

“y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

#max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fic rec #formula 1 fic rec #b's fic recs #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 fic #mv1 fic rec

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inevesgf · 1 month ago

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UNDER THE LIGHTS • LANDO NORRIS

catching lando norris' eye at a halloween party isn't the best of attention you could ensnare, especially when you're masking your not-so-innocent personality with white wings and a halo.

content + warnings: 18+ smut with plot, p in v, female!reader, swearing, dirty talking, semi-public sex, no strings attached, mentions of alcohol + drinking, slightly intoxicated sex, clitorial stimulation, teasing!reader, mentions of bruises, unprotected sex. word count 2.5k.

even though lando isn't one of my favorite drivers, damn he is so fun to write for. if you would like to be tagged in upcoming works from this special, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated and don't forget to tell me your thoughts via comment, reblog or ask.

as you entered the party an intoxicating mix of laughter and music filled your ears, the bright lights casting shadows that danced upon the wall. light smoke filtered through the air, adding to create the perfect atmosphere as your friends piled in behind you.

dressed in a flowing white gown that draped elegantly on your body, you looked like a vision of light — an unexpected twist for someone who usually wore their sarcasm like armor. oversized wings – feathered and slightly askew – fluttered behind you as you glided into the crowd. a halo perched atop your head, glimmering with an almost mocking brilliance.

you were beyond the frame of innocence or elegance, which almost made your costume all the more perfect, masking your true nature. even though you had thrown the outfit together with items from your closet, eyes hungrily fell onto you as you made your way deeper into the party, a certain pair catching your own gaze with a look of mischief.

it wasn’t until you looked forward and saw lando with his jaw slightly slack that you knew that you had picked the right costume. besides his external shock, there was a hint of a smirk that formed on his lips, his eyes hungry for something that made your stomach turn in excitement.

floating through the crowd, you swiped a shot from the tray a wait-staff member held above their shoulders, you pulled the glass to your lips, quickly downing the alcohol inside.with a satisified hum from your lips, you began your advance towards lando, the amber liquid swirling inside you like a tiny storm as you discarded the empty shot glass onto a nearby table.

“an angel at a party full of sinners,” lando’s voice erupted over the pounding sound of the music, “that’s pretty ironic. couldn’t find a better costume?” a roaring laugh fell past his lips, causing you to playfully roll your eyes before scanning his body. “i could say the same for you – you look exactly like how you dress everyday. it’s a little souless.” you teased, sucking your bottom lip under your teeth as a look of mischief decorated your face.

lando grumbled, taking a sip of the murky gin and tonic that he held lazily in this hand, taking a step closer in order to hear your voice better over the loud music. “i’m a vampire, duh!” he jokingly grumbled, looking down at you with a hint of admiration in his eyes, though his words didn’t show it. “it’s a funny act you got going on, yknow – dressed all innocent, but everyone here knows you’re anything but that.”

you forced out a dry laugh at his words, adjusting the halo that sat above your head as if to mock him. the playful banter between you two was barely audible over the blasting music, but then tension in the air was palpable. “next year, i’m going as the devil. much more fitting, don’t you think?” you cocked, the same stupid smirk decorating your face as if to egg him on with your words, itching to get under his skin.

“definitely,” lando snickered, leaning in just a tad more to the point you could feel the heat radiating off his body, “because right now you’re not fooling anyone.” a satisfied hum fell from your lips, knowing his words were mostly correct. your eyes pooled into his hazel ones as if to undress him simply with your gaze. with hungry eyes, you looked over his costume, his slightly unbuttoned white button-up working perfectly as it fit snug upon his triceps.

“do you bite? since you’re a vampire and all..” a teasing tone poisoned your words, a challenging look decorating your visage. lando chucked dryly at your words, a smirk of surprise coming to rest on his face. he took a small step forward, bringing his head down so he could whisper in your ear, “only if you want me to.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, the smitten look that laid upon your face only growing larger.

you brought your finger to your lips, shushing lando as you pulled him by the collar into the bar bathroom, locking the door behind the two of you. almost immediately, lando’s calloused hands were on you, his fingers carefully trailing down your body as his lips met yours. the kiss was sloppy and hungry, your bodies pulled tightly against each other as the alcohol only suited to broaden the moment.

lando’s hands came down to grip your ass, pulling the hem of your dress up slightly as he squeezed the flesh, eliciting a soft moan from your lips into the kiss. his touch all over you made you feel dirty, and you loved it, your previous sexual tension now finally able to have a place to release itself.

as lando began to pull the hem of your dress up, bunching it around your waist to reveal your lacey thong, you laughed into the kiss, your lips briefly detaching from his. “so eager, huh?” you teased, yet your fingers found themselves delicately coming to unbutton his button-up, your gaze eating him up like a full course meal.

“only for you,” lando growled, his hands lazily resting up your hips as you began to undress him, “especially when you dress like this – all sweet and innocent when i know deep down you’re so dirty.” you laughed sweetly, letting his shirt fall off his shoulders and onto the bathroom floor as you brought your soft lips to his jawline, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“wanna find out?” you breathed against your skin, your manicured nails eagerly finding their way to undo his black dress pants. lando’s breath caught in his throat at your confidence, the usual dominant man melting in your touch. “i’d be sick and twisted to say no,” he smirked, letting your hands dance all over your skin.

as if to regain any bit of dominance he could have had, lando picked you up, his strong arms wrapping around your thighs as he set you onto the sink counter. a small giggle escaped your mouth before you bit your bottom lip, tangling the flesh under your teeth. landos lips immediately landed on your nip, licking and sucking sweetly at your soft skin as he stood between your legs, spreading them with his action.

as he peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth joining in on his movements as he marked your skin, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your thong, eager to rid you of it. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head rest on the mirror behind you, yours eyes closed as your breath became labored. “mhm, yeah, take them off, baby,” you hummed, spreading your legs even more before propping your heels up onto the table you sat upon.

lando didn’t waste any time pulling your thong down your legs, discarding it on the floor with his shirt and the white halo you had lazily pulled off your head. his eyes danced around your body as your cunt was revealed to him, your core glistening with your arousal from lando’s lingering gaze and passionate touches.

“so fucking wet f’me already,” lando growled, one of his hands coming to rest on your inner thigh as he whispered into your ear, “want me to touch you, huh? make you mine, pretty girl?” his erotic words sent a shiver down your spine, your body finding itself on a euphoric high from his touch.

“yeah, fuck me like i’m all yours,” you moaned back, your voice low and sultry as one of your hands found its way in his curls, twirling them slightly between your fingers. lando groaned at your words, your actions only serving for lando’s boxers to tighten more at his arousal.

his fingers danced up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your cunt that throbbed with need. the tension in the room was palpable, the sweat beading across lando’s forehead only displaying to dire need between the two of you as his fingers continued their travel, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

when his cold fingers make contact with your clit, you let out a satisfied moan before reconnecting your lips with lando’s, kissing him feverishly. lando reciprocated, kissing you as if you were the only source of oxygen left on the planet – like if ge didn’t kiss you, he would die. his fingers worked magic around your clit, rubbing tight circles that had your mouth widening against his lips, impatient moans slipping through.

“you like that, huh?” lando teased, his voice escaping at a low growl as his lips brushed against yours, his fingers starting to pick up the pace. you squirmed under his grasp, whines that lando would call pathetic and needy escaping your mouth as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“fucking love it,” you grunted through heavy pants, small little moans escaping your parted lips, “fuck me.” the melodic noises that escaped from you sounded like music to lando’s ears as he chucked dryly at your whiny plea, the vibration sending a tingle straight through your body.

lando was incredibly turned on by everything about you. from the way you teased him, to your moans and your beautifully wet cunt: it was all so perfect to him. he quickly finished undressing himself, pulling his boxers to his thighs to reveal his painfully hard cock, the tip flushed a deep red as precum leaked from it.

the sight was beautiful, your eyes scanned his tone abs and his hard-on as it took center stage. your panting picked you, your body desperate for any form of touch as lando neared you, your legs spreading even more to reveal the mess between your legs. “so beautiful,” lando hummed, positioning himself between your thighs as his hazels eyes looked down on you, his gaze dark and hungry.

his tip teased your entrance, rubbing smooth circles around your clit which dragged a small moan from your lips. the loud bumping of the music could be heard outside the stuffy bathroom, but the sound only continued to drown out as lando pressed into you, your head spinning at the contact.

pushing his hard, thick cock into you, lando grunted, starting to thrust at a pace that was slow enough to already have you begging for more. whines and whimpers left your lips as lando grunted, the deep gaze of his eyes never leaving yours despite the fact you struggled to keep yours open.

