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ittybittyfanblog · 2 months ago

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Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man. Anyway, enjoy! This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar?

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were.

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack.

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle.

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip.

“I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.”

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur.

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you.

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin.

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips.

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen.

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City.

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn.

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval.

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.”

All in reverence.

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference.

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters.

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.”

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.”

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to.

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger.

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection.

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial.

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear.

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust.

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience.

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?”

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.”

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you.

In short, you have no idea where you are.

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own.

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus.

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore.

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin.

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity.

And here, the opportunity presents herself.”

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.”

You feel it before you hear it.

“Perhaps not.”

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room.

Suddenly–

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise.

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness.

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction.

You meet his eyes. “You came.”

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.”

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud.

“Luke. Kieran.”

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.”

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly.

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least.

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer.

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin.

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.”

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out.

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?”

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.”

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.”

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look.

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.”

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three.

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake.

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed.

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor.

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for.

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him.

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from.

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of.

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel.

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets.

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them.

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM.

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.”

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.)

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh.

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe.

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler.

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.”

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes.

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?”

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly.

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.”

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian.

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose.

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender.

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.”

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.”

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.”

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #sylus #love and deepspace fic

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 3 months ago

Note

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #toto wolff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #toto wolff x reader #fluff #Toto Wolff

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ktownshizzle · 2 months ago

Text

Wild & Free | Part 2 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Please read part 1 for this to make sense. We start with oral (f. receiving) bec this is Yoongi, sex of course (v. cute and loving, unprotected- u wrap it up tho), self-indulgent shit if ima be honest, more cursing lol, reader is a yapper, couple of idiots but not for long, spit kink, reader is an aspiring brat, overuse of the term ‘baby’, tiny Beauty and the Beast reference if you catch it (tell me if you do!), possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas (read full statement fr part 1)

Word Count: 11k (approx. 45 mins to read)

Posting date: September 27, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

“Mm, there,” you mewl mindlessly, tugging his copper hair when his tongue hits. the. spot. “Shit, that’s IT.”

How you went from almost throwing him out of your room to him throwing you on the bed is a blur at this point. The moment your lips touched it was like he took over all your faculties. Brain emptied, pussy surrendered in less than a minute.

The way you are stripped of every inch of your clothing and he still has everything on gives you some false sense of power. But you know he is the one in-charge and dear God you are willing to submit.

Yoongi groans after a particularly harsh pull, and you realize belatedly how his scalp must be burning.

“Sorry,” you release his poor strands, but a quick hand grips your wrist.

“I don’t give a fuck–,” he says sternly, intense eyes looking up at you for a millisecond before diving back in like a man who has not had a proper meal in a year.

As if you’re not sufficiently down bad for him, you discover his dominating side and you are now an absolute wreck.

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands move to grip the sheets to tether you into this world as his hot tongue licks against your folds before swirling on the nub that has your soul ascending to another plane. Pinpricks of pleasure shoot from your core towards the tips of your limbs, every fiber of your being burning, coming alive.

But, he suddenly stops, and you can’t help the tiny whimper that immediately spills from your lips, panicked eyes going down to where he was.

His lips curl into a devilish smirk, before he pushes two fingers inside your entrance and the most obscene moan escapes your throat. Embarrassed, you pull your lips inward to muffle any sound you're bound to make.

He extracts his fingers from your hole and you are horrified at how empty you suddenly feel.

Shit, he looks mad. Were you too loud?

His smeared hand appears by the side of your face, pressing down the mattress to support his weight. The chains on his neck that hovers over your flushed face renders you speechless. You may have seen this in your mind’s eye, but it cannot compare to the real thing.

You see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead as he lifts a brow and speaks in a voice too calm for a threat, “If you want to cum on my tongue, you better let me hear you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out quickly, desperate, needy.

Looking pleased, he slinks back down, licking the valley of your breasts, kissing your knee, the inner part of your thigh, towards your mound.

He gingerly spreads your folds, purses his lips, then spits—”fuck!”—before slurping the juices from your cunt, creating a lewd melody with your helpless moans.

His lithe fingers start to move in and out of your slick walls in a steady rhythm that has your body tensing up like you’ve never had a proper orgasm.

A warm hand glides up your stomach towards the flesh of your breast, massaging it softly. His calloused thumb swipes over your nipple once, twice, thrice in a dizzying dance before twisting it, synching each roll with a lap of his tongue on your clit.

Goddamn, how did he get so good with that–wait you don’t want to know. You focus on his ministrations, his every move creating tidal waves of pleasure. His tongue moving in figure eights. Two fingers, curling slightly as it slides in and out. Your nipples, pinched and rolled expertly. Sanity, ebbing slowly away…

“Don’t stop,” you beg pathetically. “Shit, Yoongi, please…”

The devil laughs against your pussy, puffs of breath touching your wetness. For a second you thought he might edge you and you are so not a fan of that. But as always, Yoongi knows you, flaws and all. Patience was not your strong suit. And he is never cruel and

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to me.”

He keeps playing your body like a guitar, strings plucked and pulled taut, rapidly, repeatedly, coaxing out a melody from you that can rival any track he has ever laid down in Genius Lab.

“Oh… oh… Yoongi… Yoon-“

Body vibrating, hips bucking to meet his every hard thrust, you chant his name over and over in broken cries as white hot pleasure finally crashes through you, leaving you shattered in its wake.

Damn. What was that?

Easily the best orgasm you’ve had in a while and you were about to tell him exactly that. But he emerges from the depths of your core like a fuckin’ devil with the biggest shit-eating grin as he wipes his glistening chin with the back of his hand, and you think—nope, he doesn’t need a big head.

If it were any other man you might not have grasped the pillow above your head to hit him square in the face.

“Don’t look so smug,” you chide, but he just laughs. That adorable shoulders-bobbing soundless chuckle he does.

He lays beside you on the bed, hands behind his head, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he licks his lips contentedly.

If you only knew the relief that is flooding his own senses at that moment. If you only knew that he took it personally, you chose that younger, more muscly dude to take home for the night. What, like he can’t get you there? Fuck that. He felt so vindicated.

Wordlessly, he guides you towards his body, draping the sheets over your bottom halves. You nestle your cheek against his chest, head tilted up slightly to admire the silver on his neck.

You can almost see the Yoongi you know coming back and decide you wanna bring him down a peg. Just for shits.

“So that’s what that tongue technology does, huh?“ you tease. “Took me to Hong Kong like you—”

“Aishhh! Hajimaaaa!” Your cheeks are suddenly smushed and he smothers your lips with tiny pecks, visibly flustered by his lyrics being repeated to him. It escalates into a flurry of lazy tickles and giggles until it naturally dissolves into lazy cuddles and watery smiles.

You feared this would be awkward, but it actually feels so… natural. Even as you both settle in your own sides, letting thoughts consume you after such a huge leap in your friendship, a comfortable silence takes over that you think he might even be asleep.

But then you feel his soft, slightly clammy hand squeezing your arm, pulling you back into the moment. “You good?” He asks, and you know there are layers to his question that you have yet to unravel. That it’s not just about how you are feeling physically, but everything: the shift in your relationship, this open door to some place new.

“Never better,” you say for now, pushing your body up slightly, so you can kiss his neck, dropping your voice to what you hope is a seductive purr. “I was thinking… Maybe I can return the favor?”

His eyes widen a fraction, but he shakes his head. “S’ cool, I want this to be about you.”

“So corny,” you deflate, moving to rest your head on your own pillow in protest.

“For real. I wanted to make you feel good. Least I can do for ruining your night.”

“But you didn’t--”

Your protest trails off as he lowers his head to kiss you again. Unable to help yourself, you lick against his mouth, your taste on his tongue still palpable, and the coals in your core start to ignite anew.

“Is this how you’ll get me to shut up from now on?” you mumble against his soft lips, swinging your legs over his hip.

“I think it’s working.”

“Sure is.”

“We don’t have to rush,” he reminds you after a beat, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, not quite meeting your eyes. Because what you didn’t know was what a liar he was. If you had any idea about all the unhinged thoughts brewing in his brain, like how perfect you would look with your mascara smeared and his cock pulsing inside your mouth, or like how he would love to take you to that wedding chapel and marry the shit outta you right now. Literal bonkers.

“But I want to,” you whine pathetically, wandering hands sliding down to the waistband of his boxers. “I want to taste your...”

Your phone rings from a distance, but you see Sejin’s face lighting up the screen.

“Dick.”

“That’s your boss.”

“And that’s what he is right now. It’s almost 3 a.m.”

You begrudgingly walk towards the desk where your phone was, rubbing your arms from the chill of the AC.

You pick up one of your stray sweaters draped over a chair, slipping it on before you swipe to answer the call. “Sejin-ssi?”

Maybe it was late, or maybe your brain dumbed down significantly after that amazing release, but Sejin’s litany was dragging on and you just hope you pick up the key stuff. “director called… need to reshoot early tomorrow… emailed you the details… Yoongi told you what happened right? … make sure he gets the message?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

You check Sejin’s email and texts and give Yoongi the rundown (basically he only has three hours to sleep before the early call time at the same penthouse suite), plugging your phone back in the charger afterwards. You stop by the bath and tug a fresh pair of panties on before returning to the bedroom.

His eyes are like little crescents as you pad over, very sleepy, very cutesy, before it zeroes in on the letters on your jumper. FG, it reads.

“Thief,” he says, pulling you back into bed, letting your head rest atop his arm to make you his little spoon–or so you thought, before he places your head in a mock headlock. “How many of my shirts have you stolen, huh?”

“This year, or?”

He lets go of his grip on your head, squeezing your waist playfully and you giggle.

“I was looking forward to staying here with you,” he mumbles, burying his face against your hair.

“Something about one of the cameras being kicked by somebody and files got corrupted. Know anything about it?”

“Hmm.”

And you suddenly remember the commotion between him and Jin yesterday while Jake was inviting you to go out. Strangely, it’s starting to make sense, but there was something more important to be addressed.

“Yoongi,” you call over your shoulder, and he doesn’t reply so you try to peel his arm from you only to be met by a groan. “We owe Jake an apology. You know that wasn’t cool, right?”

“I know,” he croaks, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him, I promise.”

“Thank you, baby,” you mutter sleepily, the yawn leaving your mouth halting mid-way as you clock yourself for the term of endearment that just casually slipped out. Yoongi hums in approval, snuggling even closer, and you decide you might just keep it.

Your first sort-of morning after, you didn’t think you’d wake up alone, but Yoongi had to leave due to the early call time. It was hazy how he left hours ago, but you can recall a peck gingerly placed on your forehead before he extracted the arm that was resting across your stomach and took all the warmth you needed with him. You can vaguely recall his gravelly tone as he places the duvet over your body, none of his words registering in your half-awake state.

You move through your morning on autopilot, going through the motions without much thought. But when you spot Yoongi’s jacket draped over the couch, your mind starts to drift. The details of last night come flooding back—every touch, every word—and before you know it, you’re smiling to yourself as you grab your bag from the same spot.

But then, like clockwork, anxiety creeps in, that old familiar weight settling in your chest. Your steps falter, and as you head for the door, all you can think is: Fuck. What if everything he said, everything he did, was just in the heat of the moment? What if it didn’t mean a damn thing?

The thought tightens around you, and the idea of facing that reality feels like too much to bear. You need to know that you’re on the same page. Stat.

The moment you enter the set, it seems that fate has sent you a sign on what needed to be dealt with first.

You watch as Jake sets up his camera equipment, adjusting lenses and fiddling with the lights. Tapping his shoulder, you clear your throat and offer a shy smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, zipping up one of the camera bags before turning his full attention to you.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” you say, your voice earnest.

His shoulders lift tentatively. “It’s not ideal. But I get it. Jimin told me.”

You raise an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. “Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Jake says, gripping one of the tripods. “He was outside when Yoongi threw me out.”

Oh. Why was he even there? You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder, the mysteries of the situation still weighing on you. “Honestly, I didn’t know he was gonna do that. Things are a bit complicated I guess.”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head as he finishes with the equipment. “Funny, that’s what he said when he apologized earlier.”

“Ah. Glad he talked to you,” you respond, feeling a little relieved that Yoongi did what he promised.

Jake looks at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and sincerity. “Noona, can I tell you what I told him, too?”

You nod, curious. “Okay?”

Jake leans against the equipment cart, his tone light but direct. “Just uncomplicate it.”

He gives you a cheeky grin, adding, “Now this I didn’t tell him, because I like my job and like living. But if it doesn’t work out with him, maybe I could get a chance to take you out on a date for real?”

Your mouth parts disbelievingly and he winks before wheeling the cart away, shaking his head in amusement.

Face still warm from Jake’s shameless flirt, you see Yoongi’s bright orange hair before you even see the rest of him and this sobers you right up. Across the room, he was chatting with Namjoon about something seemingly important. The medium gray suit he was wearing is really doing things to you that you cannot explain. He looks like a proper groom, the fuck?! You look away before anybody sees you drooling over your… best friend? boyfriend? one night stand? Ugh! Future husband? Shit?!

Thankfully, one of the senior PAs proffers an iced coffee to you before your brain overheats.

“Yoongi-ssi says to give this to you,” he says curtly and walks away.

The drink was cold, but the warmth across your cheeks was still tangible as you take your first sip. Your eyes drift back to Yoongi and find his gaze on you so you mouth a thanks, lifting the cup as if to toast him. He simply nods.

The wingman of the year suddenly appears by your side. “Y’all good now?”

“I don't know what you mean, Chim Chim.” You slurp from your drink loudly for show.

Jimin sighs, “He’s not telling me anything.”

“Then I'm not either.”

His nose flares. “Nah. Fuck both of you. Truly. After all I–”

Sejin hollers your name, and you flash Jimin a quick peace sign, cutting him off mid-sentence. He’s left behind, pouting like a baby as you walk away with a grin.

After an hour or so, the shoot almost wraps up. Feeling peckish, you are surmising the food in the mini catering setup in the other room, when you sense someone behind you. Strangely enough, you know who it is just by the way he was dragging his shoes and the timbre of his inhale.

“You smell nice,” Yoongi says in a casual drawl, looking over your shoulder to check the food out.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Maybe you did sneak in an extra spray of perfume before leaving the hotel and made sure to hit the pulse points, because, you know, pheromones and attraction and all that…

Before your mind goes off the deep end, you default to defense mode. “You better not be saying that to everyone… kinda creepy.”

Completely disregarding your attempt to downplay the compliment, he replies, “Hmm. Didn't peg you as the jealous type.”

You pout, trying to look offended but failing miserably.

Shifting gears, he asks, “You busy today?” and places the tiny blue macaron on your plate that you were about to reach for, before pushing a peach one inside his mouth.

“I’ve the rest of the day, but you have to go to Anderson Paak’s house.”

“You’re not coming?” he asks mid-chew, the sweet treat pushed aside creating a dent on the inside of his cheek.

“His team requests for the meeting to be ‘intimate and organic,’ their words not mine, so it's just your interpreter, and your bodyguard.”

“But you’re my…” The beginning of his complaint halts. Cat got his tongue.

He blinks. You blink. It’s just ridiculous at this point, the emotional constipation. He could have easily just said manager, because really that’s what you are for all professional intents and purposes. But you both know you are also at the precipice of something new, teetering on the edge of becoming real. Neither of you has said it yet. Not out loud, anyway.

“We really need to talk.” You decide.

“Tonight,” he agrees with a tight-lipped smile.

“Like really talk.”

“Kay.” he brushes powdered sugar off his hands and onto his slacks. “I’ll be in your room by 8.”

“Please don't try to bust the door down this time, Gaston. Just use the doorbell.”

He crinkles his nose at you and with a small huff he goes back to set, a satisfied grin on your face and hope blooming in your chest that everything will be fine.

***

At 10 past 8 in the evening, you finally hear the doorbell. You drag your hotel slippers-clad feet to the door, stopping by the mirror briefly to check your appearance before pulling the door knob. You were just wearing a shirt and tiny sleep shorts, but you did add a flavored balm to your lips in case.

“Hiiii babyyyy,” Voice slurred, Yoongi’s squinty face comes into view, and your eyes bug out as you find Bangtan’s interpreter Nicole and bodyguard Sunjae holding him up by the elbows.

Reeking of alcohol and maybe a hint of something even more suspicious, he stumbles into your room, kicking off his dunks which lands with a dull thud somewhere you can’t see.

“Explain, please?” you eye his bodyguard who scratches the back of his neck, before he sheepishly recounts how Anderson Paak was all about the vibes…

The fuck?!

Before you can ask more questions, “C’mere baby, I missed youuuu…” Yoongi croons from the couch.

Maybe it was too late, but still, you hold your hands in front of you in an attempt to deny whatever impression they now have of your relationship, “Guys, it’s really not what it looks like, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Nicole assures you awkwardly, holding two thumbs up. “He talked a lot about you in the car, you know? Like a lot. I’m… We’re happy for you guys.” The bodyguard also nods. “And we won’t tell the company.”

Flabbergasted, the sharpest intake of air pierces your lungs. What do they know? And do they know more than you at this point? You just hate Min Yoongi sometimes.

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it from here. Thank you, both,” you say with a tense smile and click the door shut, pressing your forehead on the door before facing the drunkie in your living room who was attempting to turn on the TV with the remote control of the AC.

Great.

This is a version of Yoongi you don’t get to see that frequently. He was ditzy-drunk, a needy, chatty, loopy Yoongi that is actually quite endearing if you remove the fact that he will be hungry in an hour or so (pizza with pickles, usually; sometimes some kind of noodles) and the night typically ends with a good ol’ barf. You’ve dealt with ditzy-drunk Yoongi before and the best solution you’ve found is to just ride the wave.

Slouched on the couch with his legs spread, Yoongi has a lazy but naughty smile on his face as you approach. You wanna be mad so bad, but fuck, he actually looks kinda cute right now.

He tilts his head to the side, jutting his lips out, “Are you mad?”

“No…” you sigh, flopping down next to him.

“Then sit here.” He taps his lap.

“I’m fine here.”

“This is better, I promise. It’s ergonomic.” He presents his lap as a chair with a flourish. You swear, this guy and his weird vocabulary of equally useful and useless knowledge.

You move to settle your body on his thighs, swinging your legs over to straddle him. His mouth stretches into a big grin, satisfied to have your weight on him.

“Why are you so tense?” he places his hands on your shoulders, massaging downward to your elbows.

“We were supposed to talk, but now you’re so out of it,” you sigh.

“I have very high alcohol tolerance, excuse you!”

“Yes, but you’re drunk af right now!”

“False. I’m not at all drunk at all.”

“Wow. So believable,” you deadpan.

“Yah! Why don’t you believe me? Why does no one ever believe me?”

Even ARMY knows he word-vomits when he lies. And when he’s drunk. Deadly combo.

“Ok, prove it. You want to talk, right? So talk.”

He blinks owlishly at you, as you challenge him with your raised brows.

“Thinking is soooo hard,” he complains, before he perks up with an idea. “Ah! Ask me questions and I will answer them.”

A rare opportunity to let Yoongi yap voluntarily. Cool, you’ll take it.

“How many drinks did you have?”

“Yes,” he nods confidently.

