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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

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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

clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months ago

Note

Vash being flustered by compliments, acting like a total loser please? Lots of “Buwuhh?! uhhh I- That’s really kind of you to-” or him spilling his drink, stumbling on nothing and trying to laugh it off, moments would be extremely appreciated. 🙏♥️

Aweeee thanks for this request!

(note I wrote this with Tristamp Vash in mind)

...........

"You know..your laugh is adorable."

In an instant, Vash fell into silence, the tips of his ears turning a pinkish hue as he stared at you from across the table. With a drink in one hand, he shakily set it down--only to clumsily spilling small droplets onto the flat surface.

But he tried to play it cool by propping his elbow over the mess, smiling. "Ahaha..thanks. That's...actually very nice of you to say. Most people think my laughs are "evil", but-"

"Oh that's nonsense." You leaned over a bit, smirking as you could see the nervous sweat beginning to manifest along your partner's hairline. "That's because they don't know what genuine laughter is. One as joyous as yours is so hard to come by these days. You've been through a lot. Endured things that would easily kill a person's spirit. And here you are, still finding ways to laugh and smile and see the good in others."

"Well..I..I think I deserve to do that every once in a while."

"Of course you do. Your smiles are brighter than the damn sun...and your hair, for that matter. But all that kindness and hope? Your emphasis on "love and peace"? That's attractive."

Your wink is what nearly sent the Humanoid Typhoon over the edge, as he squeaked in surprise at your words, before noticing Meryl, Roberto, and Wolfwood at their own table, having a chat about the worms in the sand and sky...only for their gazes to land on him.

Knowing smirks appeared on their faces when they realized what was going on.

You were flustering the hell out of Vash.

It only made his growing blush worsen, and he sheepishly threw his hood over his head to hide it, turning back to you. "Th-They're watching us, you know.." He mumbled.

"So what? Let them watch. They already know how smitten you are over me, anyway." You chuckled and reached a hand out. His advanced prosthetic fingers instinctively reached back, intertwining their coldness with your warmth. "I love your arm, too. It's amazing, perfect...just like you, honey."

"Ah...! Thank you...h-honey. Haha.." At this point, he knew he lost the war..you were just too damn good at this. Pushing away your compliments was useless now, so he resolved to just covering his face with his free hand.

His heart was hammering uncontrollably, and for once in his life..it wasn't due to the adrenaline of fleeing from gun-totting bandits or cyborgs.

It was because of love.

The very thing he hoped to stand for.

Ever since getting together with Vash, and learning how hard he often was on himself..you made it your mission to let him know how much you adored him.

He was afraid you'd be scared off by the bounty on his head, or the fact he had to constantly be on the move...or that a whole town could turn on him at the drop of a hat....or that twin brother of his would find you two.

But you've made it clear time and time again that you weren't leaving his side no matter what, and by god you were sticking to that promise even when he attempted to push you away a few times before.

You'd go anywhere in No Man's Land, unless it wasn't with him.

The moment he realized you're in this for the long run, you helped him let his guard down a little, defending his name and trying to show him common traditions of human couples--or at least..whichever ones you could recreate on this planet.

Even when you weren't around him, people would ask what "horrors" you've faced during your encounters with the "terrifying" Vash the Stampede, imagining you barely escaping with your life while he smiles and laughs at the mass destruction and death that surrounds him..

But what they don't know (and probably never will) is that his smiles and laughs were simply the products of your endless ways of complimenting him...such as right now.

You had this man--who had the power to bring down an empire if he wanted to--stammering over his words, acting incredibly shy, and being unusually giggly. And he's barely touched a drop of liquor since your small group stopped in the bar for refuge from the desert heat.

Some of the patrons wondered how drunk he was to be acting the way he did, while others looked upon you two with fondness, now convinced that love may not be dead just yet.

As long as Vash was here, that will continue to exist, and you'll be there to show him that he's worthy of it, too.

#uheehee i love him'#i finally get the appeal yall #clanask #anonymous #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #tristamp vash #fluff

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literaila · 8 months ago

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stress baking

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you bake a cake and satoru tries to distract you

warnings: mom guilt (angst), fluff, satoru, etc.

last part | next part

year five.

“ooo,” satoru reaches a hand across the counter, fingers about to contaminate everything in the kitchen. “frosting.”

you're slouching against the oven, trying to pretend like the cakes have been cooling long enough to frost when he comes in.

and you know immediately that you've been caught. satoru can read your mind with a mere glance most days, and so you try to avoid his eyes. because really--you don't need (or want) his input about this

you slap his hand away, turning away from the cakes. “don’t touch,” you tell him, glaring. “i don’t know where your hands have been.”

satoru grins at you, leaning against the counter so he can observe your corrupted workspace. “i can assure you that you do.”

you roll your eyes, flipping a cake pan over. it shouldn't take too much longer, really. just a couple... hours.

“what is this? did i forget about a birthday?” he looks up suddenly, startled. “was it yours?”

you scoff, moving every edible thing away from his reach, and still don't look up at him. but you can still feel every moment he makes, like a secret intuition.

as if knowing this, satoru smiles, leaning his elbows against the counter, face in hands, just watching you. “nah, i wouldn’t forget that.”

“hmm, when’s my birthday again?”

“it’s… uhhh a day. once a year," you make a face, scrunching your nose away from him, and he resolves. “the best day of the year?”

you ignore him--and your stupid instinct to look at his face, in his eyes, and observe every expression he makes--wishing that cakes were sturdier. it's late enough that you already know this is going to be a disaster. can you make cement appetizing?

“no, really,” satoru waves a hand in your face. “what is this?”

“it’s a cake.”

“for what?”

“tsumiki.”

he raises a brow, tapping on your forehead to get you to pay attention to him. “is it her birthday?”

“no, you deadbeat dad, her birthdays in may.”

“right.”

you roll your eyes again, cutting the top off of the cake. still, you try to keep your eyes concealed from him. your entire being--even though you're well aware that it's futile.

satoru can feel it when you cut yourself shaving in the shower, so it's likely that he already knows what you're doing.

and exactly why you're doing it.

but, you can play chicken with him for hours. you're very used to pretending like he doesn't know what you know that he knows. very very good.

“sooo..." satoru drawls, voice bright and smiley. like the demon he is. "what’s it for?”

you sigh, wanting to throw the excess cake at him. “can you use some critical thinking skills? just once, please?”

“why would i do that when you could just tell me?”

unforunately, the two of you both know that he's not going to leave without an answer. he's purposefully using your greatest weakness--his face, your heart, your irritating want to tell him every thought that crosses your mind--against you.

but who's fault is that if not your own?

“she’s worried about a test tomorrow,” you say, slowly, finally turning to look at him, trying not to wince. “so i’m making her a cake.”

satoru is already grinning, hand partially covering his mouth. you glare at his terrible attempts not to laugh at you.

at least his eyes are pretty. his cheeky eyebrows and stupid knowing look. without the view, you know, satoru would mean absolutely nothing to you (and everything, of course).

“will it give her superpowers?”

“shut up, gojo, what are you doing to help?”

“not worrying about it," he answers easily, "tsumiki’s a genius, she doesn’t need your anxiety too.”

“i’m not anxious.”

he smiles at you, tilting his head.

you crack, trying not to squeeze the offset spatula in your hand. “whatever. last time she got in a fight with akio you tried to buy her a kitten. i’m not taking your criticism," you look away from him, frowning. but before he can say anything, you add. "or your advice."

“the kitten wasn’t just for her,” he says, whining. “it was an addition.”

“an addition i was going to take care of.”

“tsumiki wouldn’t have to worry about a test if she had a soft, cute, cuddly little baby kitten to cuddle with.”

you refrain a smile. “that’s redundant.”

“you changed the trajectory of her life by telling me no. she'll probably go to prison now," satoru sighs, shaking his head at you.

“yup. it’s all my fault.”

he laughs, reaching a long arm over you to try and steal some frosting again, but you grab his wrist and push it away. he frowns, but asks, “are you going to let her eat this for breakfast?”

you pause, looking back at him (he's already smirking because you've had that conversation a dozen times) then you look back at the cake you’re currently mutilating. “um…”

satoru shakes his head. “so she doesn’t even get to have any until after the test? what's the point in that?"

"the point," you say, glaring at him. "is that it's nice. i want to do something for her."

"bake a cake?"

"shut up."

he laughs again. "you're such a nerd."

"you can leave now."

"what'd she say?" satoru asks, smiling up at you, brow perked. "'i have a test tomorrow?'"

you huff, waving him away. "fine, no cake for you."