“i didn’t know you were so sensitive,” lando cocked, a teasing tone dripping from his words as he fucked harder into you, your knuckles turning white as your fingers dug into his shoulders, “so messy already and i’ve barely begun yet.” his words had you reeling, your clouded mind hardly pushing out a reaction, yet your body jerked, your highs pushing up to meet his thrust.

“you fuck like a mad-man,” you groaned out, hooded eyes staring into his as his dick twitched inside you, your tight cunt holding him snuggly between your walls. lando chuckled dryly once more, your words only suiting to egg him on more as his thrust grew more rapid, sloppy.

lando licked his lips, sweat beading at his forehead as he tried to regain rhymatic thrusts, the tip of his hardened cock never falling to slam into your g-spot as he gripped your thighs. you couldn’t help but let out borderline pornographic moans as you swallowed his cock whole with your cunt, the air in the room stuffy and hot with the aroma of lust.

lando adjusted his angle, his cock only fucking harder into your pussy as erotic words oozed from his mouth, “spread your legs wider, baby.” his tone came out commanding, your fucked out mind too full of bliss as you mindlessly obeyed him, widening your legs to reveal more of your cunt – red and abused from the prior attack of his fingers. “that’s it .. wider,” lando grunted like an animal, his words coming out in huffed sighs as his cock throbbed in your tight pussy.

loud whines and moans fell from your swollen lips, the sound of the music completely drowned out inside the bathroom and replaced with the hums of the ecstasy of pleasure. “look at you,” lando purred, “such a needy girl.” his condescending words pulled you closer to the edge, your cunt sucking him in deeper as the eye contact remained.

“you can do better than that,” the words feeling from your lips between pants, your hooded eyes trying their hardest to not close tightly shut at the pleasure you ensnared, “fuck me harder, lan.” lando grunted at your command, your words sending a shutter of gruff desire through his body that slowly began to grow tired.

another dry chuckle fell from his cracked lips, the action sending a vibration through your body as his thrusts didn’t slow nor quicken. “you’re in no place to tease, baby, look at you,” he mocked, his calloused hands gripping your thighs harder as he now quickened the thrust of his cock into your tight cunt. your head rolled back in pleasure, the grip your hands had on lando’s shoulders only tightening, sure to leave little bruises in their wake. his condescending words did a number on you, your stomach tightening in pleasure as his cock battered harder in your poor cunt, making your body feel weak yet beautifully pleasured.

“so fucking good–” you moaned out again, little ah-ah-ahs falling so carelessly from your parted lips. lando smirked in satisfaction, your praise only suiting him more as he fucked into you vicariously, giving you his all as he felt his climax rapidly approaching.

your stomach began to spin, your walls clenching around lando’s cock that still pumped into you, the vibrancy of your pleasure radiating off you as your moans sang together like an erotic duet. “yeah, cum for me, baby,” lando grunted, panting and heaving as he egged the two of you closer to your orgasms. your body shook with pleasure, your cunt throbbing as a pleasurable warmth flooded over your body.

before you could come to gather your actions, your climax hit you like a train, smalls moans of lando and little oh fucks falling from your reddened lips. quickly after, as if he was so sweetly waiting for you, lando finished. a guttural grunt fell from his parted lips as he did, thick beads of cum spilling onto the finger-printed skin of your thighs, lando’s fingers having left small bruises upon the flesh.

the two of you slowly came down from your high, the air smelling of whiskey and sex as the two of you gathered your senses and began to catch your breath. lando’s eyes never left yours as he slipped his clothes back on, bending his frame down to the ground to pick up your lazily discarded halo.

a satisfied hum escaped his lips as he placed it back onto your head, a smirk decorating his visage as his cheeks remained flush from the extertion. “see,” lando whispered as if to tease you, “i knew you weren’t all that innocent, angel.”

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azrielslittleslut · 1 month ago

Note

I have a lil angst/fluff request if your still taking them. Its a single dad azriel x reader. Where he had a baby with Elain but she took off with Lucien and she left Az with the baby (lets say baby is 6 months old and has no wings). Az is kinda freakin out cuz babies and him hes a lil scared on what to do. While on a mission in day court Az then meets reader who has the most beautiful white feathered wings and hes instantly mesmerized. Hes there for such a short amount of time so he decides to shoot his shot and lands himself a few dates (not once mentioning hes a father). He notices once or twice that reader will not engage or awknowledge babies when or if they smile and coo at her, but he thinks nothing of it. On his last night in the Day Court the bond snaps for him ( but not for her) and hes so so freakin happy, he invites her to Velaris to visit his family and meet his son. Hes a lil nervous about it and when he finally introduces them shes so cold and distant, wont even hold the baby or look at him. She flys back home that same night and tells Az some lame excuse that hes nice but he should have started out saying he had a son. Anyway long story short turns out that she had struggled to have a baby with her husband, and when it finally happend she had a rough birth but holding her baby in her arms was worth the wait.

*Trigger warning*

In the end she felt she failed as a mother and couldnt protect her baby from an enemy she had made from being her husband had also died trying to protect their child, so seeing children was just too painful for her and so she tried to avoid at all costs. I see it going both ways Az waiting yrs for her to heal and coming back for her, Or Az and them working and healing together, You can end however you see fit, or not at all of its too triggering. I just hardley ever see single dad Az freaking out over a lil baby. And scared af reader.

"Wounds"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: talk of child loss/difficult pregnancy, angst, language, fluff, Az being a worried dad, slight Elain slander, happy ending:)

Word Count: 7.8k

a/n: anon, i know this took ages, but i wanted to get it right. i personally have never experienced this, but i hope i did it justice. my thoughts go out to everyone on here who has experienced child loss or hard pregnancies! <3

Enjoy!

"Please stop crying. Please," Azriel begged, his eyes looking worriedly down at the bundle in his arms. No amount of coddling or singing or rocking seemed to soothe the baby, and he was at his wit's end with exhaustion. He held his son close, savoring the warmth radiating from him. "Come on, Ky. What do you need?"

Kyrell, or Ky for short, looked up at Az, his eyes full of tears. His eyes were dark brown, just like his mother's, and Azriel felt a sharp pang in his chest every time he looked at his son. Those eyes brought back memories full of joy, but mostly pain. Azriel couldn't stop his mind from going back to a little over a year ago, back to that day that had changed everything.

"Are you sure, Elain?" Azriel asked, his voice full of anxiety. His shadows swirled around him, sensing the stress of their master. "Have you talked to Madja?"

Elain squared her shoulders, her face like stone. "Madja was the one who confirmed it. I am sure." She rested a hand over her flat belly. "She said I'm only a few weeks along, but she doesn't think the babe has wings."

Az felt a rush of relief wash through his body. He didn't want to remember what had happened with Feyre, and he would rather die than watch Elain suffer the same way. "Are you... happy? I mean, this was unplanned. We were so careful... I don't know how this happened."

They had both been taking the contraceptive tonic, not willing to take any risks since they were so secretive about their relationship. How had this happened?

Elain took a step forward and took his hands in hers. "I am happy, Az. I've always wanted to be a mother," she said, her voice soft. "Yes, this is unexpected, but this baby is a sign of our love. The outcome of a wonderful and beautiful joining that even the cauldron itself couldn't stop."

Azriel's heart swelled in his chest. He pulled his hand from hers, lowering it to rest on her belly. He could already imagine the life growing inside of her, the future they would have together. He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I don't know how to be a father," he admitted. "But we can figure it out together."

Elain wrapped her arms around his waist, careful of his wings. "Together," she agreed.

Those had been fake words and empty promises. Only a few days after Ky's birth, Elain had disappeared quite literally into the night, leaving everything she owned in the townhouse. Az had returned from a short mission in Winter Court to his son crying in his crib and a note on the nightstand saying that Elain had left to be with Lucien. That she had decided to accept the bond and live with him. That she wanted to leave Azriel and their son to live a happy and carefree life.

Unfortunately, being the single father of a newborn didn't give Azriel much time to grieve, or even be angry, about what happened. So he had done what he always did and buried his feelings deep down into his soul. He had a baby to take care of, and he was afraid of what could happen if he let himself feel.

Ky's wail tore through the room, bringing Azriel back to the present. He had cried like this almost every night for the last few weeks, and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't cut out to be a father. He couldn't do this. He should have been more careful with Elain. He should have-

"He's teething," Feyre said from the doorway. She made her way into the room, her footsteps light. "They cry like that when they're teething."