You massage your temples with your fingers and sigh. This was going to be a long night.

You end up asking the most random things and Yoongi gives either the most unhinged or deeply unsatisfying responses. At some point during the night, some instant ramen was had (thanks to Jungkook who dropped off some from his stash), after which, Yoongi, as expected, ended up doubled over on the toilet.

As you watched him heave the contents of his stomach, the rancid smell making your own tummy turn, the one thing that you thought was what a mess he was, but you want him to be yours. Your messy, loopy, ditzy, drunkie, Yoongi. Yours.

Eyes pitiful, mouth upturned, with orange locks grouped in sweat, poor Yoongi grasps the seat of the toilet, asking, “Can I borrow a shirt?”

You push the hair away from his forehead, nodding, “Of course, baby.”

After a shower, he emerges from the bathroom with your (his) white tshirt, remnants of ditzy-drunk Yoongi long gone, and in comes the version you love, barefaced and beautiful.

What a masterpiece, Min Yoongi is, and you wonder how it is that some higher being crafted someone with such a delicate face with a mind so captivating and a heart so wonderful. And you haven’t even seen his cock at this point. What if that is a beaut, too?

He walks towards you, head flicked to one side as he rubs a towel on his damp hair.

“Mint, Yoongi? Might settle your tummy,” you gesture to the cup of tea on the coffee table.

“Angel.” He says, padding over to the console with the towel draped on his neck. A slurp and a satisfied mmm later, he settles beside you.

“Are we still playing the game?” You ask.

A pause, but his response surprises you, “I guess we are.”

And so you decide to ask something you’ve been curious about since he got there. Because as much fun as you had conversing with him on petty shit, you are really desperate to know how to move forward with him.

“What did you tell Nicole and Sunjae about me?” you hug your pajama-covered knees.

He lets out a faint chuckle, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as if it holds all the answers. “You should have asked this earlier.”

“I’m asking now,” you face him slightly, trying to read his expression.

By the looks of it, it’s not like he doesn’t know or forgot. The pressure was internal. The hesitation was borne out of years of evading uncomfortable unknowns, which served him well, until it didn’t. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, thoughts being organized, distilled, rationalized. That’s just how Yoongi is.

And because where he is avoidant, you were non-confrontational. So you open your mouth, about to offer him an out. Maybe you didn’t have to talk about it today? Maybe you should just put a pin on it and maybe talk about it when you’re both ready–like after another decade? Cool cool…

But this time, he shifts. His palm rests face up on his knee, an invitation for you to hold. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth radiating through his skin, grounding you both.

The television is still on, bathing his features in blue light as you observe him. He picks up the remote and shuts the screen off, the sudden silence working to thicken the tension in the air.

You’re so nervous for some reason that you can feel your palms sweating against his. You already kissed. He already told you he was yours. You just need to sign the dotted line. Sober.

“I told them,” he begins, his voice low and steady, eyes fixed straight ahead on the blank TV. “That you’re everything to me. You’re my best friend. You’re my dream.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the words reverberating through you like a symphony.

“I think we both know this isn’t just…like we’re not just…you know.” His hand tightens around yours as he bites his lip, struggling to find the right words. “It hasn’t been just friendship for a long time. At least for me.”

“There’s this song I wrote… umm, I was gonna play it for you in the studio when we got home. Fuck it’s so cringe now that I think about it. But, yeah, that was the plan.” He laughs softly, and you can’t help but laugh along, the sound of your shared amusement creating a bridge between you.

Your name falls from his lips, so you glance up and find his warm eyes connecting with yours.

“I love you,” he rasps, voice sincere and raw. “I’ve loved you for so long. Can’t even recall a time that I didn’t.”

Before your mind can catch up with your heart, you crash your lips on his unceremoniously and desperately. You’re back on his lap, hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kiss him fiercely, pouring all your unspoken feelings into the action. His hand moves into your hair, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

While your first kiss was passionate, it was laced with so many residual emotions that built up over the course of last night. Frustration, anger, hunger quickly took over both of you the moment your lips finally met, quickly escalating into, well, the best oral of your life, apparently. So no regrets there.

But this kiss—this one—was it. The kind you'd remember fondly when you’re old and gray of what it feels like to be really kissed. Enlightening, like finding the final piece of a puzzle you’d been working on since your youth. Filled with all the love and years of words left unsaid, like a pin code, a password, a key, that only he knew how to unlock.

As you pull away, breathless but content, you look into his eyes and respond clearly, simply, “I love you too, Yoongi.”

And in that moment, as your eyes meet like you were the only two remaining in the world, everything feels right.

“But I can’t believe you let your bodyguard hear that confession first.”

“Aish!”

“I thought it would at least be Jimin.”

“Fuck that. Don’t even talk about another man right now.”

Suddenly that tone is back and your body starts to tense in response. He grips your hips and pulls you against him so you can properly feel the ridge of his cock right against your clothed folds. Yep, that’s a semi.

“You better be nice to me,” his hands move to squeeze your ass expertly, encouraging you to roll forward. Who are you to decline? Not when the pressure from his bulge is caressing your center in the best possible way.

Your body threatens to give in, but the brat in you is still in fighting form, “Or else what?”

“I think you know how nice I can be,” he husks, moving to place teasing kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin to leave a mark. God, that feels good.

“I uh m-might need help remembering.”

He smiles against your neck, his breathy voice tickling you a bit, “You got amnesia, baby?”

You nod meekly, hands roaming towards the back of his neck.

“You better remember my name when I fuck you,” he licks the shell of your ear and you gasp, a gush of liquid soaking your panties.

“Take this off,” he commands, hungry eyes dipping down to your chest.

“So demanding,” you risk the cheeky remark and as expected, you get his unimpressed look. Ok, ok. You’ll be good now.

You lift your shirt by the hem and before you can even pull it over your head, his big, warm hands seize your breasts as they bounce free.

“Fuuuck, baby, I love these. I love these a lot.” He shakes his head in disbelief, bringing your tits together, enjoying how soft they felt in his grasp.

Preening at his dazed reaction, you arch your body forward, placing your chest directly in his sightline. “They’re yours, baby.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, licking his bottom lip before moving towards one of your nipples. Your eyes threaten to close as the warmth of his mouth envelopes your nub. But you want this moment forever ingrained in your mind–with the way he is mouthing your tits, murmuring his dirty thoughts, lips pushing and teeth pulling. He moves to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, while a hand takes the one his mouth just left, flicking the swollen tip with his index finger to send more jolts of pleasure through you.

“How did you get so good at that?” you mumble, unable to keep your eyes open anymore, your fingers getting lost in his hair.

“How did these get so juicy,” he growls against your spit-covered tit and you feel his teeth clamping down hard.

You moan loudly as arousal pools at your core. “Fuck we should have done this sooner.”

With a small chuckle, he taps your thigh once, and says, “Meet me in the bedroom,” and you are immediately on your feet, leaving him rummaging through his bag for what you assume is a condom. The triumphant “ha!” you hear confirms it.

Okay, so what do you do now? You start with removing your little shorts and chucking it somewhere on the side, leaving you with your basic as hell black cotton panties, but it’s as good as it gets right now. How do you make this sexy, like do you lie down on your tummy, giving him a great view of your cleavage, or stay sat pushing your boobs together like an anime girl. Why you’re acting brand new is beyond you, but your–

“What are you doing?”

You halt your movements, ending up in an awkward mermaid pose that you don’t even know if it looks good. “Umm…”

Cute, you think you hear him say, before he lifts his shirt up and off his body and you get a view of the smooth, pale planes of his torso and his dusty nipples that have your mouth watering. Your eyes continue to drink his unintentional strip tease, watching hungrily as he removes his boxers to let his cock spring free.

“Fuck…” Unfair. Just unfair how gorgeous he is.

By the looks of it, he knows what you want, feline eyes taunting you as he pokes the inside of his cheek before grasping the base of his cock, tugging at it once. “You know what to do, or uh–do I have to shove it in?”

Quickly, you drop to your knees, feeling a little bit of rug burn that you might whine about later, and you slide your hands up towards the back of his inner thigh to anchor yourself.

You were never into power dynamics and all that with your past lovers, but there was something about Yoongi in the bedroom that made you want to be a bratty sub. Something told you that he would enjoy taming you, too.

“If you knew what to do, you would actually shove it in,” you say with misplaced cockiness, not knowing you were going to regret it in about five seconds.

He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin as if to say you’re going to be in big trouble. You gulp as his long fingers grasp the length of your jaw to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your lips to form an O-shape. “Open up.”

You do as he says and as expected, he does shove it in.

He groans as his cock hits the back of your throat. You sputter a bit and you hate how it makes you look like an amateur, but the truth is, you’ve never really taken anyone of his size.

With him still in your mouth, his thumb caresses the side of your cheek, concerned that he might have hurt you, “You okay, baby?”

You nod even as tears threaten to spill from your eyes, not wanting to disappoint him. With a softened expression, he lets his cock fall away from your mouth, but you immediately catch it in your hand with renewed vigor. You pump him for a few strokes before plugging the tip with your mouth as your hand continues the motions.

He hisses loudly as you lick the pre-cum that has pooled in his slit, his salty taste and heady scent invading your senses, springing you to do more. Cheeks hollowed you move to take all of him in your mouth, coating the smooth ridges with your saliva, before his head hits your throat. You’re ready this time, moaning as you keep his entire cock lodged inside.

“Shit,” he exhales breathlessly, a hand combing through his hair as he tips his head back.

Taking it as a good sign, you glide in and out faster, pressing your tongue against a thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick. Your hands move upwards towards the meat of his ass and you squeeze and push him further into you, eliciting a low groan from him.

He clumps a fistful of your hair into a haphazard ponytail as he rocks forward, gauging your reaction as he starts with some experimental shoves. You look up at him, nodding, a silent surrender. The corners of his lips lifts up in a snarl as you place both hands behind your back, relinquishing all control to him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts as his hips buck into your mouth. Eyes watering, mascara streaks your cheeks as he continues his assault. You keep your head clear, breathing through your nose, wanting, no, needing to make this good for him.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when he lightly tugs your hair, and groans, “Shit, baby— baby, stop.”

He releases your hair and uses his index finger to tip your chin up so he can assess you. Your brows are furrowed, unsure why he stopped.

Slightly out of breath and sporting a lopsided grin, he calls you, “my perfect girl” and your worries subside as he explains, “I had to stop ‘cause it was getting too good. Don’t wanna cum yet.”

You’ve obviously found Yoongi attractive, but he deadass is his hottest right now, dazed and disheveled from being pleasured by you.

He grips his cock and begins to trace your swollen lips with it to smear his slick all over you like a gloss. “So gorgeous…”

You preen at his praise, sticking your tongue out so he can play with your mouth more. He slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, your saliva dribbling down your chin. You taste minute drops of his cum as he works the tip of his dick against your wet muscle in tiny circles.

Your jaw hurts like hell, your face is a mess, but he is looking at you like you are heaven-sent, as if you were carved out by the gods and bestowed to him as a present. With this realization, your heart squeezes with emotions you can’t place. All you know is that you’re willing to do anything and everything for him, his happiness, your own.

You are truly fuckin’ whipped.

“Up baby, let me take care of you,” he scoops you by the elbow, guiding you to the bed. You crawl atop the mattress, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and yelp when you feel a playful little slap against your butt.

“Can’t help it,” Yoongi says, moving on top of you, floppy bangs covering his teasing eyes.

He uses the pad of his thumb to rub off some of the mascara from under your eyes, then moves some of your hair away from your face. The softness in his gaze fills you with wonder, and for a few charged moments you both just look at each other, before you break the silence with a tender confession.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you tell him as he strokes your cheek.

He smiles. Nods and says, “Me too,” then he kisses you, softly, with gentle caresses of his tongue against the seam of your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve imagined you like this.”

“Hope it didn’t disappoint.”

“Nah you’re more than perfect.”

Eyes round, lips pouty, warmth blooms across your cheeks at his praise, unable to say a word. You? Perfect?

“Stop being so damn cute when I’m supposed to be fucking you.” He pecks your nose, then down to your lips where he lingers. You push your tongue against his mouth and he is ready to suck on it softly, swallowing your moans. His kisses start getting rougher and faster, as your fingernails lightly claw his smooth back. He’s got you whimpering when he pulls your plush bottom lip with his teeth and releases it with a dull pop.

His breath fans your cheeks as he moves to pepper kisses along your jaw, towards the sensitive spot behind your ear and down your neck. All the while his hands are traveling all over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

As you continue to explore each other's mouths, you're starting to become too aware that your pussy is leaking, feeling abandoned, aching for friction. You could do it, dip your hands under the waistband of your panties and take the edge off a bit, but where’s the fun in that?

“Touch me, please Yoongi,” you ask breathlessly.

“I am.” he licks a tender spot on your neck that makes you gasp, while his hand gently caresses the base of your throat, squeezing it experimentally. Another gasp escapes you.

“Lower, please…”

“Where?” he asks playfully. “Here?” He tweaks a nipple and you whine. “Or here?” He lets his fingers move to the mound of your pussy before he hooks your panty to the side and slides his fingers to your leaking entrance.

You wail as the touch you have been craving for finally comes. Yoongi looks ever so pleased with your reaction, biting his lip as his fingers work your clit in slow circles underneath the soaked cotton.

Insane. You’re starting to be driven insane just by the feel of his veiny fingers gathering your arousal and coating your nub with every slow stroke.

Mouth, you desperately need his mouth. You cup the side of his face to pull him towards you and your mouths move languidly, matching the pace of his fingers.

“Wanna be inside you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. But I need you to cum first, can you do that for me?”

“Okay, I’m close.”

His index and middle finger picks up its pace stroking against the sides of your clit. The pressure in your body builds, and you can no longer control the way your body jerks at the mounting bliss.

“Let it happen,” he licks your bottom lip. “Cum.”

And finally your body succumbs, thighs clenching hard as you coat his fingers with the outpouring of your pleasure.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he makes a show of licking your creamy cum from his fingers and you almost go cross-eyed with how feral the act is making you.

“Gimme a sec,” he drops a kiss on your forehead before moving to roll away from your body, and you assume he was about to get the condom.

An urge comes to mind and you are powerless to stop your mouth from blurting it out.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him shyly, sitting up while he pulls the packet from his discarded shorts. “I’m on the pill, and am clean.” And you know he is, too, because you regularly monitor his wellness checks.

Yoongi stands by the foot of the bed, mouth parting and closing wordlessly like a fish as he tries to decipher your words.

And you know you needn’t say this, but it’s out before you think better of it, “it’s been umm years since my last.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a few seconds as if weighing his options. “You sure?”

“I want to feel you.” Fingers closing in on his dick, you pump his length, bringing it back to life. “All of you.”

“Fuck,” he groans, nodding. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“How do you want me?”

“Just lay down, I need to see your face when I fuck you.”

You do as he says and your back hits the plush duvet. He pulls your panties down your legs, throwing it on the floor carelessly. He crawls on top of your naked body and you hook your legs around his waist. Your heart pounds in anticipation.

“I’m gonna warn you, I might not last,” he aligns himself by your entrance, and finally sinks his cock inside your swollen pussy. You groan in unison as he bottoms out with ease, lost in the euphoria of each other's bodies.

For a moment, he stays lodged in you just like that, girth nestled against your folds, while your body adjusts to the welcome intrusion. The feeling consumes you whole–warm, wet, wonderful. You take deep, controlled breaths as you fight the urge to rut against him, but your inner walls can’t help but clench.

“Fuck, you feel so good, but I really need to move.”

“Promise we can cockwarm next time?”

“Uh huh.” and with that he starts to thrust into you in short, stuttered strokes, making you gasp for air.

“Fuuuckin hell you’re so tight,” he grunts, chasing the high of his release as dirty words continue to spill from his mouth.

You push your boobs together, his eyes magnetized by the action and watches as you pinch both nipples, making you moan.

“Yoongi…” you say his name wantonly, drunk in your desire for him. “Just use me, baby.”

Growling, he guides your leg above his shoulder for a better angle, and his pace increases tenfold. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, mixed with helpless whines and grunts.

The familiar coil tightens in your belly.

“Touch yourself,” he insists and your hand slides down to where your bodies meet. Your clit is swollen, sticky as you rub it in circular motions timing it with his thrusts. “Are you close?”

“Mmh…” you nod. “So close…”

“Me too,” he pushes inside you rapidly, deeply, like he wants you to feel him for days. His thrusts are getting erratic, and you can see that he is incredibly close with the way his brows are pinched.

Electricity crackles between you, an invisible force leaping from your body to his, building with every shared thrust. His grip on your thighs are firm, and your nails are sure to leave indents on his shoulder. Everywhere your bodies meet, a spark ignites—a surge of energy that only grows stronger.

“I’m cumming,” he warns and it’s a miracle you’re able to respond with “I’m there…” as each movement sends another jolt, until the air itself hums with the raw, electric charge of your passion and you both cum at the same time.

You feel radiant and you swear you’ve never felt more alive.

Meanwhile, Yoongi looks absolutely destroyed as he sets your leg down, and you love it. Impenetrable, aloof, Min Yoongi brought to his demise by your pussy of all things.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, his breaths tickling your skin. Slowly he eases out of you, and you hiss as you feel his sticky cum seep from your entrance.

“I thought I couldn’t be more in love with you, but shit I was wrong,” he mumbles, face still nestled by the top of your shoulder.

You don’t know what to say. So you keep it simple. “I love you, too, baby.”

After a whirlwind of a night, you and Yoongi quietly begin to clean up. You cuddle for a stretch of time, showering each other with the sweetest words. He hands you a bottle of water from the side table with a small smile, and for a while, you both just soak in the calm.

He finishes washing up first and heads back to the bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Meanwhile, you're still in the ensuite, brushing your teeth, catching a glimpse of him as you finish up. The whole moment feels easy, like the perfect end to a long night.

“We can go out tomorrow if you’re down,” he says, as you spit the mouthwash on the sink. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Aww. Our first date, huh?”

“We’ve been in plenty. You just didn’t know.”

Really?

You peek your head from the doorway of the bath, “ Yeah, but this will be my first as your girlfriend.”

That got him cheesing, nose wrinkling to hide a shy smile that was so unlike the beast that he was just a few minutes ago.

“What’s taking you so long? I already miss you,” he says pointedly, and you bound back to bed like his little pup and into his awaiting arms.

“I can get used to this,” he says against your forehead, pressing his lips to it.

“I still want to hear the song, by the way,” you mumble, referring to the supposed track that he was going to use to confess. “What is it called?”

“That That.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you slap his chest as he chuckles to himself. Not the crack song with Psy. You roll your eyes, ‘cause he thinks he is so funny, but he just cages you in tighter.

“No title yet, but you get to listen to it when we go home.”

“Mmkay.”

The next morning, you’re back from the breakfast buffet, where you sufficiently replaced all the calories you burned last night, and decide to chill in your room. Meanwhile, Yoongi makes some arrangements for your date.

Lounging on the couch, you are scrolling through IG, when a video call from your mom pops up. You quickly swipe to answer, smiling as her face appears on the screen.

“Hey, dumpling! How’s work?” she greets you with your childhood moniker, grinning like she always does when she sees you.