"tsumiki probably didn't even tell you," he continues, cockily. "you probably read it in an email and immediately turned on the oven."

"you are not helping."

satoru snorts at you one more time, and then he stretches as he straightens up.

your eyes dart towards him--and the sliver of skin you can see peaking out from under his shirt, very attuned muscles--and then away. you're not being caught again.

but satoru is already smirking at you as he rounds the counter, hands traveling to your waist automatically, squeezing you to him--in a very uncomfortable position, by the way.

he nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing obnoxiously.

"satoru, i'm busy," you say, trying to sneak out of his hold. unfortunately, he's way stronger than you are.

your hands have been blocked by his hold, and you set down the spatula, forced to bend to the will of this very irritating co-parent of yours.

"you're so cute," he says, cooing into your head.

"i'll pour oil in your hair."

he laughs, again. "then you'll have to take a shower with me."

you push him away, finally, scowling. he only moves back a couple of inches. "not happening."

"you realize that you're crazy, right?" satoru asks, still smiling, but a bit differently. it's less arrogant and more adoring. like he's completely star-struck, lost in the entirety of you. "this isn't news to you?"

"i'm not crazy. i'm being nice."

he continues to smile at you, ignoring your carefully pointed scowls and the harsh way to continue to frost the cake. "tsumiki will be fine. even if she fails her test, or gets sick, or..." he shakes his head, shrugging. "pulls the fire alarm so she doesn't have to take it."

"i hope you're not encouraging the children to fake an emergency."

"she's the smartest kid in that class, sweetheart, she'll do fine. and would it really matter if she didn't?"

you pause, biting your lip. no, it wouldn't matter, you should say. you should just tell him the increasingly worrisome thoughts that have been collecting in your head the past couple of weeks. you should've just helped her study more or made sure that she was feeling comfortable, or double-checked on her grades another time, or--

"well, she can have her cake as a reward," you say, instead, ignoring that last bit.

you both already know the answer anyway.

satoru is quick to wrap an arm around your shoulder, gentler this time, pulling your head to his chest with an impenetrable hold. "what's this really about?"

"nothing."

satoru's lips twitch, and it's silent for a moment, your disheartening 'nothing' ringing through the kitchen.

he's so stupid. and you hate that he knows what's wrong already, but that he's gonna make you say it. and you hate that it's sweet, in its own, very annoying way.

and then you break.

you sigh, a grumble coming from the back of your throat. "i just think i've been too worried about megumi lately. i mean school and missions and..."

satoru raises a brow at you. "okay?"

"and then there's you, too," you add, giving him a look. but it's dropped very quickly, as you look down to the floor. "do you think i've been paying enough attention to tsumiki?" you ask, softly.

tsumiki has always been good at taking care of herself, that much was obvious when you met her--when satoru told you what the two kids had been doing for months, all on their own.

but you don't want her to have to take care of herself. or feel like she should, just to make it easier on you both.

she's far too people-pleasing, far too sweet to tell either of you if you're missing something. she could have a broken arm and walk around like nothing was wrong until you finally asked.

you swallow, then continue. "you and megumi are important, but i don't want her to feel ignored just because i've been preoccupied."

"wow. i'm just a distraction to you?" satoru asks, pouting.

"you know what i mean," you whisper, shrugging.

really, you know these are just venomous thoughts. trying to hit you where it hurts.

but there's that part of you that isn't sure. if you're usually wrong, why shouldn't you be right this one time?

"you pick them both up every day, feed them, put them to bed, help with their homework..." satoru shrugs, never seeing the things that you do; stronger than you'll ever be. "how could she feel ignored?"

"well, i've been spending more time with megumi trying to figure out his shikigami. and you and i have been going over those books, and tsumiki can't be a part of any of that so she probably feels left out, and i haven't been doing anything with her anyway--"

"woah," satoru interrupts, a brow raised. "what's wrong with you?"

you glare, trying to push him away to no avail. "get out, satoru. i need to finish this."

"no, i'm serious." he holds a hand to your forehead. "are you sick? did you hit your head on something?" both of his hands grab onto your face, squeezing your cheeks together.

"stop," you say, muffled from his pinching.

"you're so..." satoru shakes his head, every word going unsaid. "she doesn't feel ignored. she couldn't, because you're very clingy."

"not as clingy as you."

satoru laughs, pinching a bit harder in retaliation. "okay, so there's two of us. at this point, tsumiki is probably looking for other families to go live with."

"she wouldn't leave megumi."

his grin widens. his eyes are thoughtful, careful. "you spend time with her every day. you probably know more about her schedule than she does. megumi is..." satoru tilts his head. "difficult, and a priority. but tsumiki knows she is too."

"i just don't want her to feel lonely. or unimportant," you whisper to him, eyes darting down to his chest.

you know that it's a natural reaction, to want more for your kids. to want to protect them from your own feelings, however different the situations might be.

when satoru tells you that tsumiki reminds him of you there's that scared, cowardly little girl who recoils in response, flinching away from that idea. you never want her to feel like you do, to be like that little girl.

but unless you can erase history, you're not sure that it's possible.

satoru's eyes soften, looking at you. he breathes out, letting go of your face finally. then he leans down so his forehead rests against yours, shaking his head. "you're the most ridiculous person i know."

your eyes are forced upon his and you finally crack a smile. "have you met yourself?"

"megumi spends more time with us because he doesn't have any friends," satoru tells you, ignoring your glare at the statement. "tsumiki's just cooler than him."

"i'm gonna let him hide your blindfolds."

satoru rolls his eyes, but he shakes his head again. he's just staring at you, so you know that he's not going to entertain your pity party any longer.

at least he knows that there's no point in arguing when you're not going to listen to reason.

you nod, looking away from him, back to the counter of destruction. "okay, i'll just finish this for her. i already started, so i might as well--"

"finish it in the morning," satoru says, finger forcing your face back to his.

"not how that works, satoru."

"put everything away, and finish in the morning," he repeats, trying ridiculously hard to sound stern--but it's almost impossible with the smile that leeches onto his face. "she can have some after school."

"but i just want--"

satoru shakes his head, shaking your jaw with his hand. "you're tired. go to bed."

you cross your arms. "since when i have i ever done anything you said?"

"since i said so," satoru answers, as a finality.

and then he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your waist, getting a secure hold so he can pick you up, hoisting you across his shoulder before he can say anything.

it's about as gently as satoru does anything, but still surprisingly comfortable.

you squirm against him, though, ignoring that thought, making sure not to squeal at the sudden feeling of being swept off your feet. the children are asleep. "put me down,” you hiss at him.

"nope. it's bedtime."

"satoru gojo, i swear--"

he just laughs, removing you both from the kitchen and continuing down the hall.

but instead of stopping at your door and depositing you in your bed--probably finding a key to lock you in with--he continues to his own room, opening and door and spinning around so he can shut it softly.

you don't have the time to question his motives or meanings before you're already trapped in the enclosed space with him, with none of the willpower to argue with him.

your room is cold anyway.

satoru walks you both over to the bed, laying you down in his usual spot, head against the pillow (he ignores the glare you have pointed up at him).

he shrugs off the sweater he's wearing, throwing it somewhere behind him like the teenage boy he is, and then lays down.

right on top of you, of course.

his body is sprawled across yours, your shoulder digging into his chest. but his arms are on either side of you as he holds himself up so that he can continue to look at you.

he has boxed you in completely. and just his eyes on yours keep you from any viable means of escape.

you breathe in his face and frown. "i hate you."

"shhh," satoru is grinning, his face bright enough to be seen in the dark. "we're sleeping. can't hear you."

"you're heavy, satoru," you complain, pushing at his chest with an ounce of strength. it doesn't work because you don't want it to.

satoru pretends to snore, but he's still several inches above you. his face is close enough that you can see little scars, and the flecks of white in his eyes. he's looking at every part of your face, every single inch of your being.

your eyes should focus on his, but you're used to this. so, after a moment, they trail across his face, to the bridge of his nose, and down to the swell of his lips.

there's light coming in from his window, the moon flattering satoru completely (not that he needs any help).

and, right now, as he keeps himself just above you, satoru's smile is gentler than ever.

it lacks the bravado, the carelessness he usually exudes. but it's full of something else, probably something more.

and you're the only person that gets this smile. the slightly drowsy, completely sure one.

so you keep your eyes on it for a moment too long, but it's really not your fault at all.

you could just kiss him and fall asleep.

he's looking at you like that's what he wants you to do, and you know that you're probably looking at him the same way. a simple kiss and the two of you would pass out, unbothered by the aches you'll wake up to, or the body weight that could suffocate you.

but you've never made things that easy.

when satoru leans down, his entire back tensing, muscles probably straining from staring at you for this long, you sigh.

satoru pauses, moving back a centimeter, checking your eyes for something--his are bathed in temptation, basking in desire, and you're sure that yours are just an echo of all of that.

but it's the perfect opportunity.

he leans in again, but you interrupt.

