#you’re rolling your eyes (breaking eye contact for a short period of time)

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

The pain of being autistic. Sell your soul and maybe people will like you.

[0nlyn3l]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱

𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 📍

Y/n straightened out her uniform as Charlie sat lazily on her bed as to he only had a couch in his room.

“I still can’t believe you’re taking my advice for once”

Y/n looked at him through the mirror; false disappointment on her face as she tied her curls up.

“Don’t get used to it. I gotta go or else I’m gonna be late”

“Yeah, yeah”

And with that, he pulled her blanket over his head and pulled out his book, having one more hour of leisure time before he got ready for his new job.

After the short treacherous years in the hot state of California, the two siblings moved to Atlanta for 9 years, then back to their home city, London for a lovely 10 years; y/n taking an interest in medicine as her brother pursued teaching history.

Now it was their fourth month in Forks and y/n was on her way to the local hospital on a 2 month trial run before full employment.

Charles was about to have his first day as a history teacher in Forks high school.

~

“Alright, in a minute, I’m gonna give y’all each your timetables with the name of the doctor you’ll be with for the next two months. Behave” Josabelle, the hospital receptionist told y/n and the two other girls beside her who were in hope of securing a job here.

She flipped her braids behind her back before reaching to her left and grabbing the timetables; giving them each to the girls in front of her.

Y/n looked at her timetable, focus shooting onto the the name of the top right of her paper.

As soon as she read it, her eyes widened in disbelief.

No. Damn. Way.

The name Dr. C Cullen was written in cursive.

She tried to persuade herself that she was overreacting. That there were many C Cullens in the world and she needed to move on.

But her intuition told her she was right.

“Alright honey’s, the doctors are on their ways here right now, so just hang on tight”

However, when each doctor came to collect their apprentices, the ‘Cullen’ didn’t show up, leaving y/n and Josabelle in confusion.

“Oh my goodness, I didn’t read my emails. Doctor Cullen would like for you to meet him in his room” Josabelle stated, shoo-ing y/n away.

The ‘young’ girl made her way to the elevator as she tried to approach room 221.

His room.

As soon as she reached the front of the door; observing the golden plaque with ‘Dr Cullen’ carved in it, she faked courage and walked into the office, being met with the back of a chair.

She could see legs from where she was and a rolled up shirt with pale arms.

Carlisle however was shocked when he couldn’t smell blood.

Any blood that is.

Not even a spec.

“Trust me, there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m a nice guy” he started off.

“So, why don’t you tell me your na- ….. y/n. What are you doing here” he said in disbelief once he saw the woman in front of him.

They silently stared at each other, both not knowing what to say.

As soon as they gazed upon each other, all memories from their first encounter came back.

Her brown eyes now golden.

His blonde locks now shorter.

It was a reflection of their first gaze.

Y/n put her cold manicured hand over her lips, not breaking eye contact. Not even blinking.

“I work here now. I’m a doctor” she told him quietly, taken aback from his presence.

He was at loss for words.

He never believed she would go into the medical field.

She wasn’t one for complex learning.

~

It was now second period and Charlie was about to start teaching his first senior class history.

As the bell rang, the wooden door started opening as lazy 17 and 18 year olds multiplied and filled the room.

Charlie was excited. Having always been close to his younger sister, he had a large patience for teenagers and their mixed emotions.

After about five minutes, Charles got up from his leather seat, placing his WWII book down on the desk in front of him.

“Alright students. I’m about to start the registration. When I call out your names, I would like for you to respond with yes sir”

He said, not looking up at them and pulling the laminated document from his drawer.

“Lucas Aldridge?” He started as he read the first name of the register.

A blonde boy with a green sweater and curtain bangs raised his hand softly as he replied with a ‘yes sir’.

Charlie continued to read out the names alphabetically, reaching the letter H.

“Jasper Hale” The curly haired teacher read, looking up and holding eye contact with a familiar face.

Jasper stared at the man at the front of the classroom suspiciously, recognising him from the airport in ‘74.

“Here sir” he said, giving Charles a last look up and down before looking at his textbook.

Charles y/l/n was in awe.

In shock.

Maybe both.

He couldn’t believe his own eyes.

As he finished the registration, his sister’s name was the only thing on his mind.

~

Y/n and Carlisle came up with the solution to just do their jobs for the next couple weeks and work together with no fuss.

Easy right ?

Well no.

Every single time they passed eachother a piece of equipment and their hands brushed, they felt a course of electricity shoot through their dead bodies as if they were alive once more.

They felt each spec of passion from the 18th century multiplied by millions and wanted no more than to embrace eachother. But pride held them back.

However, now their shifts were nearly over and and they were sat on opposite sides of Carlisle’s desk, stealing glances at eachother when the other wasn’t aware of it.

“It’s nearly six thirty. That’s when our shift ends” Carlisle stated with nervousness echoing in his voice.

If he told her that he still didn’t feel attracted to her, he’d be lying.

Y/n also still felt the same pull thats she used to feel.

However after those several times he had left her, she didn’t want to open her unbeating heart to him anymore and placed an invisible barrier on it; avoiding heartbreak.

“Carlisle, I-” the girl was about to say before being interrupted by Carlisle picking his things and bidding farewell to her.

She was left dumbfounded once again,

~

Y/n and Charles got home at the same time. Exhaustion and frustration on both their faces and they sat down on the couch in sync.

“The damn Cullens” they both said.

[talesof-old]

it’s freakin’ bats | s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, overstimulation, sex pollen so dubcon, unprotected sex, refractory period?? don’t know her, short, unedited and certainly not proofread

word count: 537

kinktober series

steve hasn’t been normal since he got attacked by demobats, and you’re finding out why

prompt: sex pollen

masterlist

It only took a few moments for Steve to remove your clothes, his skin burning and his fingers shaky. The two of you were finally getting a moment alone together since being thrown into the Upside Down. For the most part, Steve had been fine, but in the past three hours he’d taken to looking almost ill. Since breaking off from the group, his focus was everywhere it shouldn’t be. You sighed at the thought.

Despite your continuous asking of what was wrong, his only focus seemed to be on your lips and chest. Something in the air changed as his mouth attached to your neck, and it became harder to focus on the concern that had once completely filled your mind. Warmth bloomed between your legs far too quickly and you sighed into his kisses, digging your fingers into his skin and drawing him closer. The bites on his sides and the ones on your thigh were apparently now the least of your worries. Desire was making the room spin and your mind foggy.

You aren’t sure how you ended up naked or in bed, but there you were, body arching into Steve’s as he stroked your lower lips and gathered your wetness on his fingers. He grinned, his face twisted into something feral, as he guided himself into your cunt. You lost track of time as he thrusted in and out of you, orgasm after orgasm being swapped between you. Sensitivity and heaviness settled into your bones.

Steve’s dick rammed into you, his skin sweaty as he fucked you through whatever it was plaguing you both. His skin had once felt feverish against your own, though you had long since begun burning as hot as him. You choked on a moan as Steve resumed his playing with your clit. Your thighs twitched and pleasure washed over you in waves, your next orgasm building with every passing second. The contact was nearly too much. You’d been like this for what seemed like forever, something in those bat bites making the two of you nearly incapable of separating.

You could feel Steve pulsing inside you, a clear sign he was just a breath away from coming, and you clenched around him involuntarily at the thought. Steve let out a loud moan, his eyes fluttering closed and his forehead coming to rest against your own.

“‘M so close, baby.” His voice was hoarse in your ear.

You let out some noise halfway between a hum and whine and wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling against his throat. He thrusted into you, hard, the action sending your eyes rolling back as you gasped. Your walls fluttered and Steve came, never letting up on the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Your orgasm crashed over you and you moaned loudly, broken and uncaring.

Steve rolled his hips as the two of you remained intwined, his dick still hard inside you. It had been like this for hours. Your body shook with sensitivity as you came back down, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Steve just watched you, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed.

“You’ve done so good for me, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“So good.”

[bunxxy]

Lovesick

Ex!Johnny x reader

Summary: It’s been months since you and Johnny have broken up suddenly. Now that’s he’s in front of you again, how are you going to deal with the emotions you’ve previously locked away?

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mention of alcoholism.

W/C: 2.7k

P1 — • — P2

There’s one thing you can admit whole heartedly; you hate college. Out of all of the months, your professors decide to bombard you with a bunch of assignments right before spring break. It’s like they hate the students they teach or something. Since the beginning of the month, you’ve been studying and working your ass off to get the assignments done before spring break. Who wants to worry about classwork on your week off? You don’t.

Between going to work and doing your assignments, you’re drained physically and mentally. You would think going to college for a Bachelors in Sculpture you wouldn’t have to write essays and do research papers, but colleges have to get their money somehow.

You’re currently in a study hall doing said research on an artist that you personally do not care about. You huff, resting your forehead on the palm of your hand. You’re completely disheveled. No one should have to this much work in a short period time. Your leg bounces as you glance at the time on your computer.

6:26pm.

You groan, folding your arms and hiding your face in them.

“4 more minutes and I’m not doing anything else today” you mumble to yourself. You note once you get home, you’re pouring yourself a glass of wine and watching tv.

Suddenly, your phone pings. The people around you look up from their computers and notebooks, to check their phones. You smile slightly, reaching to lift it up.

“Funny” you think.

Reading and learning about people’s actions have always been a passion of yours. Which is why your excelled so greatly in psychology. Using that knowledge, you love incorporating that into your artwork.

You unlock your phone and see Jungwoo has texted you. You instantly perk up to read his message. He’s been your best friend since high school. Just like you, he decided to pursue a career in art but he wants to be an art therapist instead. He’s such a empathetic person, it suits him perfectly.

Woo 🐹: hey ugly, jaemin is having a bbq at his place next week u wanna go with me?

Woo 🐹: he asked u to come why idk

You grin. Jungwoo always had a thing for calling you names in a loving way.

You: sure when?

Woo 🐹: uh lemme check

Woo 🐹: he said wednesday at 5

You: okay ill be there pick me up

Woo 🐹: sure thing stinkabutt

You scrunch your nose at the nickname and set your phone down. It finally hit 6:30 so you gather your things and head out of the building to go home.

With a glass of wine in your hand and your favourite tv show on, your mind finally feels at ease. Your roommate walks in with a handful of shopping bags and twinkles at the sight of you, “Y/N! You’re home!”

She drops the bags and runs towards you, engulfing you in a hug, almost making you spill your drink. You hold your drink above your head to save it. Seeing as though it’s the only thing keeping you sane right now, and pat her back. You sheepishly smile at her, “Hey, I seen you’ve been shopping again”

She rubs her cheek against your breasts and whines cutely, “I was bored and you weren’t home”

You roll your eyes and chuckle, taking a sip of your wine. She refuses to let you go and you can only lean back and accept it.

“You have to stop doing that. It’s an addiction, Jihyo”

She looks at you with puppy eyes and puffs her cheeks, “That’s why you’re supposed to be here to stop me”

You shake your head and grin, “Jihyo. You’re an adult. Act like one”

She whines and buries her face in your chest again.

Jihyo has been you’re roommate for 3 years now. You guys met when you put up an ad looking from a roommate. She was the first one to contact you. She comes from a wealthy family so she spends a lot of her free time wasting her money away and spending it on frivolous things. Her closet and bed room is filled with designer clothes, accessories, and shoes. When you asked her why she needed a roommate, she said “I want a friend.”

Ever since that day, you two have been inseparable. She’s like a sister to you. She always confides in you and she’s always there when you reach your breaking point. However, she’s immature and it didn’t dawn on her until you told her very bluntly. But she adores you for that.

“Where were you all day? You’re usually home before 3” She asks finally letting you go to rummage through the bags of clothes.

You smile, she really keeps track of you like a parent.