“Busy, but good,” you reply, while propping your phone against the lamp on the side table. “You know, the usual chaos. We’ll be home in a few days…”

“That’s good.” Then, without missing a beat, she narrows her eyes a little, leaning in toward the camera as if that’s going to make her point clearer. “So… did you use one of your dating apps while you’re there? Are you seeing anyone yet?”

She’s been asking you this for months, though always with that loving impatience that makes it hard to get annoyed.

Thankfully, today is the day that you have a different answer. “Actually… yeah. I have a boyfriend,” you admit, cheeks heating up.

Your mom’s face lights up immediately, her teasing forgotten. “Omo! Finally! That’s wonderful news. I was starting to think I’d have to phone Min Yang-hee and arrange…”

And of course, Min Yang-hee’s very own son, completely oblivious to the call, walks into view. And of course, he’s shirtless. Because why wouldn’t he be showing off those sweet little nips right now? And of course he is wearing low-hanging gray sweatpants. Because why wouldn’t his dickprint taunt you at the most inconvenient time?

“Baby, can I borrow your—” his voice cuts off as he realizes what’s happening. He freezes mid-step, eyes flicking between you and the phone.

“Yoongi-yah?!” your mom exclaims, her eyes practically sparkling.

Yoongi blinks, then awkwardly grins, as he grabs a throw pillow from the couch to shield his chest. “Oh… good morning, eomonim. Didn’t know you were, uh, here.”

Your mom’s grin turns downright mischievous. “Well, well, well. Look who finally makes a move! I was telling dumpling that I was about to call your…”

”Eomma!” You bury your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks burn with the insinuation of an arranged marriage.

“What?” she says, all fake innocence. “I’m just saying. Took you long enough, Yoongi. You’ve been trailing after her since you two were kids.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, but laughing along. “Eomonim, good things take time, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure. And look at you—future grandkids are gonna have such a handsome father.”

No, your own mother did not just check your boyfriend out. “Eomma, stop…”

“But don't think I haven't been keeping up with the news. Young man, you seem to have been getting wedding proposals left and right, you better not break my dumpling’s heart.”

“Please eomma.” You say even though you were getting a little teary-eyed from her being over protective of you.

“She’s the only woman I've been interested in, eomonim. As you said, since we were kids.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Quick, let’s add your eomma here! Such good news needs to be shared.”

Yoongi, now a deep shade of pink, chuckles nervously.

“Maybe later. We have a schedule to go to…” you interject.

“Is that what you kids call having se—“

“Love you, eomma!” You eye her pointedly, sufficiently mortified by the whole conversation.

Still grinning, your mom waves you off. “Love you, too, dumpling.”

Yoongi ended up renting a convertible and driving you all over town.

For lunch, you visit a charming café in the Arts District. The place is known for its artisan sandwiches and freshly pressed juices. You share a sandwich, a soup, and a salad, enjoying each other’s company and a few laughs over a meal that’s as delightful as it is delicious.

Then you move to a coffee shop you had wanted to try and it turned out to be a gem. The café was warm, cozy, with the faint hum of chatter and the clink of mugs surrounding you both. You sat across from him, your hands intertwined on the table, his thumb mindlessly stroking the back of your hand as you talked. The conversation was light, random, teasing—the kind of banter that always made you feel like the two of you were in your own little world.

“So, if you could magically transport us anywhere right now, where would we go? And don’t say ‘bed’—I swear you can’t always be sleeping.”

“Can I say bed, but not ‘cause I want to sleep?” He smirks, leaning back in his chair, still holding your hand, his middle finger rubbing your knuckles teasingly.

You scold him, “You’re so shameless!” and try to pull your hand away but he keeps his grip tight. He takes a few moments to think about his response.

“Maybe somewhere snowing like Sapporo. It’s going to be too cold for you to keep checking your phone every five minutes when we’re out.”

You look up from your phone screen guiltily, abandoning the email notification that flashed. “I have to ’cause I work for your famous ass,” you huff.

“About that…” Yoongi starts, and you know he meant your resignation.

You sigh, realizing you haven’t really discussed this with him. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Baby,” he leans forward, eyes kind. “You don’t have to apologize, okay? You have your reasons and I respect it. I’ll always support you.”

“I think this would be good for me, you know? Try something new.” You add, “There’s this corner spot close to my flat that I’ve been looking to lease.”

“For your cafe?” his face lights up, remembering your dream from way back.

“For my cafe,” you nod, heart expanding with the excitement you see in his eyes.

“Do it.” he says. “And if you need a handsome barista to help out once in a while you know I live just two streets down.”

You laugh, shaking your head, enjoying how easily he can make you smile.

“But I can’t afford you.”

“I’ll take payments in kisses and blo–”

“Min Yoongi!”

“I’m just playing, baby.”

His hand is still on yours, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your knuckles. It was so natural, so comfortable, that you barely notice when his touch becomes a little more deliberate, more precise.

It is not until you prepare to leave that you notice something different. You stand, bag tucked on the crook of your arm, and as you reach for your jacket, you see it—a tiny paper ring, made from a straw wrapper, folded with care and snug around your finger.

Suddenly, butterflies swarm in your stomach.

You look at him, eyebrows raised, holding up your hand as if it were evidence in a crime scene. “Yoongi?” you ask with a playful smile.

He blinks, trying to look innocent. “What? Wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh,” you step closer, your eyes narrowing. “So, it just magically appeared on my finger?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the back of his chair. “Must’ve been the wind. Or, you know, maybe it’s a sign. The universe is telling you something.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling your cheeks warm as you play along. “And what exactly is the universe trying to tell me?”

He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that always made your (and the entire ARMY’s) heart skip a beat. “That you’ve been claimed. Obviously.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t stop smiling. “Ah, really? Claimed by some mysterious paper-ring-tying ghost?”

He shrugs again, standing up and taking your hand as you both walk toward the door. “Who knows? But if I were you, I’d hold on to that. Could be worth something one day.”

You glanced down at your finger again, your chest warm with affection. “Yeah,” you agree softly, squeezing his hand. “I think I will.”

You continue your date along the backstreets of the Strip, away from the towering hotels and flashy fountains. As you stroll in silence, enjoying the sights, your fingers mindlessly play with the little ring on your finger, and his voice echoes in your head: “You’ve been claimed.”

And suddenly, you realize it’s true. You’ve claimed each other long before today’s paper ring and long before last night’s confession.

Every day since you’ve become close friends, you’ve claimed each other in the most ordinary ways. With every mundane moment and seemingly random act of kindness, you’ve expressed your love without needing grand declarations.

He knows exactly how you like your coffee and the perfect time to bring it to you. He carries your bag even when you insist you can manage on your own and even with his own busted shoulder. He always saves a seat for you—of course, right next to him. You have a suitcase here and a closet full of his shirts back home. He wears your black hair tie on his wrist and has a whole drawer full of them at his place. You know his five shades of drunk, and you know just the right kind of tea to cure his hangover.

He has truly been yours, and you, his. You both have just been too oblivious to see it. As the realization hits you like a freight train, your gaze lands on a sign that inspires you to show him just how committed you are. Sure, it’s bold and completely out of character for you, but you don’t want to think it through. It’s stupid. But who cares? You’re in love.

“You wanna get matching tattoos?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. And maybe this is why.

This is where he finally gets lucky. And not in the crass sort of way.

Here, he has felt a surge of courage he’s never had before, pushing him to act on feelings he’s kept hidden for way too long. And while confessing to you still felt like a gamble, he was more ready and willing to roll the dice and see where it lands.

People say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But for Min Yoongi, this time is different. He’s determined to make it last—just like the identical lotus tattoo that now sits on his wrist and on yours. It isn’t just a reminder of this wild adventure; it symbolizes the beginning of something real and lasting between you two.

After getting inked, he decides to drive away from the city, heading towards a scenic cliffside spot he found on Google that morning. He thought it would be the perfect place to unwind and catch the sunset, while enjoying the spam musubi and Slurpees you got from the gas station nearby. Truth be told, he thought maybe he could sneak in a makeout session with you, too, something he knew couples would sometimes do in places like this. (At least that’s what he’s seen in American movies!) Being an idol often kept him from enjoying “normal” things, and since he couldn’t exactly do this with you near the Han without the fear of being on Dispatch that same night, he figured it would be a fun escape to pretend he was just an ordinary guy taking his girl out on a date in this foreign city.

He sits on the hood of the convertible, the metropolis stretching out below, a sea of lights slowly flickering on as the sun dips toward the horizon. You’re nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders.

Your phone is connected to the car speakers and it’s currently playing a ballad. He hears you hum softly but his mind drifts elsewhere, somewhere between the quiet beauty of the moment and the thoughts that have been building for weeks—maybe even longer.

It started with that whole Yoongi Marry Me thing. Who knew that cheeky little “bring the documents” quip he said in one live will set off a whole ass thing with ARMY. Or with the whole kpop industry, modesty aside.

Almost everyday the phrase is repeated to him, especially by the members (fuckin Taehyung!). Fans have been showing up to concerts in veils. Chats are filled to the brim with that proposal whenever any of the members goes live. Even when he is not there.

It’s all been fun and games until you. Until you said it. And you had to keep saying it, then suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. He started thinking he wouldn’t mind it. Like at all.

You’ve planted a seed in his brain that just kept blooming and blooming. Seeing all the wedding chapels in Las Vegas only served as potent fertilizer. And now the concept has fully blossomed in his heart and taken root in his mind.

He feels the warmth of you leaning into him, your breathing soft and steady, your humming so sweet, and everything about this moment feels… right. More right than any plan he’s ever made, more perfect than anything he could have mapped out for himself. It hits him then, with a kind of clarity that almost startles him.

He’s done with waiting. Done with the endless planning, the careful timelines, the stream of approvals needed for every thing he wanted to do. This, right here, is his everything. And for the first time, the idea of doing something spontaneous doesn’t terrify him. It excites him. A whole life with you excites him.

And fuck, if it’s good enough for Michael Jordan…

He glances at you, the way your eyes reflect the soft, fading light, and something roars in his chest—an overwhelming certainty that he can’t hold back anymore. He isn’t one for grand, impulsive gestures, but this doesn’t feel impulsive at all. It feels inevitable.

“What if we just… did it?” he asks, tone light, but heavy with intention.

You tilt your head, looking up at him with that curious smile he loves. “Did what?”

His fingers tighten ever so slightly on your shoulder as he turns to face you fully, feeling a rush of nervous excitement. “Got married. Right now. No more waiting, no more planning.”

He sees the surprise flash in your eyes, the slight parting of your lips as you process what he’s just said. He waits, letting the words sink in, watching as the curiosity in your eyes slowly fades into something else.

“You’re not joking?” you whisper, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shakes his head, the last of the setting sun casting a golden glow over the both of you. "No. I’ve… we have planned everything in my life, but this... with you, I don’t want to plan anymore. Because what good are plans if you’re not gonna be in them, with me.”

He continues, voice more certain, committed. “I wanna do it. Now. Tonight. Let’s drive to the chapel, and if you’re ready... Let's get married.”

He watches your reaction closely, his heart pounding, but not out of fear. He’s not afraid anymore. He no longer needs to hide behind liquid courage to give you little hints of what he has been feeling deep inside. He knows what he wants—what has been right in front of him this whole time. And then, just to lighten the weight of the moment, he smiles, a small chuckle escaping him.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve got your eomma’s blessing already. She’d probably drive us there herself if she knew what I was thinking.”

You laugh, that soft sound that always makes his chest tighten in adoration. The way you smile at him now—there’s no hesitation in it, only the same certainty that he feels. The city lights flicker to life behind you, but all he can see is you and your bright, sparkly eyes. And how he wishes that you would grant him the eternity of looking into them.

“Let’s do it,” you nod at him, your voice steady and sure. “Right now.”

His heart soars. He bites his lip, squeezing your shoulder, and with one last glance at the fading sun, he slides off the hood of the car, offering you his hand.

As you hop down, he drops to one knee. Taking your hand, fingers delicately closing in on the paper ring that he placed on your finger earlier in the day.

“Y/n, marry me?”

“You sure you don't want me saying ‘Yoongi, marry me‘ instead. Has a better ring to it…”

“Hajimaaa! Why you gotta ruin the moment?!”

“Sorry, ok ok, do it again.” You try to placate him with a quick press of your lips to his forehead.

He shakes his head at you. Eyes narrowed, but fond. Fond in the way your eyes sparkle with glee, even as you bite your bottom lip. Fond in the way you look at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky and you know what, he would hang the entire galaxy for you if you asked him to.

So, no more waiting. No more planning.

He finally asks: “Baby, will you marry me?”

And you finally answer: “Yes!”

Epilogue

Jimin’s POV

Why is Tinder so, so dry? Jimin curses and contemplates tossing his phone in the trash.

But then his phone pings and when he looks at the notification, he sees that he is added in a Kakao group chat.

Okay. He checks the members curiously. It’s with you and Yoongi hyung.

What are you fuckers up to this time?

Tbh, he was still kinda annoyed that neither of you had told him anything after what went down at the club. He literally babysat your dejected boytoy and had to crisis PR the shit out of the situation because Yoongi had to get slightly Agust D.

And seriously, how can you even stay mum to him of all people. He has listened to your every woe and whine for months about how Yoongi can’t even see you as more than a friend. Newsflash, he is obsessed with you! He has witnessed Yoongi’s pining for years and talked to him countless times to confess. ‘Cause, newsflash: you’re obsessed with him, too!

Did his attempts at playing matchmaker work? Who knows? But damn did he try. Playing cupid for the two most emotionally constipated people he knows hasn’t been easy. So after everything he has done in the background for you two idiots, how dare you keep him in the da–

His thoughts are interrupted by three pings as three messages come in rapid succession.

First, a location pin:

📍The Little White Wedding Chapel, 1301 S Las Vegas Blvd, Las Vegas, NV

Then, a text from Yoongi that made him smile so wide.

Yoongi: Get your ass here right now we need a witness.

And lastly, yours that made his grin even wider.

You: Yoongi’s marrying me!!!

-THE END-

A/N: Thank you so, so much you beautiful human for reading this story. I am forever grateful that you decided to explore this silly little world with me.

I would love to hear from you! Please leave a comment or consider reblogging if you liked it. Til next!

Here's my new MYG x Reader story if you want more. :)

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lendeah · 10 months ago

Text

Three times you get cuddly Astarion and one you do not.

“Don’t look at me like that. With the sweet little ‘disappointed I’m not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can’t take it. I can’t be what you want to see in me.”

Based on this comment!

[ao3 link]

The first time it happened, you had been sleeping together for a few weeks. It seemed like there was an unspoken rule that you would leave soon after sex, giving him his space. You could sense his reluctance to be vulnerable and intimate, so you respected that boundary and didn't push him. But on this particular night, as you lay tangled in each other's limbs, there was a subtle hesitation from him. It was like a whisper of doubt, lingering in the air between you.

"Everything alright, Astarion?" you asked.

He seemed to get startled at this, as if caught off guard by your question.

"Wha- oh! Of course, darling. Everything is perfect."

You nodded, even though couldn't help but feel skeptical about his words. Maybe he needed space again.

"I guess I'll be going then," you said with a heavy heart, slowly rising to your feet.

You got dressed and began to make your way towards the door. Astarion followed closely behind you, his hands twitching nervously.

"Wait." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, seeing a hint of vulnerability in his usually cocky expression.

"I...I don't want you to go just yet." He admitted, looking down at his feet.

You could see the internal struggle within him, and your heart ached a bit for him. You walked back towards him and slowly reached for his hand, not wanting to startle him.

"What do you want, then?" you asked, softly.

He looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was a raw emotion in his crimson eyes, and it felt like looking into his soul.

"I...I want you to stay the night. If that's what you want, of course." He said, hesitantly.

You could sense the vulnerability in his voice, and you knew that this was a big step for him. Astarion was not one to open up easily, and you were honored that he was willing to share himself with you.

"Okay." You replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Astarion wordlessly guided you back to his bedroll. This was new territory for both of you, but it felt just right. Hesitantly, he climbed into bed beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist. You couldn't help but smile at his nervousness; he was always so confident when it came to flirting and seduction, yet it was cuddling that seemed to make him flustered.

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the cold softness of his body against yours. It was a comforting feeling, being this close to him. He hesitantly reached out his hand, his fingers trembling as he gently combed through your hair. As you both lay in silence, Astarion's movements became more confident and soothing, his fingers carefully untangling any knots or snarls. You could sense the tension in him slowly dissipating as he allowed himself to open up and connect with you in this intimate way. It was a moment filled with vulnerability and trust, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for it.

"Thank you for trusting me," you murmured.

Astarion stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding. "Thank you for staying."

Another significant moment was when he finally confessed his feelings for you. You had both agreed to take a break from physical intimacy, which you were completely fine with. However, you weren't sure if this also meant giving up your now nightly cuddling sessions together.

Your answer came when that night, as Astarion appeared at the door of your tent, pacing back and forth. You chuckled under your breath as you approached him.

"Do you require my services, Astarion?"

Astarion's eyes fixated on you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "My dear! I've only come here to see you." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "But perhaps we could have a more... intimate discussion?"

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. You thought you had left matters clear that same evening.

"Of course," you replied, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter your tent. Once inside, Astarion settled onto your bedroll while you sat beside him. He looked at you with a mixture of nerves and determination in his eyes.

"I wanted to discuss what we talked about earlier," he began cautiously.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He cleared his throat.

"I... ehm. I know we agreed we wouldn't be intimate, but I was merely wondering if we could keep up..."

"Our nightly cuddle?" You filled in the gap for him.

"Err... yes," he grimaced awkwardly. "That."

You smiled warmly at him, finding his bashfulness rather endearing. "I'm glad you brought it up, Astarion, because I would kind of miss it if we didn't."

Relief shone in his eyes as he gazed at you with genuine gratitude, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"That's...I mean, it's only natural that you would miss it," he responded. "After all, how often do you get the opportunity to cuddle with someone like me?"

You rolled your eyes at his cocky remark, but couldn't hide the small smile on your face.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other's company. Finally, you broke the silence again.

"I think it's time for me to call it a night," you gave him a pointed look. "Care to join me?"

Astarion's eyes widened in surprise at your invitation, but he quickly composed himself and grinned wickedly. "I would be honored to share a bedroll with you, my dear."

As you settled down into your bedroll, you patted the spot next to you, inviting Astarion to join. He eagerly complied, curling up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. His touch was both gentle and possessive, making you feel loved and protected. He nuzzled his nose against your hair before placing a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. It felt like a promise, and brought a sense of peace as you drifted off to sleep in his embrace.

The third remarkable time happened just before reaching Baldur's Gate, when Astarion was gravely injured in a brutal fight. Your heart raced as you tended to his wounds, frantically trying to heal him as the blood pooled beneath him. As night fell, you collapsed onto the ground next to him, gently pushing away sweaty strands of hair from his clammy forehead.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you before settling down next to him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his head in your chest. Your fingers traced soothing patterns through his soft ivory curls as he drifted off into a meditative state. After a while, you felt his usually tense muscles relax over your body. He was asleep, or at least in a state of deep meditation. You continued to stroke his hair gently, not wanting to wake him. In this moment, he looked completely peaceful – a stark contrast to the dashing rogue always ready with a witty retort.