Azriel looked down at Ky as he said, "Does that... hurt them?" He ignored how stupid the question sounded as he asked it.

Feyre smiled softly as she held her hands out. "It's uncomfortable for them, and crying is the only way they can tell you. May I?" she asked, her brows raised in expectation. "I do have some experience with this, you know."

Azriel gently handed Ky to Feyre, his wings drooping to the floor. He had moved into the River House after Elain had left. He had tried to do things on his own, not wanting to inconvenience his family. But after a few weeks of not sleeping, or eating for that matter, Rhys and Feyre had all but dragged him into their home, stating that if he didn't move in with them, they would order it as his High Lord and High Lady.

It had been difficult at first, but now he was so thankful for their help. They knew how to raise a baby because of Nyx, and he gladly accepted any advice they offered. They kept their distance, though, allowing Az to figure out fatherhood on his own.

"I'm sorry if he woke you," Az said quietly. "How long does this last?"

Feyre smiled down at Ky, her hand running over his tuft of black hair. "Until their teeth come in." She looked up at Az, and her face hardened as she saw his expression. "This is normal, Az. Healthy, even. It means he's growing, which is a good thing. But for tonight, Rhys is whipping together a salve we used on Nyx to help with the pain. He should have it ready in the next few minutes."

Azriel released a breath, his shadows moving to swirl around Ky. His shadows loved his son, loved swirling around him to make him giggle. "Thank you," Az murmured to Feyre. "For... for all of this. I don't think I would be standing if it weren't for you and Rhys."

Feyre smiled, her eyes bright with emotion. "You're welcome, Az. I would never let one of my closest friends and nephew suffer." She winked at him. "Besides, who else would babysit while you go on a mission?"

Right, his missions. Since Ky had been born, Azriel had gone on a few missions, but he had reluctantly learned how to delegate the harder ones to his spies. He couldn't risk something happening to him now that he had a son to raise, so he only took the easier ones, and he was never gone for more than two days.

"Ky does love to play with Nyx," Azriel murmured quietly as if that was a good enough reason for his son to be left here while he was gone. What would Az do when Ky got older? How would he explain to him the details of his job to his son? What if Ky didn't-

Az was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize Feyre had moved closer to him. "Speaking of missions," she said quietly, her voice low. "Rhys needs you to go to Day Court. Nothing serious, of course. Just routine surveillance."

Azriel nodded distantly, his mind going numb. "Of course. I can leave in the morning." His mind was already racing, preparing to become the shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and not a scared single father.

Feyre smiled softly, her hand cradling Ky's tiny head. "Don't worry about Ky. We will watch him."

For a few moments, the world narrowed down to his sleeping son in his High Lady's arms. He looked so vulnerable and frail, and Az was overcome with a wave of anger and rage.

How could Elain do this to him? Azriel didn't care if she felt nothing for him, but how could she look at this perfect child and decide to leave?

Azriel locked those feelings away as fast as they came, choosing to ignore them rather than face them head-on. "I'll get the details from Rhys in the morning," he said finally. "A routine trip to Day Court can't be that difficult."

---

It turned out that a routine trip to Day Court could be that difficult. Immediately upon arrival, Azriel quickly realized how much training his spies here lacked. He had spent hours rehashing the basics—how to blend into a crowd, how to remain silent in the shadows. These spies were supposed to be his eyes and ears, yet they couldn’t even follow the simplest of protocols.

Most infuriating of all, they hadn’t been sharing information with each other. One claimed to know about the political shifts happening within the Day Court, but when pressed, they admitted it was only rumors. Another had no idea about the movements of the court’s key players. It was as if they were all operating independently, blind to the larger picture.

Prythian was shifting, changing, and these people had failed to notice. Azriel’s temples pulsed with a dull ache, the constant incompetence chipping away at his already thinning patience. How had it gotten this bad? How had they let things slip so far?

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the streets of the Day Court, he was no longer hiding in the shadows. There was no point. His headache had grown unbearable, a sharp reminder of how much he longed to be somewhere else—anywhere else. He thought of his son. He missed him fiercely, the boy’s infant giggle, the way his tiny hands would reach up for him when he returned home.

But now, he was trapped in this beautiful, sunlit prison, surrounded by spies who couldn’t even spy. The thought made him grit his teeth.

He had just turned the corner onto another street when he was stopped in his tracks. Before him stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen, but what caught his attention was her feathery white wings. They shimmered faintly in the sunlight, as if they had been dipped in iridescent powder.

"Hey, watch it asshole!" The yell came from a disgruntled bystander who didn't appear to be happy with Azriel's sudden stop in the middle of the busy street. With another curse, the bystander made their way around Azriel's hulking form, so obviously out of place here in Day.

Azriel shrugged it off, taking a step forward to keep walking down the street, but he was stopped by the sound of a lovely female voice.

"It's not every day we get someone from the Night Court around here," the female said with a smile.

Azriel blinked. It seemed that the commotion on the street had been loud enough to catch the beautiful female's attention. She now stood before him, her white wings tucked in tight.

"Am I that obvious?" Azriel asked finally. He had years of practice at blending in, and this female had called him out immediately.

She chuckled, the sound soft like wind chimes. "Well, black isn't really a Day Court color. And," she said, gesturing to his wings, "I don't know of another court that has winged males."

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly. "You never know. Maybe I'm from a court nobody has ever heard of. I could be an undiscovered creature, here to make a home in Day Court."

Azriel had always been good with females, never struggling to use his charms and looks to woo them. Hell, he usually didn't have to even say anything.

But right now, he honestly didn't know what the fuck he was saying. An undiscovered creature? If Cassian ever heard about this...

The female laughed again, this time tipping her head back. Azriel was mesmerized by the sound, his chest tingling. "You're not a creature," she said matter-of-factly. "You're Azriel. The shadowsinger."

Az crossed his arms, his eyes looking at the female warily. "You've heard of me?" He knew he had a reputation in Prythian, and it wasn't a good one. Normally, it wouldn't bother him if others knew what he did, but something about this female made him want to fall to his knees and repent for all of the wrongs he had done.

"Of course I have. You fought in the War." She was smiling at him, her cheeks dimpling slightly. "Besides, I've always been curious about shadowsingers, so it's only right that I would know about the only one alive."

His shadows were swarming him now, despite the bright sun. We like her, they whispered to him. She is different than the others.

Az cleared his throat, his eyes on her wings "Your wings... I've never seen any like that before."

She looked over her shoulder at her wings. "I got them from my mother, or so my father says. I wouldn't know. She died when I was young, and I don't remember her very well." Despite the dark turn of the conversation, her tone was light, her smile still plastered on her beautiful face.

Azriel found himself smiling slightly. "Well, they are very beautiful." He felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as the compliment left his lips, but her bright smile washed it away.

"Thank you, Azriel," she responded, her eyes bright. She tilted her head as one of his shadows wrapped itself around her wrists. "I like your shadows," she said with a giggle.

His shadows never acted like this with anyone, not even Elain. With Ky, they were protective mother hens, but now, they almost seemed... enamored.

Azriel was not usually the type of male to ask a female out who he had quite literally just met. But he knew he would hate himself if he didn't at least offer her dinner, so after a few moments of watching his shadows swirl around her, he asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

She looked up from his shadows, her brows raised. She sheepishly bit her lip as her wings twitched. "I would," she said. She offered him her hand, rings glinting on her fingers. "I'm Y/N, by the way. I figured you would ask my name before asking me out on a date, but I have always heard of the strange Night Court customs."

Azriel took her hand, fighting the urge to look at his scarred skin against her perfect flesh. "My apologies. I, uh, I-" He struggled to come up with an excuse for his lack of manners, but he came up short.

She patted him on the shoulder gently. "I can forgive you. As long as you pay." She clicked her tongue, looking past him to the shops lining the streets. "Day Court is amazing, but I swear it has the most expensive food..."

Azriel smiled as he listened to her ramble on, following her as she made her way through the crowd. His shadows still swarmed her, but she didn't seem to mind.

After all, it was only one date, and then he would go back to the Night Court... and to his beloved son.

---

One date turned into three, and Azriel couldn't help but admit to himself how much fun he was having. He had not laughed this hard in ages, and even though he had only known her for two days, he felt more open and seen than ever.

He had told her all about his training in the camps, the wars, the Inner Circle. She had listened intently, even diving into her own life. It turns out that she worked at a small bookshop in the city, and she had two roommates in a small townhouse.