“My professors decided to be assholes and assign a whole bunch of work!” You exclaim, throwing an arm up in the air.

She scowls while she holds a houndstooth skirt up. “I get how you feel. One of mine told us we have a quiz due online next week. And he said he won’t unlock it until Tuesday!” she groans. “They’re so annoying!”

You nod in agreement, taking another sip from your wine. “I’ve been trying to finish everything before next week but-“ you sigh, setting the glass down on the coffee table and slouching on the couch, “it looks like I will have to do it then..” Jihyo hums understanding your pain.

Ping!

Jihyo adverts her gaze to you and her face brightens, “Jungwoo?”

You look at your phone, it is in fact Jungwoo. “Yup” you smirk.

She scrunches her nose and turns her attention back to her shopping bags. You’ve noticing a thing between them but never asked her about it. You would rather watch how their young love would play out from the sidelines. But occasionally teasing them both would always entertain you.

Woo 🐹: bring a bathing suit

Woo 🐹: and could u invite Jihyo

Woo 🐹: please

You glance up at Jihyo before looking back at your phone with a smile on your face.

You: oh yeah he has a pool I forgot

You: why

Woo 🐹: because I said so

You: what u wanna steal my friend from me or smth 👀

Woo 🐹: what no shut up

Woo 🐹: just invite her… please

You: okaaaay

“So, Jungwoo wants you to come with us to Jaemin’s bbq”

She perks up and her cheeks tint a light pink, “Really?”

You nod, amused by how eager she is. “Yeah I told him you wouldn’t want to. So…”

She frown and throws a pillow at you.

“I wanna go!” She whines

You laugh, hugging the pillow she just thrown. “I’m just messing with you. I didn’t know you wanted to see him that bad”

Now her entire face is red, you can’t help what laugh. “I- I dont! Shut up!”

“Right~” you tease.

She huffs and grabs her things, stomping to her bedroom.

“Wednesday at 5pm!” You shout loud enough for her to hear.

Young love.

You sigh, pouring more wine into your glass. It’s been 7 months since you’ve been in a relationship. The wound from your last one is still fresh. You can’t even think about your ex without feeling a stabbing pain in your heart.

Johnny.

You’ve never been the luckiest in dating, finally getting your first boyfriend in your early-twenties. He was the first one that didn’t want you for your body, the first one to listen to you and be there whenever you needed him. You felt like you could truly be yourself with him and you would always looked forward to seeing him despite how busy you both are.

One long loving year of just you and him together. This was the man you could see marrying and even having children with. But apparently, he didn’t feel the same you do did.

7 months ago, you’ve noticed Johnny becoming more distant. You thought it was the stress of school. However, it progressively got worse. He would purposefully ignore your text, avoid you if he saw you on campus, it was killing you. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and asked him why he’s acting this way when you saw him on campus one day.

“I’m breaking up with you.” He says flatly, not showing an ounce of remorse or emotional.

Your body shakes, you can’t move a limb. “W-why..?” You say quietly, staring into his eyes trying to search for an answer.

He doesn’t say anything. He only stares at the ground with anger in his eyes. His fists are bawled up and he frowns. You take a step closer and hesitantly reach your hand out to touch his arm. He snatches his arm away as he steps back. His actions throw you off guard. Cue the tears falling down your cheeks after he walks away from you leaving you with no answers.

You want to know why and he refuses to tell you. Everything you thought about your relationship was a lie. The man that you loved with all your life hates you now and you don’t know why.

Wednesday finally comes and the morning was hectic. Jihyo couldn’t choose what outfit she wanted to wear. She ended up tearing her room apart because of her indecisiveness. It got so bad to the point where she had you sit on her bed and choose between numerous outfits over and over against your will. And when you chose something she particularly didn’t like as much, she would choose the other option.

Now it’s the afternoon and nothing has changed.

You throw your face in your hands and groan, “Just choose one! You’re gonna look hot either way”

She’s currently holding up a neon crop top in one hand and a floral blouse in the other. She pouts and shakes both of them urgently, “Pick one! Which one would look better with these shorts?!”

They both look fine to you, but knowing her personality it’s more of a big deal than it needs to be. An idea pops up in your mind, “I think that one is nice” you say pointing to the blouse. Before she could speak, you cut her off.

“Jungwoo told me he likes floral stuff anyways” you mumble loud enough for her to hear, looking away at nothing at the same time.

She quickly throws the crop top on the floor and puts on the blouse.

“Finally, I should’ve done that before” you mumble, falling back first onto her soft bed.

You observe her as she looks at herself in the mirror. She is absolutely gorgeous. Jungwoo is lucky to have someone as pretty as her crushing on him. He’s always been a weird introverted nerd never paying attention to his looks, but as he grew older he ended up just as pretty as her. Just as annoying too.

Woo 🐹: outside

Woo 🐹: is she coming?

Ignoring his texts, you and Jihyo walk out of the apartment building with bags in your hand. Jungwoo tenses up with he sees Jihyo walking behind you.

Everything moves in slow motion, her hair flows through the wind like an angel, her skin glows under the sun, and she walks with such confidence. He runs out of the car to grab the bags out of her hand, completely ignoring your existence.

“Jihyo.. hey” he exhales, completely mesmerized by her beauty.

She lifts the sunglasses off her face and smiles sweetly at him. “Hey”

You roll your eyes and motion as if you’re barfing. Then you toss your bags in the trunk and open the door to the backseat.

“Cmon love birds we don’t have all day” you shout.

They both turn pink, sneaking glances at each other.

You smirk, they’re so cute. You hop in the backseat, waiting for them both. Once they finally get in, you all head off to Jaemin’s house.

Just like Jihyo, Jaemins family has money. You’re kind of worried that it’s dirty money because of how much he has. Like they’re in a mafia or something. He lives far away from the city. You’re sure his commute to campus is a pain in the ass. The drive there is long and not very scenic. Its mostly trees and the occasional farm where you would all shout “Cow!” excitedly. An hour into the drive you and Jihyo were fast asleep. Jungwoo wishes he could sleep too because of how awful the drive is.

“Wakey wakey” Jungwoo cooes.

Your eyes flutter open and sit up to look out the window. You finally see the house you’re familiar with. It’s ginormous with a beautifully well kept lawn and a fountain right in front of it.

Jungwoo pulls up to the gate and presses intercom the button.

“Who is it? What’s the password?” The voice on the other side asks.

“Open the damn gate, Haechan” Jungwoo groans, not wanting to put up with his antics today.

You hear laughter on the speaker and you can’t help but chuckle.

Haechan buzzes you in and the giant filigree gates open slowly, allowing Jungwoo to drive up to the front of the house.

Once hes parked, Jaemins butlers take over and carry all your bags into the house. Jungwoo hands the chauffeur the keys to his car and stands next to you. You rest your hands on your hips, admiring the detail of the building in front of you. Jungwoo does the same.

“It still amazes me despite the fact I’ve been here so many times.”

“Yeah. It’s gorgeous.” You ogle at the carvings on the columns.

“Let’s go inside”

You nod and follow Jihyo and Jungwoo into the building. Once you all pass the lush hallway, you guys are met with all of your friends from high school and some of Jaemin college friends chilling in the living room and kitchen.

“Yo! Y/N!” Mark shouts and walks up to you.

“Hey!” You say excitedly, wrapping your arms around him. He happily squeezes you tight. You haven’t seen Mark in months.

Just like Jungwoo, he’s been a close friend of yours since high school. You three were the trio back then and still are now.

You pull away from him with a smile on your face.

“How was the trip?”

He throws his head back dramatically and beams with joy, “It was so~ fucking awesome, dude. I think this is by far the best student trip Ive been to!” He expressed excitedly.

“I definitely want to go back to Polynesia again.”

You giggle, listening to him carefully. He’s always loved traveling so you’re glad he gets to live his dream so early in life. Mark wants to produce music so learning about different cultures music intrigues him to the fullest.

He throws his arm over your shoulder and leads you to the kitchen. He continues to talk about Polynesia, how rich their culture is, and all of the drama between the students that occurred during the trip.

“Oh, do you want anything to drink? We got water~, beer~ wi-“

You cut him off, gesturing come here “I’ll take the wine, thank you”

He smirks, handing you the wine cooler. It’s not as strong as you would like it to be but it will suffice. You pop it open with the bottle opener attached to your keys then take a swig. Mark looks at you amazed.

“You’re really an alcoholic.”

You put your hand on your chest, offended by his comment. “Am not!”

“Are too” he points to your keychain, “only an alcoholic would have that” he teases.

“No~ only a person prepared for a bbq would have that. Plus I don’t even drink that much.” You wave him off.

He leans against the island and laughs, “Okay then. Whatever you say”

You smack his arm playfully then look around the room. You haven’t seen Jaemin anywhere.

“Where’s Jaemin?”

Mark is typing away on his phone. “He’s outside with- uhhhh” he quickly sets his phone down and straightens his back with wide eyes. You raise an eyebrow, confused by how tense he’s gotten all of the sudden. “He’s outside trying to work the grill or something”

“Oh cool! I’ll be back” you chirp.

You set your bottle down and start your journey to the backyard, but Mark stops you by holding onto your wrist as he stares at you with unease. Now you’re really confused.

“I don’t think you sh-“

All of the sudden, a familiar voice rings in your ears, “Jaemin said we can finally come out now”

Your heart stops. You fix your gaze to where the voice is coming from.

“Johnny..?”

P1 — • — P2

[prettierthanurbf]

So What?

Y/n walked down the halls to find her best friend, getting the overwhelming feeling she’d be stuck walking into class alone, when she finally bumped into someone she knew. “Oh, great.” She mumbled irritably.

He turned around with a grin. “Well, hello, y/n.”

She rolled her eyes at his cocky grin. “Where’s your brother?”

The question just made his grin grow wider, making your patience even thinner. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.

She let her eyes wander around the halls to avoid eye contact when her eyes landed on him, sighing in relief, she pushed past his brother and hurried off to Tom. “Hey.” She said happily.

He looked up from his book. “Nice of you to wake up early for once.” He teased.

She laughed. “My parents are going to cut me off if I miss school to sleep in.” She explained.

He looked over her head, his eyes stopping on something that made his eyebrows furrow. “Mattheo’s staring at you again.” He whispered.

She quickly spun around to meet Mattheo’s eyes, turning back around so quick she almost fell over.

Tom helped her stand. “You alright?” He asked concerned.

She put a hand to her head. “I swear if he hexed me I’ll burn the little bastard.”

Tom chuckled. “Now I might just help you with that.”

Before y/n could say anything else, the teacher opened the doors for everyone in the class to walk in.

The whole class was a blur, mostly because y/n was asleep through half of it and hurrying to copy off of To ‘a notes during the other half, paying no attention to the teacher whatsoever.

Tom had to talk to one of his teachers before the next class started, which left y/n waiting outside on a bench alone with a book until class started.

Mattheo, who had grown bored of his friend group, walked off to bug y/n, sliding onto the bench and taking the spot a little too close to y/n.

She didn’t glance up from her book or move. “What?” She asked calmly.

He raised a brow. “No snarky comment? Hm.” He hummed. “Are you feeling alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

“Ah, there’s the tone I was looking for.” He grinned. “What’re you reading?”

She clicked her tongue. “You could check the cover, you know.”

He shrugged. “It would sound so much better coming from your lips than mine.”

She shut her book, her finger holding the page she was on, snapping her head to look at him. “What do you want, Mattheo?” She repeated, this time a little less calm.

He smirked. “Maybe I want to help with your anger issues.”

“Maybe you should work on yours first.” She said back.

He laughed. “We could work on it together.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather burn. Over and over. For eternity.”

He shrugged. “I could make it worth your while.”

She raised a brow. “What’s your angle, Riddle?”

He looked away with a small grin. “There’s no angle. I just think we could help each other out.”