"i still need to put everything away," you whisper to him, cheek twitching.

satoru groans and his head falls against your shoulder.

you tangle your hands through his hair and giggle into his ear until you can feel the goosebumps across the skin of his biceps.

"so, tsumiki, how'd your test go?"

you glare at satoru, trying not to look at how tsumiki reacts. you've decided that you don't care.

tsumiki is always happy, satoru told you this morning, she might be on drugs.

and, well, you couldn't quite disagree with him (the first part, not the second. he got a smack for that).

she nods, forking her piece of cake again. "good," she answers, through the bite that's already in her mouth.

"was it a hard one?"

"nope!"

satoru gives you a look. a very familiar 'i told you so' look.

you roll your eyes, giving megumi a piece of cake which he takes begrudgingly.

"shut up," you tell him.

next part | series masterlist

731 notes · View notes

wooziorgans · 3 months ago

Text

a pretty boy and a happy birthday || ljh

summary: it’s y/n’s first birthday in korea with jihoon. he’s somehow managed to keep his plans for their birthday a secret. despite both jihoon and y/n not being big fans of pda, today is different. it’s hard to keep the love you feel for someone on their day hidden.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: saying ily sooo much like almost too much. crying on your birthday (happy tears tho). mentions of a previous ldr. long distance friendship n missing your best friend. reader doesn’t like seaweed. mentions of drinking. pussy drunk jihoon. sweet ol’ love making. missionary. riding. overstimulation (both). edging (m.). unprotected sex. jihoon also cries. riding jihoon until he cries. popping the question while being balls deep inside ur partner. surprises.

a/n: happy birthday to ME. this is super self indulgent cus it was my birthday so i wrote this for me and me only. but u can also read it too. also sorry it’s uhhh late. i got into the re-editing mood so uh I rewrote half of this. anyways. enjoy!!!

Jihoon’s arm wraps around Y/N as he watches the second hand tick on his watch. “Three… two… one.” He presses a soft kiss to their lips. “Happy birthday, my love.” His hand carefully holds the side of their face as he pulls the covers further over both of them. He places another tender kiss on their lips, thumb brushing over the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you, pretty.” Y/N’s voice is soft and Jihoon sees his partner's lip start to quiver softly, as their eyes start to get glassy.

“Wait, baby, fuck. Don't cry.” Jihoon chuckles lightheartedly, thumb moving to catch the small tear that starts to run down their cheek. “Please don't cry, my love. It’s okay, you’re okay. I love you, so so so much.” He reassures, kissing their forehead, as his thumb continues to stroke their cheek in the familiar way it always does.

This doesn’t seem to help Y/N at all. More small tears escape their eyes, wetting the fabric of Jihoon’s shirt and his thumb.

“I know,” Y/N’s voice breaks softly as they cry, a small smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m just so… I love you Jihoon. I’m so happy to be here and finally spend things like this with you. Thank you for waiting for me.” They puff out their bottom lip in a pout. Jihoon laughs quietly, despite the tears he’s now also pushing back.

The moment is dissolved as Y/N’s phone starts to vibrate against Jihoon’s chest. Y/N picks it up, swiping to answer, already knowing who it is.

“Happy birthday, stupid. I miss you.” Their best friend, now countries away smiling through the facetime call at them, greets.

“Thanks. I miss you too. You should come visit when you can.” Y/N pouts softly, and the feeling of almost crying is back. Through the screen, Y/N sees their friends face shift.

“Please don’t cry. I’ll see what I can do with my vacation hours next month and we’ll figure something out. I love you, y’know?” She speaks softly, and Y/N only pouts more. She had this ability to read Y/N like no other, only rivaled by Jihoon and Seungkwan. But even then, the near decade of friendship had its benefits.

“I love you too. I really want you to see Korea; it’s so beautiful here.” Y/N smiles softly after finally keeping their tears at bay.

“Any big plans for today?” She asks, head tilting to the side.

“Mm… probably not. I think I’ll just spend the day with Jihoon. He took it off work, and you know how he is, so we have to make the most out of his day off.” A wide smile spreads over Y/N’s entire face as they talk about their partner.

“You got him to take a day off? God, you’re so lovesick it makes me want to throw up.” She laughs softly, no clear indication of actually wanting to hurl. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Hm? Oh. I’m laying on him right now.” Y/N pans the camera up to Jihoon, who waves the best he can with his arm caged under Y/N.

“Ah, well, I’ll let you two get to sleep. It’s late for you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. We’ll talk later. Have fun on your day off.” She waves to the camera, wiggling her fingers. Y/N reciprocates the action.

“Okay. I love you.” Y/N smiles.

“I love you too. Goodnight.” She drags out the last syllable in a sing-song tone. Y/N echoes her, before her face is gone from the screen.

Y/N pouts softly again, and Jihoon runs a hand through their hair. “You’re okay, baby. No more crying, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to cry on your birthday.” Jihoon coos. Y/N laughs softly.

“I cry every year on my birthday.” Jihoon wipes their eyes with his thumb, a fond smile on his lips.

“You’re such a big baby.” He jokes, lips pressing against the top of their head.

“Yeah, but I’m your baby.” Y/N giggles, leaning up into his touch.

“Yeah,” Jihoon whispers softly, “you are.” They’re far past the point of being shy around each other, but for some reason Jihoon feels especially bashful.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first birthday they’re able to spend with each other, in their house; the one Jihoon finalized three months after Y/N made it to Korea to be with him. They had outgrown his apartment, and with Y/N moving so far to be with him, he was ready to justify the purchase as a way to provide for Y/N, and for the future when both of them were ready to properly settle down.

His heart swells loudly in his chest, all of the air in his lungs suddenly feels thick. “Let's go to sleep, okay? You’re getting tired, I can feel it. You can spoil me in the morning.” Y/N, ever observant of Jihoon, whispers. Jihoon hadn’t even registered his own fatigue until Y/N had mentioned it. His arm feels heavy around Y/N, and not from them laying on it.

Jihoon cranes his neck down for a kiss, which Y/N returns languidly. Their brief crying session made their fatigue set in much faster.

“M’kay. I love you. Happy birthday.” Jihoon runs his fingers through their hair again. Y/N’s hand brushes over Jihoon’s chest, nail catching softly on his nipple. He shudders softly. “Not right now, honey. I promise I’ll spoil you so good tonight. Gonna buy you whatever you want today.” Jihoon’s speech starts to meld into itself as he starts to drift off. His hand settles on their back as he rubs soft circles on the bottom of their shoulder blades. Y/N leans into his side further, face nuzzling into his chest.

“Okay. I love you.” Is all they offer, before they close their eyes, hand gripping the fabric of his shirt softly.

An unfamiliar smell spreading through the house is what wakes Y/N up. They groan softly, rolling over, expecting Jihoon to be there. His side of the bed is still warm, and once sounds start to register, they hear a soft sizzling sound from the kitchen. Taking a few seconds to sit up and adjust to the new position, they place their feet on the heated linoleum floor. What a perk of dating a millionaire.

Rubbing their eyes as they stand, they slowly make their way out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen.

Jihoon stands over the stovetop, spatula in hand as he focuses on monitoring the pan and a small pot. Y/N approaches him carefully, arms wrapping around his bare waist. His sweatpants hang off his hips, v-line exposed to the open air.

Jihoon jumps slightly, before he relaxes against Y/N. “Good morning. You weren’t supposed to be up yet. I was supposed to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Y/N leans over his shoulder, chin resting on it. They can hear the slight pout in his voice, which is gravely in the same way it is every morning.

“‘M sorry. My pillow was gone, and so is your shirt, apparently.” Y/N laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss to Jihoon’s cheek.

“Stove’s hot. Go and sit, it’s almost ready.” Y/N nods, kissing his neck softly before they ruffle his hair in the same way that used to make him grimace in the early days of their relationship. Now, he smiles softly at the gesture, hand placed over the one they have wrapped around his front.

Y/N slips away from Jihoon to take a seat on the couch. They turn on the television, getting comfortable in the mountain of blankets on the couch. A few minutes later, Jihoon comes into the living room, balancing a tray on his hands.