She seemed to have such a simple, perfect life, and Azriel found himself full of envy. He tried to fight it, but as he listened to her talk about her daily routines, he wondered what it would be like to live such a life.

"Why were you up at three in the morning, anyway?" she said with a laugh. They were walking down the streets, enjoying the quietness that came with nighttime in the Day Court. "Most people are asleep then."

Azriel paused for a moment. He had been telling her of the time he had found Cassian eating an entire chocolate cake with his bare hands in the kitchen. He had been up because Ky had been crying, and he had wandered into the kitchen for a bottle, only to find a chocolate-covered Cassian and a pissed of Nesta.

Azriel had told her many things, more than he had ever told anyone, but he left out the fact he had a son. He didn't know how to bring that up, afraid she would judge him, or worse... take pity on him for his unfortunate situation. The thought of someone feeling sorry for him twisted his stomach, and he wasn't ready to see that look in her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he said at last. "What? They don't have midnight snacks here in the Day Court?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Midnight snacks, yes. Three-in-the-morning snacks, absolutely not."

"Well, you're missing out. You should really try-"

Azriel was cut off as a young fae female walked up. She was pretty, with pointed ears and bright red hair. In her arms, she held a small child, no older than two or three. The child was wrapped in a pink blanket, sleeping soundly against the female's chest.

Azriel's heart clenched as a wave of homesickness swept over him. He missed Ky terribly. He knew he was doing alright, thanks to his earlier check-in with Rhys and Feyre, but he longed to be the one holding his baby. He could almost feel the weight of his son in his arms, the scent of him, the way his little hands would reach for Azriel in the middle of the night.

"Y/N!" the female greeted, her tone warm. "I haven't seen you around in ages! How have you been?"

Azriel's companion smiled, but he could see something dark in her eyes. "I've been... good." Her voice was tighter than usual, all signs of her earlier laughter gone. "And you?"

"Oh, you know. Tired all the time, thanks to the little one crying at all hours of the night." The female smiled softly, bouncing the child gently in her arms.

Azriel could understand that, at least. He would never forget the time he almost put his boots in the fridge instead of the milk because of his exhaustion.

"Yes, well. I've always heard motherhood can be difficult, but you look amazing- if that counts for anything." As Y/N spoke, Az noticed how she made it a point not to look at the sleeping child, keeping her eyes on her friend's face.

Perhaps, she didn't like children? Or maybe she wasn't really friends with this woman, and she was trying to appear uncomfortable to get out of the situation?

The other female's gaze lowered for a moment. "I am sorry. I.. I-" she stammered for a few moments before shaking her head, seeming to right her thoughts. "Right. Well, I'll leave you two alone." She smiled kindly at Az. "Enjoy your evening."

She quickly hurried off, leaving Azriel to stare at Y/N. "Are you alright?" he asked lowly, daring to place a gentle hand on her arm. Her gaze had gone nearly vacant, and he decided he would do anything to bring back the warmth from earlier.

She blinked whatever emotion she was fighting away. "I'm fine. That woman is always driving me up the walls. Always coming into my store, asking if I can spare any free books."

Azriel nodded, but something told him there was more to the story. He decided not to press it. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

The two of them made their way down the street, once again laughing and carrying on as if nothing had happened. But there was still a shadow there, a voice telling him that there were still pieces of her that he didn't understand.

---

The mating bond snapping into place took Azriel completely by surprise. It was Azriel's last night in the Day Court, and she had been showing him her bookstore.

She had handed him a new arrival, her eyes alight with passion, when he had felt that snap inside of his chest. He had stumbled back into a shelf, his wings pushed against the wood, his hand on his chest. He was still struggling to breathe as she leaned over him, her voice soft.

"Azriel?" she asked, her tone full of worry. "Are you alright? Let me go get you some water-"

Mate. You are my mate. His thoughts were drowned out by a deafening ringing in his ears, and it took all of his self-control to not blurt them out in a fit of happiness.

After he regulated his breathing, Az forced himself to stand upright. "I'm fine," he murmured, his eyes on her face. She was looking at him with worry and shock, her arms out to catch him in case he stumbled again. "Are you- do you feel anything?"

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. "No. Other than worrying about you tearing down my new bookshelf," she said, but there was a teasing smile on her lips.

I guess the bond only snapped for me, Azriel thought to himself. It made sense, of course, but it would make things a lot less complicated if she felt it, too.

It was in that moment that Azriel decided that she needs to see all of him. Where he comes from, his family... his son. If she wanted to be his mate, it would be on her terms, not his.

He ignored the voices plaguing his mind, telling him that this wonderful female would never choose him, especially once she realized the baggage he carried. No, he let himself feel this happiness, the first true happiness he had felt in a long time.

His mate. He had found his mate.

"You know tonight is my last night here," he said, taking a step toward her. "But, maybe we can have more nights together?"

She had been in the process of placing the book on a table, but her hand stopped as she heard his words. "What do you mean?"

Azriel bit his lip as nervousness filled his chest. "I mean I would like to take you to the Night Court. Just for a visit, of course." He smiled at her, feeling awkward for the first time in centuries. "So you can see all of the strange rituals we have there."

For a moment, Az thought she would decline. Her face paled slightly, and her lips tightened. But eventually, a beautiful smile bloomed across her face, like the sun rising at dawn.

"I would like that," she said cheerfully. "I haven't left Day in a while. Are you wanting to leave tonight?"

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest with happiness, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "We could, as long as you have everything in order here with the store."

She placed the book on the table and took his hands in hers. "I can talk to my roommates. They can keep eyes on the place while we're gone. I need a vacation, anyways."

Azriel laughed, the sound deep and joyous. He gestured a hand toward the door. "After you," he said. "I've been wanting to see what those wings look like in flight."

---

Her wings were the most beautiful things he had ever laid his eyes on. Even though it was dark, they shimmered under the moonlight, their color shifting to silver.

They laughed as they flew, and Az was surprised at how well she could keep up with him. She was able to follow his maneuvers expertly, dipping and rolling along with him. He made it a point to ask her who she was trained by later.

The River House was quiet when they landed. His shadows alerted him to the fact that Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Ky, Nesta, and Cassian were all inside, having just finished dinner.

"It seems that everyone is here," he murmured to her, taking her hand in his as he walked up the steps. "This is your last chance to turn back."

She pulled her eyes away from her surroundings long enough to look at him. "After I flew all this way? I don't think so," she said with a giggle.

He pushed the door open, his hand still in hers. He led the way into the small sitting room, the air warm and smelling of citrus and jasmine. His family was all here, seated in chairs around the fire. His eyes roamed the room, looking for Ky, and he found him sleeping in a small basket next to the fire. Nyx was sleeping next to him, the small boy having placed his hand protectively over the babe.

Azriel felt his chest ease at the sight of his son, safe and warm. He wanted to run to him, but he needed to ease his mate into this.

"Az," Rhys greeted, standing up from his chair. "We were wondering if you would be back tonight." He walked toward them, a smile on his face, but that smile faltered a little when he saw the female next to his brother. "And who is this?"

She stepped forward, radiating confidence as she introduced herself. "I'm sorry for intruding on your evening, but Azriel offered to show me around the Night Court. I've always heard lovely things about it."

Azriel met Rhys's violet stare. A stranger in Velaris, Az? Rhys asked into his mind. You were only supposed to go on a routine mission.

Azriel decided it was best not to beat around the bush. She's my mate. She means no harm. She is kind. And nice. And I wanted her to meet all of you.

Rhys nodded slightly. He raised a brow. Everyone?

Azriel glanced over at Ky. Everyone, he responded.

Rhys must have communicated with Feyre, because she gracefully walked over to Ky, sweeping him gently up in her arms. She smiled affectionately at Nyx as she moved over to Azriel. "He's been sleeping well," she whispered. "And eating well. I swear he's gained ten pounds since you were gone."

Azriel could no longer deny his paternal instincts, so he quickly took Ky in his arms, savoring the warmth radiating from his small body. "Did you miss me, little one?" he murmured to him as his shadows swarmed the baby, searching for any sign of distress or harm.

Azriel turned, a smile on his face as he found his mate's face. He expected her to be curious, or shocked, at the sight of a baby in his arms.

But nothing could have prepared him for the look of raw pain on her face as she looked at Azriel and Ky. "Who is that." It wasn't a question. Her voice was hard and tight, and Az swore she was holding back tears.

"This is Ky," he said gently, worry and fear creeping in as he took in her expression. "My son."

She quickly tore her eyes away, searching around the room. They fell on Nyx, who was still sleeping soundly on the floor, and she stepped back as a gasp flew from her lips.