"Are you feeling any better?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed at him with concern.

He looked up at you, a weak smile on his lips. "I owe it all to your care."

As you lay there in the quiet darkness, an unfamiliar sentiment rose within your chest, filling it to the brim. You weren't sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Astarion had become more than just a companion or a lover. He was your partner in every sense of the word – someone who understood and accepted you for who you were. And even though none of you could still put a name to whatever you shared, you knew for certain that this bond was something precious, something to be cherished. You realized in that moment, it was love.

A couple of days later, he met his sibling at a pub in Rivington and you had a disagreement that left a bitter feeling in your mouth. That evening, you waited for him in your sleeping bag, as was customary. But as the minutes ticked by, it seemed like he wasn't going to show up. You began to wonder if he wanted you to seek him out instead; so, you got out of your bedroll and crossed the short distance between your tents.

"I am in love with you," you murmured into the silence. The admission took your breath away as you shivered slightly under Astarion's touch, your heart pounding against his ear. Would he feel the difference in your heartbeat? Could he sense the shift in your feelings?

"Astarion?" you asked upon entering.

He was sitting on his cushions, staring blankly at the wall. At the sound of your voice, he turned to look at you with a distant expression, and you immediately knew something was wrong.

"Are you still mad at me from this morning's fight?" you asked, sitting down next to him.

He let out a sigh and shook his head. "No, it's not that," he replied.

You frowned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it then? You know you can tell me," you said softly.

Astarion hesitated, his inner turmoil evident in the clench of his jaw. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "I can't...not tonight. I need to be alone," he rasped out before turning away, unable to meet your gaze.

Your heart dropped at his words, the worry and concern evident in your expression. You knew that Astarion wasn't one to push you away, at least not without a valid reason.

You didn't want to leave him like this but knew that he needed this space right now, so you gave him a small smile and silently went back to your tent.

BONUS

The next day, you tried to focus on other things, helping the group with their tasks and keeping your mind occupied. But as night fell and you lay in your bedroll, you couldn't shake off the worry that gnawed at your insides. What if this was about your confession? What if you had overstepped ahead of time and he couldn't reciprocate?

You turned over restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you got up to go to Astarion's tent and at least get some answers. But just as you were about to open it, the flap of your own tent was pulled back and Astarion stepped inside, a conflicted look on his face. Before you could even utter a word, he spoke first.

"Forgive me for my odd behavior last night," he began, his voice low and hesitant. "I've been trying to figure out everything."

You sat down in your bedroll again, giving him your full attention as he took a seat next to you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what was coming. He let out a sigh and leaned his head against your shoulder.

"What's wrong?" you asked gently, placing a comforting hand on his cheek.

"I just...I've been thinking about what you said that night," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What did I say?" you asked, not wanting to assume anything.

He took a deep breath before answering. "That you are in love with me."

Your heart skipped a beat at those words.

"Did...did I misunderstand?" Astarion asked hesitantly, looking up at you with uncertainty in his eyes.

"No," you replied firmly, cupping his face in your hands. "I meant every word I said that night. I'm in love with you, Astarion."

He seemed to take a moment to absorb the weight of your words, his eyes blinking slowly as he searched your face. A myriad of expressions flickered across his features — surprise, fear, and finally... sadness.

"I... I am sorry, but I can't fully reciprocate right now, with everything going on," he confessed, his voice strained with an unfamiliar vulnerability. His admission made your heart clench, but before any words could escape your mouth, he continued.

"I've never been in love before. I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like, what it's supposed to be. But I know I have this...this feeling that keeps me close to you, that keeps my thoughts wandering back to you no matter where I am or what I am doing..." he paused, turning to look at you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter wildly in your chest, "and I hope that is enough for now."

A wave of relief washed over you at his confession and all the worry you have been carrying seemed to disappear all at once. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Astarion returned the hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, just holding each other tightly. It was a mix of emotions, knowing that Astarion was not yet able to return your feelings in full, but at the same time, you felt grateful and content knowing you had each other.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered against his hair, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "I will wait for you, all you need."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you couldn't help but mirror it. Astarion leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle small kiss. It was soft and sweet, sending a warmth spreading through your body.

You both curled up in the bedroll, Astarion enveloping you with his arms in a protective embrace. And at that moment, you were certain - if the vampire still had a heart, it would be beating for you alone right now.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 prompts #astarion prompt

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radiance1 · 1 year ago

Text

Bruce has been chasing after Damian for years now, the once child now a young adult. He's missed 5 years of his son's life, due to a conversation where they both said the wrong words which resulted in Damian running away and somehow managing to evade all of them for so long.

He has to get to his son, before Talia sucks him right back up into the league.

They managed to track his location down to a nightclub, apparently, he was participating in a regularly held event that's been going on ever since 6 years ago.

So they went to the city the nightclub was in, disguised themselves in the crowd and was told to let each other know if they've found Damian.

He didn't expect to meet Talia and the same nightclub, but it made sense. If he was able to find Damian, then it makes sense for Talia to be able to do so as well, even after years hiding from the both of them.

He was keeping an eye on Talia, and she was keeping an eye on him as well, when the event started. The most popular-and only- DJ appeared and played music that had the civilians going wild, and then an entire stage sprang from the ground, multicolored lights coming to life.

This was an event in which multiple dancers had to compete against each other, for what was previously the chance to battle Wraith, the champion who also acted as the DJ, but that changed when Demon came around, overthrowing Wraith and yet, the two seemed to be evenly matched, taking the champion title from each other over the period of 5 years.

Now, who ever got far enough had the option to pick between the two, the Wraith or the Demon.

===

Danny, or otherwise known as Wraith, managed to find a place for himself after losing everything to the Nasty Burger explosion, with the help of Vlad to get him back on his feet, he managed to find a place for himself in a nightclub in another city.

It was in that same city, that he didn't expect to see his twin, Damian Al Ghul, by himself. He explained that he left his father, and was on the run from their mother, Damian didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Which-as much as he wasn't on a cordial relationship with Damian- reminded him of himself after the explosion of Nasty Burger. So, he took him in at his pretty decent size apartment, fully prepared to do what was needed for his older brother until he got back on his feet.

Then Damian followed him to the nightclub one day, and then the next demanded that Danny teach him so that he could earn his keep.

And Danny did.

He didn't expect for Damian to progress so fast that he was able to dethrone him, though. But he gave credit where credit was due, and if Damian was hellbent on doing this for a living, then he had to wear a mask to hide his identity, from you know, some types of fans and the League as well.

He asked Vlad for another neon mask- he had one himself- and Vlad gave him one surprisingly easy, and then he gave that mask to Damian.

And that, was how Wraith and Demon became regular champions that dethroned each other, until the manager told them to stop because no one else would be able to display their skills and instead made them both champions.

Either pick one or get two.

Their lives fell into an endless motion of DJing, dancing to earn money, and then going back home to a messy apartment, eating and then passing out.

It was a perfect routine that neither of them whished to disturb.

Then Danny saw Talia, and Damian saw Bruce, and suddenly that peace was threatened. Neither of them wanted to go back now, not after establishing this little thing for themselves that they carved out with their own two hands.

But it would be okay, as long as their masks stay on they would go unnoticed, after all.

They wouldn't even think that their children were dancers, would they?

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny and damian are twins #demon twins #Danny and Damian are the top dancers at a nightclub #Well Danny is also a DJ but anywho #Bruce and Damian had a falling out and Damian left #Then was on the run from Talia before finding his little bro #Then they became dancers!

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hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

Text

The SafeWord is RadioApple (part 3)

Alastor x Lucifer

part 2 male reader is coming, this was mostly written though so I wanted to get it out; reader referred to with they/them pronouns

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱

Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱

Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱✨NEW✨

Flint and steel

You made it very clear the two demons had to get along when it came to whatever you three were doing. Which they did! …A great job at pretending to do! They could’ve probably kept it up, until Lucifer tried to humiliate Alastor at a party. Luci says Alastor doesn’t know how to satisfy you? Well Alastor is happy to show him otherwise. Too bad you’re not there….

「Warnings/Promises: DomAlastor x SubLucifer, Reader is not there when it happens, GN reader, choking, hands free ejaculation, anal, bondage?, praise kink, begging, Luci the cocksleeve, Luci the pretty little bird, Alastor tops in every sense, angelic blood kink?, biting, scratching, tentacles briefly penetrate, In every universe Angel appears when he’s not supposed to, Anal Smut sponsored by Ozzie’s Lube; Keep your lust ring happy©」

Minors DNI 👮 ✋

Alastor explained the best he could, that he had wanted to humiliate Lucifer and got a little carried away. In his defence, he had genuinely forgotten he had spoken to Charlie.

“Would I have stayed otherwise?” He asked.

That wasn’t the point.

“I don’t mind your unfounded rivalry. But if you drag this,” you gestured to all three of you, “into it again, we’re gonna have a different conversation.”

His hair bristled. Lucifer opened his mouth, ready to say something mocking, but you cut him off, “That goes for you too. Enough.”

Lucifer pouted, it seemed wholly unfair he be lumped together with Alastor for anything.

Well, not anything. He was finding situations he was quite alright with having Alastor join.

“Peace. Give me peace. Can you do that? Just dial back this bullshit?”

No. “Of course. I’ll be the perfect gentleman as always.”

Absolutely not. “Not a problem! I literally did nothing wrong, so, haha, super easy.”

“Fair enough, Luci.”

Alastor’s edges sharpened. Nothing? He’d been canoodling you in every public space the hotel had.

His body relaxed again. Ah, he understood. Alastor was, to his distress, bothered watching Lucifer make public displays of affection with you. It sent out a message to others that Alastor was being undermined in an established relationship since one knew the details, or that perhaps things had ended already and no one had been informed. That was how it could be interpreted. If direct attacks were not acceptable, then he’d just have to make a louder message.

Alastor’s smile unnerved you. You knew well enough to read his subtle changes in facial expression.

But even with your skill in knowing Alastor better than most, you hadn’t noticed the change in him immediately. It was small at first. A hand on your hip when you were standing side by side. Quite nice.

Pressing into the side of you when sitting on the sofa. Lovely.

A kiss good morning in front of the others. You’d woken up in the same bed, already said good morning. Okay… strange. But appreciated.

Pulling you into his lap in the lobby. “Alastor. An innocent look if he ever could make one. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, “What ever do you mean?” His smile widened.

How could you complain?

“You’re unusually physical.”

Hands rubbed at your hips, making you nearly jump from his lap, “You don’t like it?”

He knew very well you liked it. He could tell by how much hungrier you were becoming at night. Lucifer now a nearly daily interloper, helping Alastor unravel you under the canopy of his bed.

And it was true. Suddenly having both men showering you in physical affection was creating a new problem entirely.

Alastor’s mouth on your mouth, fingers on your body. Lucifer’s hips snapping against yours, claws gently scratching down your back. You fell asleep satiated and woke up hungry.

What you didn’t see, brain fogged with the stimulation, was how both men glared at each over of your body.

How when you entered a room they were in, Alastor would use his shadows to reach you before Lucifer could. No, you didn’t notice how suddenly Lucifer was always flagging you down and pulling you away from Alastor to discuss hotel topics.

You were quite impressed, a week of peaceful days and lustful nights, not a jab or barb to be seen.

For you, that is. Alastor would spin his mic too quickly, knocking off Lucifer’s hat. At least once his shadow tendrils outright tripped the king of hell as he descended the stairs. Luckily no one of importance was around to witness the brief and only mildly destructive battle that followed.

Not that Lucifer was an innocent party in any of it. He dropped the lobby chandelier on Alastor. Charlie is convinced there's something wrong with the bolts anchoring it to the ceiling now.

When he saw Alastor was just behind him to enter a room, he opened his wings, knocking Alastor backward.

Their favorite form of competition though remained you. Who could illicit the deepest moans? Who made your eyes roll back the most?

Something imperceptible to them, that you were well aware of, was how every night they inched closer and closer. While before you had an expanse of bed to explore between the two, by the end of the week you could barely roll over without brushing against one of them.

You felt quite accomplished. No brawls (that you witnessed), no overly cruel comments (within your earshot), no power plays (that you could perceive).

You said as much to them, everyone gathered in the common area around the bar in celebration of the 100th guest to move in. A modest party, most residents weary of being caught in the crosshairs of Alastor’s and Lucifer’s bickering.

“A toast. To… common ground?” You smirked, happily the thing shared between the two.

“To shared interests.” Alastor offered.

Lucifer, rarely one to drink, eagerly rose his drink, “To my Kitten!”

Alastor’s glass shattered in his fist. “Oops. Husk?”

It should have been an omen to you. But you laughed it off, a little broken glass wasn’t so bad considering the alternative; them choking each other out on the bedroom floor.

Perhaps the week's events had you too relaxed, quickly finding yourself drunker than you could recall in recent memory. You weren’t alone though. Lucifer’s tongue felt numb in his mouth, the effects of three apple martinis. And while Alastor was a little past tipsy, it was hard to tell with him. He was managing to keep his composure for the sake of one upping Lucifer.

Angel approached both men, “I don’t know which one of yous is the top in this fucked triangle but y’all okay with me takin’ them to their room? They are wasted.”

Alastor opened his mouth, but Lucifer spoke quicker, “Not at all! Thank you Angie.”

Alastor’s head whipped around to face Lucifer, “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Ha! Said the man who broadcasts his across the Pride Ring. Not that anyone listens to that trash.” Lucifer inspected his fingernails, pretending to not care.

“Very funny coming from you. The tacky circus master who can’t even keep hell safe.” A tinge of static broke through.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

The sound of stations flipping through an AM radio frequency, Alastor’s annoyance clicking through his speech, “Now that I think about it, you can’t keep much of anything at all. Where is your estranged wife, anyway?”

Horns materialized, breath fiery, “You wanna talk about relationships? You needed to tap me in to satisfy your woman.”

All anyone saw was Alastor grab the lapels of Lucifer’s jacket and yank them half way down his arms before both men descended into a pool of shadow that then disappeared entirely.

Lucifer stumbled back from Alastor, struggling to free his arms in the makeshift restraints Alastor had made. His jacket was folded down to his elbows, too tight to roll off and too far down to slip back up. “Just admit it. She needed me because you can’t meet her needs. Your relationship is incomplete without me!”

Alastor’s hands were on his neck before Lucifer could react. Squeezing, Lucifer gasped, eyes immediately losing focus.

His tail wound onto Alastor’s thigh, spade tip tapping twice.

Like a dog trained to a dinner bell, Alastor instinctually loosened his grip, his face not hiding his dismay. Lucifer moaned at the lighter pressure.

No, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He had other plans for how to dominate over Lucifer.

Shadow tendrils burst from the floor and tossed Lucifer to the bed, arms still trapped on either side of his chest.

“It seems you need some correcting on how well I can satisfy. Quality over quantity, my liege.” He loosened his bowtie. “And a reminder on who pulls the strings. You were allowed into my bed by me.” His hands came to Lucifer’s hips pulling him up onto his lap, back still on the bed as his bottom settled onto Alastor’s crotch. “You were allowed to enjoy my darling’s company by me.” Alastor leaned forward to hover over Lucifer.

The king of hell was flush from a combination of alcohol and shock, eyes glossy and big. His chest heaved slightly with every breath, mouth hanging open. Alastor brought a hand back to his neck, “Everything you cherish with your kitten was granted to you by me.” His hand began to squeeze, Lucifer’s tail returning to twirl around his thigh.

And there it was. Perhaps the most delicious sight Lucifer could offer Alastor; absolute surrender. Eyes closed, Lucifer fought the urge to roll against Alastor with his hips.

Yes, he hated the radio demon. But, well, hate was so close to passion. And passion could be enthralling. Lucifer had never been choked in a setting that wasn’t literal danger. He imagined for a moment how you felt, how you looked at him when Alastor fucked you while gripping your neck. It looked like it felt good. He wanted to feel it, too.

But he couldn’t possibly ask. Alastor would laugh and say no. Lucifer wasn’t sure his pride could survive that.

Alastor had been trying to find ways to soften his approach to Lucifer, knowing very well that if he could endear himself to the devil like he had Charlie he could increase his influence seven fold.

This wasn’t quite what he had in mind. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to toss him to the bed, it was a strange reaction to Lucifer’s insolence and moan. How many had heard the great corruptor moan like a bitch? How many had pinned him down beneath them? His cock was twitching to life in his lap as he stared down at Lucifer.

It was not what he had planned, but it could be just as effective. More so, even.

Lucifer stared at the back of his eyelids. Alastor stared at Lucifer. Both men made a silent decision.

Alastor’s hand tightened a little more, Lucifer grinding his ass against the other. Replying in kind, the radio demon leaned further over Lucifer, folding the smaller man in half as he ground down into him.

Lucifer didn’t attempt to stifle his moan, hands flexing where they were stuck, wishing desperately to hold onto Alastor’s arm that was gently increasing pressure still.

Every roll of his hips made Alastor’s breath hitch, the reality of who he was going to fuck into his mattress catching a fire in his veins.

Tap tap went his spade tipped tail on the inside of Alastor’s thigh.

“Open your eyes, your majesty.” Alastor leaned down, nose touching nose.

Lucifer opened one eye first, then the other. His pupils were blown. Alastor pressed his erection down against Luci’s own, making the other man clench his teeth.

“Were you listening?” He asked Luci.

A grin, “No.”

Alastor growled, hands both going to Lucifer’s pants, pulling them and the ducky boxers down to his shoes before peeling everything off and letting them fall to the floor.

Luci’s cock slapped up against his stomach, leaking already. He glared, hearing the radio demon laugh.

“You were listening a little, I think.” His hand touched the sticky clear liquid, a strand following his finger as he pulled it back.

“Are you going to take off my jacket?” Luci wiggled.

“Hmm, no.”

He threw his head back, blonde hair losing its usual coiffed shape.

Alastor slotted himself again between Luci’s thighs and began to unbutton the other man’s shirt. “There’s been something on my mind for awhile now.” He said, opening the shirt and revealing his pale chest. “Do you still taste like an angel?” His teeth sank into the shoulder muscle, Luci’s knees coming up and wrapping around his waist.

Dizzying, the rush of pure angelic blood into his mouth made Alastor weak. Golden liquid, sweet as honey and aromatic like fresh sage, dripped down Luci’s skin. The pain was light, Luci’s body thrusting into the empty space between their bodies.

“Touch me,” Luci meant to make it a command but it came out more of a plea.

He briefly considered saying no again, but let his hand wrap around Lucifer’s cock. He didn’t move though, instead letting Luci thrust in and out of his fist.

Alastor was aware how vocal Lucifer was, but he was a little surprised the normally difficult man didn’t even try to hide how good Alastor was making him feel.

Luci was sighing, body unable to stop itself from pushing up and into the warm hand he had been offered. The tongue lapping at his shoulder, Alastor hungry for him, was making him glow. He always enjoyed feeling wanted, being praised, and no praise was better than seeing Alastor’s demonic deer antlers grow above him.

Another bite, higher up now on his neck. Before, just working his shaft inside Alastor’s hand, he now was dragging the head of his dick inside of the grip. Sticky and wet, Alastor’s fingers providing ridges that bumped over his erection.