A steaming plate of bacon and waffles is placed in front of them, alongside a bowl of an unfamiliar soup and two sets of utensils. “I, uh, I made you seaweed soup. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I know you’re very specific about the kinds of seaweed you’ll eat. I only made a small pot.” The small gesture, one of Jihoon’s culture, makes Y/N emotional for some reason.

They pout softly, leaning over the coffee table to pick up the spoon on the tray. They swirl it around the bowl, taking in the steaming aroma. “Thank you, Jihoon.” They blow softly on the spoon, bringing it to their lips. Jihoon watches intently as they take their first sip. Y/N’s face is hard to read as they swallow the broth.

“Thoughts?” Jihoon asks simply.

“I don’t know how I feel about it, right now. It’s a little too early for me to process something new.” Y/N laughs softly, unsure if rejecting the soup completely would be offensive. It wasn’t bad, just new, and it was a little too early for new things to not overwhelm Y/N.

“That’s okay. I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” Jihoon leans against Y/N on the couch, arm wrapping around their waist. “Let’s just eat.” The single plate of food was heaping. Most of it would be eaten by Jihoon anyways. Both of them dig in, and once the food is gone, Jihoon takes the tray back to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Go get ready. I’m taking you shopping today, and then I'm thinking we hit up your favourite restaurant and call it a day? I have a cake for delivery later tonight.” Y/N hums, pressing a kiss to Jihoon’s cheek before they head to get ready. Jihoon slips into the bedroom to get changed.

On the way out of the door, he shoots off a quick text.

Jihoon [11:58] Leaving now. Soonyoung has the spare key. Wake him up if you need to, this has to be perfect.

The door clicks open. Y/N steps back into the house, juggling multiple bags. All of the lights in the main foyer are off, which immediately has them on high alert. “Ji? Baby, did you turn the lights off when we left?”

“N-yeah. Don’t you remember?” If there’s one thing Jihoon is bad at, it’s lying. Still, Y/N seems too busy juggling the bags they insisted on carrying as they slip off their shoes. Jihoon sets down his bags at the door, carefully pulling the bags out of Y/N’s hands. “We’ll unpack all of this later okay? Come with me.” Jihoon leads Y/N into the living room, before he flips the light on.

Twelve men and their partners pop out from behind the massive couch. A collective shout of “Happy birthday!” sounds the entire room. Y/N jumps back, right into Jihoon’s arms. They bury their face into his chest.

Jihoon laughs softly, rubbing their back. “Sorry for surprising you like this. It was Seungkwan’s idea.” Y/N laughs, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently.

“It’s okay. I’m just shocked.” Y/N pulls away from Jihoon to go greet the twenty-odd guests inside their house.

“Y/N! Happy birthday!” Seungkwan pulls them into a warm hug, smile from ear to ear.

“Why did you do this? I would’ve been more than happy to just spend the day with you if you wanted. You didn’t have to go all out.” Y/N laughs softly, flicking Seungkwan’s forehead. He pouts.

“You deserve the best. C’mon, we have gifts. And alcohol.” Seungkwan pulls Y/N further into the living room. Jihoon stands with his arms crossed and a fond smile on his face. Soonyoung bumps into his shoulder.

“You’re so whipped. So incredibly whipped.” Jihoon swears at him, before telling him to fuck off, smile never leaving his face. “God, what have they done to you?” Soonyoung asks, faux shock on his features, but he’s smiling as well.

“I’m in love, Soonyoung.” Is all Jihoon offers.

When it’s time to get out the cake, Seungkwan carries it carefully, swearing at Seokmin to get away from him so he can focus on not dropping it. Everyone starts singing happy birthday, as Mingyu guides Y/N to sit at the table. They cover their face as all eyes are focused directly on them, sitting reluctantly. Seungkwan places the cake in front of them as the song ends.

Jihoon wraps his arms around Y/N’s neck loosely. He places a soft kiss to their cheek, before he whispers softly into their ear. “Make a wish, my love.” Y/N giggles softly, hand clamping over his forearm as they lean forward to blow out the candles. They close their eyes, taking a deep breath before they blow out every candle.

“What’d you wish for?” Soonyoung asks. Y/N shoots a faux glare at him.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” He whines softly, going back to his drink. Jihoon kisses the side of Y/N’s face again, and somewhere in the room, Chan makes a gagging sound.

“I will seriously never get used to him being affectionate with Y/N, ever.” Jihoon picks one of the candles out of the cake to throw at his younger brother. It hits his white shirt, staining it bright blue. He whines, and that makes Y/N laugh.

Jihoon decides then that Y/N’s laughter is equivalent to light, and that light is Y/N, and maybe that is the secret of the universe. It’s hard to be silent when the whole world is right at your fingertips.

Cake eaten, drinks consumed, hours spent in the living room and the backyard, Jihoon and Y/N kick their guests out at eleven at night. It takes fifteen minutes for Soonyoung to get into the car, not yet wanting to stop the party. They still see him off, promising to party even harder next time. Jihoon wraps his arm around Y/N as they wave from the steps. The cool breeze of the summer nights sends a chill up Y/N’s spine.

Jihoon pulls them into the house, locking the door behind him before he leads them to the bedroom. Y/N eagerly lays down, bones sore from socializing all day.

“Ah, fuck.” Jihoon climbs onto the bed, legs straddling Y/N. He rests his weight on their thighs, caging them down. “I’ve only got forty-five minutes for birthday sex.” He laughs softly, leaning over Y/N to brush their hair out of their face.

“Then you better get to work, love.” Y/N smiles softly, placing their hand over his. Their face burns as they start to feel their core throb.

“What’d you want me to do baby? Whatever you want right now, I’m your man.” Jihoon places a soft kiss to their lips.

“Whatever you feel like doing. I’m not picky, but this is nice. Just kiss me for a bit, but go slow. Want you to go slow.” Y/N’s speech starts to slur softly in the way it always does when they get aroused. Jihoon kisses them again, letting it linger for a second longer than normal.

“Then I’m gonna take my time with you, ‘n show you how much I love you,” Jihoon rolls his hips down slightly onto Y/N, “Gonna make love to you tonight– fuck.” His words die in his throat as he sees the way Y/N is looking up at him. There's so much trust in their gaze. It makes Jihoon’s heart swell.

Y/N seems to preen like a cat at the promise of making love. That was something they haven’t really had the chance to do since they started dating, almost four years into a relationship. “Please, Jihoon. Need you.” Y/N whispers, head falling back against the pillows as Jihoon brushes his hand over their neck. Their hands find the edge of his shirt, tugging at it softly. “Need this thing off too.” Jihoon removes his hand from the back of Y/N’s neck to grab his shirt and throw it off.

He sits back up, weight pinning Y/N’s legs to the bed as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head. Y/N runs a hand over his chest, trailing a single finger down the pit of his abs. Jihoon shivers softly. “One last present for you to unwrap tonight.” He leans back over Y/N, hands sliding under their shirt. “What was that thing you wanted to try? I was thinking maybe we could try it tonight, as a gift.” Jihoon places a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead, brushing the hair away from the area.

“Edging? You want me to edge you?” Y/N asks, sitting up as best they can with Jihoon’s weight on their legs. Their eyes are wide with slight shock. “You said you probably wouldn’t like it. We really don’t have to, Ji.” Jihoon smiles softly at the concern in their voice.

“If it’s too much or we’re not feeling it we’ll stop. Stoplight system okay?” He places another soft kiss on Y/N’s cheek, fingers threading through their hair.

“Mm, that’s fine.” Y/N sits up slightly to throw their shirt off. “No foreplay tonight. I’m really wet right now and I really need you inside.” Jihoon sighs dramatically.

“I don’t even get to eat you out?” Y/N laughs softly, hand running over his hair.

“I promise you can eat me out next time.” Y/N kisses his face, hands moving down to the button on his jeans. “You wanna get on the bed for me? It’ll be easier to do this if I ride you.” Jihoon groans, swearing. He never lasts long when Y/N’s on top.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He uses his legs to flip both of them over, rolling onto his back. They both take a few seconds to quickly strip out of the remainder of their clothing.

Jihoon’s cock throbs against his stomach. Y/N grabs it, giving him a few pumps before they straddle his lap. He can feel the heat from their core as they line him up to their entrance.

Y/N sinks down slowly, exhaling a shallow moan as they clench around Jihoon’s cock. “Oh, fuck. Shit, maybe I should’ve let you eat me out.” Jihoon’s fairing no better, head thrown back against the pillows as his hands grip Y/N’s hips in a vice.