Azriel could sense the unease radiating off Rhys and Feyre, already preparing themselves to defend their family. Cassian and Nesta stood next to each other on the far side of the room, their backs straight, their eyes holding predatory intent.

It was only Azriel, who was still holding Ky, who forced himself to remain calm. "Would- would you like to hold him? He's quite small, but he's so warm and-"

"NO!" she screamed, her body trembling as she stepped backward toward the door. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. "I can't. No. No. No."

Feyre quickly stepped forward, taking Ky out of Azriel's arms. Calm her down. Now, Azriel, she whispered into his mind, but it was the voice of the High Lady.

"Come on," he muttered to his mate, reaching for her arm to pull her outside. "Let's go outside." She didn't fight him as he hauled her through the door and down the steps. The night air was cold, but Azriel didn't feel it.

He could only feel pain, anger, rage, and a hurt like no other. What had he said or done to send her into this kind of panic? Was the thought of him being a father truly so horrible?

Once they were outside, she ripped herself out of his grasp. "I'm going home." Her voice was distant now, devoid of any emotion.

He moved to step in front of her, his eyes pleading. "Please. Let me explain all of this-"

She pushed him out of the way, her wings unfurling as she prepared to take flight. "You're a nice male, Azriel," she said. "I... like you. I do. But you should have told me about this. About him."

Azriel fought the urge to snarl at her tone when speaking about his son. "Is it really that bad that I'm a father?" Though he was angry, his voice came out broken.

She looked at him then, her eyes softening slightly. "No. It's the fact that you don't understand. You could never understand."

"Then tell me! Help me understand!"

She shook her head as she pushed off the ground, his wings catching the air, hauling her up. "Goodbye, Azriel."

Her voice carried on the wind as Azriel watched her take off into the night, taking a piece of his heart with her.

---

1 year later

"Come on, Ky. You can do it!" Azriel encouraged, his hands out to catch Ky. The Velaris sun was blinding, but Az kept his attention on his boy, not daring to miss the sight of him taking his first steps.

Ky was standing on small, wobbly knees, his tiny face scrunched up in determination. He took a small step forward, then another, and another-

"Gods! You're doing it, son!" Azriel exclaimed in happiness.

Ky took one more step before his tiny legs gave out, but Azriel was there to catch him, as he always would be. He swooped him up, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. "I'm glad to know you got that determination from me, at least," he said to Ky.

Ky gave him a toothy smile as he giggled, his attention already captured by Az's shadows as they swarmed him, seeming to offer their own form of praise.

In the last year, Azriel had heard nothing from Elain. He had heard from his spies that she and Lucien had welcomed their own child into the world, a little girl who Azriel had not bothered to learn the name of.

A year ago, he would have been heartbroken beyond repair at the thought of Elain choosing to start a family with another male, even though she already had a family here. But since then, Azriel had taken the time to heal, choosing to let go of any bitterness and anger.

Ky deserved better than having a father who was pissed off at the world, and Az had vowed to himself to be the best father the world had seen. He didn't know what a good father looked like, but he was learning, and he had Rhys and Cass and the rest of his family to help him.

There was one part of his healing that he was struggling with though- his mate. The female who had quite literally flown off into the night at the sight of Ky. Az had not heard from her since that night, so he never got an explanation as to why.

He tried not to hold it against her, hoping that, if they were meant to be together, things would work out in the end.

"Uncle Azriel!" Nyx's voice, though the boy was small, boomed across the lawn. "Want me to take Ky in for his nap?" Nyx was the best cousin to Ky, always making sure the boy was eating and sleeping properly.

Hell, sometimes he was even more on top of things than Azriel was.

"Sure," Azriel said, placing Ky in Nyx's arms. "He just took his first steps. He deserves to rest."

Nyx's eyes widened. "He took his first steps and I missed it?" He blew out a breath. "You should have called for me!"

Azriel chuckled as he ruffled Nyx's black hair. "Sorry, kid. At least you were there for his first word."

In fact, Nyx had been the first word Ky had said. Of course, it had sounded more like "Byx" than anything else, but Nyx had gloated about it for days afterward.

Azriel watched Nyx carry Ky into the house, smiling to himself. It was moments like this that he was thankful for his life. Things had gotten better, so much better. He had a family now, a place where he belonged. A son, a perfect boy who looked just like him-

His thoughts were cut short as he heard soft wing beats from above. Not Illyrian wings, he realized, but something softer, like feathers.

Azriel squinted into the sun, watching small shape grow closer and closer, until the small body of a female landed in front of him.

But it wasn't any female. It was his mate.

"Hello, Azriel," she said, her voice soft. Her face was full of nervousness, and she was biting her lip and wringing her hands. She tucked her wings in tight. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

For a moment, Azriel could only blink at her. She's here. She's really here.

"No. No. Of course not," he blurted out, taking a step toward her. His shadows swarmed her, just as they had when they first met. She smiled down at them, but the smile didn't meet her eyes. "Why are you here? Are you in danger?"

She shook her head, her hair falling around her shoulders. "No. I'm fine. Everything is fine." She went back to biting her lip again as she spoke. "I've been thinking... I think you deserve an explanation of what happened last year. I owe you that. The way I reacted was wrong, and I want to explain."

"You don't owe me anything," Az said, running a hand through his hair. "I should have told you about Ky. It was wrong of me to force him onto you like that."

She smiled again. "No. You did nothing wrong. I don't know your situation, but..." She took a step forward, craning her head up to look at him. "I would like to hear about it now if you want to tell me. I promise not to fly away again."

Despite himself, Azriel laughed. He angled his head over to a small table and chairs Feyre had set up on the east end of the house. "We can talk over there," he said. "Nobody will disturb us."

The two of them walked in silence, the soft wind rustling through the trees. Azriel was nervous, not knowing what to say to carry on an easy conversation. He could feel the unease radiating from his mate, so he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

“You go first,” she said once they had situated themselves in the chairs. “My story is… well- just go first, Az. Please.” Her voice trembled at the end of her sentence, her eyes watery.

Azriel reached a hand over and laid it atop her own, squeezing gently. He took a deep breath before letting the painful story spill from his lips. He told her of Elain and the short romance that had followed the War. He told her of Ky's birth and the disaster that had followed. He spoke to her of his feelings, the feelings that he had not spoken to anyone, not even his family.

By the end, silent tears were streaming down his face, and he sucked in a breath as she gently reached over and wiped them away, her face full of understanding.

"She just... left?" she asked, her voice full of something like wonder, as if she couldn't understand how a mother could do that to her child. "And you've been raising Ky on your own?"

Azriel nodded once. "Well, mostly on my own. My family has been helping me, but that hasn't made it easy."

She took a deep breath, her eyes on his face. "I am sorry that happened. I don't think I would have survived that, if I were in your position." She paused for a moment, biting her lip.

"You don't have to tell me your story, you know," Azriel said, his tone gentle. "Believe me, I understand that some things are... difficult to discuss."

"I was married once," she said abruptly, her eyes moving to look at the city. "We were so happy together, but we were only missing one thing. A child."

Azriel's heart stuttered inside his chest as she spoke. He forced his face to neutrality, not wanting the warring emotions inside his mind to scare her.

She continued on, her voice vacant, "We tried for years to get pregnant, but it wasn't easy for us. We had so many false positives, and each time it happened, I felt as if a piece of my heart broke. We finally gave up, so we were surprised when I got pregnant a few years later."

"We were happy, so happy... but I had a hard pregnancy. By the third month, I was already placed on strict bedrest, completely forbidden to leave my bed except to relieve myself or get food. The labor was even worse. It took two days for our babe to arrive, but the pain and suffering was worth it to hold him in my arms. To hear his little cries and to feel him wrap his tiny hand around my finger."

Azriel watched silently as her eyes filled with tears, but he was too shocked to move. He had a horrible pit in his stomach, afraid of where this story was going.

"My family lived in peace for a few years. We had such a quiet life, you see, filled with so much love and joy... I never thought of how fast it could all be ripped away..." The tears in her eyes spilled over, coating her cheeks. "There was a male in Day Court. He was a harsh man, but he had always liked me. He was the one who taught me how to fly. He was in love with me, so he got angry when I got married, and even angrier when I had a child. I never thought he would do anything, though. I was so wrong..."

"One night, we were sleeping in our home. The male broke in and pulled my husband and me out of bed. I was so shocked, I was unable to fight, unable to do anything as I watched him go to my son's bedroom. I couldn't do anything as I watched my husband try to fight him off, only to get killed in the process. I was helpless as I listened to my boy's cries grow louder and louder, only to be silenced as he was murdered... Because of me."