His own fingers were gripping the blankets, unable to do much else.

With a snap and a small puff of smoke, Lucifer took to the task of preparing himself for Alastor with a small bottle of lubricant. Freshly lubed fingers shifting under his body and stretching down to reach his hole. His thrusting slowed, focus now on prodding gently into himself. The other demon hadn’t noticed, attention devoted to lapping up every errand drop of blood.

With his arms restrained he couldn’t reach well, only a knuckle of his middle finger making any headway.

“I can’t reach.” He whined. Alastor perked up, looking at his face and then down between his legs.

“Ah,” he stared, Lucifer’s finger pathetically entering himself an inch or so. “When did you get lube?” Luci didn’t reply. “Hand it here.”

Lucifer looked a little surprised, which insulted Alastor. “I’m not a monster. I fully intended to prepare you.”

When all Luci did was squint, Alastor shrugged, leaning back over and licking at the dripping blood. He felt Luci’s body jump, one of his summoned tentacles now pressing cautiously into him.

Lucifer helped along the stretching, fingers rubbing the thick lube along the tendril as it pushed in an inch and pulled back a half, in two inches, back one.

This was progressing much better now. Luci’s hands relaxed back at his sides, eyes closing as he tried to let his muscles go slack. Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

Alastor listened and felt the smaller of the two funnelling all of his energy into easing his hole open.

“All this effort for little ole me?” He nipped Luci’s skin, no blood, just for fun.

Lucifer hissed, “This has literally nothing to do with you.”

“Funny, feels like it does.” He tightened his hand around Luci’s jumping cock.

“It’s the alcohol.” A blush he could feel radiating off his face spread from ear to ear. His mind kept flashing back to you. Would Alastor make him moan his name like you did? A prayer into the sheets? A twitch. Alastor’s body always seemed to know exactly where to go on yours. With a little practice, could he be brought to pleasured tears too? Luci moaned into Alastor’s shoulder.

“More,” this time it was a command, and one Aastor was happy to oblige, living shadow pushing deeper into Luci’s body. A groan, long and loud. The burning stretch made his dick weep into Alastor’s hand and onto his stomach.

Was it enough? Ozzie’s advice echoed in his head, “Better to prepare than tear!” a slogan his branded lubricant proudly declared.

His hips began moving again, every thrust up into Alastor’s hand met with a down thrust onto the tendril. Alastor’s hot breath over his neck, clawed hand on his member, tendrils deep in his ass. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by the deer demon, and it felt heavenly. Did heaven know such sensations? How could he suggest Alastor has the 8th sin?

Alastor was patient, uncharacteristically some would say, sighing into Luci’s skin as his angelic blood moistened his chin and lips. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He had been within biting distance for weeks now. If he had done this while they were mingling around and in you, it could have been seen as a part of the sex. He lowered, pulling Luci’s vest and shirt open wider so he could sink his teeth just above his nipple. Luci gasped, another moan following it.

The tail around his leg tightened, slithering up to his still clothed erection.

“Were you going to get naked or just fuck me through your pants?” Luci felt he was ready, hole soft and pliant.

A hum into his chest, “Was that an option?”

“Fuck you.”

“That is the topic of discussion, sire.”

Sire

Luci whined, eyes rolling side to side, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Alastor laughed, “You’re full of jokes tonight. Actually funny ones for once, too.” With the speed of a man with nowhere to be, Alastor leaned up and settled onto his legs. Belt undone and pulled off. Button, zipper, he sat up to drop his pants and underwear. Luci craned his neck up trying to watch, face still pink.

His hand came out and motioned to Luci to hand it to him. The small bottle of lube rolled from Luci’s fingers and down to Alastor’s knee.

Alastor poured a generous amount onto his manhood, hand pumping it along his shaft and reddening head. Luci’s heart was pounding, arms tugging at the jacket that kept him bound. He considered going full demon and ripping the jacket to pieces.

But then his eyes darted down, feeling pressure and heat as Alastor was lining himself up.

Alastor met Luci’s eyes, an unspoken, ‘ready?’

“Go ahead, Allie.”

With no cup to shatter, Alastor’s hands pulled Luci’s legs up and open by the ankles and snapped his hips with one motion into the devil’s slick ass.

Luci yelped, eyes watering. “Asshole!” He cried.

“Much better.” Alastor pulled out nearly entirely before thrusting back in. His eyes clenched, even with the prep he found Lucifer to be nearly painfully tight and insufferably hot. He stopped moving for a second, trying to let Lucifer adjust.

Luci was pouting, fingers wiggling. “Release my arms.”

“No.”

He tried to kick Alastor, but the grip on his ankles was too firm. Alastor began to move again, dragging himself out to the head and then thrusting back in. A different sensation than he was used to, but not a new one.

Lucifer was whining, every thrust back making the king of hell release a pitiful noise. Alastor looked down to the tail on his thigh before picking up his pace.

He dropped Luci’s legs, hands taking his thighs.

“Slower.” Luci groaned, “Slow down.” Alastor stopped, staring at Lucifer. He brought his foot up and pressed it under Alastor’s chin, “I didn’t say stop.”

Insolence.

Alastor rolled his hips forward, so slow and so slight Lucifer’s own hips began to thrust back onto him.

“Just do it right for fuck’s sake” Luci was getting annoyed. He wanted to be fucked, not fucked with. Could the two not be separated from each other?

“You’ve forgotten your manners,” Alastor felt the pull of his body to move, to thrust, to feel that cycle of pleasure let him relax into a simpler mental space. But, well, where was the fun in just chasing physical pleasure? He had the king of hell whimpering in front of him. In that exact moment, he was at the top of the food chain in hell. He wasn’t ready to tumble off that precarious point just yet.

Luci bit his lip, blood dripping down his chin, “Please.”

Alastor bent down to lick the liquid gold from his king’s neck and followed the trail up to Lucifer’s mouth, “Please what?” Taking the opportunity, Lucifer captured Alastor’s mouth with his. At first, Alastor stilled. Sex was one thing, but kissing was an entirely different beast.

But then the blood found it’s way into his mouth, and he pushed his tongue against Luci’s. A fight for dominance like always, both men seeking to feel more than the other. Luci clenched, making himself whine into Alastor. Legs lifting up to wrap around Alastor’s waist, Luci used the other man as an anchor to pull himself on and off Alastor’s too gentle cock. If his arms were free, he’d grip those tall and expressive ears on Alastor’s head.

He found a pace that suited him, refusing to beg.

How was Lucifer still managing to take control? Even bound and receiving, he was the one in charge. Alastor had to tear his body from the sweet taste of Luci’s kiss and reclaim the lead, cock more deeply entering Luci now.

Luci didn’t need deep, he just needed to feel that pressure and pull at his still tight ring of muscle, g-spot not far past his entrance. He knew exactly what he needed and felt allowing Alastor to do anything else was just a waste of time.

But you never seemed to fight or argue. You just relaxed under Alastor. If you were there, you’d stroke Luci’s hair and tell him how pretty he looked on his back.

He decided to stop trying to get the best of Alastor, and let Alastor show him exactly what he promised; how well he could satisfy.

Legs hooked, Luci let his body be rocked on the bed with Alastor’s direction. It’d been so long since he felt so full.

Alastor felt Lucifer relax, soften. He heard his breath start to become heavy and loud. Looking between them, he watched the other’s dick grow harder still.

“Good boy,” he offered. Luci whimpered, twitching around Alastor. Oh, of course. A praise kink. Alastor managed to stop the laugh bubbling in his chest, willing to meet Luci somewhat halfway.

Could he praise the man he was hoping to choke to death not that long ago?

A test, dipping his toes into the water. “You look divine with your legs open, your majesty.”

Luci moaned, erection hopping up.

“And you sound delicious,” Alastor let a hand run down Luci’s chest, small beads of yellow blood forming in the wake of his claws. A hiss, Lucifer’s stomach muscles tightened from the combination of sweet words and painful scratch.

Alastor began to pick up his pace, resting his weight on his hands at either side of Luci’s head to angle himself. He adjusted his hips slightly until Lucifer jumped, eyes rolling back.

Mounting pleasure brought sweat to Luci’s brow, his sounds becoming harsher, raspier. “I’m close, I need your hand.”

Alastor tutted, “You don’t need anything.”

Tears streaked Luci’s cheek, “Are you fucking serious? Do you- ungh,” a moan, a swear, “Fuck. I’ll beg.”

The deer demon, tall and imposing over Lucifer, wanted nothing more than to make the King beg. “No begging yet. You don’t need anything else to orgasm than what I’m giving you now”

A slight panic, Luci crying at what he was sure was just another act of cruelty. But as Alastor moved in him, swollen head rutting against his prostate, he felt his orgasm building to an unstoppable place. Alastor was mindful, only entering enough to keep Luci going.

Claws gripped the blankets, Luci’s hips instinctively thrusting into the air, he fought the urge to hold his breath. “Say it,” fast and low.

Alastor cocked his head, not sure what Luci was asking for. A deep blush took over the entirety of his pale face, “Tell me I can— nngh,”

“Ah,” Alastor giggled, “Cum, Lucifer.”

Alastor slowed his hips, a moan escaping as Luci’s balls and asshole tightened and trembled.

Luci came over his stomach and chest, waves of pleasure racking his body.

It was a sight Alastor was admiring; sweaty and bloody and shaking. It looked like Lucifer was melting. His smile widened, eyes darkening as he picked up his thrusts.

“W-wait,” Lucifer’s legs tightened around Alastor.

Alastor dropped to his elbows, chasing his own high now. Eyes open and flitting around the image beneath him. Flush cheeks, sweaty skin, Lucifer was panting and moaning. No double tap yet.

“You sound like a bitch in heat, your majesty.”

Lucifer’s face screwed up, body overstimulated and sensitive.

“Now, you can beg.” Alastor sat back up, pulling Lucifer’s ass into his lap and thrusting up, dick buried to the hilt as he let Luci’s soft walls massage at his member.

Luci’s hands tensed, looking up his body to where they both connected, Alastor’s cock bulging his lower stomach, “For what?”

“For me.”

Alastor’s face was covered by shadow, eyes glowing red down at Lucifer. Tears still drying, eyes watery, Lucifer shook, “Please,” he felt embarrassed, somehow even more naked than nude. Alastor was still nearly fully dressed, a fact Luci’s mind was just registering. “Please cum, Alastor.”

His head fell forward, eyes wide and smile shaking. The King of Hell, the greatest of the sins, was begging for Alastor to dirty him. Alastor had done it, euphoria flooded his brain. His nails cut into the soft flesh of Luci’s ass as he pounded into the smaller demon.

Lucifer was gasping and grunting, softening cock rolling around in his own seed. He just wanted Alastor to cum and let his body rest, “Cum already, please cum inside me. Please, Plea—,” Luci was being used as a toy, just a cock sleeve for Alastor and he liked it.

He felt Alastor’s cock grow inside him before his hips slammed into him once, twice, three times then bury himself as deeply as he could. Luci felt the warmth spreading in spurts, Alastor still rocking slightly without withdrawing any. He couldn’t see the other demon’s face, red and black hair shrouding the expression Luci so desperately wanted to watch.

Lucifer’s body went limp, Alastor pulling out already half soft and sitting back on his legs.

Pitiful. Soft and leaking, if Lucifer was a king Alastor felt like a God.

Finally, Alastor felt like he’d bested Lucifer, truly topping the most powerful demon in his own domain.

Meanwhile, Lucifer didn’t care. He felt closer to you, feeling Alastor’s cum drip out was a shared experience. He wanted to see you, to nuzzle into your neck. The only way to enhance his afterglow was to have it reflected off your smile.

Alastor was undoing his shirt when the door creaked open.

“So did you get the venom out of your system or…?” You slurred, “My bed is too empty. Can’t sleep.”

Alastor’s head near snapped with how quickly he turned, Luci propping up on his elbows and leaning around Alastor to stare wide eyed.

Alastor considered launching himself directly into the sun. Lucifer wondered if he opened his wings fast enough if he could launch Alastor directly into the sun.

“They uh—- tried to cuddle but I didn’t wanna die so I brought them here… maybe— maybe a worse idea.” Angel was slowly closing the door. “You should really lock these doors.”

Unholy fire singed Angels face before shadows slammed the door shut with such forced the walls shook.

You curled up beside Lucifer, nuzzling into his neck, “Pretty baby Luci. You’re like a fancy little bird.” In your foggy state of consciousness, you were immensely proud of how the two had taken your request so seriously.

Alastor’s hand came to cover his face, watching through his fingers as Lucifer looked lovingly at you, who was already half asleep.

“Under the covers, dear,” he gestured at you, “You, shower.”

Lucifer nodded and began wiggling down the bed so he could stand, you rolled until you hit pillows. You both in unison sighing, “Clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

769 notes · View notes

inkmonster21 · 1 month ago

Text

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (full-blown unprotected p in v - wrap it, folks!)

Part 02

Series Masterlist

Lock Me Down Tonight

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

For most people, Fridays held a special charm and anticipation. They symbolized the end of the toil of work, a well-earned break, and a chance to spend quality time with loved ones.

For you… it signified when you’d finally get to fuck Hugh. The mere thought of it was enough to send a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Fridays meant that you’d finally get to be with him again, to feel the heat of his body against yours and the weight of his desire as he took you to heights of pleasure you’d never known before.

The excitement was overwhelming, to the point where you found it difficult to focus on anything else. Time seemed to drag slowly, each minute an eternity as you ached for the moment when you could finally be reunited with Hugh.

You tried to distract yourself by going about your daily routine, but it was a struggle. Your thoughts kept Returning to the memory of his touch, his smile, the way he looked at you with barely contained desire.

You stare at the two outfits laid out on the bed, each one alluring in its own way. The first is a sexy little number, the kind of outfit that would make Hugh's eyes widen in appreciation. The second is a more elegant and refined option, a choice that would have him imagining you on his arm instead of in his bed.

You hum quietly to yourself, trying to decide which outfit would best convey the perfect balance between allure and restraint. You didn't want to be too obvious, but....

You were also eager to show him just how much you desired him. It was a delicate line to walk, and you wanted to make sure you got it just right. The thought has you biting your lip, the sense of anticipation growing with each passing moment. You reach for the phone and dial Megan’s number, waiting for her to answer.

You see Megan’s face appear on the screen, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She takes in your appearance and the outfits laid out on the bed behind you, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. Out of everyone in your life, Megan was the only one to know of your situation with Hugh. She was your walking phone and calendar. She knew things before you did! “Is the black too much?” You ask nibbling on your manicured nails.

Megan looks at the black outfit, her eyes trailing over the delicate lace and the plunging neckline. “Not at all,” she replies, her tone knowing. “Hugh won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You feel confident in the choice. “Black it is then.” Megan smiles, pleased that you’ve made a decision. "You’re going to knock him dead, I promise." You check yourself in the mirror, studying every angle and curve. The black outfit fits like a second skin, hugging your body in all the right places.

You glance down at your feet, admiring the tall black heels you've chosen. They elongate your legs, adding a touch of elegance to your outfit. You slide on the sheer black tights, the silky material molding to your skin seamlessly.

Looking in the mirror, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The black outfit accentuates your curves and makes you feel sexy and confident.

As the last hour crawls by, you find yourself pacing around your room, unable to sit still. Your mind is filled with anticipation, and your heart beats a little faster with every minute that passes.

You glance at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. It feels like an eternity before it’s finally time to leave. Your heart skips a beat as you see Hugh's name flash on your phone screen. You quickly answer the call, your voice a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Hey, I was just about to head over.”

Hugh’s voice comes through the line, deep and velvety. You can hear a hint of excitement in his tone, mirroring your own. "I can't wait to see you,” he says, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been thinking about you all day."

“You’re not alone there.” You muse into the phone. “You haven’t gotten into your car yet have you?” Hugh asks.

You smile at Hugh's question, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "No, not yet. Why?" you reply, curious about what he has in mind.

You pause, your eyes going wide as you gaze at the black limousine waiting in the parking garage. A thrill of excitement courses through you, your heart fluttering at the sight. You step closer to the car, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filling you as you wonder what Hugh has planned for tonight.

“Because I figured I would have you dropped off.”

You feel a smile spread across your face as his words sink in. "Hugh, you didn’t have to do this," you say, both touched and excited by his extravagant gesture. You approach the limousine, your heels clicking against the pavement. The driver, standing beside the rear passenger door, gives you a nod as he opens the door for you.

“Well I told you I would give you everything you deserve, didn’t I?” A shiver runs down your spine as his words reach your ears. They're equal parts sweet and seductive, a potent combination that always makes your head spin.

"You did say that," you murmur, a hint of desire lacing your voice. You slide into the luxurious car, the leather seats offering comfort and indulgence. The door closes quietly behind you, encasing you in a bubble of privacy and luxury.

As the limousine glides through the streets, you take in the plush interior, the dim lighting creating an intimate ambiance. The city lights pass by outside the tinted windows, adding to the sense of mystery and excitement. You bring the phone back to your ear, the sound of Hugh's voice a balm to your senses. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

You watch the city pass by through the tinted windows, your mind filled with images of Hugh: his magnetic gaze, his charming smile, his muscular frame. You're about to see him again, to feel his touch and taste his kiss. The thought alone is enough to make your heart pound faster and your breathing shallow.

The limousine pulls into the parking garage of Hugh's luxurious complex, the silence punctuated by the smooth hum of the engine. The garage is quiet and dimly lit, and you feel a wave of excitement wash over you as you prepare to finally be reunited with Hugh. The limousine glides effortlessly into a reserved spot, coming to a stop as the driver gets out to open your door.

A strong, protective hand extended from outside, reaching out to you. Without a moment’s hesitation, you take it, and a sense of security washes over you as Hugh gently guides you out. His fingers splay over your waist, providing a strong yet tender anchor point as he helps you take that first step.

The feel of Hugh's hand on your waist is electric, his touch sending sparks of desire through your body. You draw in a sharp breath, your heart rate quickening as you take a moment to steady yourself.

The contact is subtle yet possessive, his fingers exerting gentle yet firm pressure on your hip. The subtle gesture betrays just how badly he wants you, his restraint barely hiding the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

His lips meet yours, and a wave of tenderness washes over you. His kiss is gentle yet intense, a subtle declaration of his desire and his feelings for you. It's a moment that feels both comforting and exhilarating, the sweetness of the gesture only fueling the fire within you.

As the kiss lingers, his fingers dig into your hips, his touch growing more possessive. It's a silent message – a reminder that no matter how gentle his touch is, the desire that burns within him is barely contained.

Hugh guides you through the complex, his hand still resting possessively on your hip. There's a moment of silence as you reach the private elevator that leads to Hugh's penthouse. With a simple touch of a button, the elevator doors slide open, and Hugh gestures for you to precede him inside.

As you step into the elevator, the cool air conditioning sends a subtle shiver through you. The space is small, intimate, just the two of you.

Hugh steps in behind you, his presence is overwhelming and all-consuming. The doors slide shut, enclosing you both in the small space. The silence is intense, the air between you charged with tension and expectation.

Hugh's gaze rakes over you, his eyes darkened with desire. The black dress he'd seen earlier now looks even more tantalizing on you, the fabric hugging your curves in all the right places.