“Maybe I still could.” He suggests, a breathy laugh falling past his big, pillowy lips. Y/N leans down to kiss him softly.

“Next time. We’re already here.” Jihoon begins to pant softly, already verging on close as Y/N begins to speed up. “Fuck, I’m already close. The stretch is so… my god.” The small burn at Y/N’s entrance accentuates the pleasure building in their stomach.

“Yeah, god, you’re so tight like this. Fuck, I think I might die if we do more than two rounds.” And while Jihoon isn’t posing a challenge, Y/N takes it as one.

“Yeah? Then we’ll do four. Tell me when you're about to cum.” Y/N clenches around Jihoon, and he moans lowly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip tightens.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m right there.” Y/N pulls off Jihoon’s cock, hovering above it with their hands flattened to his chest. Jihoon whines softly, biting his lip to silence the louder sounds that threaten to escape his throat. “Holy shit.” He hisses.

Y/N begins their ministries again, and it doesn’t take long for Jihoon to whine out that he’s close, before they pull off again. He whimpers softly, causing Y/N to brush the hair from his face in adoration. “‘M so sensitive, baby. Please let me cum.” He begs, and something about his tone has Y/N sitting back on his cock, moving faster, hitting deeper, before they cum around him, hips barely faulting their pace.

The added lubricant only adds to the experience and Jihoon whines out his plea again, only to be denied once more. Y/N gives him a few seconds, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. Then they’re right back on him, ass slapping against his thighs, wet squelching noises filling the room and it’s too much, it’s so crude it makes Jihoon’s head hurt (both of them).

“Fuck, please, no more. Can’t– can’t take any more,” Jihoon whines, head falling back into the pillows. “Need to cum, fuck, wanna cum so bad baby. Fuck, I’m gonna–” Y/N pulls themself off his cock, hovering over his tip. He whimpers softly, before it's followed by an exasperated sigh of horny frustration. His grip on the sheets has his knuckles turning white.

“That's the last time, I promise baby.” Y/N carefully holds the side of his face, thumb stroking over his cheek to ground him. “Just breathe for me. C’mon, in and out.” Jihoon does as they say, forcing the promise of his orgasm away from his mind for the time being.

Once he’s settled back down, he gives a small nod, craning his neck to look back up at Y/N. “Okay,” He exhales deeply, blowing the breath out through his lips, “I think I’m good.” That’s all Y/N needs before they sink back down onto his cock, walls fluttering as they suck him in.

Once again, it’s almost too intense. Jihoon’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as he whines softly. “Fuck, Y/N, god.” He pants, hands slipping from the sheets to grip their hips. “Love you so much; wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He confesses, and while it’s probably the desire to cum, which is all he can think about right now, he’s talkative and his confession doesn’t slip past Y/N.

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you too, Hoonie.” Y/N leans down to kiss him, their other hand holding his face so delicately it makes Jihoon’s head spin. He gasps softly into the kiss as the angle changes slightly. Y/N feels it too, how he’s reaching a little deeper, tip perfectly kissing their g-spot with every bounce.

“No, like,” Jihoon kisses Y/N again in an attempt to regain his train of thought, “ I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Bought you a ring ‘n everything. Couldn’t– shit– couldn’t find the right time to do it, know you don’t like grand gestures so I didn’t plan anything special, fuck. Just thought I’d ask when the time is right. Marry me, please. Wanna marry you, see you walking down the aisle all dressed up for me. Wanna see you with a pretty ring on your finger, wanna match with you. Wanna take you on a nice honeymoon, maybe take you to Italy with me. Wanna love you and only you for the rest of my life, god, I want that more than anything. ‘M so in love with you, so so in love with you.” Tears had started to gather in his waterline. They slip past his long lashes, down his cheeks to the side of his face. Y/N stops moving, mouth open in slight shock.

Jihoon’s tears hit their fingers which are still delicately holding the sides of his face. “Jihoon?” Y/N’s voice is shaky. “Jihoon.” The second time is more firm when he doesn’t reply.

“Hm?” He hums, locking eyes with his lover.

“Did you seriously just propose to me while you’re balls deep inside of me?” The air in their voice makes it hard for Jihoon to hear their question with the blood rushing through his head, but he hears it.

“I… I did.” He laughs softly, head thrown back as a toothy smile spreads across his whole face. “Will you marry me?” He’s more coherent now, thoughts meeting each other halfway to form whole ones. One of his hands slips off of Y/N’s waist, before it’s digging around in the pillows for something. His fingers disappear for a second in the white case of the pillow, before they return with a small red velvet box.

He flips it open with his thumb. A silver band embedded with small diamonds catches the light, shining into Y/N’s eyes. It’s beautiful, simple enough but clearly an engagement ring. It takes a few seconds for things to register before tears start falling down Y/N’s face as they nod excessively.

“Yes, oh my god. Jihoon, yes, I’ll marry you.” Y/N’s hands fall from his face slowly. Jihoon grabs their left hand with his one that was positioned on their hips. He takes the ring out of the box, carefully slipping it onto their left ring finger. He kisses the skin of their knuckles, before kissing the ring directly.

“Perfect fit.” Jihoon whispers. Y/N leans down to kiss him, fingers intertwining with his. The metal of the ring is still cold against Jihoon’s fingers. He moans softly, whether it’s from the way Y/N shifts on his cock, or from the feeling of an engagement ring on his lover's finger is up in the air. “I love you.” He pants softly against Y/N’s lips, before he grabs them with one arm around their waist and flips them onto the bed.

Y/N gasps softly as their back hits the bed, hand threading into Jihoon’s hair. The dark strands are so incredibly soft in between their fingers. Jihoon thrusts in slowly, face falling into the crook of Y/N’s neck. “I’m gonna make love to you now, jus’ like I said I would. Gonna take care of you now, gonna take care of you for the rest of my– the rest of our life.” His thrusts are slow and so incredibly deep.

His hand never lets go of Y/N’s left one, completely in love with the metal band around their finger.

Jihoon’s lips find Y/N’s neck. He places small kisses on the base of it, sucking softly, almost in time with each thrust. He won’t last long, and he knows he won’t, especially will all of the edging. But he still feels the need to take care of Y/N, to take as much time as his body will let him have like this.

Soft whines slip past Y/N’s lips, fist tight in Jihoon’s hair. The pace is too much, so slow and deep, hitting all the right places with each thrust. “Ji, I can’t— fuck, too much.” Y/N gasps, as his tip brushes their sweet spot, lips working diligently to suck a deep bruise into the side of their neck.

“Fuck, baby, ‘m so close.” Jihoon pants, lips ghosting over the dark bruise. “I’m not gonna last. You feel s’fucking good.” He’s definitely far past the point of being pussy drunk, bordering on inebriated. He pulls out, slamming back in as he loses the last bit of his self control. His pace quickens, but it still maintains the depth of his thrusts.

He tries to kiss Y/N, but it falls flat when all he does is whine into their mouth. Y/N’s orgasm sweeps over them unexpectedly, walls fluttering around Jihoon’s cock as their release only helps Jihoon slide in deeper. The added lubricant mixes with his pre-cum, and he loses it completely.

The way Y/N tightens as they ride out their orgasm, small sounds leaving their lips, it’s too much. He kisses them hard, lips moving in time with theirs the best he can manage. And then they clench around him again and it’s over.

Jihoon cums hard, his vision going completely white as his body feels like it’s on fire. His cock is sensitive as he keeps thrusting, somehow going harder. He can’t seem to stop, not until he’s whimpering and whining, voice pitched nearly an octave higher than normal. His lips stop moving in time with Y/N’s as he just pants and whines into their mouth.

Jihoon’s arms feel like jelly and he collapses on top of Y/N, still set on moving inside of them. For some reason, his cock will not seem to soften, even though it’s nearly painful. Y/N clenches again, still proceeding their own orgasm, as they pet his hair to try and calm him down. There’s no point in telling him to stop; he’s still hard and he’s still fucking them, though he seems to be slowing down slightly.

An unexpected second orgasm sweeps over Jihoon, and it renders him completely spent. He stops moving, seems to stop breathing for a second. His cock twitches a few more times inside Y/N before it finally begins to soften.

And then it’s quiet. Jihoon doesn’t move, or make a sound; all that can be heard is the shallow breaths leaving his mouth. Y/N finally manages to untangle their hand from his, moving it to rub his back in the same way he always does after they’re spent like this. Their other hand stays put in his hair, nails gently massaging his scalp as they wait for any indication that he’s not completely passed out. “You okay, baby?” Y/N whispers softly. The moment is so fragile; Jihoon hardly ever submits like this, and he’s never cum so hard in his life, let alone twice back to back. The feeling of his softening cock inside of them, and the almost inhuman amount of cum inside of Y/N starts to feel a bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t respond, just makes a small noise in acknowledgment.