She started sobbing uncontrollably, and it was all Az could do to wrap her in his arms, trying his best to shield her from the horrors of her memories.

She was breathless as she continued on, her face pressed against Azriel's chest. "What kind of mother am I? I couldn't even protect my own child when he needed me the most. I couldn't face what I had done, so I ran after that, moving into the capital city. I didn't even bury my son. There's no place I can go to honor his memory... I tried to forget my prior life, not telling anyone what had happened. My roommates don't even know."

She pulled away from him, tipping her face to look up at his. "That's why I ran, why I couldn't look at my friend's child that night. It's too painful for me to see a child. I get bombarded with these memories, and all I can see is my son's face, screaming for me to help him."

She was silent after that, her voice broken. So Azriel held her, trying to find the words. But there were really no words to offer a grieving mother. There was nothing he could say to heal these wounds.

Finally, he asked, "What was his name? Your son?"

She froze for a moment, and Azriel worried he had asked the wrong question. But she said, "Alek was his name. He..." She shook her head. "That night when I saw you with Ky... He reminds me so much of my Alek."

Azriel released a breath. "Thank you for telling me. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like," he said quietly. "But I need you to know- nothing could ever take away the love you gave Alek, or the love he had for you. You carry that love with you, and you hold onto it." He hesitated for a moment, moving his hand up to cup her face. "I'm here. For whatever you need- whether that's to talk, or to sit and grieve. Just know you're not alone anymore."

Despite her grave expression, she smiled. "Now you're starting to sound like my mate. I was wondering when the sweet talking would start."

Azriel gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You... you knew?"

She nodded. "The bond snapped for me before I flew off that night. I almost stayed, but I knew I needed time to heal before I could be the mate you deserved. So I left, and I've been working on my healing since then. I am better, but I still have hard days, so I understand if you need more time..."

Azriel cut her off with a quick kiss. "I still have hard days, too. But we can face them together. Nobody needs to deal with their problems alone. We can't let the hard days win."

She smiled, and he felt his chest warm as the life returned to her expression. "I would like that. Together," she agreed.

Azriel took a deep breath. "Would you like to see Ky? You don't have to if it will be difficult, but if you stay here..."

"I would love to," she said quietly, her eyes shining. "I'm alright. I want to meet your son."

Azriel led the way into the quiet River House, thankful that most of his family had left for the day. Once they got to Ky's room, he quietly pushed the door open, knowing he was sleeping.

"It's his nap time," he said. "It's probably best you meet him when he's not screaming his head off."

She smiled at Ky as she walked over to the crib, placing her hand on the rails. She looked up to Az, her face warm. "May I hold him?" Her voice was quiet and filled with awe.

Azriel nodded. "Of course you can, love."

Gently, she raised Ky out of the crib, cradling him to her chest. He didn't stir other than snuggling into her warmth, his small face innocent as he slept. "He looks like you," she said quietly, her eyes roaming Ky's face.

"Thank you," Azriel said proudly, a silly smile on his face.

She gasped softly as Ky wrapped his hand around his finger, his hand so small. He murmured contentedly as he slept, and Azriel realized Ky had never had this. Of course Feyre and Nesta had held him, but he had never had someone hold him with a motherly love.

Azriel's heart warmed at the sight, and he couldn't help himself as he walked over, and wrapped them tightly in his arms.

They stood there in the quiet, and Azriel swore he could hear the sounds of old wounds healing,

---

6 months later

"Where are we going, Az?" she asked, giggling as Azriel pulled her to the outskirts of the city. "There's nothing over here."

He looked back at her, offering her a wink. "That's what you think, angel."

The last six months had been filled with happiness, joy, and healing. They both had hard days, but they had been there for each other every time, honoring their promise to face it together.

Ky was growing faster than Azriel liked. He was walking and talking now, and he was even learning how to eat by himself. Just earlier this morning, Azriel had whined, complaining that his son would no longer need him soon.

She had slapped him gently on the arm. "That's what babies do, Az," she had said, kissing him gently on the cheek. "They grow, yes, but they will always need us."

She had become a mother to Ky, there was really no other way to put it. She would clean him and put him to bed, doing all the things that Azriel himself had struggled to manage with ease. A few weeks ago, Ky had called her "Mama", which caused her to cry with happiness and pain commingled.

The two of them were set to accept their mating bond next week, and Azriel couldn't be happier. They had learned so much about each other, and he had found himself falling more and more in love with this female each day. There was one thing he needed to do, though, which was why he was dragging her to this place.

On the outskirts of Velaris, there was an opening in the trees to a place where many people didn't go. At least, not those who had never experienced the loss of a loved one.

As they walked up the path, he could see the small stones poking out of the ground, their engravings holding the names of the people in the ground.

"Azriel," she said quietly, her hand tight in his, "why did you bring me to a cemetery?"

He smiled softly at her, leading her to a small stone, newer than the others, its engraving easy to read. "I wanted you to see this."

She looked at the stone, her eyes filling with tears as she read the words there.

Alek

"Forever Loved, Never Forgotten"

Though your time was brief, your light will shine in our hearts for all eternity.

In the embrace of the stars, you rest, but in our hearts, you live on.

Azriel watched her face as she read, worrying if he had chosen the right words to put on the headstone. Maybe he should have made it shorter? Was it too much?

He was pulled from his thoughts as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him, throwing her body against his. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said between sobs. "It's perfect, Az."

"I know his body isn't here, but you can come here whenever you like. To remember him," Azriel said as he held her, running his hands through her hair.

She pulled away then, her eyes bright with love. "I can't wait to be your mate," she said, smiling through the tears.

Azriel laughed, his heart full. The wounds of the past would always linger, like shadows that never fade. But with those you love by your side, even the deepest scars could begin to heal, and in their place, hope could grow.

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#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #dee writes #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fic #acotar fanfic #sjm books

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month ago

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hii little bunny <3

i like make an order of banana bread, jos louis and english muffin, with a expresso shot and tonic water served by Lewis Hamilton, please

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love to hear what you'd want to order! thank you for anything you send! i hope you have a lovely day/night! thank you to this anon for your order, enjoy!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + jos louis ("does someone need a daddy?") + english muffin ("aw, is someone crying?") + espresso shot (dirty talking) + tonic water (age gap) served by lewis hamilton (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/late-30s), slight daddy kink, dom/sub, sugar daddy au

lewis hamilton was on top of the world. the billion dollar man, nothing could top him. not even the pretty thing on his arm. you have tried to top him, even tried being on top of in a cow girl position. but lewis loved when you were underneath him, his cock dragging in and out of you while you clawed at whatever you could get your hands on.

"does someone need a daddy?"

it was after singapore, the start of a small break in the season. which left you confused because wasn't there just the summer break? regardless, lewis invited you to stay a few days before you headed back to his home in monaco.

you didn't know what your relationship to lewis was. he paid for almost everything in exchange for your time and attention. when you tried to use methods to save money, it only made the man shove more money into your bank account. however, the words 'i love you' never came up, but you called him daddy when he fucked you. there were promises, he'd never leave you out to dry. which meant that even if this arrangement ended, he wouldn't do it suddenly. and would make sure that you were taken care of. but something often nibbled at your core, that lewis would die before he cut off the relationship you had.

but lewis also liked to make you cry in the bedroom. not heavy, sad tears. but rather the euphoria of his cock being buried into your sweet cunt night after night. you were a stress toy that lewis could have deep conversations with. the doll he could bite at, but also gift the world to.

you tried not to think about it too much. not when he had you pressed chest first against the door of the hotel room. his chest up against your back and his hands up the skirt of your dress.

"lewis." you said with your breasts up against the door, your back arched to let him press into your further. you sniffled a little as you felt the pain in your chest from being pressed so hard into the door.

he licked his lips and rubbed against you further, his hand found the waistband on your panties. the panties he bought for you specifically. he asked, "aw, is someone crying?" there were times where lewis treated you like a slut.

he was older, domineering in a sense. the world at his finger tips. there was a power to him that called you in like a siren's song. so even when he teased you, it excited you. maybe you were a slut after all.

he continued to feel you up and you loved it. his strong grip, the grip that kept his hands on the steering wheel, were all over your body. and it made you hot all over. you could feel the excited in your chest as he continued to touch you. your core throbbed with a need for him. even without the money, you had a deep urge to let him fuck you like he did every other time.

you moaned a little and he kissed your neck roughly. his grip got harder which made your back arch further. you were always so responsive to him, it made your heart race. you knew he wouldn't fuck you up against the door.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said almost softly, with tenderness as if he wasn't pushing your panties down to your ankles, "i want to see your squirm, sweetheart."