“Have fun finding someone for that because I’m not your girl.” She slipped a small piece of paper into her book before getting up.

“But you could be.” Mattheo mumbled, but y/n had already walked off with all her things.

His shoulders slumped. “Great.”

Tom walked over to him laughing. “Did you seriously think whatever you were planning would work?”

Mattheo scowled at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve tried getting with her. Why is she so difficult.”

“She’s not into like that.” Tom said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Mattheo scoffed. “All the girls are into me like that.”

Tom shook his head and laughed a little more. “Not the one you like like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like her like that, Tommy.”

“Then stop going after her, because I swear on my life and hers I will make yours a living hell if you break her heart or mess around with her for kicks. Got it?” Tom said sternly.

Mattheo put his hands up, a familiar teasing grin growing on his face. “It’s not that deep, brother.” And with that he walked off, another grinning glance at Tom before going straight ahead to see if he could find y/n.

He didn’t see her until school was over, when the clouds were making weird shapes up and the colors were changing from the sun going down, the black lake always looked prettiest at this time of day, which is why Mattheo chose to walk alongside it, also in hopes he’d find a weird creature in the water and draw it.

He came across y/n when he was walking back to the school, she was laying on her back, her head rested on her book bag, with a different book in her hands than she was reading hours prior. He walked over to her confidently.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She sighed. “What?”

He sat down beside her. “So this is what you do after school?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quidditch practice was canceled today.”

He nodded. “Totally forgot you were on the team.”

She glanced at him. “Is there any reason you’re here or what?”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to know how you were doing.”

She pulled a piece of paper put of her robe, handing it to Mattheo without looking away from her book. “You read that and tell me how you think I’m feeling.”

His eyes scanned over the paper. “An animagus? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Now I’ve got to wait for my uncle Newt to come down here and talk to me about everything.”

Mattheo handed the paper back. “So you can’t go home?”

She shook her head. “Apparently my brothers tore up the place pretty bad and they’re trying to get it under control.”

“So why don’t you just stay with me and Tom?”

She snorted. “Because it’s you and Tom. I swear both of you don’t know how to not argue, especially when you’re trying to do something ‘important’.”

Matthe scoffed. “We do not!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re just gonna play that game now?”

He shrugged. “I mean…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot if you think you don’t argue with your brother a lot.”

“Just stay with us.” It came out more as a plead than a suggestion, which was not Mattheo’s intention at all.

Y/n laughed. “Beg me.” She joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” He said sarcastically. “Just stay with us.”

She glanced at him from her book. “If I do will you go away?”

“Maybe.” He said.

She shrugged. “Fine. Just let your brother know so it’s not a surprise or anything.”

“Okay.” Mattheo got up. “Did you finish the other book?” He asked, stopping himself from running off to find his brother so he could talk to y/n some more.

She looked up at him. “Yes. I had most of my classes to read through it.”

“How long have you had this one?”

“Since lunch. Why?”

He grinned. “No reason, no reason.”

“Why?” She repeated, this time sternly.

Mattheo looked down at her. “You’ll find out.” He winked at her before running off to find Tom.

When Spring break rolled around, y/n, Tom, and Mattheo went to Tom and Mattheo’s mansion they inherited when their dad mysteriously passed away.

Y/n explored a little since it was a bit of an upgrade from where the Riddle brothers were staying when she last stayed with them.

She stepped into a dark ish bedroom with lots of books. She walked over to the blinds and pushed them open so she could get a better look in the room.

“I usually like the curtains closed.” Mattheo said, scaring the shit out of y/n.

She turned to him with a hand over her heart. “Warn a girl next time, Mattheo!”

He laughed. “Sorry, sorry.”

She continued to look around. “You know, your room is the darkest one in this whole house. And the most gloomy.” Her eyes landed on the bookshelves. “Except for the books. They’re gorgeous.”

He chuckled. “You can go ahead and take some if you want. I’ve read all of them so I don’t really care.”

She raised a brow before laughing. “You’ve read all these? Like actually, actually? You’re not screwing with me?”

He shook his head. “Is that a surprise?”

“Yes! In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you open a book.”

“You don’t spend any time in the library.” He stated. “That’s where I am during my free time.”

“When you’re not walking around the lake.” She said.

He laughed. “You stalking me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mattheo. I’ve seen you walking around like a loner because I spend most of my time by the lake. It’s where some of the hot guys at our school swim so it’s a pretty good view.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw before letting out a forced laugh. “I forgot you like staring at strangers who are half naked.”

She shrugged. “If they’re hot, they’re hot. I gotta stare.”

“You’re not like… staring at them like that, are you?” He laughed. “Cause that would be weird.”

“Oh, like how you look at me?” She said, raising a brow as a grin pulled at her lips.

He chuckled. “Now, darling, I think you’re just seeing things.”

“Oh?” She asked, walking over to him. “So if I were to take my sweater off you’d keep looking at my eyes?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, I think a lot of people would look, honestly…”

She raised a brow. “If your brother was changing you’d look at his chest?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Obviously not.”

She nodded. “But you’d have a problem looking in my eyes instead of at my chest?”

“Well you’re not my sister so I can look.”

“Well now you just sound like a creep.” Y/n teased.

Mattheo scowled. “Well now you’re not being fair.”

“Oh no?” She grinned, unzipping her hoodie and sliding it off her arms. “My eyes are up here, Mattheo.”

“Screw this.” Mattheo mumbled annoyed. He cupped y/n’s face gently before pulling her in and pressing his lips against hers.

She pulled away for air after what felt like a short time period. “You do that to all the girls who try to take their sweater off?” She asked dumbfounded.

He shook his head and laughed, his hands still cupping her face. “You’re so blind sometimes, y/n.”

She raised a brow. “And you’re not?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“You sound unsure.” She teased. “But you are.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away. “You are more than I am.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” She said quietly. “And you never noticed.”

He grinned. “So the flirting was getting to you?” He teased.

“I’ll cut your throat.” She said quickly.

He chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.” He pulled her in for another kiss, pulling away when he heard footsteps getting closer to his room.

She quickly pulled back and stood by the bookshelf, getting a book off the shelf quickly. “What’s this one about?” She asked calmly.

Matthe cleared his throat. “Uh, uhm… werewolves.” He said after clearing his throat.

Tom knocked on the door frame. “Hey, there’s hot water on the stove right now. I’ve got to stop by the market to get some more stuff for dinner. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Mattheo grinned at y/n as Tom walked off to get his shoes on and leave for the market.

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ���❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[allthingsarmin]

armin with a bimbo gf?

TW: NSFW! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ~

Ft. Bimbofication, manipulation, sex, and other topics alike!

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

Thank you for your request, anon! I hope you like what I wrote, and please feel free to request more.

(I am HERE for this Armin brain-rot lmao! I love reading fanfictions/headcanons like these).

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Armin with a bimbo gf:

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin is a very polite man: always making sure you go to bed on time, putting your dead phone on the charger when you fall asleep with it in your hands, reminding you to drink water throughout the day, always lets you spend his own money on something you want, and kissing and massaging your forehead when you have a headache. He is so genuine and wouldn’t do things like this for just anyone.

ᵔᴥᵔ However, there’s a dark side to him where he can’t possibly deny how much he enjoys his dumb, empty-headed bimbo girlfriend. The way your hair is always done-up and suffocating from hairspray, the way your lips are always glossy with your favorite red cherry lip gloss, the way your short skirts and low-cut shirts show off your perfect figure, the way your perfum smells like roses and cheap sex, your intense sweetness and life-or-death dependency towards Armin, your fake innocence when you look at him with tears and ruined mascara running down your face, they way you can’t hide your wetness when he forcibly touches you in public… it makes Armin’s body tingle and cock hard. It brings out a dominant side to him that is inescapable as he manipulates your mind and pussy with thoughts only of him and his cock.

ᵔᴥᵔ He loves how there are literally no useful or smart thoughts going through that little head of yours. He thinks it’s so cute how you play with your hair, chewing gum, breasts nearly spilling out of your shirt while you sit in his lap, head empty, trusting him when you’re completely vulnerable. He loves it because he can so easily take advantage of you.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin is a master manipulator. So intensely and quickly does he break you down so that you’re only able to think about taking his large cock into your pathetically wet cunt and sweet mouth. This way, he can practically slide into you whenever and wherever he wants:

Laying on the bed and playing your game console? Armin wants you to keep playing the game and desperately try to win while he’s teasing your needy entrance with his fingers which were previously thrusted into your whiny mouth.

In the shower trying to get clean? He sneakily joins you, gently pushing your back against the cold shower walls and eagerly lifting up your chin so that you can look into his kind yet menacing blue eyes. “Let me help you,” he offers while reaching for the body wash and proceeding to tenderly massage it into your breasts, purposely flicking over your nipples. “Right now?” you whine already tired from the previous sex sessions earlier today, (but you can’t deny that you’re already excited because he’s literally the only thing your brain thinks about). With his free hand, he suddenly thrusts a finger into your soft cunt. “It’s lamentable how wet you already are for me,” he coos, excited to know that he really has done a good job manipulating that little brain of yours. You whine and grip onto Armin’s toned upper arms. He kisses your forehead, the water and sweat making his golden hair stick to him. The heat from the flowing water and from Armin’s body is making you go crazy as you prepare for your velvety walls to get pounded once more.

Trying to study for an upcoming test? Armin continuously distracts you: “Baby, you’re no use for stuff like this,” he says pointing to your textbook, “why don’t you focus on being pretty, yeah?” He rubs your thigh and crouches down next to you, politely opening your legs with an arrogant grin on his face, slightly taken aback by the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear under your short skirt but definitely not surprised considering what an air-headed whore you are. He dives in between your thighs, attacking your clit with his tongue, not letting you pull away and eagerly waiting to hear your pathetic moans.

ᵔᴥᵔ He thinks it’s so hilariously adorable when you walk into his office and offer to help him with his work.

“Hahaha,” he laughs, feeling pity for you. He pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your forehead. “My work is too difficult for someone like you, baby,” he says as he pats your empty head. “Why don’t you go to the bedroom and play your game? I’ll be there soon.” He smiles innocently, making his eyes wrinkle on the sides. ‘He is beautiful,’ you think. His soft blond hair and his kind, ocean blue eyes. You really are so stupid, being tricked by his angelic appearance. When he finally comes to the bedroom, his smile is somewhat sinister, and his eyes have gone dark.

ᵔᴥᵔ Lets you dress slutty in public for two reasons: He likes to see the jealous looks from other perverted men seeing that you are in fact Armin’s slut… and he can use the fact you dress slutty in public against you while he’s fucking you.

“You’re such a whore… trying to get other mens’ attention in public.” His right hand is clenching your frail neck, and he forces you to maintain eye contact with him as you tell him it's not true and that he's the only one you want.