His eyes linger on the way the dress clings to your body, the way it exposes just a hint of cleavage, the way it accentuates your shape. It's clear that you're having a profound effect on him, stirring up deep and primal desires that he's barely able to contain.

"You look absolutely stunning," Hugh murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "That dress...it's driving me crazy." His eyes rake over your body again, taking in every detail. He reaches out, the palms of his hands skimming up your sides, his touch burning through the fabric.

You bite your lip as you lean into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, I hope you’re ready for me to take it off.”

A low growl rumbles in Hugh's chest as you press your body against him. Your words only stoke the fire that's already burning within him. He slides his hands down to the curves of your hips, firmly gripping you against him.

As you enter the penthouse, you're immediately struck by the grandiosity of the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the city skyline, the night sky lit up with a dazzling array of lights.

The penthouse is tastefully furnished, with a modern, masculine aesthetic that reflects Hugh's personality. The living room features comfortable couches, a sleek wall-mounted television, and a piano tucked into a corner.

The layout is open and inviting, the space designed for both style and functionality. As you walk further inside, the faint scent of his cologne fills your nose, lingering subtly in the air.

Hugh heads over to the kitchen, where a dinner table is already set up for two. Dishes and silverware are arranged neatly, the flickering glow of lit candles casting a soft, intimate light over the table.

As you arrive at the dining table, Hugh pulls out a chair for you, his gallant demeanor making your heart flutter. His hand holds the back of the chair as you seat yourself, his polite gesture a mixture of chivalry and possessiveness.

Hugh takes his own seat at the table, his eyes never leaving you. The candlelight flickers in his eyes, making the desire there even more apparent.

This was something you’d never experienced before. Sure you’d gone on plenty of dates. The same old dinner, movie, make-out routine is old and worn out.

Hugh was showing you the finer things of life. The more intimate experiences you could have with him. And you were loving every moment of it.

Hugh pours you a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling elegantly in the crystal glass. He then pours one for himself and sets the bottle down on the table.

As you take a sip of the wine, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement. Hugh's attention is entirely focused on you, his eyes drinking in every movement, every expression. The intimate setting, the delicious food, and the flickering candlelight all combine to create a sensual atmosphere that's both romantic and erotic.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you smirk at him. “Never been treated like this before. You’ve got me feeling special, Hugh.” Hugh chuckles a low, sexy sound that makes you shiver. He grins, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"You're damn right you're special," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "You deserve to be treated like royalty, and I'm going to make sure you feel like it every goddamn day."

Hugh’s masculine hand covers yours, his touch strong and warm, the contact between you sparks a wave of electricity. His voice quiets, taking on a more serious, sincere tone as he gazes into your eyes.

"Tonight, you’re the center of my world," Hugh reiterates, his words a soft yet intense declaration of his feelings. "I want this night to be an unforgettable one. I want to show you just how much you mean to me."

Hugh ladles out dinner, the mouthwatering aroma of the meal drifting up towards you. The candlelight casts a warm, flickering glow over the table, creating an intimate and romantic atmosphere.

He serves you first, placing a plate loaded with a variety of mouthwatering dishes in front of you. The food looks and smells incredible, and you can tell it's been prepared with meticulous care.

“You made this?” You ask in amazement. Hugh nods, a proud smile spreading across his face. "Every last bit," he says, clearly pleased with himself. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."

You take a bite, savoring the flavors that explode on your tongue. It's delicious, the combination of spices and herbs perfectly balanced. Hugh watches you intently, his eyes fixed on your face, eager for your reaction.

“I might just let you lock me down tonight, Hugh.” You tease him. He was all around the perfect man. Hugh raises an eyebrow, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, is that a promise?" he replies, his voice laced with a hint of challenge. "You think I can convince you to stay the night?"

As the meal progresses, the conversation between you and Hugh continues, flowing effortlessly and comfortably. The topics range from lighthearted and playful to more serious and intimate, touching on your childhoods, dreams, and aspirations. The candlelight flickers, the soft glow creating a warm, intimate atmosphere.

Hugh listens intently, his eyes locked on you, hanging onto every word. Occasionally, he offers a gentle touch – a hand on yours, a brush of his fingertips against your skin – small gestures that speak volumes about his admiration for you.

He takes a sip of his wine, then leans in slightly, his gaze fixed on you. "So tell me about your album," he prompts. "How long have you been working on it? What's the inspiration behind it?"

You sip your wine thinking over the album. “Almost two years.” Hugh's eyebrows raise in surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the revelation. "Two years?" he repeats, a hint of admiration in his voice. "That's a long time. I can only imagine how much effort and passion you've poured into it."

You have to roll your eyes at the thought. “I dated this Shawn guy. A complete dumbass. Some of the songs are about him. How he fucked me over.” As you mention your ex, a flicker of anger flashes across Hugh's face. His jaw clenches, and his eyes darken with possessive jealousy.

But he quickly tamps down the emotion, replacing it with a more sympathetic expression. "Sounds like he was a real piece of work," he mutters, his voice tight with resentment at the thought of someone treating you poorly.

You trail your gaze to meet Hugh’s. “Then the other songs are about you.” Hugh's expression suddenly shifts as he processes your words. His eyes soften, and the possessive edge to his demeanor recedes, replaced by something softer, warmer.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he absorbs the meaning behind your words. "About me?" he asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and curiosity. "You wrote songs about me?" You smirk, “I might’ve.”

Hugh's grin widens at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of pride. "Now I'm dying to know what you wrote about me. Are they good songs, or am I gonna come off looking like a fool?" You toy with his fingers, as you rake your gaze up his face. “Just don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.”

Hugh's fingers intertwine with yours, his larger hand completely dwarfing yours. He laughs at your playful threat, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," he replies, his voice low and sultry. "I'm a man of many talents, but I'm not in the habit of embarrassing gorgeous women. You're safe with me."

He brings your entwined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture is intimate and tender, his touch sending a shiver through you. He holds your gaze as he plants another soft kiss on your knuckles, his eyes smoldering with desire.

"Now, about those songs..." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You gonna give me a preview, or do I have to wait until I can buy your album?" You smirk widely as you stand. You sway over to his seat. “I guess I can give you just a little sneak peek.”

Hugh's eyes follow your every movement. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, his gaze roaming over your figure appreciatively. He's clearly enjoying the view, a predatory look in his eyes.

"A sneak peak, huh?" he says, his voice rough. "I like the sound of that." He reaches out, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You settle onto Hugh's lap, your body pressing snugly against his. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, holding you in place as he looks up at you. The height difference emphasizes his masculinity, his broad shoulders and muscular frame dwarfing you as you straddle him.

With the meal now finished, you lean back against Hugh, a soft hum of satisfaction slipping past your lips. "Dinner's done," you murmur, a hint of contentedness in your voice.

Hugh’s hands remain fixed on your hips, his fingers gently kneading the supple flesh. He gazes up at you, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently reinforces his promise for the night. Without a word, Hugh easily lifts you up in his arms, the strength in his muscles making it look effortless. He carries you to the bedroom, his steps steady and purposeful.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft bed, his strong hands caressing your body, exploring every curve with reverence. He traced the outline of your face, his fingers brushing your lips, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. You arched your back, inviting him to continue his exploration.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. "So young and full of life. I want to worship every inch of you." His lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that took your breath away. His tongue danced with yours, a sensual battle for dominance that left you yearning for more. Hugh's hands roamed freely, moving the straps of your dress down, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples until they hardened under his touch.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Hugh's kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fiery desire, before he gently bit your sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. "I need to taste you again, baby," he whispered against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

With skilled fingers, he dragged your tights down your legs, kissing every inch of bare skin as it revealed itself. His hands deftly removed your clothing, exposing your naked body to his hungry gaze.

"You're exquisite," he breathed, his eyes dark with desire. Hugh's lips trailed down your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites, until he reached the edge of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the lace and slowly slid them down your legs, his breath hot on your sensitive skin.

You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet incredibly aroused. Hugh's tongue traced the outline of your pussy. You gasped, your body arching off the bed, as he finally took the first stride of his tongue.

His tongue delved deep into your wetness, exploring every fold and crevice. He lapped at your juices, his mouth hot and insistent, driving you wild with pleasure. You clutched the sheets, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Hugh," you cried out, your voice hoarse with need. "I'm going to cum!" He increased his pace, his tongue flicking relentlessly against your clit, sending you spiraling into a mind-shattering orgasm. Your body shook uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Hugh continued to feast on your pussy, lapping up your essence, prolonging your ecstasy. As your orgasm subsided, Hugh slowly made his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites. He looked into your eyes, his own desire burning fiercely.

"I want to be inside you," he growled, his voice thick with want. "I want to feel your tight pussy around my cock." You reached down, grasping his hard length through his pants, and stroked him slowly, feeling his thickness and warmth. With trembling fingers, you unbuckled his belt, desperate to free his straining erection.

Hugh's cock sprang free, thick and veined, standing proudly before you. You stroked him gently, marveling at his size and the way his breath caught as you touched him. "Please, Hugh," you begged, your voice husky.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your wet entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching you deliciously. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

Hugh began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending pleasure coursing through your body. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips. "You feel so good," he groaned between kisses. "So tight and wet. I can't get enough of you."

He picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with increasing urgency. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, and your moans filled the room, a symphony of pure pleasure. Hugh's hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his every stroke, driving you both towards the brink of ecstasy.

"I'm close," you whispered, your nails digging into his back. He growled in response, his body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, filling you with his hot cum. You clenched around him, milking his throbbing cock, as your own orgasm exploded, rippling through your body.

In that moment, the age difference faded away, leaving only the raw, primal connection between two lovers lost in the throes of passion. As their breathing slowed, Hugh collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"That was incredible," he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. Hugh pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around you possessively. “Convinced to stay the night yet?” You giggle and settle into his grasp. “You’ve got me, Hugh.” Your words meant more than just the confirmation of your bed sharing for the night. Hugh had you completely. If he wanted.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a blissful haze of erotic fulfillment and tender affection.

#hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hot as hell #deadpool and wolverine

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dfortrafalgar · 3 months ago

Text

Just A Little More Time

Law x Fem Reader

Law wants more, and winter break seems like the perfect opportunity. Indeed, he wants more... but not at the cost of your relationship.

A/N: Another bonus chapter for IMLY, the masterlist of which I will link below! I wrote this MONTHS ago and have a second part to follow that I still have to finish. You can definitely read this without reading the entirety of the main fic, but there are parts of this that directly reference IMLY, so there's a potential that these might not make as much sense ;3;

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit, hints of past sexual trauma, allusions to medical issues, in general fluff and law being a dork

[IMLY Masterlist]

PLAY IT SAFE! USE PROTECTION!

Law stared blankly at the bowl of condoms situated outside the student activities office. A tiny index card placed beneath the pink plastic bin said they were free to take, but the biology undergrad felt beyond awkward reaching into the bowl to grab a few. Would he even need them? Everything had been going so well with you that he was worried he was going to jynx himself with every tiny action and idea. For the first time in his life, he found something he truly, desperately wanted to hold onto. He had fallen in love… and fallen hard.

Biting back his growing anxiety, and ignoring the off-put stares from students walking by, Law reached into the bowl, grabbed three wrapped condoms, and frantically stuffed them into the pocket of his baggy cargo pants. He briskly trudged out of the building and began his walk through the brisk winter air across the campus to the dining hall where you promised to meet him. A light snow was floating through the air, coating the frozen ground with powdery white that crunched beneath his shoes, the salted pavement of the walkways helping with traction. His heart hammered at the mere thought of seeing you again- you had been so busy with final exams that the two of you had barely been able to spend time together, the pressure mounting even higher as the two of you wrapped up your third year as undergrads. And although you were only officially dating for about three months, Law was endlessly looking forward to the next time he got to see you.

And he was really counting his blessings. For the entire two months of winter break, you were staying together in his single dorm on campus. He didn’t have much of a home to return to, usually choosing to stay with Shachi and Penguin. You chose not to return home, finding distress in your family life. And besides, who wouldn’t want to spend the winter cuddling under fluffy blankets with an adorable, nerdy med student?

Law pushed through the doors of the dining hall and proceeded into the expanse of tables and chairs, the same dining hall where he first found his heart racing at the sight of you. The circumstances recently had been far nicer though, and it turned out his chronic resting-bitch face made for a pretty good bodyguard-type vibe, exactly what you needed to feel safe walking around the open campus of North Blue University. You were hunched over one of the small tables in the back of the cafeteria, your chin resting against your fist as you flipped through a comic magazine, one that Law had leant you a week prior. The bio student felt his lips pull into a small smile at the sight.

Sensing his approach, you picked your head up, a broad grin immediately appearing on your face as you stood from your chair and engulfed him in a hug. A baggy crew-neck sweater adorned with the university’s logo enveloped you, your lavender and vanilla perfume wafting around Law in serene waves. While he wasn’t ever a fan of PDA, there were so few people in the dining hall that he felt comfortable placing his hands on your waist and dipping you back just enough to reach the soft skin of your neck, peppering a smattering of kisses over your skin before releasing you. Your bright, airy chuckles made his stomach twist with nervous butterflies. The condoms in his pants pocket felt like they were lava, oozing and searing through the fabric.

“How was your last final?” you asked excitedly, pulling away from him to gather your things from the table. You closed the magazine and held it toward him, Law happily accepting it back and tucking it into his backpack.

“It went well, I think. I’ve never been great with language classes, though,” he muttered back, awkwardly rubbing his neck where the short black hairs reached the top of his spinal cord.

You grinned, almost blinding the man, slinging your own bag over your shoulder and grabbing his hand in yours. Your fingers intertwined seamlessly. “I’m sure you did absolutely amazing, you ace every single class you take.”

“I appreciate it,” Law replied, his voice low as he smiled at you, your eyes creased as they adjusted to the outside light. “How were your’s?”

As quickly as your face beamed upon seeing your boyfriend, it morphed into a disinterested scowl. “Language was fine. Math on the other hand…”

“I thought it was an open note exam,” he inquired.

“It was. The bastard TA decided last minute to make it closed-book. Didn’t tell anyone until today, when the exam started.” You were grumbling, stuffing your free hand into the pocket of your coat. “I swear, the dude sitting next to me looked ready to end it all. I might have too, but I have too much to look forward to.”

Law’s chest panged. He knew it was a simple joke, but ever since forming your relationship, seeing you in any state other than happy and content was a health hazard for him. He squeezed your hand, keeping the skin of your palm warm. “I’m sure you did fine. You tried your best, at least.”

“True, that’s all you can ask for, really.” You stifled a yawn. “Trying my best.”

The black-haired man’s heart raced more and more while approaching the door to his dorm building with you in tow, the three metallic-wrapped items in his pocket growing more and more scorching the closer he got to his room. He was convinced he might pass out. He was wildly regretting the choice to grab them, worried that you would get the wrong idea if you saw them, thinking he’d be pressuring you into something you weren’t ready for, thinking that this entire two-month relationship was nothing more than–

“Law?”

Your delicate voice broke him from his anxious spiral. When did the two of you get into the elevator?

You were staring up at him, large eyes creased in concern. “You look really nervous. Are you alright?”

He gulped. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I can just go back to my own room if you’re suddenly not feeling well, I still have some things I have to pack up,” you offered.

Law’s hand was growing clammy in yours. He prayed you couldn’t tell. “No, you can stay. I’m fine.”

Your own hand flexed in his, and while you turned your gaze away from him, you didn’t seem convinced at his answer.

One thing Law still struggled with, and something that he would probably always struggle with, was facing his emotions head on. The last thing he wanted to admit out loud was the fact that he had grabbed three condoms from the student activities bowl with the hopes that two months of living in a small room with you would mean a potential score. He didn’t even know if they would fit. Were condoms one-size-fits-all? He had no idea. He’d never had sex before.

The low beep of the elevator’s button panel signaling their destination shook him once again from his own mind. You losened your grip on his hand, worried that it was you who was the cause of his sudden nervous demeanor.

“Hey, Law,” you whispered, the quiet hallway absorbing your voice. You stopped him in front of the elevator as it closed, standing directly in front of him to capture his eyes with your own. “Take a deep breath with me, alright?”

You slowly inhaled through your nose, feeling how your ribs expanded ever so slightly as your lungs swelled with the warm air of the dorm building. Law followed your lead, sucking in oxygen through his nose. You had some sort of supernatural ability to make him feel better instantly, better than any form of medication or clinical treatment. His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled with you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. You stepped closer to him, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

Law swallowed another thick glob of spit down his esophagus before mustering a weak nod. “I know.”

Footsteps down the hallway sparked a fire under Law’s feet, quickly dragging you to his door as innocuous as he could, jamming the key into the bolt and clicking open the lock. He pushed the wooden barrier open with his hand and ushered you inside as you giggled over his frantic movements, not wanting to be seen by any potential bystanders. Choosing to ignore any playful comments about his shyness, you instead kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat, making a beeline to Law’s single twin-sized bed and flopping onto the surprisingly plush comforter that covered his mattress. As clinical and stoic as Law was, he had an absolutely adorable bedspread. A simple blue comforter with an ocean wave pattern on it, plain white sheets, three pillows, and a large stuffed animal of a polar bear, which wore a peculiar orange shirt with a strange symbol embroidered on the front. Everything was wrapped in Law’s scent, that familiar comfort of cedar and lemongrass.

Law chuckled, deep and husky, at the sight of you immediately wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets situated at the foot of his bed. “Comfy?”

You hummed in response, flopping onto his pillows and curling up under the throw, hiding your face and taking a deep inhale of the laundry detergent he used. You might have fantasized about sharing a bed with him for the rest of your life, but he didn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

You peeked out from under the blanket as Law milled around his room, neatly situating your bag on the ground next to his, an action which made your heart flutter. After only three months of steady dating, the two of you had already fallen into a routine when visiting your individual rooms, as if you had been together for an eternity. Life with Law came so natural, despite the rocky start the two of you had upon first meeting. The Law from the study room almost five months ago was a completely different man compared to the one nearly folding his clothing and organizing his desk to prepare for your stay, humming a small song under his breath. He had reserved the top drawer of his wooden wardrobe for your clothing, the few sets of pajamas and day clothes that he wanted to keep in his room for when you spent the night. (He had a few sets in your room, too.)

Deep in the crevices of your mind, you wondered what married life with him could be like. He’d probably be just as domestic, if not more so. He’d probably make such a great father…

“Hey,” he spoke, shaking you from your own trance. The two of you were one in the same. “Tired?”

“Nah,” you responded, sitting up slightly, letting the blanket fall around your abdomen. “Just watching you like a creep.”

The laugh that left his lungs shook your ribcage, a heat fluttering through your veins. “Do you wanna get changed?” he asked, pulling open the drawer below the one he reserved for you.

You swung your legs off the side of his bed, eager to get into cozier clothing. “Obviously.”

Neither of you had seen the other naked. Instead, you changed with your backs to each other, heads down, only turning around when the other gave permission to do so. It was… comforting. You assumed your stance behind Law with your back to him, quickly shedding your shirt, followed by your bra. The sound of rustling clothes behind you signaled that Law was doing the same. You had just pulled an oversized t-shirt over your head when you heard a few small paps on the floor, and a panicked, ‘Shit,’ from Law.