“Ji, come back to me. You’re okay.” Finally, he shifts to look up at Y/N, eyes fluttering open. He looks the same way he does after a good nap, tired. “I thought you might’ve blocked out for a second there. Do you need a minute?” Jihoon hums, laughing softly.

“I think I did black out. Fuck.” Jihoon buries his head in Y/N’s chest, placing a soft kiss to the skin there. “Am I crushing you?” Y/N hums.

“No, but I need you to pull out, love. I’m sticky.” Jihoon moves at a snail's pace as he carefully pulls out. He whimpers softly, cock incredibly sensitive. It twitches involuntarily as the tip slips out, and then his cum begins to leak out of Y/N’s spent hole. Y/N feels it seep out, shivering at the warmth.

Jihoon settles his weight back on top of Y/N. He glances at the clock, which reads five minutes to twelve. “Happy birthday, my love. I hope you had a good day today.” He finds Y/N’s left hand, fingers immediately finding the ring.

“Course, I did. I had a pretty boy and a happy birthday.” Y/N exhales softly in contentment. “I cannot believe you proposed to me during sex. That’s such a you thing to do.” Y/N laughs softly, free hand still rubbing his back. They can’t help but stare at the ring.

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice slowly fading out with fatigue.

“You’re a romantic, my love.” Y/N kisses the top of his head, hand trailing up his back to the base of his neck. “Let’s take a bath, okay? You need to relax.” Jihoon nods softly, carefully shifting his weight off Y/N. His cock rubs against their thigh, and he hisses softly.

“Can you get it ready? I need a minute to regain feeling in my legs.” Jihoon laughs, hiding his face in embarrassment, though it doesn’t hide the tips of his ears which are beet red.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” Jihoon’s chest swells again, completely enamoured by their patience with him. It never fails to assure him that this was the right person. The only person. His person.

In the morning, the Seventeen group chat is what wakes Y/N up. Jihoon’s phone won’t stop going off; a product of the photo he sent before he put it on do not disturb. Jihoon stirs softly, arms tightening around Y/N’s waist. “Let them talk, just give me a few more minutes of this.” He murmurs into the back of their neck.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world, my dear.” Jihoon’s hand finds Y/N’s again, before he presses a soft kiss to their ring finger.

a/n: oh boy. hope that was,,, enjoyable. also if I start an official tag list for fics would anyone join??? sorry that this is late. my bday was a week ago LOLLLL.

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httpiastri · 9 months ago

Text

snowy mountains & hot baths – op81

you, oscar, and an empty spa can only lead to one thing.

genre: very short smut 😶

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: uhhh public sex.... unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it yall!!

author's note: happy valentines day :) wish i had oscar here to celebrate with me... anyway. idk about this one guys 🫠🫠 started out alright but then i hated half of it so i deleted it and rewrote it but it just got worse. and i know that if i don't just post it rn, i will likely procrastinate and never end up posting it at all. yay. hope u enjoy anyway! i also have another oscar fic done that's at least a bit better than this lol.

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

a low groan leaves oscar's lips when he dips his feet in the warm water. he instantly turns around, eyes finding you standing by the door you've just walked through to get to this outdoor area of the spa. he holds his hand out towards you, beckoning for you to step closer.

"it feels so good," he promises, gaze following your every move as you let your robe slide down your arms. his eyes widen when you reveal your newly bought bikini – papaya orange, of course – and a shudder passes through his body at the sight of the tiny material trying it's best to cover you up.

he thanks all the gods he can think of that there's no one else around.

goosebumps grow across your skin now that you're exposed to the sub-zero temperatures, toes curling in the short layer of snow on the deck. you stroll over to him, making sure to let your hips sway a little extra with every step because you know he's watching and you know what he's thinking. the sight of him gulping as his eyes wander up and down your body can only mean one thing.

taking his hand in yours, you let him pull you into the water with him, letting out a content sound when the water envelops your legs and brings the temperature of your body up again. oscar gives your hand a squeeze and leans back, his back hitting the water as he submerged into it. you dive in right after him, making a few strokes beneath the surface before coming up for air again. your hands come up to wipe away the water from your face, before brushing over your hair and tying it up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"this is just what i needed," your boyfriend says, drawing out an agreeing hum from you. it's been a long day – a long week, really – filled to the brim with skiing, hot chocolate drinking, skiing, cable car-rides, and then more skiing. oscar doesn't usually get a lot of time off work, and when he does, he wants to make the most of it. and as his partner, he thinks you should be doing the same, and that's why he's woken you up in the early hours every morning this last week, practically bouncing from how much he aches to go out in the swiss alps yet again.

the hot tub is big enough to swim around in, but oscar makes his way to the side and sits down on the built-in seat, arms stretching out and resting on the edge of the pool. you swim over to him, easily slipping onto his lap and letting your hands rest on his shoulders. oscar tenses up when you sit on him, and you're not surprised by the length already poking up at you – he's just a man, after all – but you decide not to do anything to acknowledge it just yet.

"it's really beautiful here, don't you think?" you ask, looking to your side. the sun has only just set, so the little village isn't completely dark yet. the moon above your heads casts a soft hue over the mountains you've spent all week conquering, stars twinkling among the tops.

"not as beautiful as you, though." there's barely any lightning out here other than the little candles scattered across the floor, but you see the fire in oscar's gaze clearly when you look back at him. he's staring at you like you're the most perfect work of art, the most beautiful thing to ever exist – and your expression matches his, because he truly is your favorite thing to look at in the world. your heart flutters at the contrast between how cute he looks with a few locks of his long fringe curling along his forehead, and how incredibly sexy his body looks with the little droplets of water decorating his muscular chest. he's just stunning.

"you really did a great job with planning and booking all of this, you know," you start. "i may have complained quite a bit when you dragged me out of bed at six am, but... it's all been perfect."

your hands find the space just below his jaw, and it takes all of your strength not to blatantly stare at his thick neck when you feel the muscles under your touch.

"well, perfect except for the fact that my legs are so sore right now."

oscar chuckles at this confession, hands leaving the edge of the pool and dipping into the water instead. "let me help you out with that, then..."

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his palms meet your bare thighs, fingers pressing into the skin and stroking you softly. your eyes flutter closed, loving every second of his massage and growing hotter when his hands make their way further and further up. it doesn't take long before oscar can't hold back anymore, reaching up to press his lips against yours.

you sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself further towards him, your crotch brushing against his as a result. the moan he lets out is so hot that you instinctively begin grinding down against him, wanting to hear more.

oscar gets the hint, but finds himself reaching for your shoulders, holding you back as he leans out of the kiss. your lips chase after him, a frown taking over your face when he doesn't give in. you open your eyes to look at him.

"are you sure... that you want to..." oscar's voice is low but genuine; he knows you aren't a fan of exhibitionism, and that these situations usually only make you uncomfortable.

but the look in your eyes is impossible to misinterpret. "there's no one around..."

he looks around the area once more just to make sure. choosing to go to the spa at 8pm, the exact time when the restaurant at the hotel was the most crowded, was oscar's best idea yet.

he doesn't say anything else. he just grabs the back of your neck, pushing you down to his lips yet again. it's more rushed now, messy kisses pressed against your lips and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip hastily. his other hand caresses all the way down your back, gives your butt a quick squeeze, and then moves to your front instead. his fingers trace the edge of your bikini before dipping inside of it, finding your clit with ease.

your upper body is completely leaning onto him by now, little sounds slipping past your lips as he starts drawing circles onto your already sensitive bud. in no time, he's slipped past your clit, one finger sliding into your core and pumping you a couple of times before being joined by another finger. you can't help but clench around him, exhaling into the kiss.

"please, oscar..." you whine against his lips, and oscar nods, pulling out of you and breaking the kiss. he holds your hips away a little to make space for his hand undoing the knot that holds up his swim trunks, before pulling his dick out of them. he lifts you up, fingers pushing your bikini bottoms to the side but pausing when his tip meets your core. he waits for your nod of consent before finally entering you.

the water helps him glide into you, a throaty moan rumbling from his throat when he bottoms you out. he doesn't give you even a second to adjust, hands on your hips pulling you up before sinking you onto him again.