ᵔᴥᵔ Likes it when you wear your hair in tight pigtails - that way he can hold onto them while he’s fucking you from behind ᵔᴥᵔ Really likes missionary position - he likes to grip your neck so that you can maintain eye contact with him as your dolled-up face pleasurably contorts, lips drooling with saliva, tears that eat away at your mascara as he’s cruelly pumping in and out of you. He likes to thrust unbearably slow when he wants to hear you whine and complain about needing more - then, he can degrade you and call you an ungrateful whore. Also likes to suddenly go fast to hear you loudly gasp and incoherently babble as you powerfully squirt on his cock. No matter how many orgasms, your mind and pussy only think of and need more of him. ᵔᴥᵔ Armin also really likes it when you ride his cock. This way he can watch your breasts violently bounce up and down as well as tease your nipples right when you’re on the edge. Loves to see how desperately you squirm when you’re sitting upright on his cock, begging for more stimulation. You like this position too. You can see how blushed Armin’s sweet face is, how his chest quickly rises and falls, and how the muscles in his arms are tensed up.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin loves when you give him oral. He loves seeing your once beautifully done hair become a complete tangly mess as he grips onto it and forces his cock inside your mouth. Loves to hear that ‘pop’ sound when you finally pull your glossy, pink lips off of his thick, blushed cock. Is all about eye-contact when you give him oral. He likes to see your face become sprinkled with tears as he pushes his cock deep into the back of your throat - the desperation in your eyes during this moment while you look at him nearly makes him go feral.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin also really loves to overstimulate you, especially because he can take advantage of you during these moments. By the time you’ve calmed from your orgasm, you are completely fucked dumb, head even emptier if at all possible, eyes rolled to the back of your head, whimpering at the slightest movement, only thinking about Armin, his angelic face, and his sweet, brutal cock. You’re already so tired from your last orgasm, but he takes this chance to start rubbing your clit again. As you jerk away from the painful sensation, he laughs, continuing his slow, unbearable rubbing. You beg him to stop, and Armin becomes angry. “Oh, you want me to stop? Am I not good enough for you? Not good enough at making a dumb whore like you feel good? I guess I’ll leave now.” He immediately pulls away, rudely turning his head away from you. His blond hair is nearly covering his deep blue eyes which are spilling with fake tears in hopes that he can manipulate you with fear and pity. As you apologize for your selfish behavior and beg him to stay, he darkly grins and harshly pats your sensitive pussy. “That’s what I thought,” he coos laughingly, going back to abuse your wet cunt.

ᵔᴥᵔ Armin also really likes to edge you, and he never lets you cum without his permission. He likes to sit you up on the bed, spread your legs, and tease your throbbing clit with his thumb. He can see sweat begin to coat your forehead, your cheeks dust with redness, and your glossy lips become lined with drool as your breasts are exposed and spilling out of your bralette. Still circling your clit with his thumb, he gets really close to your ear - his blond hair tickling you - and asks you if you want to cum. His beautiful blue eyes sparkle as he laughs when you only respond with whimpering and incoherent words. As you needily buck your hips against his thumb, he knows he has succeeded in manipulating you to become a useless, empty-headed slut with thoughts only of him.

ᵔᴥᵔ Though the relationship dynamic you have with Armin might seem intense, he’s an actual sweetheart. Aftercare with him is the best: you both take a warm bath together, he brushes your hair, massages your back, and kisses your forehead while thanking you for letting him enter your body. He always cuddles you before bed, holding you tightly and kissing your forehead. Not only that, but he honestly just really cares about you. He reminds you to drink water, tells you not to eat too many sweets, makes sure you exercise and that your period is regular, reads to you, and asks you to tell him about your day… and he never ever forgets to slip in a few “I love you”s while you two make love. Armin also loves to buy you things from flowers to hair ties or anything else you want. He just wants to make you smile because you make him smile. Overall, this man will never let his bimbo girlfriend down whether it’s sex or love.

[yinses]

he reminds your ex who you belong to

gojo satoru ft. f! reader + exhibition ( technically phone sex ¿) + some hair pulling + unprotected sex  wc: 2.3k

a/n: trying to get better with my tagging. i realize the community has it’s own sensitivities and i often fall short on that thought. i still owe some prompts and a few other asks but this has been siting in my drafts for a few weeks and i finally finished it up. 

it never fails to come as an interruption in your life, the shrill call of your phone blaring at inopportune times. each one conveniently impeding on time with gojo.  

your boyfriend of four months would give you that tight smile, blue eyes swimming with annoyance, but never concern. because not once did you pick up the call, always reaching out blindly to silence it without even acknowledging the accompanying messages. 

the number changes, but you learned not to accept any call from one you didn’t recognize. important communications were typically followed by voicemail and that was how you dealt with that. but the duration was becoming more tedious than either of you imagined, reaching above the white noise decibel it had been reduced to. 

“maybe i should just change my number, “ you suggest forlornly. it would ensure that he had no way to contact you freely, but it would also force you to reestablish connections with all your friends and family. it seemed like an extreme measure but when push came to shove. 

only a few moments pass before the phone picks up again, hammering down the final nail in your resolve. 

“i think you should answer.”

gojo’s unexpected intervention comes from the edge of the bed where he flips the said phone carefully from one palm to the next. his fingers brush past the two blinking options just short of selecting. 

you shift from foot to foot, not sure how to accept that response. gojo was as irritated as you were but you didn’t expect him to cave first. 

frowning, you shake your head. “i’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” his gaze sweeps over your face, somewhat amused by your discomfort. there is a swirl of mischief alight in those bright blue eyes.  “apparently he needs a little more than a simple no.”

he holds out the device, voice taunting but firm.

“if you don’t answer you’ll miss the call.”

as if there wouldn't be a dozen more to follow. 

your mouth feels dry, hand heavy with the weight of decision. it wasn’t as though you couldn't deal with the situation, so much as if you were prepared to. ignoring had been the more appealing option over confrontation but perhaps it had been your hesitation that had been the problem all along. ultimately your thumb taps to accept the call. 

“hello?”

‘baby, i’ve been trying to reach you for ages.’

the bed creaks but you’re too focused breathing evenly to notice. you weren’t familiar with the etiquette of many break ups, which was why this one was the hardest. it had been a long love that had followed you into the early years of adulthood before spark began to fizzle out. 

“i just answered to tell you to stop calling. i’ve already blocked your number once.”

the attempt to revive the romance before it all fell apart had been one-sided. he’d been quicker to discover other fish in the sea before you had. it seemed as though in your patience, you’d found something better while he spent his time chasing minnows without satisfaction. 

‘yes, but you didn’t give me the chance to explain. we don’t have to be over.’

you should have seen it coming. 

your shoulders tense at the press of his lips at your neck. gojo had a propensity for creating opportunities out of every little divot in life. he lived the role of a jester but held the mind of a genius. gojo had been kind in biting his lip to bare down on the jealousy simmering down beneath.

he gives you a brief grace period as his slender fingers tap the mute button then his lips return to your ear. “if you want this, get onto the bed and place the phone above your head with the speaker on.”

an immediate protest flies to your lips but doesn’t quite make it to fruition. what he’s suggestion goes beyond sexual barriers you’d set up thus far. gojo had a knack for pushing them and helping you discover new fantasies and hidden pleasures. 

at the first hint of a pout against your throat, you cave. 

so weak for him.

your ex seems none the wiser to the hitch in your voice as you press one knee to the bed, then the other before carefully rolling onto your back. swallowing the waning confidence before it leaks from your body, you seal the deal by placing the phone just above your head after activating the speaker. 

“good girl.” the words come whispered for your benefit as gojo crawls onto the bed. as if his intentions weren’t already clear enough, the prominent hardness in his pants as he slots between your legs is. you can’t help but grow dizzy at the thought of your premeditated actions, all while your thighs tighten around his form. 

his hands warm the shivers from your sides as he slides up your shirt and kisses down your navel. gojo delivers a sharp nip just before muttering a brisk,” unmute.” in reminder. 

the command comes just in time for your expected response though you’re no more prepared to deliver when gojo unbuttons your pants and works them over your hips. 

‘maybe if we could just meet somewhere?’

the sincerity coupled with your actions makes it all feel more one-sided with you playing the role of the villain. he’d been an ass, yes, but surely he didn’t deserve this. 

right?

“it doesn’t matter, were-mmph.” no part of you expected gojo to play this fairly. you choke on the response when his tongue licks a firm swipe against the fabric of your panties. 

‘what does not matter? speak to me. lets talk this out.”

funny how he chose now of all times to acknowledge the issues you had and attempted to resolve in the past. 

gojo words feel condescending as he mimics what’s heard against your cunt. there was no doubt in your mind that he’d completely written off your ex from the beginning. the same confidence from your first date dripped from his touch as he worked down the fabric from your hips. 

not once did he promise to watch his volume as he sloppily wets his fingers. he’s is ruthless as he plunged in two in on the first thrust, palm curling up to rub friction against your clit. any other time you would have revealed in his ability to make you come apart so easily, now you were more embarrassed by how much easier you felt. 

‘is this a bad time? you seem distracted.’

every time was a bad time. that was the point. 

gojo’s tongue wet the inside of your thigh, “don’t let him hang up. you want this to be his last call, remember.”

at this rate he was going to make this your last waking moment. 

somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, you managed to form words against the friction of gojo’s touch sliding in and out. “no, let’s just-i- yeah, no, we should talk it out now. i’m tired of going back and forth.”

the line pauses briefly. and you almost hope for a second he reaches clarity and saves you from the embarrassment. ‘alright then. are you really not willing to give it another shot?’

your groan of arousal is disguised by disappointment but the opposite warms gojo’s breath against your damp skin. “i didn’t realize you were dating such an idiot. how can he be so dense.” his lips smack, shiny with your stimulation.” you must just really have a thing for pretty faces, willing to look past so much.”

you were willing to look past his deviousness right now, ready to let him desecrate you over the phone like this.

“you’re pretty, toru.” you try to jab but are countered with the addition of a third finger as he starts a relently pace. the sounds are so dirty, reckless suckling sounds that had to carry. gojo made sure of it as he twisted his wrist in retaliation over every shift of your hips. 

“i am much prettier than they guy. much better at a lot,” he enunciates sharp smack to your thigh. 

then he curls just right and you turn for face into the phone and keen.

‘seriously what is going on you sound- strained.’

gojo’s chuckle vibrates within you. “poor guys don't even know what you sound like on the verge of an orgasm.”

your voice is impossibly hoarse and not very convincing as you choke out,” i’m fine. n-no look … i only answered because i wanted us to-fuck-no sorry.” gojo wasn’t making this easy. “- wanted us to reach some closure and move on.”

gojo pulls out just short of your building orgasm and you gasp breathy at the loss. 

‘we were together for two years. surely that amounts to more than just moving on.’

it did. way back when the unexpected break up had torn your hearts to shreds. the misunderstanding and lost connections had eaten you out from the inside. left you failing in the unknowns of what you did wrong and why he wanted to slow down your progress.

now it all seems insignificant in comparison the sight of your current boyfriend slowly fisting his cock. 

‘you wanted to use the break to decide if you were ready for a future together and i think we both realized that we weren't-”

gojo had chosen the right moment to intervene in your life and the moment at the head of his cock pushes through the first ring. he follows through in one motion, filling you to hilt as his hand reaches up to fist the short of your hair. 

‘baby, no one knows you like i do.’

the sharp sting of his fist clenching as he hips rock back is the last warning you get before he slams back in. there was more to the familiar precision as he ruts into you. gojo was the better man, but even he felt short to the green-eyed-monster. 

he was relentless with his pace, fucking into you harder with each new whimper you give up. your consciousness is a fleeting cloud, wafting high out of your reach as your mouth opens up to sharp cries. 

‘are you working out right now? your words sound broken.’

gojo’s hand presses into the curve of your back as he leaves over you. “fuck, you should just tell him. get this over with. let him know that you belong to someone else now. someone who is currently fucking you better than he ever could.”

your protests mirror your resolve and you can already feel your lips forming those exact words before you catch yourself. “i-i cant.” that was too much, right?

gojo didn’t seem to think so. he suddenly pulled out just enough to turn you over, hand still holding your hair hostage as he pushed your face into the mattress effectively ruining your ability to speak properly. 

“tell him, or i will. and i’ll add in every dirty little thing we’ve done leading up to this moment. you don’t belong to him anymore and he should know it. properly.”

‘hey, should i just come over?’ comes that voice again, a constant glutton for punishment.

“no!” you cry out. “i-we can’t- i’m.”

gojo decides to help you out. no longer willing to be a spectator as if he could be called such. “fuck, baby. make those pretty noises for me.”