Not thinking, you turned around to look at what happened.

Three condoms lie on the floor next to his pants, Law frantically fumbling to scoop them off the ground. He had forgotten to take them out of his pocket and stash them in his desk. The force of him removing his baggy cargo pants pushed them up and out of the open pocket.

You quickly turned your back to him once again, your face flushed with heat, eyes wide. It was too late, though. He knew you saw.

“I…” he muttered, rapidly finishing changing and shoving the three metallic-wrapped packs into his desk drawer. He was flustered, stuttering over his words. He stumbled between muttering frantic apologies and explaining himself when you finally turned around. His face was flushed a deep crimson as his golden eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort or distrust.

“Were those for… me?” you asked, voice soft, apprehensive.

“No– I mean…” Law’s jaw snapped shut. “Th… They were. But only if you, you know– wanted to. Or… fuck.” He desperately searched for any appropriate explanation, terrified at the mere prospect of potentially driving you away from him, after he had come so far.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest at the thought. On shaky legs, you approached the panicked man, gently grabbing his shoulders and grounding him. “Hey, Law… breathe.”

He nervously licked his chapped lips, drawing a shaky inhale through his nose. His eyes were clenched shut, too ashamed to look at you. Your chest ached.

“Can we sit down?” you asked carefully, your hands trailing down his arms to grab his hands. His fingers twitched at the contact, but he reciprocated your grasp.

You maneuvered yourself across the room, crawling back onto his bed and wrapping yourself in his blanket. Law stayed seated on the very edge of the mattress, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground from his lifted bed frame.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, hanging his head. His fluffy black hair shielded his eyes from your view.

“Please, don’t be,” you pleaded, scooting up behind him and resting your forehead against his vertebrae. “It’s really alright. I was just… surprised. But flattered.”

Law slowly loosened his muscles. He hadn’t expected ‘flattered’ to be the term to use. “Really…?”

“I mean… yeah,” you replied. “I’m surprised that you’d want that from me.”

The man’s stomach flipped. He carefully turned around to face you, picking his legs up to sit more comfortably on his mattress. “Why would you be surprised about that?”

The way you pursed your lips at his question made a million more concerns run through his mind. You quickly shook your head back and forth. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Law kept his gaze on you solid as your eyes darted between his wall, his hands, his blanket. You nervously fiddled with your cuticles. “The only time I’ve ever had sex with anyone, I bled for, like… three days. And it hurt. A lot.”

The man’s jaw clenched.

“I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt him, so I just kinda let it happen. But ever since then I’ve been…” you swallowed. “Scared. Like… I’m worried I’m broken.”

He wanted to slaughter the man who hadn’t noticed your pain, no matter how long ago the incident was. The look on your face told him that it still cut you deep despite your calm tone. Law leaned toward you, concern heavy on his face. “Did you speak to a doctor about that?”

You nodded. “Only once. My old gynecologist as a teenager suggested it could be anything. He was like, ‘It could be absolutely nothing, or you might have endometriosis. But you’re so young, so it’s probably nothing.’ So to deal with it I just never got close to a guy since then.”

The black-haired man rolled his eyes. “That doctor sucked.”

This made a small laugh burst from your lungs. “He did suck.” After a few brief moments, you finally made steady eye contact with your boyfriend across from you. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“What? No,” he blurted, waving his hands in the air. “You didn’t disappoint me, you could never disappoint me. If anything… I’m happy you trust me enough to share that. I’ve…” His voice trailed off.

You anxiously waited for his next words.

“I’ve never had sex before. With anyone. So all of this is still pretty foreign to me, too.”

A strange sense of relief filled your chest. “Really?”

Law felt a tiny smirk twitch onto his lips. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little, yeah.” You were visibly loosening up, once again growing comfortable where you sat across from him on his bed. “I mean, you’re crazy hot.”

Even more blood rushed to his cheeks making him feel warm from the crown of his head to the heels of his feet. “If it helps… you are, too. That’s… uhm… why I got those.” He gestured with his head to his desk drawer.

You hid your face in his blanket, embarrassment pulsing through your blood with each rapid beat of your flustered heart. “This makes me feel even more bad for being so scared.”

Law ghosted his hand over your shoulder, pulling you out of your slouch. You reminded him of an armadillo in a way, curling up into a little ball to protect yourself from danger. His mind flashed back to the movie night your friends had some months prior, when he found you behind the building with your head on your knees. “Never feel bad, I’m serious.” His voice was firm yet soft, revealing his intentions to make you feel as safe and protected as he could. “I don’t care if we never have sex at all, or if it takes a long time. I really don’t care. As long as you’re… okay. Healthy.”

You apprehensively peeked out from the blanket once more. “Really…?”

“Really.”

The man bit down his surprise as light tears welled in the corners of your eyes. You shuffled across the bed, closing the gap in between your bodies and wrapping him into a strong hug, the blanket shrouding his body as the two of you fell backwards onto his pillows. You buried your head into his neck as his arms came to rest against the small of your back, holding you securely against him. He could feel you grinning into him, tiny trickles of hot tears falling down the skin of your cheeks.

“I genuinely think you’re the best man I’ve ever met,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the cotton of his shirt.

“I’m just sorry you’ve had such bad experiences,” he uttered back, staring at the ceiling as he held you against him.

“Don’t get rid of the condoms,” you sighed. “I have a feeling we’ll need them eventually.”

Law grinned, squeezing your form in his secure arms. “On your own time.”

“On your’s, too.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #op x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law

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gatorbites-imagines · 11 months ago

Note

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

“P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.

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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

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Pairing: John Price x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, praise, self-consciousness, unprotected sex

Summary: you’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious lately, so John decides to fuck some sense into your head

It was one of the bad days. Days, on which all the clothing looked off on you, no matter how pretty they initially looked. “Maybe the problem is not in clothes, huh?” - your mean brain would say. Days, on which your skin looked especially bad. “Oh, is that a new pimple? Do you think anyone would like you like that?” - your horrible mind would sing. Days, on which you just wanted to curl into yourself, to disappear, so that no one could see you - to hide from all the judging eyes, that you mean mean head convinced you were all around.

And John, naturally, caught up with this. He was always good at reading you, seeing right through all your little fidgeting and unnatural quietness. He decided to give you some space, not wanting to push you, knowing that you’ll eventually come to him yourself. But when John cupped your pretty face, all grey and plain with sadness, rubbing your cheekbones with his thumb in attempt to soothe your absolutely unreasonable uneasiness, - you turned away from him. Feeling way too exposed before him, fearing that your husband will see all the little blemishes in your appearance - what if he stops liking you? What if he realizes that he may have so, so much more than that? So you turned away from him, hiding from his observant sight. And it hurt John like a bastard.

That’s how you ended up like this, with John in between your spread legs, hoisting your pelvis up in the air for better angle, bringing your hips towards his every thrust, making your tits jiggle at the impact. You clawed at his thick forearms, mewls and moans slipping off your kiss-swollen lips which only encouraged Price to go harder.

- When. Will it. Finally. Go. Through. That. Thick. Little. Head of yours? - John panted through gritted teeth, accentuating every word with a hard deep snap of his hips against yours, never failing to earn a loud yelp escaping your lips at every single one of them.

He laid your ass on the mattress, hooking backs of your knees with his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You squeaked quietly at your awkward position but all complains left your brain the moment John started working his mighty hips, pounding your mercilessly into your mattress, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your mouth fell agape in a silent scream, hands coming to your husband’s heaving chest, feeling how hot his skin was under your touch.

He crouched down, attaching his lips to the side of your neck, littering every inch available with kisses and soft nibbles, his beard scratching lightly against your skin, only adding to the sensory pleasure.

- You’re fucking gorgeous. This perfect sexy body, and this lovely pretty face. You are amazing, all of you. Do you understand that? - John rasped into your ear, his deep grumbling voice along with hot breathing tickling against your cheek and earshell sent uncontrollable shivers running down your spine. You just mewled something unintelligible in response, hiding your face in the crook of your husband’s neck.

And John didn’t like that. His hand quickly found your chin, grabbing it softly and yanking your face back, making you look directly in his eyes.

- Do you understand that? - man demanded.

- Y-yes, - you muttered, daring your eyes not to close and maintain an intense contact with ocean blues of John’s eyes, bright blush creeping up your neck and chest.

- Say it. Say that you’re beautiful.

- John…- you protested, feeling all more embarrassed all of a sudden.

- Say. It. - John insisted, his pace never faltering. It felt like his beautiful eyes were boring right through your skin and straight into your soul, unraveling every smallest knot that has been choking you lately. And his persistent caressing along with searing kisses seemed to ease you out of your head a bit, feeling heaviness starting leaving your chest little by little.

- I’m beautiful, - you whispered, blushing profusely at his intent gaze. But it didn’t seem to satisfy John as crease between his brows deepened.

- Louder.

- I’m beautiful, - you repeated, way louder this time, accompanied by a shamefully loud moan caused by especially deep thrust, John’s thick cockhead nudging that one sensitive spot within you.

- That’s it baby. So proud of you, - John murmured against your lips sweetly. You leaned up, connecting your lips in a deep kiss, wet and desperate and longing. Your arms circled around his neck, keeping man impossibly closer to your naked chest.

- Such a perfect little baby, - John asked softly after breaking apart from your lips, one hand sneaking in between your bodies, thumb massaging your clit in circular motions. - Who’s my pretty girl?

- I am! I’m your pretty girl! - you gasped, eyes shutting closed as your orgasm suddenly crashed over your trembling body, setting your nerves ablaze with hot pleasure. All of your heavy thoughts seemed to fade away, only leaving space in your head for your husband and his heavy praise.

But it was nowhere near towards the end. After all, John did need to fuck some sense into that silly self-sabotaging head of yours<3

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback!<3

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teddyfalls · 8 months ago

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WHY WON’T YOU BE MY GIRL? — conrad fisher

PAIRING. conrad fisher x conklin!reader

SYNOPSIS. conrad asks you to go to the beach with him late at night so that he can teach you to surf and things lead elsewhere.

WARNINGS & FEATURES. fluff but angst if you squint, ooc conrad, shy reader, fem!reader (implied), you/yours pronouns used, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT. 1.1k

TEDDY TALKS. hi!! this is my first fic posted on here so i hope you guys enjoy it. it’s also dedicated to my best friend and the moon to my sun <3

masterlist. | who i write for. | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic is based on “why won’t you be my girl?” by william hinson.

THE NIGHT HAD FALLEN FASTER than you had fallen in love. It wasn’t a new thing by any means—anything Conrad did made you fall even more head-over-heels for him, even if that was near impossible. But tonight, it felt different. It felt like the love had come anew.

“Are you coming then?”

Even his voice sounded like honey. A perfect melody mixed intermittently with the midnight wind, like his voice was made to make you fall in love with him right then and there.

“To the beach?”

You ask, wondering why on Earth he was asking you to come to the beach with him at nine at night, just days after you’d gotten to Cousins. Conrad had been in a far better mood, that lovely light-bringing smile on his face, his past teasing demeanour at its full potential. Yet something still felt… off with him. Like something was toying with his mind, but you didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to ruin his mood.

“Yeah, the beach. Obviously. Do you— d’you not want to come?”

There was a hesitance in his words that you wanted to point out, but your mind didn’t dwindle on it for too long.

However, you did stay silent for a moment, causing him to tilt his head to the side in mere confusion. It didn’t take him long to figure out that you had sensed the hesitation within his voice, and his eyes softened their glare.

He rested his hands against the smooth side of his surfboard, which was completely light blue in colour and reflected the moonlight against its surface.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be nice to offer, you know? Take you surfing like you asked last summer.”

That brings a smile back on your face.

He remembered.

You nod rather eagerly, and he smiles back—all teeth and lips, a complete sure smile that never faltered. It made you so glad to see him like this, no darkness behind those eyes, just a sparkle in them. A sparkle that only seemed to appear when he was with you.

—

It took you both only a couple of minutes to get down to the beach, the wind running through your hair making Conrad’s look rather neat compared to yours. It made him laugh quietly watching you spin against the weight of the wind to try and get it out of your face.

He stopped just before the crux of the ocean, where it swam up against the shore and licked the sand with its cold waters. He wanted to actually try to teach you before you got in the water, knowing it’d be safer for you that way (and knowing Steven would have his head if he put you in harm’s way).

As he planted his surfboard in the ground beside him, he held a hand out for yours.

“Oh? You want this?” You say with a laugh. “You’ll have to come and get it!”

And with that you took off, running down the beach and kicking your sliders off on the way, looking back at him.

He laughed wholeheartedly, yelling as he watched you run off.

“There’s no way I’m running!”

Even though it was dark—being nighttime and the time when you would usually be watching a movie with your mother and Savannah—you could still see his face lighting up with not just the moonlight, but with a happiness that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Happiness that you knew no matter what that he deserved more than anything.

Despite his words, the moment you’d stopped to turn around to see if he was following, he took off too, running after you with sand kicking up behind his feet.

He managed to catch up with you quick enough, hands reaching for yours blindly as the moon hid behind a cloud for a second. The moment he touched you, you’d dropped the surfboard you were holding and let it clatter to the ground as the moon came back out, coating you both in a glittery shimmer of moonlight. His hands were still clasping around your wrists when you moved one of your hands to manoeuvre the hair from his eyes, wanting to see that sparkle in a closer proximity.

“C—“ you began, but he cut you off.

“I think I caught you.” He says, breathlessly. Practically panting into your face, his eyes search yours, that smile on your face fading to something of a miniature grin. A knowing one.

“Yeah?” You whisper lightly.

“Yeah.” He mutters back, eyes flicking momentarily to your lips. His hands flex around your wrists, letting them go once his mind had returned to what he was actually doing.

Looking like he had more to say than just simply that, he gulps. Your Conrad—the boy you’d liked since, well, forever had you wrapped around his finger. Yet he was the shy one.

“I wanted to, ahem, ask something,” he manages to get out, a cough between his words, voice still low in the moonlight as he starts to make space between you, all too well conscious of the minimal amount of it from beforehand.

“Ask away, Conrad. I’m here.” You say, voice equally as quiet, if not more.

“Why won’t you be with me?”

You look extremely confused, so he presses on.

“Why won’t you be my girl?”

With that the proximity between you immediately minimises again, his breath fanning against your face in quick, short intervals. You look into his eyes, almost pleading him to say something, to break the silence before you have to do it yourself.

The hands by his sides move, almost in slow motion, but then it’s as if fireworks explode in your mind and you can’t help but let your body move without willing it to do so, letting your body have a pure mind of its own as you move even closer to him. He lets your bodies easily become one, hands coming up to cup your face as if it’s second nature.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours and it's like nothing else in the world exists anymore. The more he tilts your chin up into his the more he smiles, and you smile too, and those fireworks feel like they’ll never cease to exist.

You’re the one to break it. Break the silence and the kiss, panting rugged breaths as his hand moves a strand of your hair from your eyes, just as you had done for him.

“I will.” You whisper, holding onto his wrists now.

“I will be your girl, Conrad.”

⌗ teddyfalls

#teddyfalls #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher #tsitp #fluff #tsitp conrad #song fic #🧸

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glearyyyne · 7 months ago

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a true story

Synopsis: Working at the bar as a waitress took a toll on you as soon as a white-haired man started to appear in the bar just to watch you. It was fine at first but he started to cause chaos in the bar which made you want to resign when he offered a deal with you and you accepted it, you didn't know it would lead to you questioning your feelings toward him.

Word Count: 4,959 words

Warning: 18+(because of kissing), angst, cursing, misunderstanding, mention of gun, fight.

Note: Another eternal sunshine song-based! Took me a lot of time to finish this 'cause I've been wanting to drop this fic but my friend encouraged me to continue and post it. To my friend, I love you very much for encouraging me to continue this!!

_____________________________________________________________

"Hey [Reader's name]!"

You spun around while adjusting your apron right after punching in for your shift.

"What's up, Fumiko?" you asked, quickly tying your apron into a neat bow.

"Table 7 needs you," she informed you, prompting a frustrated sigh from you. "Can't they wait a minute? I just clocked in!"

"Well, you wouldn't want to upset the boss again by ignoring his favorite customer," Fumiko gently reminded you.

You let out a sigh, muttering under your breath in frustration.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before stepping out of the locker room to begin your shift, knowing that serving Table 7 was your first task as always.

Table 7 was just a short distance from the bar, but what made it hard to miss was the white-haired man seated there, his striking appearance standing out among the other customers.

Pausing once more, you took another deep breath, gathering your composure before making your way over to the table.

As Satoru sensed footsteps approaching from behind, he turned with a broad smile upon seeing you.

"Ah, [Reader's nickname]! Wonderful to see you!" he greeted enthusiastically as you reached his table.

You couldn't resist remarking, "My parents gave me a name for a reason," your grip on the notepad tightened as you struggled to contain your frustration.

Satoru's eyes sparkled behind his trademark sunglasses.

"Okay, chill kitten," he teased once more. You internally groaned at the pet name.

"Call me another pet name, and I'll make sure to file a restraining order against you," you threatened, although you knew you couldn't file a restraining order because...

"Oh yeah? I think you're forgetting something, princess," Satoru retorted, pulling out a pocket gun.

He’s one of the most dangerous men in Japan.

"You can't file a restraining order against me when they know how dangerous I am to society," he whispered with such intimidation that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious, but the smile on his face hinted at a hint of psychopathy.

With a sigh, you said, "What do you want to order?" eager to move past the uncomfortable exchange.

"Mhmm, if you were on the menu, I would have ordered you," Satoru shamelessly remarked as he perused the menu.

His words made you want to whack him on the spot.

"If you're looking for entertainment, I suggest booking a private room with one of our exotic dancers," you suggested, hoping to redirect his attention away from you.

But luck wasn't on your side.

"They've already been touched by those dirty drunk businessmen, and besides, nobody will focus on some waitress like you when you're so pretty and perfect for me," Satoru explained, his words dripping with arrogance.

You scoffed at his statement. "Well, if you're into looks, I'm sorry, but I don't date guys like you who are too arrogant and full of ego," you told him angrily.

Satoru chuckled in response. "Well, I can change your mind about me if you'll let me," he said, his tone suggesting he wasn't about to give up.

It seemed he wasn't going to let this go easily.

You stared at him blankly. "Can't you just tell me what your order is?" you asked, not wanting to waste any more time on him.

"Why? So you can go back and ignore me as usual?" Satoru asked with a pout.

"Good thing you know," you retorted.

"Of course I know," Satoru replied, seemingly about to continue, but he was interrupted by another customer.

"Hey miss, can I get another bottle of beer?" the customer interjected.

Turning to the customer, you nodded, "Sure, after I take his order," you said, pointing your pen towards Satoru, who wore an unpleasant expression on his face.

"Get another waiter to get you some beer," Satoru told the customer, his tone dismissive.

You tried to intervene, "Hey!" but Satoru continued.

"Sorry, he's just, you know," you attempted to explain to the customer, but Satoru cut in.

"I'll get the usual meal," he said with a smile.

"You got it then," you replied, jotting down the order that you already knew, before walking away.

Satoru eyed the guy who interrupted your conversation, making a mental note to deal with him later.