"fuck," he lets out, throwing his head back when you start to roll your hips against his. "you feel so good..."

you lean forward, forehead resting on the bend of his neck as you bounce up and down on him. your hands move to the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his locks, and it doesn't take long before your movements get sloppier. you gasp when oscar begins thrusting up into you, meeting your downward movements in a steady rhythm.

his grip on your hips grows firmer, rough fingers pressing into your skin and surely leaving marks for tomorrow. he's getting closer, too – you can tell by the string of moans he's letting out in between a bunch of swearwords – and you use your last bit of energy to pick up your pace and help him out. your walls contract around him when you come, and you feel him reach his own high not long after, twitching and shooting into you as you ride out your orgasms.

his hands are more gentle now, brushing up and down your back and following the bumps of your spine. when you finally gain the energy to speak, your words vibrate against his skin. "well, we're never coming back to this spa again." you lean back slightly, looking up at him for the first time in a while. "or the town, for that matter."

his blissed-out eyes meet yours, soft and glossy as he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

his flushed cheeks make him look so innocent, but his heaving chest tells another story. "did you not see the cameras?" you question.

"oh, you think we're the first ones to do this here?" you gasp at his wording, splashing some water his way. he laughs. "what, do you really? i reckon this happens here at least once every day. maybe even more."

"oscar!"

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razorblade180 · 4 months ago

Text

Crazy Night

Ruby:*picks up scroll* Go for broke? This is Ruby speak-

Yang:Pick us up.

Ruby:….Hm?

Yang:.You have to pick us up from the club. Please make sure you bring the tow hitch and straps for bumblebee.

Ruby:Geez, all of you are drunk.

Yang:No. but uuuhh-

xxxxxx

Ruby:WHY ARE YOU ALL BRUISED!?

Blake:Ask Weiss.

Weiss:*over Jaune’s shoulder* I am not in the mood.

Jaune:So umm everything was fine until-

Weiss:Until that bitch kept fucking pushing me and talking shit! Let me back in!

Bouncer:No!

Yang:*snickers* So, things were fine. The vibes were good. Jaune was killing it on the dance floor a little too well and some gals noticed…

Ruby:Weiss-

Weiss:I do not care if some rando gets ideas about Jaune. I did not actively assault anyone.

Blake:First of all, ya did. Second, Weiss was on good behavior actually. Some girl started flirting with Jaune and he politely declined the advances.

Jaune:Girls number two shows up; at this point I’m actively dancing with Weiss. Girl number two is tipsy and friends with girl number one.

Yang:Ruby when I tell you she was on this man! Budged Weiss out of the way and everything! To give me credit, all Weiss said at first was “Excuse me!?”

Ruby:At first?

Yang:Oh we will get to the colorful language in a minute. Jaune gets the girl dancing off of him to help Weiss. In the most annoying voice ever, the girl goes-

Weiss: “Oh sorry! Is that like…your girlfriend or something?” I don’t have to be his girlfriend for what she did to be shitty!

Ruby:Oh I would’ve swung instantly. Also, where’s Nora and Ren?

Jaune:We’ll get back to that.

Yang:I start making my way over a little because alcohol and anger brings out feelings and I just want good vibes. That’s when girl number one walks back over!

Blake:To be fair, I think she thought you were about to hit her friend. Not that she could stop you, but solidarity and all.

Ruby:What were you doing?

Blake:Watching the drinks. By the way, Weiss had three shots at this point.

Ruby:Weiss! You’re the size of one shot!

Weiss:I am fine! Plus you think I’m dancing in a club fully sober!? I had eaten beforehand and was with Jaune perfectly fine.

Yang:(You were using him like a pole.)

Jaune:*red* Anyways, the girls start getting a little more…bratty. Mainly towards Weiss and continuing to wink at me.

Weiss:They touching your chest and making you uncomfortable! Do not under sell that!

Yang:Was swatted the second girl’s hand away and said “take a hint, you bitch.” That’s when things got a little…dicey.

Ruby:Please don’t say it.

Blake:So uhhh clubs are loud and dark. Lots of people; pretty hard to look at completely. However, I started making my way over the moment I heard low growling.

Yang:And the rest of us quickly noticed fangs and a poodle tail.

Ruby:Weeeeeiiiisssss!

Weiss:Don’t call my name like I’m the problem!

Yang:The real nail in the coffin was the girl saying “What? He’s single. You scared your little boy toy wants a real woman?”

Weiss and Jaune:…..

Ruby:Oh.

Yang:*snickers*

Ruby:Why are you laughing!?

Yang:Because you need to understand Ruby. I fucking blinked, and everything changed. Our loving Weiss is a bad ass with years of combat training. I didn’t see any of that tonight. Tonight I remembered Weiss and a literal “rich bitch” and I wasn’t prepared! Beacon training was gone! She yanked this girl by the hair and was hammer fisting her face before I could process anything!

Weiss:*covering face*

Blake:And listen, most people might course correct learning they’re fighting a Faunus, but like Yang said, alcohol and anger brings out nasty feelings. Jaune and Yang are struggling to get Weiss away from that girl while I’m blocking the first one and alll I hear behind me is-

Bouncer: “Let me go. I’m gonna put this tramp in a kennel.”

Ruby:WHAT!?

Weiss:…

Blake:I’m gonna be honest, I kinda wanted to laugh because all I could think was “Oh my god, Weiss is actually fucking pissed! It’s freshman year Weiss!”

Weiss:I was not this bad freshman year!

Blake:I know! That’s what made this so crazy! I don’t believe in ghosts but your ancestors whispered in your ear for that level of hate. Anyway, bouncer showed up and now we’re here.

Ruby:What happened to the other two girls?

Bouncer:Didn’t start the fight. Get to stay in.

Ruby:….May I please enter this lovely esta-

Bouncer:No.

Ruby:Sorry yall. I tried. Yang, where’s your motorcycle?

Yang:Conveniently, the air has been let out of the tires when the club owner and others threatened legal actions. *red eyes* Fortunately for them, I choose to be responsible and call my sister so everyone gets home, instead of causing trouble.

Ruby:And dad would be proud. Alright, everyone into the convertible. Also, once again, where is-

Nora:Engine. Start. Now!

Ruby dashed by everyone and put them in them in back of the car then super sped bumblebee over to the tow hitch while Ren and Nora hopped in the front. As Ruby drove away quickly. Weiss leaned over the outside out of fear of puking, then felt a sense of ease as Jaune rubbed her back with his semblance activated.

Jaune:Thanks for standing up for me.

Weiss:I was more made than virtuous.

Jaune:Next time, you can just lie and say we’re dating. The outcome has to be better than this.

Weiss:*red*…Sure thing.

Yang:*mumbles* Or they can make it the truth.

Blake:We can’t judge them…

Ruby:So, I take it you got revenge?

Ren:It’s going to suck when they leave and wonder why their tires are flat.

Nora:I’m sure someone helpful has tire pump. Still, that doesn’t do much for a fried battery.

Ruby:What did we all learn today?

WBYJRN:Nothing. Fuck those girls.

Ruby:…Well as long as you all are in an agreement. Let tonight end with good music! Weiss, your payment is a song!

Weiss:Zzzz

Ruby:Yeah, definitely too many shots.

Weiss:Zzzz He’s mine~ Zzzz

Everyone:*red*….

Ruby:……*turns on radio*

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #i imagine TGIF started playing #rwby whiteknight

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bloodibambiidoll · 6 months ago

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congrats on 1.6k my angel face ilysm hehe 😘😘

🐇 - “Why don’t you make me?” reader says to steve after being a brat all day…. desperately need stevie to come bully our pussy 🤭

Heheh tysm bb I love uuu🥺🖤 so uhhh.. I know you said mean Steve but soft Steve kind of ended up taking the wheel on this one I hope that’s okay, also it ended up being 2.1k😅

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: A lil bit of jealous Steve, fingering, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, besties to lovers, fluff fluff fluff. 18+MNDI!!

“That was so fucking lame.” You sigh as you flop down on Steve’s couch, throwing your head back against the cushions. You feel defeated after yet another unfulfilling hook up. At least for you. Whatever his name was seemed to be having a great time.

“I don’t know why you keep going out with these guys, these losers are never going to make you cum.” Steve scoffs, he’s honestly so over you coming over here after your shitty dates. He’s pretty sure this is how Robin probably felt when he was in the height of his serial dating career. Except she isn’t in love with him. Having to listen to you describe what these guys do, or in most cases, don’t do to you when he wants to be the only one that gets to touch you like that drives him insane.

“Why don’t you make me cum then, Steve?” Steve is almost positive he’s dreaming. There’s no way you just said that. As if you read his mind.