"please, daddy." you whimpered before you were pulled away from the door. you ended up in bed with him soon after, his hands in your hair as he pulled you in for a softer kiss.

you whined against his lips as he laid you out on the bed under him. he admired your beauty. you softness, your figure. you drove him crazy. the bed felt soft under you, it felt even softer when lewis got you undressed. you could feel his gaze on you, as he looked at your face once more and smiled.

"you're making me warm." you said.

"good." he said as he got his shirt off, "i want to make you hot." he kicked off his socks and soon his pants. his toned, tattooed body made you swallow.

"daddy."

"i know, sweetheart. fuck, you're beautiful." you knew he was being serious with his words. the sight of you enticed him as you were both eventually naked. he splayed his hand out across your stomach and leaned in for a soft kiss. his lips then trailed down your jaw and neck and he watched you squirm.

you wanted to cover your face from shyness, but he'd tie you up on the bed before he let that happen. and you could still feel the familiar ache of rope against your skin. he was between your legs once more and licked his lips.

"and what do we say to daddy before he fucks you?" he flashed you a smile.

you swallowed, feeling more embarrassed, "please and thank you." he beamed at you and you yelped as you were pulled closer to him with your hips raised to his cock.

"always the good girl, aren't you?" he rubbed his hard cock up against your achy cunt. he could practically see the embarrassment on your face. he loomed over you as he was painfully close to slotting himself inside of your pussy, "don't be shy, sweetheart. you know i adore every inch of you. it calls to me, you know. when we're apart." he was closer into your space as he slipped his cock into you slowly.

a moment of tenderness.

he held onto your hips, not hard enough to bruise you. but, enough to keep you under him. his lips were soon close to your ear, "so good for me. most would've been long gone by now. but you like when i fuck you, don't you? you like when i make a mess of you and throw some money at you." he pressed down further on you and you whined, "like a proper whore."

you shuddered, your pussy tightened around his cock and he chuckled as he started to move against you. his pace was quick and rough, he loved his sex rough and fast. he loved watching you squirm and try to hold onto his shoulders.

"such a good girl for me. your pussy can take anything i can throw at it." he chuckled, his voice in your head. which left your thoughts cloudy with hot want.

you could feel your heartbeat quickening and you felt hot all over. it was painfully hot for you. you could feel the thrum of pleasure in the back of your mind while he worked your body. lewis was good that way, he knew exactly how to make you squirm.

as if he didn't spend a season break examining and figuring out what made your back arch and your toes curl. he tried everything and you took it all. now lewis knew what you liked and how to make his sweetheart fully melt under him.

he believed he was a gentleman that way. as if he weren't roughly thrusting against you and it made your head spin. he kissed you deeply, to keep the moans down to a minimum. you tasted sweet like sugar and were softer than velvet. you drove him crazy, so much so that those three little words seemed to bubble up in his brain.

instead he pulled away and looked at you with his dark eyes, "you like being using like this. you love how i feel against you. it's cute when you try to squirm out of my touch. because you know you never will. i like you too much and i'd be an idiot to let another man touch your pussy."

he dragged against the right spot and there were stars behind your eyes. you kicked your feet out a little bit and he pressed you further into the bed. his thrusts became quicker and your noises got louder. his kisses became hotter as they dragged across your chest.

"please, lewis. fuck." you squirmed a little more as you felt the pleasure bubble in your chest. he continued to move against you and everything in you burned like an out of control flame.

the kisses on your lips once more were heavy and it made you pant heavily. you felt like a dream to him, you felt like heaven. and he felt like heaven to you. the kisses deepened while you held onto him tightly.

you came with his lips on yours. nails dug into his shoulders as he moved against you. you felt the rush of pleasure through you as he continued to move against you.

you tensed up then relaxed against him before he continued to make out with you while he fucked you. the bed squeaked under you and he felt the same thrum of pleasure you did.

with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, he pushed himself deep inside of you and finished. he held onto your hips and felt the heat course through his body. when he relaxed after the height of pleasure, he slowed his rapid thrusts to a stop and kept his cock inside of your pussy for a moment.

he went in for a kiss, with a bit of heat to it. you groaned against him and held onto his shoulders tighter. eventually he pulled out and laid next to you on the bed.

his arms were loosely around you and he occasionally pressed kisses against your heated skin. he said, "anything you want. it's yours." he said like a promise.

you turned to look at him and softly smiled, still basking in the post-orgasm bliss. you replied, "would it be cheesy to say i want you?"

he smiled, "a little bit. but, i did promise anything." he pressed against you, his arm draped over your hip. he smiled, "so i guess you can have me." something made you heart skip, you kissed him deeply.

"then, i guess i have you." you simply replied before he took you by the head and kissed you deeply. he may fuck you to the point of tears, but you knew that lewis cared deeply for you. as you cared for him. <3

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

2K notes · View notes

greycaelum · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, Grey! Could you write some cuddling with Satoru after a long day with the Kaleidoscope series Reader? Preferably the current timeline where the Reader is pregnant with the 2 babies if that's alright ❤️ Thank you in advance!

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Blankets }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, pregnancy, domestic life, parenthood

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (2.5k)—/overprotective Satoru and his love for his wife, kids, implied suggestive hints, implied negative traditional perceptions on twins—/

𑁍 A/N: I've always done angst stuff over the past Oct 31st... For the third time I'm spending this Oct 31st with him... this time it's fluff.

"They're sleeping," Satoru mumbled in a hushed tone. You sat on the recliner while he sat on the floor, his ear pressed to your growing baby bump with your hand brushing through his soft, fresh-cut hair. Which, by the way, you're very proud of because you managed to cut his hair perfectly, showing off the undercut you're obsessed with.

"Papa... I want to hold Mama, too." Saika jumped up and down, begging her father. Her hair is still like a bird's nest after waking up from her afternoon nap.

"Wait a second, Cat, Papa is still... Oh! They kicked!!! Honey, they kicked!" Satoru eyes widened. Blown out of his mind, he shot up and looked at you with a face as if he had won the lottery.

"I want to feel too!" Saika whined and hugged your arm.

"Me too! Me too!" Kouki came rushing when he heard his Papa from the kitchen.

Satoru shushed his kids as he laid his head again on your belly, waiting for more. As much as he loves his kids, he rarely catches the Little Sunshines moving around your tummy. Meanwhile, whenever he comes home, he hears the two munchkins bragging about how their little siblings kick when they are around.

You shook your head as your three cats crammed around your belly, hoping to catch the little ones' movement in your belly. But after a few more minutes, no more kicks came, and eventually, Satoru looked at you with a pout, hoping he could've felt more kicks. The two munchkins returned to what they were doing, leaving you and Satoru in the engawa watching the small inner zen garden while Satoru stayed on his knees waiting and waiting.

"You can't do this to Papa, munchkins... Don't you like my voice? You know I will be the one changing your diapers when you come out, so you have to be kind to Papa." Satoru poked your belly and smothered his face to your bump, tracing the past stretch marks and kissing them more. "Maybe I should give you a lotion massage so they'll get used to me holding you more and more, Honey." Satoru looked up to you with pleading eyes. "You know, as a father-child bonding!"

"Love, even if they don't keep kicking when you're around. I'm sure they know who you are... You are their Papa." You chuckled and pinched his nose.

"Who knows... they don't kick around much when I'm near, unlike others..." Satoru pouted. "I'm always working, so I wanna feel them kick too when I'm home."

You chuckled at his sentiment, finding his little jealousy more endearing than annoying.

"Mother and babies are connected... so I'm sure they know how much I love their Papa... Right Little Ones?" You caressed your belly and kissed Satoru's head.

With your pregnancy hitting the middle of your second trimester, your work in your cafe and the Gojo Clan dwindled even before you could ask for rest. Your parents often visit, bringing lots of food, and sometimes they take the two munchkins out so you can have a break. Your parents-in-law have also kept sending you tonics, and much to your mother-in-law's delight, she can visit almost any time of the day and see her grandchildren; your father-in-law took it upon himself to lessen Satoru's workload as the clan head, so you two could have as much time as you can knowing how sensitive your pregnancy is right now.

"I think... we should stop accepting gifts... You think so, sweetheart?" You sighed and hugged Kouki, who opened the newly arrived gifts from friends and acquaintances in congratulations for your pregnancy.