‘is that someone else? are you with someone right now.’

gojo snatches up the opportunity, hand curling around the phone to place it against the tacky sweat accumulating against the skin between your shoulder blades. you can feel it teetering with each jerk of your body. 

“yeah, she is. apparently she needs help getting her point across. if she wants to contact you  she will do so on her terms. “ he huffs peevishly,“ until then fuck off or you can listen to me fuck her doesn’t matter to me.”

his commanding tone shouldn’t sound so hot. you can’t help but moan as he hits that spot just right. 

a high pitched ‘what the fuck’ grates unpleasantly against the mood you’re so desperate to build to its peak. 

“i take it back, hearing you screech is going to make me go soft. don’t call again.”

‘wait don’t-’ his protest comes a moment too late for gojo’s waning patient as he abruptly cuts off the call and flings the phone somewhere above your head. 

“I imagined that going much smoother in my head,” grunts as he picks up the pace.

your mouth falls open but nothing comes out. you’re unable to blink past the flood of light as you melt into the roll of his hips. there is nothing left for you to do but squeeze around him as you absorb each thrust. 

“i don’t know what i was expecting thinking you could form coherent sentences when i fuck you stupid like this.” his voice is markedly softer now, still agitated but gentler in his touch as he loosens his grip. your head turns without instruction, eagerly catching his mouth in a sloppy kiss. 

the tell tale tremble shudders from one end to the next as you dig your knees into the mattress and gyrate your hips. the angle rewards you with an opportunity to ride his cock straight into nirvana. gojo comes to shatter the already broken cry of release by manipulating speed and precision while you chant his name all the way over the edge. 

his breath comes in short rasps as he follows you over, body drawn up taut as his orgasm washes over.  

gojo’s weight is unforgiving, but thankfully brief when he collapses on top of you before rolling onto his side. he gathers you into his arms and rolls you in against his chest. his fingers chase yours and he brings them to his lips to kiss each one. 

“maybe you should have just gone with your idea and changed numbers.”

somehow you find the air to laugh as your head falls back against his sweaty shoulder. he shares your humor, smile sharp with a new prospect.

“or perhaps we can try again? maybe repeated exposure will do the trick.”

[binnieboyswhore]

SKZ AS...

Stray Kids as receiving a blowjob Pairing: Skz x Reader Genre: smut Word count: 1,994 Warnings: Oral (m receiving) and face fucking, if there’s anything else i need to add please let me know! Authors note: This is kinda garbage but also i love it so much. I also just love seungmins so much cause i often think about it too much lol anyways further a do here it is. (also if you can write in korean and know korean please DM me i’m trying to get a skz tattoo but do not trust google translate in the slightest)

Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

Chan: 

Getting in studio blowjobs was one of Chan's favorite things. He’d always be the one to ask, with his puppy dog eyes he’d complain how horny he is and how if you hadn’t worn such a short skirt he wouldn’t feel this way. He’d complain how well, technically TECHNICALLY you made him this horny as you are the root of this problem you should be the one to take care of it. Eventually you give in and get on your knees for him constantly playing the big doe eye angle with his dick in your mouth making him lose his mind. You watch as he squirms trying to continue mixing songs with one hand while holding onto the chairs armrest with his other. He’s an absolute slut when you focus on the head of his cock so that he has enough time to tell you and release on your face, his favorite place, with your tongue sticking out. He’d also be an angel and clean your face off with a tissue while kissing you and mumbling what a good girl you were.  

Minho: 

You and Minho always had a voyeuristic relationship never shying away from a bit of public sex but when you reached your hands down into his pants in front of his hyung at dinner and continued to tease him he knew he had to put you in your place. He’d give you a deadly side glare that only fed into the pumping of your hand around him. He would excuse himself from the table for a second and as he was just out of sight your phone would go off and you’d scurry off after him making a quick excuse for the table. As soon as you make it behind the door he has you on your knees slipping his throbbing cock between your lips. Rutting his hips into your face not caring about the speed. Essentially he’s face fucking you in the middle of the mens restroom and neither of you could care less. He watches as your mascara runs down your face cooing at how gorgeous you looked with your mouth stuffed full of him. He grips your hair as he cums down your throat then tells you to meet him at the car after you clean your face and goes to tell the boys you felt sick. You were in for a long night of being put in your place.

Changbin: 

Changbin would come home in a rage, something about someone not listening to him during rehearsals or something. He’d just be fuming with no way to let it out so he just rants and rants to with clench fists. You have him sit on the couch as he keeps going on and on while you get on your knees between his legs, shaking your head and agreeing with his anger. You take out his member and slowly start to pump him and his ranting slows down and his moans become more frequent. He slides his hand into your hair so he has some control over your movements. You slide him into your mouth gagging as he moves his hips a bit. He looks down apologetically and you just take him further in your mouth, you allow him to take control using your head and his hips to get himself off. He watches as spit falls out of the sides of your mouth and your tears leaving mascara tracks down your cheeks. Seeing how wrecked you are with his cock in your mouth he can’t help but let himself release down your throat. When he removes himself he pulls you onto his lap whipping away your drool and tears very lightly before giving you a sweet kiss as a thank you.

Hyunjin: 

Hyunjin has been busy working on some lyrics or some new dance moves for stray kids and you couldn’t care less. The more attention he gave to his work meant less attention for you and you well you were feeling extra needy since being abandoned by your boyfriend. You stand behind his chair, your arms wrapped around his shoulders watching him work as you kissed his neck and nibbled at his ear. He hadn’t said anything about it while occasionally leaving little kisses on your arms. You were growing irritated at how  he was just blatantly ignoring your neediness. You whisper little things in his ear and he just tells you later and that he’s busy right now. You stand behind him weighing your options. You can either wait and see if he follows through or you can take control here and seeing as he needs a break anyways you choose the latter. You make camp between his legs and put your head in front of his desk so that he couldn’t not see you. He smiles down at you with all the love in his heart and you explain how he needs a break anyways. He finally leans back and let’s you do your thing as he holds on to the armrest of his chair constantly cooing how beautiful you look when you take him like that. He begins to get whiny when he’s about to come so you take your mouth off his full length paying attention to just the tips and he moves your hands away so he can pump himself and finally release all over your chest. He’d watch as you take your fingers swiping up his release and slowly licking it off, his eyes grow darker and as he shuts his laptop you scurry off to the bedroom with him not too far behind you excited to finally have your Hyunjin back.

Han: 

An empty movie theater would be the perfect place for a Jisung blowjob. It wouldn’t take much to convince him either, you’d just have to say well since no one is here and then the sound of his zipper meets your ears. You grin from ear to ear as you reach your hand over the shared arm rest, Jisung letting out quite whimpers. When he was hard enough you bent over the armrest and started moving your head at a rather fast pace as you started to grow nervous of getting caught. You added your hand to jerk off what part of his shaft wouldn’t fit in your mouth and soon he was pulling at your hair and whispering that he was about to come. As he releases in your mouth he bends over his chest hitting the back of your head causing him to go further in your throat and making you gag. Your throat tightens around his already sensitive member causing him to let out a bit louder whine and that’s when someone from the front room sat up and looked back to try to figure out what was happening. Jisung and you look at each other in shock and embarrassment as you both thought the place was completely empty

Felix: 

You guys would be backstage at some show waiting for stray kids turn to go on stage and poor Felix, the worst part for Felix wasn’t the performance, it was the waiting, the anticipation. He would constantly get in his own head with the what if’s and shut down and get real quiet. You quickly noticed this process happening and grabbed his hand trying to help calm his nerves but when that didn’t work you looked down at your watch noticing you had enough time. You kissed below his ear pulling him out of his head space for a second then whispered to meet you in the bathroom. He walks in with a confused look as you turn to lock the door really fast, you get on your knees hooking your fingers into his waistband and explaining that you’d help him relax. He’d agree almost immediately, i mean he’d get out of his hand and have your pretty lips around him? Win win. He’d mostly stand there holding his shirt up so it won’t get in your way as you held onto the back of his thighs using it as leverage to force your mouth down his length, the eye contact between you two never wavering. He fed off the intense eye contact only breaking for seconds at a time to watch as you took his length so well, only gagging when he used his hips. You fed off his tiny moans and how he tried so hard to keep his eyes open to stare you down. He’d come in your mouth just because you guys did have to go back out but in his head he came all over your breasts. By the time he got back to the boys he had to go on stage and he was out of his own head all thanks to you and that magical mouth.

Seungmin: 

I can see Minnie saying yes to a blowjob while he’s driving like homeboy thinks it’s so hot to do things you’re not supposed to do. Like you guys would be stuck in standstill traffic and with nothing else to do and you’d just have to ask him once and he’d start unbuttoning his pants. He’d gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail and let you do your thing. Your thing including everything from licking him up the bottom of his shaft to suck your cheeks in when you got near the head of his cock. He’d try to control you in little ways like holding your head still periodically, scared you might try to pull something while he moves the car little by little through traffic. He’d let little moans and whimpers slip past his lips trying his hardest to not make it completely obvious to those around him what was happening inside his small car.  He’d eventually come down your throat as he hits the brake a little too hard, shoving himself down your throat and you can’t help but moan at the new depth. He’d let a rather loud strained moan out as he holds your hair in his grip. He’d also beg for a kiss from you wanting to taste himself off your mouth and yes it would be the hottest thing you’ve ever done.

IN: 

Jeongin loved nothing more than to finally get out of the dorms and stay the night at your apartment, getting away from the boys and their constant babying towards him to seeing you and kissing you whenever he wanted. After staying up all night catching up on what the other has been doing all week you both passed out without even an I love you in exchange. When you woke up, your body curled into Jeongin like a perfect puzzle piece. That was until you felt him poking your lower back. You smiled to yourself rolling over and peppering his face in soft kisses to wake him, he smiles at you grunting at you. When you make a comment about what he must’ve been dreaming about his eyes burst open and his cheeks redden but you kiss it away assuring him that you’d take care of it. You crawl under the blankets but not without a little protest from Jeongin saying you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to but you wanted to more than anything. You take your time with him seeing as it was morning you didn’t want to over stimulate him in any way and hurt him. You can hear his little moans from under the cover as you lick a thick strip on the vein on the underside of his cock. You take your time kissing him and just appreciating him and he enjoys it so much that when he actually comes it takes him by surprise and it’s the hardest he’s ever come. After he would have the cutest fucked out smile wanting nothing more than to just kiss you all over your face and return the favor.  

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Secrets // D.M.

Request: CONGRATS BOO!!! Could I get a Secret relationship with Fluff 4 for Draco Malfoy pretty please at Hogwarts??? Also I was wondering if it could be with a Hufflepuff reader? (I love Hufflepuff x Slytherin pairings) THANKS AGAIN FOR DOING THIS BOO AND CONGRATS 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 - @herstory-study

Fluff 4: “Is that my shirt?”

A/N: The first of my blurb celebrations!! Thank you, lovely!! I hope you enjoy!! It could be argued that I got carried away but there’s a large chance I could end up writing full fics for each request 😂 Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Warnings: secret relationships, some kissing, some feelings, a whole lotta fluff, a cheesy ending and an abuse of commas and semi-colons

Word count: 2.7k

There were some aspects to History of Magic that could be classed as interesting; the witch-hunts of Salem, for example or even the brief study dedicated to the founders of the very school you sit in. However, there was nothing remotely interesting about hearing the tale of the Goblin wars for the sixth year in a row.

You tap the feather of your quill to your cheek; jotting down a sentence every now and then to make it look as if you are paying the strictest attention to whatever Professor Binns happens to be mumbling about in that particular moment. You fade in and out of daydreams; letting your mind wander back to two nights ago when Draco had snuck you back into the Hufflepuff common room – stopping every few so often to draw you into another laughter-filled kiss.