You continued your work, feeling the weight of his eyes following you around whenever you served someone.

Those annoyingly pretty blue eyes seemed to track your every move.

You did your best to ignore him, but you couldn't help but return his stare whenever you unconsciously scanned the bar.

Despite finishing his meal, he remained, still watching you. When he noticed your gaze, he smiled and waved at you.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your tasks, determined not to let him distract you any further.

"So cute," Satoru said with a giggle as you looked away, obviously amused by how hard you were trying to resist his charms.

He enjoyed the challenge, especially when it came to you.

After hours of serving food and drinks to patrons, you glanced at the clock and realized you were close to the end of your shift.

Surprisingly, Satoru was still seated at Table 7.

It seemed like he was waiting for something, but you figured it was none of your business anyway.

"Bring this to table 6," the bartender instructed, handing you five drinks that needed to be served.

This was your last task of the night, and it had to be five drinks.

Carefully balancing them on a tray, you set off to deliver them to table 6. As you walked, you suddenly realized that Table 6 was dangerously close to Satoru's.

"Here's your drinks, sir," you spoke after arriving at their table, gently placing down the drinks.

The men at the table suddenly went quiet as you approached.

One of them, who was uncomfortably close, whistled and eyed your body, but you ignored him and continued placing the drinks.

"I didn't think the drinks would come with such a beautiful lady," he said, earning laughter from his companions.

You knew Satoru was watching, so you felt somewhat safer in case the man tried anything.

"Why are you ignoring me, baby?" the guy said drunkenly.

Ignoring him, you were about to place the last drink when you felt a hand grope your ass, causing you to spill the drink.

"Fuck!" the guy shouted, drawing attention from other customers. "You bitch!" he exclaimed, seemingly about to attack you.

Bracing yourself, you covered your face with the tray, ready to defend against the assault.

But the attack never came.

You uncovered your face from the tray as soon as you heard water splashing.

To your surprise, you saw the guy who groped you was covered in water, with Satoru holding an empty glass raised to the guy's head.

You were speechless at what he had done.

"What's your problem, man?!" the guy shouted at Satoru, his voice filled with anger. Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be holding their phones, ready to record the impending fight between the two.

Satoru scoffed, chuckling."You. You're my problem," he said angrily, pulling out the pocket gun he had and pointing it at the man, who suddenly looked scared.

"You're touching what's mine," Satoru's voice was laced with possessiveness.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to Satoru, attempting to stop him from shooting the guy.

"Satoru, stop it!" you pleaded, reaching for his wrist to prevent him from pulling the trigger.

"Just a second, princess, we need more time," Satoru said, his gaze still fixed on the man as he continued to point the gun.

"What time?!" you exclaimed, panic rising within you as the situation escalated.

"Now," Satoru calmly replied, finally lowering the gun.

Before you could ask him anything else, security guards arrived on the scene, intervening in the fight.

You were speechless, still processing everything that had just unfolded, as Satoru took the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist and kiss your head.

"Your shift ends now, right? Can you go to the locker room? I'll take you home," he whispered softly.

Still surprised by the turn of events, you didn't have time to get annoyed at his actions.

Instead, you nodded silently before heading to the locker room, leaving Satoru behind to deal with the aftermath of what had happened.

You made your way to the locker room, trying to calm your racing heart. Fumiko entered soon after, concern evident on her face.

"Hey, I saw what happened. Are you okay?" she asked, gently rubbing your shoulder.

"I didn't think your boyfriend was capable of doing that," she added, causing you to look at her in surprise. "Boyfriend?" you let out incredulously.

"Is he not your boyfriend?" Fumiko asked carefully.

"Never in my life would he be my boyfriend," you vehemently denied, heading to your locker to grab your things.

All you wanted was to retreat to your bed for the rest of the night.

"I think the boss wants to talk about what happened," Fumiko informed you, leaving you sighing heavily.

This might be it; he might fire you.

"Okay, I'll head there," you said, grabbing your bag and preparing to leave. However, Fumiko stopped you before you could go any further.

"Get some rest, will ya?" she said with a reassuring smile.

Her words resonated with you, and you returned her smile, nodding in agreement before finally leaving the locker room.

The conversation with your boss wasn't too lengthy, though he scolded you for spilling the drink that had caused the fight.

However, to your relief, he didn't fire you. It felt as though Satoru might have intervened somehow to prevent your immediate termination.

The bad news was that you were suspended for a day, meaning you couldn't work tomorrow.

While it was disappointing, you understood the decision. It might be for the best to keep the club safe, especially if it meant Satoru would stay away while you were suspended.

As you exited through the door, you saw Satoru smoking nearby. As soon as he noticed you, he threw away the cigarette and began to approach you, but you stopped him in his tracks.

"Go home, I'll take the bus," you told him firmly, walking in the opposite direction. However, Satoru was about to let you go slowly.

"Wait, I just told you I'll take you home," he insisted.

"But I can't face you right now, Satoru. I almost lost my job there!" you snapped at him, frustration evident in your voice.

You expected him to argue back, but instead, he surprised you by taking off his blazer and wrapping it around you, leaving you speechless.

"It's cold outside. Please, let me take you home," he said softly, his demeanor unusually gentle. It was the first time you had seen him act like this.

"Will you leave me alone if you take me home?" you asked, hoping for him to accept it.

However, his smile dropped at your question.

"I don't think I can leave you alone, not when I like you too much," Satoru confessed, but you didn't take his confession lightly.

"Oh, stop this crap. You can go and find someone else to date then," you retorted, refusing to let his words sway you.

"If you agree to be my fake girlfriend for a day, I'll leave you alone," Satoru suggested, his proposal tempting despite your reservations.

"Why do you even need a fake girlfriend to begin with?" you asked, curious about his motives.

"To impress my grandfather. That geezer wants me to bring someone to a ball party that's held tomorrow," Satoru replied, providing an explanation that made sense.

The timing coincidentally aligned with the day you were suspended from work, and you didn't have any other plans.

"Fine, you better keep your end of the deal," you told him, reluctantly agreeing to his proposal.

Satoru smiled softly at you after you accepted his offer. That left you feeling something that you couldn't explain.

What the hell was that?

As you were about to head inside your house, Satoru stopped you. "Hey, I'll pick you up tomorrow by 7 am," he said, causing you to stop in your tracks.

"7? That's too early! Can't you see it's 1 am?" you protested.

"I know, but it'll be fun. You'll get to be treated like a princess," Satoru smirked at you before turning and walking back to his car, leaving you standing there feeling confused.

You were about to ask him for clarification, but he had already left.

Shaking your head in bewilderment, you headed inside the house and got ready for bed, still wondering what Satoru had planned for tomorrow morning.

"I didn't think you'd bring me to the mall," you remarked to Satoru, who was busy looking at clothes for you.

"Does it really have to be here at Louis Vuitton?" you added, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the luxurious surroundings.

"I can't let you go into the ball wearing cheap clothes, and besides, that geezer is allergic to anything less than top-tier fashion. So, if we want to impress him, then..." Satoru paused, pulling out a dress.

"You need to wear this," he said, showing you the dress.

"I would have to work ten jobs just to be able to purchase that," you told him, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

Satoru chuckled at your remark.

"But you don't need to work ten jobs to buy this when you have me," he said, his ego shining through. You rolled your eyes at his typical arrogance.

"We're only going to buy one, right?" you asked, trying to reel him in, but Satoru didn't respond.

Instead, he is immediately swarmed by sales ladies to assist him in finding you the perfect clothes.

The original plan was just to buy clothes for the ball, but it ended up with tons of outfits for various occasions – working, hanging out, lounging at home, and even for work.

"You didn't stick to your plan, did you?" you asked him as you both left the shop, him carrying tons of bags while you only had a few.

"So what? At least you have more clothes to wear," Satoru remarked as you both walked towards the parking area on the ground floor of the mall.

Just as Satoru was about to open the door to his car, your eyes widened as you saw someone unexpected, causing you to instinctively pull Satoru close to you.

His hands unconsciously went to the wall, as if pinning you against it.

"Woah, I didn't expect this," Satoru let out with a smirk, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

"Shut up, there's someone I didn't want to see, and I need you to cover for me," you told him urgently, but Satoru was stubborn.

"Where?" he said, looking around, making you panic. You grabbed both of his cheeks and made him face you.

"Just look at me! Don't turn around!" you whispered angrily.

"Well, I can't deny you're giving me the chance to look at your pretty face," Satoru teased, but you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

As you saw a shadow approaching, panic surged through you again. Without thinking, you pressed your lips against Satoru's.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't resist. He kissed you back, his hand instinctively moving to your waist while the other remained pressed against the wall.

You could feel Satoru's smirk against your lips as he began to dominate the kiss between the two of you.

Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when someone approached.

"Uh, excuse me?" the guy's voice interrupted, causing Satoru to pull away from the kiss and bite his lip in frustration.

"Yes?" Satoru replied, trying to maintain his composure as you ducked your face, hiding onto his chest in embarrassment.

"I think you shouldn't be doing that here," the guy said, and you stayed quiet as you recognized his voice. Out of all the places, he had to be here?

"You're ruining a good time for me, dude," Satoru told the guy without even looking at him.

"If you interfere again, you'll never see the light of day," Satoru threatened, his hand moving to his gun just to scare the guy off.

The guy backed away and left, leaving you two alone at last. You finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was it him, wasn't it?" Satoru spoke, his voice deep and serious.

"Huh?" you asked, finally looking up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"The reason why you're in this position?" Satoru asked, his hand gently holding your chin. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, unsure of what to say.

"But then again, I can finally taste your lips," Satoru whispered, his words causing you to blush furiously.

You thought he was about to lean in for another kiss, but to your surprise, he pulled away and picked up the bags from the ground before heading back to the car to open it.

You stood there, speechless, trying to process what had just happened and the whirlwind of emotions it stirred within you.

"You're not going inside?" Satoru asked, a smirk evident in his tone, and you felt the urge to wipe it off his face.

Ignoring his smugness, you walked up to the car and opened the passenger door, getting inside and taking a seat. Satoru didn't say much as he started the engine.

You waited, expecting him to speak, but when he finally did as he began driving, you weren't prepared for his choice of topic.

"I think it would be best if you wore the midnight blue dress so it would match my eyes," Satoru suddenly spoke, catching you off guard.

"You just had to choose that as the icebreaker for our conversation?" you asked, staring at him incredulously.

"What? You wanted me to talk about how sweet those lips of yours are? Because I can tell you straight if you want," Satoru replied casually, his words annoying you.

"Whatever, it's not like you'll be getting more than that," you muttered, but you heard him chuckle.

"I assure you, princess, that you'll give me more," Satoru said confidently.

"Why do you think so?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"I just feel it," he replied cryptically, leaving you puzzled by his enigmatic response.

***

You admired yourself in the mirror after putting on the fitted midnight dress.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice Satoru approaching until he appeared behind you, his hand resting on your waist as he looked at you with a grin on his face.

"So gorgeous," he whispered directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his words stirred something within you, and it felt strange to have Satoru eyeing you as if you were his.

Sensing your reaction, Satoru leaned down and kissed your neck, leaving you shocked by his sudden boldness.

The sensation of his lips against your skin sent a jolt through you, and you struggled to compose yourself during his unexpected actions.

"Can't help myself," Satoru murmured against your skin, his voice low and seductive. "You look so irresistible in that dress, like a vision from a dream."

His lips trailed along your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I knew it would fit you the moment I saw that dress in the store," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin.

"Satoru—" you began to protest, but he hushed you as if he already knew what you were going to say.

"Shh, remember you're my fake girlfriend now," Satoru reminded you, his words a gentle reminder of the charade you both agreed to.

As you slowly processed how the fake girlfriend charade had begun, you felt a cold band being placed on your finger.

Quickly, you stared at your hand, surprised to see a beautiful ring adorning your ring finger.

While you were still absorbed in examining the ring, Satoru took the opportunity to whisper to you.

"I need to let them see that you're taken," he said with a smile, "for now," he added cryptically.

Confused by his words, you couldn't shake the feeling that all of this would lead to consequences in the end.

Both you and Satoru entered the luxurious mansion, with Satoru guiding you inside with his hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to appear too stiff, knowing that any sign of discomfort would be noticed by everyone around you.

Eventually, you both stopped at the entrance of the ballroom.

"Make sure to act cool," Satoru whispered to you, and you nodded, taking a deep breath before the two of you entered the room.

The ballroom was as extravagant as expected, filled with large paintings, a lavish chandelier, and a polished floor where guests danced to the slow jazz music playing in the background.

The room buzzed with the sound of people conversing and laughing, adding to the lively atmosphere.

You observed your surroundings while Satoru guided you to where his grandfather was, trying to maintain your composure amid the greatness and finesse of the event.

As you stopped observing the room, you finally spotted Satoru's grandfather, who was conversing with other guests, holding a glass of wine in his right hand.

"Hey, old man," Satoru greeted his grandfather casually as if he were addressing a stranger.

His grandfather turned to look at Satoru with a blank expression, but as soon as he noticed you, his face lit up with a warm smile.

"Oh! She must be your date for this event?" his grandfather asked, his attention fully on you and Satoru as he excused himself from the other guests he had been speaking with.

He extended his hand toward you as if expecting a handshake.

You looked at Satoru for encouragement, and he smiled reassuringly before you accepted his grandfather's handshake.

"It's so nice to meet you, Ayaka-san," his grandfather greeted you, but you were utterly confused.

"Ayaka? I'm [reader's name]," you told him, which caused the old man's smile to falter as he stared at you and Satoru back and forth.

"You're not Kobayashi's daughter?" he asked, further adding to your confusion.

"Kobayashi—what?" you turned to Satoru, seeking an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Satoru simply laughed, placing his hand on your shoulder and pulling you in close so you could hear him.

"Go and take some food from the buffet while I discuss some things with my old man," he instructed you.

You were about to protest, but you felt Satoru's grip tighten. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Now go, but don't stray too far from my sight," he added as he walked towards his grandfather, engaging in a discussion that felt off-limits to you.

Feeling a bit left out, you made your way to the buffet, grabbing a lavish plate as you pondered your choices.

Lost in thought, you were surprised when someone placed a cupcake on your plate, prompting you to look up at them.

"It seems you're lost in thought, madam," a boy who seemed younger than you spoke.

"Oh, sorry. It's just... I'm not used to these kinds of events," you explained.

"I could tell," he said with a smile. "I'm Isamu, Gojo-san's cousin," he introduced himself.

"Oh, I'm [reader's name], his girlfriend," you introduced yourself, but you noticed how his face became confused.

"Really? But everyone here was told that Ayaka-san is his girlfriend," he said, adding to your confusion.

Who is this Ayaka-san? If he already has a girlfriend, why would he bring you here?

"Is she that popular?" you asked him, feeling increasingly perplexed.

"Wait, you don't know her? I thought Gojo-san at least told you about her," he replied.

"If you wouldn't mind, would you like to dance with me? I can fill you in on the background of the two," he suggested, extending his hand.

You glanced at Satoru, who was still busy greeting guests, and figured it wouldn't hurt, so you accepted his hand and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor.

As you began dancing, he finally spoke. "They were playmates in their childhood. Gojo-san would throw a tantrum if Ayaka-san wasn't his playmate," he explained.

You listened attentively, but you couldn't shake the strange feeling bubbling up inside you, as if your blood was boiling.

"Everyone adores them, and it's already been agreed that they'll get married when they're older," he continued, leaving you even more puzzled and uncertain about your role in this situation.

Feeling numb from the revelation and betrayed by Satoru's omission, you couldn't help but feel like you were being cast as the villain in this family's storybook.

"But I don't know, everything changed when Gojo-san was appointed to take over his father's business, and it was mentioned that the business was dangerous," Isamu explained, adding to your confusion.

"So where is this Ayaka-san?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I don't know. I thought she would come today as Gojo-san's date, but I didn't expect it to be you," Isamu replied, his tone sounding mocking to your ears.

“But I should give you a warning, Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble,” Isamu told you which made you even more confused.

Before you could respond, you felt a hand on your waist and turned to see Satoru.

"Excuse me, but you're dancing with my girlfriend," he said, his tone polite but laced with tension.

"Oh, sorry," Isamu apologized, releasing your hand and wiping it, which triggered you.

"I'll leave you two alone for some time," he said with a smile before walking away, leaving you feeling even more conflicted.

Satoru cupped your cheek, his concern was evident in his eyes.

"Hey, are you alright? Did he do something wrong?" he asked, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being scrutinized by everyone around you.

Pushing away his hand, you looked at the ground and whispered, "I... I want to go home.”

Satoru didn't respond immediately, but you could sense his frustration as he glanced around the room.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he muttered, his words filled with regret. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you close, and together you walked out of the ballroom.

Satoru quickly led you to one of the bathrooms, entering before you and locking the door behind him.

He turned to you, finding you still avoiding his gaze, unsure of what to do next.

Taking charge, he placed his hands on your waist and lifted you, seating you on the sink.

Once you were settled, he leaned in, resting both hands on the sink as he studied your expression.

"What did you two talk about?" Satoru asked, his tone gentle but insistent.

You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss it. His hand moved to your chin, his touch soft as he advised, "Don't bite them too hard."

Your mind was swirling with conflicting emotions.

Just yesterday, you were angry with him and vowed to keep your distance, but now... the mere mention of Ayaka next to Satoru stirred a fierce jealousy within you.

Were you really starting to fall for him?

You gazed into Satoru's eyes, he looked at you with a genuine look. But then, a warning from Isamu echoed in your mind

"Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble."

Conflicted and unsure of whom to trust, you couldn't bear the thought of Satoru displaying this same affection to Ayaka, his supposed childhood sweetheart.

In a split-second decision, you seized Satoru by the collar and pulled him into a kiss, letting your emotions take over.

Satoru responded swiftly, his hands finding their place on your waist as he reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity.

You felt a surge of desperation, a need for him to affirm that you were indeed his. Your hands moved to his collar, unbuttoning his clothes in a feverish haze.

Satoru allowed you to take the lead, deepening the kiss as the passion between you intensified.

You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, and rested your head on Satoru's shoulder.

His hands found yours, guiding you as you helped him remove his clothes.

His whispered encouragement urged you on, and at that moment, you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming desire, allowing yourself to lose control completely.

You woke up in Satoru's room, feeling a wave of confusion and regret wash over you as the events of the previous night flooded your mind.

You remembered the passion and the intimacy, but also the emptiness that followed.

“Don't think about anything, just think of me- God I love you too much, you're driving me crazy.” Satoru's whispered declarations of love echoed in your ears last night, but you knew deep down they held no true meaning.

As you sat up, the reality of the situation hit you hard. Satoru had left you alone in his bed, a painful reminder of his indifference.

Anger and betrayal surged within you, mingling with the hurt and vulnerability.

"Fuck you, Satoru," you muttered under your breath as you clenched your fists, the sting of betrayal fueling your resolve.

Despite the ache in your legs, you pushed yourself to get dressed, every movement a painful reminder of the night before.

Before leaving, you scribbled a short note, a final message to Satoru.

"Don't come find me," you wrote hastily, the words carrying the weight of your shattered trust and wounded pride.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to start anew, you left his house behind, planning to leave the city and leave him behind for good.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen

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