“What did you just say?” His head whips toward you, his eyes are wide and his mouth is agape.

“I think you heard me, Steve…” You cross your legs and Steve swears he sees them squeeze together just a little extra and you’re giving him this look you’ve never given him before. “Why don’t you… make me cum?”

“I -“ He rises from his spot on the other side of the couch to stand in front of you, he rests his hands on the back cushion on either side of your head and leans down so his face is mere inches away from yours. You can smell his minty gum and the way he’s looking at you makes your thighs clench together even tighter. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me to do…”

“If I’m not mistaken, I just asked you to make me cum. But if you don’t want to or if it’s weird like seriously it’s okay! Like maybe I shouldn’t have even -“ You’re cut off when one of Steve’s hands grabs onto your face as he leans down to smash your lips together. You let out a surprised gasp against his lips before putting your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He slips his tongue in your mouth and tangles it together with yours, not even caring that his body is bent at an awkward angle standing over you because god, he’s finally kissing you. When you try to pull him even closer he pulls away and before you can even protest he’s sitting on the couch next to you and pulling you into his lap so you’re straddling him.

“Are you sure about this? Because once I get a taste of you I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.” Steve grabs onto your face again, his large fingertips splayed across the back of your neck while the pad of his thumb comes to run across your bottom lip, smearing the mixture of your spit like lipgloss.

“I’m sure Stevie, please.” Your lips form into a pout as you look up at him through your lashes and god Steve is going to fucking ruin you.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you.” He kisses you again, wasting no time slipping his tongue past your lips. One of his hands it’s still gripping onto your face while the other travels down to squeeze your tit. He gives the other one some attention before slipping between your thighs. He cups your lace covered pussy under your skirt, adding pressure against your clit with his palm. Steve starts to move his hand in circles as he continues to kiss you like he will die if he doesn’t, his other hand comes down to grip onto your ass through your skirt, encouraging you to grind against him.

“Mmm, that feels good Steve.” You pull away from him to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting both of your lips. The prettiest little moans and gasps are leaving you but it’s not enough, Steve wants more, Steve wants you screaming for him.

“Yeah baby? How about this?” He pushes your panties to the side, gathering your wetness on the tips of his fingers before slipping one into your slit. He curves it upwards as his thumb applies pressure to your clit.

“Oh god. Yeah, yeah that’s so good.” Steve smirks at you while the pace of his finger picks up and then he’s sliding a second one in and his digits are just so thick and he’s hitting your sweet spot with each thrust of them. You’re so wet his thumb is gliding along your clit with ease and he rotates between soft strokes and adding harder pressure against it. “Fuck, Steve, fuck I think I’m gonna - I think I’m gonna cum.

“Mhm, I can feel your fingers clenching around me baby, give it to me.” He lowers his face into the crook of your neck so he can place open mouthed kisses against it and glides his tongue along the expanse of your throat before sinking his teeth into your skin.

“Ohmyfuckinggod! I’m cumming, yeah I’m fucking - I’m cumming.” Your eyes roll back and your pussy is practically sucking Steve’s fingers in as your walls convulse around them.

“Yeah that’s it, good girl, so good for me.” He fucks you through it, not stopping until he feels you go limp on top of him, your head resting on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath.

“Fuck Stevie, thank you, wow.” You let out a breathy chuckle and go to move off of him but he grips onto your hips, holding you in place.

“You didn’t think I was just going to make you cum once, did you?” He chuckles, gently pulling your head back to make you look at him.

“I mean - you really don’t have to -“ Steve puts a finger on your lips as he shushes you.

“Stop overthinking and lay down.” You oblige him, laying your back against the plush couch cushions.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He leans down to kiss your neck, down your collar bones, he places kisses at the top of your cleavage before grabbing onto the bottom of your shirt. “Let me see you.”

You sit up so he can pull your shirt over your head and he skillfully snakes his hand behind your back to undo your bra. He wastes no time gripping onto your tits so he can knead them in his large palms. Steve circles his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” You moan as your fingers find purchase in his thick locks, just like you’ve dreamed about a thousand times before. Steve kisses down your stomach before looking up at you while his finger plays with the hem of your skirt, asking without words. “Yes, please take it off.”

He pulls your skirt and your panties down your legs and groans at the sight of your slick folds. He grips onto your thighs, kissing and nipping the soft skin there.

“So wet for me, bet none of those douchebags ever had you this wet. Your pussy’s so pretty, baby.” Baby, he’s never called you that before today and you seriously never want him to stop now. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He leans down and licks a stripe all the way up your slit before circling your clit with his tongue. He sucks it into his mouth as he shakes his head from side to side, moaning at the taste of you.

“Oh my god, Steve! Fuck!” Your fingers find his hair again while you throw your head back.

His tongue slides down between your lips, running the flat of it up and down your dripping slit before shoving it inside you. He curls and swirls his tongue inside you, practically massaging your walls. His lips come up to latch around your clit again, sucking harder than before while he inserts two fingers inside you with ease. He pumps them in and out of you at a quick pace as his lips and tongue practically devour your clit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again, gonna cum Steve, oh god.” Your thighs clamp around his head as your back raises off the bed, pornographic moans falling from your lips. When he’s sure you’ve come down from your high Steve pulls his body up so it’s covering yours and kisses you passionately. The taste of yourself on his tongue has you desperate for him all over again.

“That was so hot, you’re so sexy. Been wanting to do that for so long.” Steve mumbles against your lips as he rolls his hips against you.

“Yeah? Me too. Shit Steve, can I make you cum too? Will you fuck me?” Your hips grind up into his, causing him to groan.

“You sure? Because if I fuck you I don’t know if I can just forget it happened afterwards…” Steve blinks rapidly, offering you a borderline nervous smile.

“I don’t want to forget, I want you, Steve, I’ve always wanted you.” You grab onto his face and gently caress his cheeks, admiring how beautiful he is this close. His nose is so perfect, you can see each and every freckle, and those green flecks in his eyes are more prominent than they’ve ever been as the lamp shining behind you practically illuminates him like an angel.

“Fuck, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I love you, you know?” Steve chuckles and you feel his face warm under your palms as you watch his cheeks dust pink.

“I love you too Stevie, so fucking much.” You giggle and all Steve can think about is how fucking beautiful you look completely bare under him, your skin flushed from the pleasure he had given you minutes ago, your hair all tosseld, lips kiss swollen, looking up at him like he hung the stars.

“Yeah? Well, now that we’ve established that, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” He smirks down at you before pushing himself up on his knees so he can make quick work of his belt, pulling his shirt over his head afterwards. When his cock springs free you actually gasp at the sight of it.

“Holy shit.” Your jaw drops and you look up at him with wide eyes. “I knew you dick was huge from the outline of it in your slutty little jeans but fuck Steve, where the fuck is that gonna fit?.”

“I think you can take it.” He pumps himself a few times before running his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness so he can rub it along his cock. He bumps it against your clit a few times and it has your squirming underneath him.

“Don’t tease, Stevie.” You whine, pouting up at him, and Steve can’t take it anymore, he slams into you, your wetness having him practically sliding in despite the thickness of his cock. He pushes his hips flush against yours and he is so deep inside you and he’s stretching you out so perfectly. “Oh fucking shit, fuck, please move.”

“It’s okay Angel, I’ve got you.” He laces his fingers through yours as he leans down to kiss you, his hips picking up speed as his cock starts to thrust deep and hard inside you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Faster, please, faster.” He picks up speed, his hips smack against yours so hard the claps echo through the room. He lets go of one of your hands so he can rub circles on your sensitive clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, so good, your pussy is so good, you’re such a good girl for me. Wanna make you cum again.” Steve angles his hips so his cock is brushing against your g-spot just right as he continues to rub your clit in time with the pumps of his cock into your soaking slit.

“Want you to cum too, I want you to fill me up until it’s so deep inside of me it’s leaking out for days.” You push your hips up to meet his thrusts and it only takes a few more rough strokes to have your pussy fluttering around him. “Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, that’s so good, I love you, I love you.”

“Oh god, shit, I love you too. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Steve groans as his cock twitches inside of you, ropes of his cum painting your walls. When he comes down he drops his body weight on you, burying his face in your neck.

“Damn. I don’t know why we didn’t do that sooner but I’m really fucking glad we did.” You chuckle, running your fingers along his muscular back and shoulders.

“God, me too. I fucking love you.” He pushes himself up on his hands so he can look at you with that signature goofy smile, resting his forehead against your own.

“I really fucking love you too, Steve Harrington.”

#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration #Dolly writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic

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