You startle when a piece of parchment falls onto your desk. Folded like a paper crane, you only knew who this could be from. A sly glance over the blonde-haired teenager who’s attention is most definitely on the pacing of Binn’s ghost confirms your suspicions.

You delicately unfold the piece of parchment; smiling to yourself as begin to read Draco’s elegant scrawl: “Meet me at the Room of Requirement? 7:30pm?”

Anticipation curls in your gut like a ball.

A brief glance is all it takes for you to confirm. A brief glance in your direction from Draco; a subtle nod from you and your plans for the evening have been wiped clear and replaced entirely with Draco.

The bell rings. You stand, gathering your things together and placing them in your bag. A slight brush to your side is the only contact with the Slytherin you’ve found yourself head over heels for. A slight brush to your side and it feels like every inch of you is on fire; a reaction that only Draco has the power to elicit from you.  

The day passes by slowly now that you have something to look forward to. A day where short moments are stolen behind tapestries or on less traversed corridors. Five minutes each time between lessons where you can quickly whisper a hello before dragging him into a kiss by his green striped tie.

Keeping your relationship a secret was a mutual decision; the fallout on both sides being something neither of you could be bothered to deal with right now. Instead, you were happier hiding in empty classrooms where you could have your fill of the Slytherin Prince, and he could whisper sweet nothings in your ear without the risk of anyone overhearing.

There were times when it was stressful; when the week had been too long and there had been no time to see one another. It was only then that you questioned the secrecy of your relationship.

But when you came together after a long period apart; everything returned back to normal and a smile found its way back to both your faces.

Your excitement for the evening makes it almost impossible to eat; picking at the food on your plate as you think about finally seeing Draco tonight. From your position at the Hufflepuff table, you have an excellent view of him, and he knows it. All evening, Draco sends you subtle winks and smiles from his seat at the Slytherin table.

You clench your fist; your fingernails biting into the sensitive skin of your palm as you resist the urge to throw yourself across both tables to him. You resist the urge to simply kiss him in front of his housemates.

You resist it all; every single feeling and urge because you know that in a matter of hours, he would be yours for the entire night.

Instead, you send a flirty smile back to the blonde-haired teenager before returning your attention back to your meal.

-----

The Room of Requirement is located on left hand corridor of the Seventh Floor. You knew from how he rushed out of the Great Hall that Draco would beat you to it.

With a large grin on your face, you walk past the section of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times. The entire time, thinking of Draco and how you’d like to see him.

On your third walk past, the large, ornate door appears. You don’t hesitate to pull it open and duck inside.

It’s never a different layout; always the same one that Draco imagines. A large, almost cavernous room with a grand fireplace that’s already lit and warming up the room. In front of the fire sits a couch big enough for an entire Quidditch squad but you know from experience that it’s perfect for the two of you to lie down on comfortably. A great bookshelf covers one of the walls; filled to the brim with ancient looking tomes and books, all there ready to read. You’ve taken advantage of such an offer in the past; reading to Draco after a particularly bad day.

Finally, pushed up against the furthest wall is a four poster bed covered in a thick, downy quilt and topped with blankets – both green and yellow to represent both houses. It was the cheesiest section of the room, and you had brought it up to Draco before – teasing him, but he simply shrugged and distracted you from further conversation.

You throw your outer robes on the bed, leaving you in your blouse, tie and skirt.

Draco remains seated on the large couch; his gaze focused on the flickering flames of the growing fire. Your arms snake their way around his shoulders; your hands trailing down his chest as you lean against the back of the couch. Pressing a small kiss just under his earlobe, you whisper, “I missed you today.”

Draco leans his head back, kissing the side of your jaw, “I missed you too.”

Letting go of him, you take a seat on the couch. In times like this, you never stray too far from the blonde-haired teenager, worried about how long it’ll be until you have a night like this again. An arm opens for you; you automatically press yourself into his side, inhaling the familiar scent of cashmere musk and roses. It was heavenly.

“How was your day?” He asks, voice quiet.

“It was boring until a note landed on my desk. Then it started to look up.”

Draco smirks, “How odd. Mine was taking the exact same route until someone responded to my note.”

You shift out of his hold; resting your head on your elbow that’s perched on the back of the couch. Your other hand pushes his hair back; pulling it out his eyes. He’s grown it longer over this year and stopped using so much product; it’s nice, more natural and a lot easier for you to run your hands through.

You open your mouth; trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Draco captures your lips in his. One of his hands settling on the back of your head whilst the other pulls you across his lap to straddle him. You smile into the kiss as your hands brace themselves on the back of the couch.

Breaking the kiss, you ask, “What was that for?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. I just missed you.”

“You’re missing me an awful lot.”

He kisses the underside of your jaw, “Can you blame me?”

You hum, “I don’t think I can. I’m missing you more too.”

“Then let’s not miss each other anymore,” Draco murmurs against your skin. Lifting his head just enough, he draws you in for another kiss effectively ending all conversation for the night.

-----------

You wake up tangled in the sheets of the four poster bed; Draco’s arm heavy across your waist.

As your eyes get used to the brightness of the room, they focus in on the clock on the beside table. Your eyes grow wide as you take in the time.

You’d slept through the lesson of the day already.

You launch yourself out of bed, shrugging off your pyjamas and rustling around to find your uniform.

“Draco!” You shout, pushing your arms through a shirt, “We need to get up, we’ve missed the first hour.”

Draco rolls over, groaning. Fastening your skirt, you kneel on the bed, “Love, we have to get up before the bell.”

He blinks his eyes open, grinning sleepily at you. Your resolve almost breaks then and there; happy to say to hell with it and get back into bed with him.

“I’m free second lesson,” Draco mutters.

You roll your eyes, kissing his lips briefly, “I’ll see you later?”

He nods, stretching his arms above his head, “I’ll see you later.”

Grabbing your outer robes and your bag, you rush from the Room of Requirement, fastening your tie as you bound down the stairs to Transfiguration.

“Where have you been?” is how you’re greeted by Miriam, your close friend and dorm mate.

You shrug, biting your lip knowing that there was no way you could lie yourself out of this.

Miriam narrows her eyes at you, “You never came back to the room after dinner and then you didn’t show up at breakfast. I was seriously worried. Where did you go?”

You look either side of you; checking that there’s no-one listening to your conversation, “Can you keep a secret?”

Miriam rolls her eyes, “Of course I can.”

“I was with Draco Malfoy,” You rush out in a single breath.

Miriam’s eyes widen and she pulls you to one side, “You were with Draco Malfoy? All night?”

You nod your head. Miriam puffs out a breath, “Well I didn’t expect that. How long have you been seeing each other? Tell me everything please!”

You laugh, “It’s almost ten months now, and I’ll tell you more at lunch, I promise.”

Miriam bites her bottom lip; glancing between you and the now open door to Transfiguration, deliberating whether it would be worth skiving the entire day to hear about your exploits with the Slytherin Prince.

She sighs heavily, deciding not to risk McGonagall’s wrath, “I want to hear everything at lunch – do not leave anything out, promise.”

Laughing once more, you cross your finger over your heart, “I promise.”

-----

Until lunch, Miriam sends you excited glances and knowing smiles. In between second and third period, she comments on the fact that she didn’t even think that you were seeing someone – not to insult you, but she just assumed that you holed yourself up in the library where you studied as late as you could.

Miriam practically bounces up to you when the bell rings announcing lunch. She keeps her questions to herself until you both take a seat at the Hufflepuff table, filling plates up with whatever took your fancy.

“So how did it start?”

You take a sip of pumpkin juice before beginning, “Over last summer, my family got invited to one of the many balls thrown by his parents. I don’t usually go to those things, but my parents asked me to join them this one time; I think they were worried because I’d spent too much time in the garden studying the plants. So I went with them and Draco’s father asked him to ask me to dance and it all stemmed from there.

“He sent me a letter the day after thanking me for an entertaining evening and wondered whether I would want to meet up again. I agreed and then from there it evolved into this.”

Miriam’s smile drops into a frown when she asks her next question, “Why keep it a secret? Was it his decision?”

You shake your head fiercely, “It was both ours. We were both equally as worried about the fallout from our families and our houses.”

“But surely if Lucius Malfoy asked Draco to dance with you, he wouldn’t mind?”

You tilt your head, thinking, “Perhaps not. He wouldn’t mind the blood status, but he might mind my being a Hufflepuff,” You shrug, “Anyway we haven’t gone public yet.”

“Ten months is a long time to keep this a secret.”

“It’s not like it hasn’t been hard and that there haven’t been times where I wanted to shout it to the entire wizarding world, but for now, it’s a secret.”

Miriam nods; the frown still expressed on her face. She reaches out her hand to yours, taking it tightly, “You’ve told me now though so that’s a shoulder to lean on should it get too much again.”

You beam at your friend, “Thank Merlin for you, Miriam.”

Miriam goes to reply but she’s distracted by someone approaching the Hufflepuff table. She lets go of your hand and nods her head to something behind you.

Turning in your seat, you find Draco patiently waiting. You smile at him, “Draco, how can I help?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute… about our last History of Magic lesson? You see, I didn’t take any notes and I was wondering if you had some.”

You smirk, “Why don’t we go outside? That way I’m not cluttering up the table for the others that are still eating.”

Draco grins, nodding at you understandingly, “Wonderful idea. Lead the way.”

Hoisting your bag on your shoulder, you send a wink in Miriam’s direction. She returns one with a laugh before beginning to eat once again.

Draco follows you from the Great Hall and to a less busy corridor. You lean against the wall with a smirk, “Now did you really want my notes, or did you already miss me?”

“More the latter than the former,” Draco admits with a small smile. He frowns though as he takes in your uniform, his eyes running up and down, “Is that my shirt?”

You look down at your clothing, only now realising that the shirt you had put on in a hurry this morning was indeed Draco’s. The arms being too long that you had to roll them twice before you could even start writing something.

You giggle, “I think it is.”

“I only wondered when I had to walk back to my common room shirtless.”

“No!” You shout, delighted at the thought of Draco running shirtless through the corridors.

Draco laughs, nodding, “I had my outer robes of course, but there was very little underneath.”

You clap your hands in sheer delight, “I’d give you back your shirt, but I’ve become awfully fond of it, you see.”

“Oh you have?”

Nodding, you say, “I have. It smells a lot like you which is great for when I miss you.”

Draco groans, throwing his head back, “If we weren’t in public, I’d be kissing you senseless right now. I didn’t realise how good you would look in my shirt.”

“Why don’t you?” You challenge.

Draco’s mouth drops open, “What?”

“Kiss me senseless.”

“Are you sure? We’ve kept this secret for so long,” Draco comments, a finger pointing between your two bodies.

You shuffle closer to him, “I’m sure. Ten months is long enough to keep you a secret, I’m happy to tell everyone now.”

Draco wraps you in his arms, not hesitating to kiss you. You gave yourself entirely to the kiss; pushing yourself off the wall and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your heart skips a beat when one of Draco’s hands starts to draw aimless patterns on the small of your back, sending heat rushing through your body. You sigh against his mouth before pulling away; repressing the urge to continue as the need for oxygen has become too great.

He presses one last gentle peck to your lips before grinning widely, “Are you really sure you want to go public?”

“Super sure. So sure in fact I’d make out with you again to prove my point.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “Tempting but I say we go back to lunch. I think your friend had more questions.”

You grin at the thought of Miriam’s reaction to see you walking with Draco, “It sounds too good to pass up,” You hold your hand out to Draco, “Lead the way.”

It was all worth it when Miriam’s reaction to seeing you sit back down at the Hufflepuff table with Draco in tow was to spit out her pumpkin juice.

**************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​ @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​ @iamobscuring​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obx-beach​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sycathorn-slush​ @dracomalfoyswifey​

[storiesforallfandoms]

when they wrongfully accuse you of cheating ~ misfits

request?: yes!