"You don't like gifts anymore, Mama?" Your son, sitting between your legs, looked up to you. You really have to convince him to cut his hair soon. It's longer than yours and Saika...

"Well... It's too much, and I doubt we can use all these gifts. Besides, it's tiring to keep opening them every day. They don't end." You sighed.

Kouki shrugged and pulled out another maternity pillow, the sixth one you received over the months.

"I can't wait for my baby brother and baby sister to come out," Kouki mumbled and looked up to you with a smile. "I'm gonna give them lots of squishmallows." He excitedly declared.

You cannot help but chuckle and pepper Kouki with kisses. The only thing he got from you is his eyes. The rest... He's just like his Papa. Mischievous yet turns to a cottony fluff around you.

"Mama... I hope my little sister and brother come out with your hair." Saika inhaled the scent of your hair and hugged you from the back. She begged to comb your hair for you in your girl's day out.

"Why? I like your hair too, sweetie~ It reminds me of Papa." You kissed his chubby cheeks, making her giggle and pepper you with her kisses.

"Mama's hair is so pretty!" She exclaimed and hugged you as you both looked at the mirror with matching bright smiles.

"Cramps?" Satoru murmured in the middle of the night as he felt you moved away from his arms. "Let me..." He immediately helped you lean on the headboard and gently eased your tensed muscles, earning you a slight whine of pain. "How long? You should've woken me up, pretty girl."

"I thought it would go away quickly... Besides, you were tired, Satoru. It's not as bad as last week." You exhaled and sighed as you watched your husband slowly massage your legs until the cramps subsided. Satoru held your ankles and played with your little toes until he saw you yawn.

"Baby... Let's go on a date tomorrow?" Satoru hummed and went back beside you so you could lay your head on his chest, and his arms wrapped around your shoulders

"If I feel better..." You nodded and quickly slipped back to sleep while Satoru was left to caress your seven-month-old belly. Sometimes, he wonders where you get the strength to hold two babies after you made him try the watermelon challenge... It made his hips cry in pain, carrying that weight around in just three hours...

"Don't give your Mama a hard time, okay?" Satoru hopes his little ones listen to him. If he's asked one thing that he's so proud to pass on to his kids, it would probably be his unconditional love for you... Whenever he sees his children surround you with love, his heart swells with pride, knowing he's doing a great job reflecting how much he loves you. It means a lot to see his children love the love of his life... "I love her so much to let her be in pain... so be good babies and behave inside your Mama, okay?" He poked your tummy.

Surely enough, the next day, Satoru brought you out to buy several maternity dresses, not that you needed them because you've had so much from Kouki and Saika. Still, knowing Satoru and his splurging tendencies, you find yourself getting dragged along the boutiques, fitting anything that catches your or his eyes.

"Let me help." He kneeled on one knee with your feet on his other knee as he fit the flat sandal in your foot. "Is it soft? Walk for a bit. If it's hard, we'll find another one." Satoru looked up to you and waited for your opinion. He switched from his blindfold into the Raybans. This time, you could easily see his eyes than usual so you don't miss the soft glint in his eyes when he subtly massaged your swollen ankles as he fitted the sandal.

At this point, the saleslady is just standing beside you, watching you and Satoru dreamily. It was as if Satoru became a professional shoe critic as he rummaged for the best sandals for pregnant women.

"Is it your first child, Madame? Sir looks so meticulous about everything." The saleslady made small talk as Satoru told you to wait while he paid.

"No, it's actually our third." You laughed, making the saleslady look at you in disbelief.

Satoru held your hand with the other sprawled protectively over your hips as he led you to the food court, knowing it was time for your orange juice.

"You know... We always get asked if it's our first child. Probably because you never seem to calm down and chill like the dads who were already done with their first baby." You sipped on your orange juice, filling your daily need for the sweet fresh juice paired with a guilty extra-large cheeseburger and fries. "I want to each purple yam milk tea..."

"Honey... You haven't even finished your food yet." Satoru opened his mouth for the fries you offered. "And we look so young, that's why. Pretty husband means pretty wife." He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

You pursed your lips and continued eating anyway. Satoru does look younger for his age. Ijichi looks older than your husband. It's worth noting that it's Satoru's fault that his kouhai always looked so stressed.

"Have you thought of the names, Baby?" Satoru sipped on your juice, thanking whatever deities were watching over him right now that you didn't have a cranky moment when he drank from your drink. Pregnant women and their pet peeves...

"Yeah! I did!" You smiled brightly. "But don't ask. I'll surprise you when they're born." You giggled.

Satoru names Kouki and Saika. This time, it's your turn to name your babies.

Babies...

"They're not twins, Mother..." You sighed for the nth time. "And even if they are, I don't see any problem with it."

Your Mother-in-Law came over to chat. You can't blame her; despite being luxurious and vast, the Gojo Estate can be very dull to stay in.

"Yes, I know they aren't." She sighed. "But you know I just cannot help but worry for them, for you. You know how the remaining elders still hold the traditions even with the new administration. It is easy for them to label your children twins and isolate one or perhaps both."

Of course... Japan could be one of the most superstitious societies for a technologically advanced country, leaning more toward the conservative traditions passed down from the old days. It's the undercurrent Satoru has been going against for most of his life.

"Our children will be fine, Mother..." Kouki and Saika have been adjusting reasonably well between their everyday lives and those in the jujutsu society. "They don't have to join the jujutsu world if they don't want just because we are their parents."

Even Kouki doesn't have much interest in jujutsu besides his training with his Papa, which he enjoys well. Saika... She's just four. Aside from her liking to stay with Shoko and learning in the infirmary, there's nothing much to worry about.

You smiled at your Mother-in-Law. "We can't be with our children forever, but Satoru and I will ensure they will be strong enough to face their problems."

Satoru came home early. He has been so over the long run. A world where he's not the only pillar, a generation that can par his strength. He would love to lose the title of "the strongest" if it means he can also rest like this. It gets lonely on the top. And he's at the age to start worrying more if his daughter has a suitor or which boy has enough guts to face him and block any of them from snatching his little princess away rather than growing premature white hairs from staying up late because of overtime and chasing some ugly curses... not that his hair isn't already white...

He prefers chasing his wife in the bedroom...

His head pressed against your eight-month-old baby bump as you cuddled on the bed. Years ago, this simple dream of coming home as early as 5 in the evening seemed so far-fetched, but now it's a staple of his day. To lie down with you, to eat dinner with you, to take a bath together with you, and sometimes with the kids... to actually talk before one of you falls asleep first.

"When the kids are a little older, let's go on a trip..." He looked up to you. "Y'know, just the two of us..."

He could already imagine spending days in Basel, Switzerland, with you—the simplicity of the countryside, with green meadows and fresh air. Or hopping through boutiques and boutiques in France or him teaching you to surf in the wild waves at Bali...

"You're not tired of jumping from one place to another?" You chuckled.

"That's different." Satoru shrugged. "I go because it's work, and you're usually not with me. It's not like it's that fun roaming in the countryside of London to exorcise a banshee."

You laughed loudly. It's pretty accurate. Since you've birthed Saika, the times you went with Satoru on his overseas trips have dwindled from every week to twice in three months or even a little less. Having two children to look after, cute ones at that and naughty too, has drawn you to prefer the comforts of the home than hopping from one place to another.

"I'm sure their grandparents will be most happy to babysit for them while we're on a trip." You closed your eyes and stroked his head as he kissed your belly bump.

Satoru smiled at the sweet tone of your laugh as you lay your head on his chest, his arms carefully tucked you by his side, and pulled the soft quilt he bought last week after you mentioned that the previous blanket was too heavy and thick.

"Honey...?"

"Mnnn?" You opened your eyes and looked up to him.

Satoru gazed into your eyes. People who have seen his eyes often say they were breathtaking sapphires. But he begs to differ. Your eyes have always been his favorite. They were unclouded... and filled with love that his heart could not help but melt every time you looked at him with your tender gaze. He couldn't help but wish the coming little munchkins would have your eye color.

"Thank you for giving me Kouki, Saika, and these coming little munchkins." He's not the person who gets sentimental, but he has moments like this when it's only the two of you in the security of your home, in the confines of this simple bedroom.

"You are their father, Satoru, just as much as I am their mother. We couldn't have had them if not for each other." Your noses met each other, and you playfully nuzzled against his, making him laugh as well.

A hand was placed at the back of your neck, and with a gentle tug, he kissed you softly, feeling the smile on your lips as he made sure you knew how much he adored you with every fiber. of his being.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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