“Hello, can you do please do post about Misfits when they wrongly accuses reader of cheating? Have a nice day❤”

warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, angst

masterlist (one, two)

FITZ:

After his not so great run in with She Who Shall Not be Names (Katerino), Cameron’s trust levels were not very high. When he started dating you, he tried to push those concerns to the back of his mind. You had a similar experience with an ex as he had with Kate, so he felt the likeliness of you cheating on him was very slim. But then he met a friend of yours, a friend that happened to be a guy, a guy friend that Cameron felt was getting a little too close to you. This, unfortunately, resulted in a fight that lasted nearly an entire hour. “(Y/F/N) is just a friend, Cam! There’s nothing between us!” “You spend so much more time with him than you do with me, though. You’re always out together, you always want to hang out with him, you were even out with him the other night when you told me you were going out for a girl’s night!” You scoffed and handed the final blow of the argument, “If you fucking listened to me for one second you’d let me explain that (Y/F/N) is fucking gay!” You slammed the door behind you as you left Cameron’s apartment, leaving him speechless, heartbroken, and feeling like a complete fucking idiot.

~~~~~~

INOTORIOUS:

While Matt often did join in on the jokes at his expense with his friends, he couldn’t help but take them to heart too. He knew none of his friends meant anything by what they were saying, but he often found himself believing the playful insults they threw his way. This led to him believing he wasn’t good enough to be with you and worrying about the day when you’d realize you could do better and break up with him. All his fears and insecurities came to a head when he noticed how close of friends you and Cam were becoming. “I don’t like that you hang out with Cam so much.” You looked up at him over your laptop, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?” “I just...I don’t like it. I don’t mind that you’re friends with the guys, but you and Cam are...you’re different. I don’t like it.” You placed your laptop aside and sat up so you could directly walk to him. “What exactly is different about me and Cam?” “You just...you’re all touchy feely and you have inside jokes and you hang out alone together a lot...like...like a lot a lot.” “I don’t hang out with Cam alone at all. Usually one of the guys is there with us.” “You go out smoking weed with him.” “Yeah, and you can see us through the glass windows that lead out into the backyard, that’s hardly alone. What’s this really about, Matt?” He shuffled in his seat, not wanting to voice the concerns that he had. He was looking down at his hands, avoiding eye contact at all costs. This was enough of an answer for you. “You think I’m gonna fool around with Cam behind your back?” Matt started to shake his head, but then stopped. “Matt, you know I’d never do that to you. Cam is just my friend, I think of him as the big brother I never had.” “But he’s...he’s like...so much better than I am...” You stood up to hug Matt, bringing his head to your chest and cradling him as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Cam is far from better than you, Matt. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’d be crazy to let you go for anyone else, let alone Cam. You’re my one and only, okay? I love you.”

~~~~~~

MCCREAMY:

Long distance relationships sucked ass. Especially when the person you were dating was in a whole other country with a totally conflicting time zone. Having the times line up where you and Jay could call one another and talk for long periods of time very rarely ever lined up. It was hard, but the two of you tried your best. You texted each other at least once every day and tried to call when possible, and even posted cute little Instagram things just so you could tag one another in them. Jay saw one of these posts one day and his heart felt light with happiness. He wished he could just see you in person and finally be able to hold you and kiss you. He was about to continue scrolling when another post by you popped up, this time with another guy. It was a mirror selfie from a club of some kind. You were dressed in short shorts and a crop top and you were basically sitting in the guy’s lap. Jay felt himself becoming slightly angry at the post. Obviously you had meant to post it, there was a caption and the person was tagged, but had you meant for him to see it? He called you almost immediately, not caring if he was waking you or interrupting something. You answered on the second ring, sounding like you had been drifting off to sleep. “Jay? What’s up?” “Who is that in your latest Instagram picture?” You hummed in response, still out of it. “Didn’t I post one of the two of us?” “I meant before that.” You made another noise like you were thinking, before saying, “Oh, that’s (Y/F/N).” “Why were you sat on his lap in the picture?” “Jay, can we talk about this later? I can barley form a coherent thought right now so it feels like everything you’re saying it going over my head.” “No, I want you to tell me right now why you posted that picture with another guy.” There was some shuffling, then the sound of a light turning on. He could hear you yawn on the other end before you said, “Did you read the caption at all?” “A little.” He hadn’t. “Then you know that the picture is from years ago, before you and I even met. And that I was posting it to remember when (Y/F/N) and I met years ago in a bar when he photobombed a picture I was taking.” Jay was silent. He didn’t really know how to respond to that at all. He was starting to feel like an idiot, why didn’t he just read the caption? “I’m gonna go back to sleep,” you said, breaking the silence. “Call me at a reasonable time when you’re ready to apologize for whatever this was about.” Jay listened as you hung up, leaving him in shocked silence, feeling like a complete idiot.

~~~~~~

SWAGGERSOULS:

Despite his jokes online about his appearance, Swagger was actually pretty insecure about the way he looked. When the two of you had first started talking online, he refused to do video calls or to send you pictures for the first while because he was afraid you wouldn’t find him attractive. He build a small bit of confidence to finally start talking to you face to face and to actually meet you in person. But the insecurities regarding his looks were always there, and they led to your first fight as a couple when Swagger saw you dancing with a guy while you, the Misfits, and some of your girl friends were out together. “Why the fuck were you dancing with him?!” he called over the thumping club music. “I didn’t know I was dancing with him! I thought it was (Y/F/N)! We went out onto the dancefloor together and I thought she was still behind me. I didn’t know it was another guy until you came over.” Swagger scoffed and rolled his eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” “No, tell me Swagger.” “I just have a hard time believing you didn’t know some guy was grinding up behind you and you really just thought it was your friend. Did you really think I wouldn’t see? That I wouldn’t do anything about it?” “I didn’t fucking know!” “Whatever, (Y/N). Enjoy your dancing!” He left you shocked as you watched him walk away. Your face was on fire from anger and confusion, meanwhile Swagger was downing the beer he had in his hand, hoping to forget the night entirely when he woke up the next morning.

~~~~~~

TOBYONTHETELE:

Toby prided herself on not being jealous or jumping to conclusions. She had a massive amount of trust in you, she always had. You had never given her a reason to believe otherwise. But when you started hiding your text messages from her, taking your phone with you every time you left the room instead of just leaving it there like you usually did, being vague about where you were and what you were doing, Toby couldn’t help but feel suspicious. You had never acted this way before, and she knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions but she just couldn’t help it. All the signs pointed to one thing: you were seeing someone else. Toby worried over it for so long that she nearly made herself sick, and that’s when she finally snapped. She confronted you when you came home from one of your secret “errands” you went on. “If you’re cheating on me, just fucking break up with me and get it over with.” You were shocked. “What? Babe, I’m not cheating on you. Why would you think that?” “You’re so secretive and you hide your texts from me and your phone. You’re always so open with me, but lately you’ve been hiding something. The only logical thing is you’re seeing someone else.” You tried to hold back your laugh but it was nearly impossible. You started to giggle, which frustrated Toby even more. “Toby, I’m not seeing someone else. It’s going to ruin everything, but I was being secretive cause I was trying to plan this big surprise birthday party for you.” You laughed harder at her dumbfounded face as you hugged her and kissed her cheek. “You know I’d never cheat on you, babe. I love you too much.”

~~~~~~

ZUCKLES:

Mason loved to party. Literally everyone knew that, you included. You were more than fine with that, but what you weren’t fine with was him always leaving you alone when he went to parties. At first it was just nerve wracking considering the fact that you didn’t know anyone, but then it became downright frustrating for your boyfriend to leave your side the minute you walked through the doors of a house party or a club. It was even worst because it gave creepy drunk guys the opportunity to try and flirt with you because you were there all alone. The night that Mason finally caught some guy getting a little too close to you, you felt relief when he saved you. The relief quickly went away when Mason’s angry face turned to face you. “Who the fuck was that?” You scrunched up your nose at the stench of alcohol coming from him. “Some creep. Can we go home?” “Why was he getting close to you like that?” You scoffed. “Why are you getting so angry? He was flirting with me, not the other way around Mason.” “I don’t like finding my girlfriend getting close with some other dude when I’m not around. How many times has this happened?” You felt anger rising within you. How the fuck was he here getting angry with you when you were the one being hit on by some creep? “It’s happened nearly every time that you have left me alone when we go out, Mason. Which, newsflash, has been every time we go out! Don’t fucking stand here and get angry with me when you leave me alone for creepy drunk guys to try and hit on every time we go out! Also, the fact that you’d even think that I would hit on a guy when you’re not around is an extremely low fucking blow, Mason. I love you more than anything, I would never even think about flirting with someone else. The fact that you’re accusing me of anything right now and not listening to me is so fucking disgusting. I thought we had trust Mason!” When you started to walk away, Mason grabbed your arm. “Where are you going?” You yanked your arm free and responded, “Home! You make the decision if you trust me enough to believe me!”

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 6 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Happy Saturday my loves! Another short update today but I promise that Tuesday’s chapter will be longer and that you’ll love it. 

contains: canon-typical description of violence, guns, blood

wordcount: 1.6k

“Garcia, tell me you have something helpful.” Hotch groaned into the phone. This case had not been an easy one.

“Hotch, something’s wrong. (Y/N) called me from the station with a theory and then I heard a man and she gasped and the line went dead.” Garcia spilled out as fast as she could. 

Aaron felt his jaw tighten immediately. He placed a hand on Rossi’s shoulder, and the look on his face told Rossi to round up the rest of the team, even if he didn’t know why. Aaron took off towards an SUV, not waiting for the rest of the team. “And you’re sure? The call didn’t just drop?” Hotch asked.

“Hotch., I’m sure. Drive fast.”

“Call the rest of the team and let them know. They’re in the car behind me but they don’t know why.” Hotch said, hanging up the phone and dropping it into the cupholder as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator. 

He was driving too fast, taking wide turns, and he was sure that if you were here in the car with him you would have been commanding you to slow down, with both hands dramatically wrapped around the handle above the passenger side door. But you weren’t here, and he didn’t know exactly where you were, or if you were safe, and so he pressed down on the accelerator even further, pushing the engine well past its intended limits. He whipped the car into park outside the front door of the police station, not waiting for the others before charging towards the front door. 

“Hotch!” Rossi called after him. “You need a vest. Get back here. We need a strategy, we can’t just rush the building.” 

“The rest of you take the back.” Hotch called in response, as a strategy. Looking amongst themselves, the rest of the team wordlessly appoints Morgan to follow Hotch, and he takes off after him as soon as his vest is strapped in. 

“Hotch-- Garcia called while we were in the car. (Y/N)’s theory was that the unsub was anti-government in some way. Like the system had failed him or something.” He explained lowly as they made their way through the empty station lobby, moving towards the back, where the bullpen and their makeshift office was. 

The first thing Hotch noticed was you, the unsub’s hand around your throat and his gun pressed to your temple. You’re bleeding from your forehead, but you’re conscious. The unsub was using you as a human shield. Then, Aaron noticed that in a room full of armed officers, not one had their weapon drawn. The group of them all had their hands raised in surrender. And then he saw why-- one of the officers, bleeding, slumped against the far wall. 

“What are we going to do? Even if the rest of the team can sneak up on him from the back, we can’t take him down without hurting her.” Morgan asked. 

“Just follow my lead.” Aaron said, swinging open the door with his gun drawn, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He locked eyes with you, giving you an almost imperceptible nod, one that said “I’ve got you” without saying anything at all.

“Well well, it looks like your friends did show up!” The unsub said, gripping your neck a little tighter and shaking you back and forth. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. Let her go and put the gun down.” Aaron said steelily, not breaking eye contact with the unsub. 

“Awful rude of you to walk in here and start making demands without even getting to know me, don’t you think?” 

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Sure you do. Now, you and Muscles behind you can both put your guns away before you make me shoot another one of these good-for-nothing beat cops.” 

Aaron weighed his options for a moment. If the unsub brandished his weapon at the officers with intent to kill, he and Morgan would have to take the shot. And maybe it would work. Or maybe the unsub would jerk his body just the wrong way, and the bullet that Aaron shot from his gun would tear through your frame, and you’d collapse, blood pouring out of you, and he’d have to lift you off the floor just like he lifted Haley-- he took in a sharp breath and tucked his gun back into the holster.  Morgan followed suit. The door behind the unsub, the one he had dragged you back in through what felt like a million years ago, clicked into place and the usub turned around quickly, meeting the eyes of JJ, Prentiss, Reid and Rossi. 

“Ah, ah. All of you, too. Guns away, and go ahead and stand over there with your friends.”  The team looked to Aaron, who nodded, and then they followed orders. “And not one of you is going to even bother asking my name?”

“What’s your name?” Prentiss asked, not a hint of interest in her voice. You might have laughed if you weren’t so focused on not hyperventilating.

“Alec. Gordon. Not that you care,” He rolled his eyes. “I’m the guy who’s going to take out an FBI Agent in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. That’s what they’ll remember me for. I’ll matter then.” He spits out. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Reid mumble something. Alec is still ranting and raving, but you’re too dizzy, too breathless, to really pay attention. You watch Aaron’s chest rise and fall, tensing when you realize he’s the only member of your team not wearing a vest. Why wasn’t he wearing a vest? Alec must have felt your muscles tense up under his grasp. 

“Getting nervous, are we? Don’t worry, It’ll all be over soon.” He said, tracing the gun down your cheekbone to your chin. You swallowed, willing yourself not to look at the team, not to let them see your eyes filled with fear in your last moments. Suddenly, Reid speaks, interrupting Gordon.

“Alec, I know someone in power failed you. But taking it out on the people in this room isn’t going to help. Who was it, who did you tell about the abuse you were facing at home, who did you trust enough to share that with, and then they did nothing?” Reid asks, and your face scrunches up in confusion. How had they figured all of that out in such a short period of time? And if they knew all of that, how did they not know his name when they came in?

“Where to start, agent? There’s the principal, who watched my father strike me, the paramedic who corrected my broken arm but never filed a report, the firefighter who responded the first time I called 911 but was too scared to say anything. You all consider yourself to be protectors, public servants, even though you just want power. But who protected me? Not one of you. You’ll all pay for it now.” 

“Alec, she isn’t who you want.” You hear Aaron’s voice cut through the loud pounding of your heartbeat. “You want someone in power? That’s me. I’m in charge of this unit. Let her go, and I’ll let you take me. 

“Hotch!” You gasped, speaking for the first time since he’d walked in. The whole team seemed to jump. You started kicking against the unsubs legs with renewed vigor, even though it did nothing to free you. “Hotch, no! Jack needs you. Stop!” 

He didn’t stop. He stepped forward, not looking you in the eye, but staring the unsub down. “Agent, be quiet. That’s an order.” 

Something in his tone shut you up immediately, and your eyes welled up with tears. Hotch was about to die, in your place, and the last words you were ever going to hear him say were him barking at you like some rookie. And he wasn’t going to know how much you loved him. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get down on my knees. You are going to put your gun in the air, and you’re going to release my agent. I will hand you my cuffs, you will cuff me, and then you will let all of these people go. When you’re ready, you put that gun up in the air for me,” Aaron said, still not meeting your eyes. You were fully crying now, shoulders shaking even as you stayed silent per Aaron’s request.

“Pass your gun to one of your buddies, first.” 

 You watched as Aaron unholstered his weapon and passed it to Prentiss. Why was she letting him do this? Why were all of them allowing this? Aaron knelt down, and you felt the cool metal of the gun move away from your face and the unsub’s grip on you loosen. You look down at Aaron and his posture is bent, his back arched as he reaches behind him. Without warning, Alec shoves you towards Morgan and you collapse into his arms, instantly hearing a shot ring out in the otherwise silent room.

You tuck into Morgan’s chest, loud, shuddering sobs racking through your body. It should have been you. You wished that it was. 

“We need a medic!” You hear Aaron’s voice call out, and he… doesn’t sound injured at all, actually. He sounds very much alive. 

You whip your body around so fast that Morgan has to catch you so you don’t fall. The unsub is on the floor, bleeding from his thigh. Prentiss has him in cuffs. Hotch is holding the Glock 26 that he keeps in his ankle holster. You look him over once, twice, three times. He’s unharmed. You collapse. 

  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14 @ijustwannaread2k19    @romanogersendgame

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Sorceress (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki comes to stay at the Avengers Tower while you are away on a mission. He becomes quite interested in you when he learns you wield magic similar to him and Doctor Strange.

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,260

Warnings/Disclaimers: Anxiety issues, brief mentions of blood loss and injury, Wanda being an awesome friend

Masterlist

You wound your way into the kitchen and flipped on the electric kettle. Gathering your mug, you pulled out your calming tea blend. Today was the first day of the semester, and it always made you anxious. You felt like you had not rested one bit over the summer break. It probably didn’t help that Fury had sent you on a mission for most of it and you just returned yesterday, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. Just keep moving. This was your life now.

You went over the mental checklist in your head. Syllabus, notes, handouts...

“And who might you be?”

The low, charming voice ripped you from your thoughts, causing you to jump and almost knock over your mug. Swinging around to face the intruder, you found Loki the God of Mischief hovering closely behind you. You had forgotten about Thor contacting you on your mission to tell you Loki would be kept at the Tower for his punishment. Tony made him call you, something he did when he was afraid of you being angry. You had heard Tony coaching Thor in the background of the call.

“Don’t do that!”

He chuckled, taking a step back. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Riiiight.”

You folded your arms and took in his appearance. He definitely did not look the same as he did on the news when he tried to take New York. From the images you had seen, his eyes were wild and sunken and his face gave off a sense of malnourishment. The god standing before you now looked healthy with bright not quite blue but not quite green eyes that held a sprinkle of boyish mischief. Maybe Thor had it right about the possible mind control.

“Shall we start anew?” He bowed lightly, delicately taking the fingers of your right hand in his, forcing you to uncross your arms. “I am Prince Loki of Asgard.”

Oh no... Boyo was laying it on thick.

Nervously clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

“A lovely name, my lady. May I ask why I have not seen you here before?”

He was still holding your hand. You could feel his energy pushing against yours. Was he trying to test your abilities?

“I was on a mission overseas. Just got back last night.”

“That is a shame. I would have preferred your presence here when I first arrived.”

You heard the click of the kettle and pulled your hand away to pour the hot water in your mug. He seemed almost disappointed by the loss of contact.

“I heard from Wanda that it was pure chaos for a while. She practically begged me to abandon the mission and come home,” you chuckled. “Don’t know if that would have done any good though.”

Taking a sip of your still brewing tea, you realized Loki had retaken the step back from earlier and was nearly looming over you. You regained that space, heading for the door.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish preparing for class.”

You rocketed out the door before he had a chance to respond.

You flopped on your bed after taking a portal home. Your closest friend Wanda was there to greet you.

“So how are all the magic newbies you ditched me for?” she teased.

You huffed a laugh. “Same old, same old. College freshmen who think they already know everything. They’ll be in a world of hurt in the coming weeks.”

“At least being an adjunct professor has its perks, right?”

“Yeah. I have some semblance of a life.”

You both started giggling at that.

“Are you still going to eat with everyone for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t see why not. Today was only day one of classes. Nothing to grade yet.”

“Maybe Loki will chill out then.”

You casted Wanda a concerned look. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed. “Ever since Thor mentioned you could wield magic, Loki kept asking when you would be back.”

“Huh,” you mulled. “Guess that would explain this morning.”

“This morning?”

You nodded and hummed. “Yeah. I was in the kitchen making tea when he showed up.”

“You talked to him before me?!” She shoved you playfully, feigning hurt feelings.

“Because I totally planned it,” you laughed.

“So what did you think?”

“You mean other than tall, dark and handsome?” You paused as she snickered. “He’s alright, I guess. He was being overly nice.”

Wanda scoffed. “That little... Okay. So, when he wasn’t holed up in his room or the library being all nice and quiet, he kept making all these snarky comments to everyone. Then, there was the pranking... He saved that mostly for Tony though.”

“So what you’re saying is to keep my guard up because he could go bipolar on me.”

“Yup.”

“Great... This is going to be fun... How long is he staying?”

“Indefinitely.”

All you could do was groan and hide your head in your pillow.

Dinner was suffocating to say the least. Loki joined the team in the dining area, apparently a rarity for him, and they were not happy about it. Well, it was mostly the original team members, the ones who fought against Loki in the Battle of New York. The newer members like you and Wanda, while not fond of him either, couldn’t care less. Thor seemed to be the only who was content, shoveling food down his throat, unable to read the room with a silence so palpable and deafening.

This is... awkward. Wanda spoke to you through her mind, something she usually did when she was uncomfortable but still needed to express herself.

No kidding. I’m thinking about ditching.

Aren’t you hungry though?

Starving! But I can’t eat like this. I’ll come back down in a couple of hours for something. Maybe I’ll watch a movie til then.

Room for one more?

Always!

With half your plate empty, you excused yourself and disposed of the scraps in the kitchen. Steve, who usually fussed at you about your not so great eating habits, did not say a word. Sneaking some snacks for the movie from the kitchen, you went back to your room to wait for Wanda who popped by about ten minutes later.

You woke with a start, stomach growling and gurgling. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes and looked around. Wanda was long gone. You guessed she went back to her room after you fell asleep at some point. She was at least nice enough to turn off the TV before disappearing.

Your belly rumbled, again. Reluctantly leaving behind the warmth of your blankets, you stumbled to your feet and hobbled to the kitchen. You reached for the light switch, the kitchen being too dim in the low lighting left on at night. The lights turned on before you could find it.

“I was wondering when you would arrive.” Your name slid off Loki’s tongue like silk.

Letting out a breath, you tempered your scowl. “What made you think I was coming down here?”

“Aside from the dinner you barely touched?” he chuckled as he traced a finger across the counter. “Well, it can be considered rude to hold a private conversation from such a small group of people.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised by a magic wielder being able to see what other magic wielders are doing.

You folded your arms. “It’s definitely considered rude to eavesdrop.”

“That is quite true.” His signature smirk graced his face. “Although, is it really eavesdropping when I did not listen to what was being said? I merely sensed the exchange of energies.”

“Sure...” You didn’t believe him, but you would let it go for now. It’s not like you two had said anything damning. You just needed to be a bit more careful moving forward. “Now would you be so kind as to stand aside? I would like something to eat, and you’re blocking the fridge.”

“My apologies, but perhaps I may be of better service to you with,” he snapped his fingers, “this.”

The leftovers from dinner instantly appeared piping hot on a plate.

“How did you-”

“Come now. I thought you were a sorceress,” he smirked teasingly.

There was the ego you were expecting.

“I can manage the same end result,” you pouted. “But... the steps leading to it would be different...”

“I could always show you how.”

That grin and those alluring aventurine eyes would be the death of you. You wanted so badly to say yes. While you had the schooling and moved on to helping others, there was still so much more to learn. To say you were eager would be an understatement. The problem was you just met this Trickster God. How could you trust him so soon?

“I... I appreciate the offer, but maybe another time.”

You tucked some of your hair behind your ear. Why did you feel guilty for turning him down?

“Of course. The offer remains standing. Enjoy your dinner, Sorceress,” he replied, his disappointed voice betraying his stoic demeanor.

With that, he swiftly left the room. Yeah. You felt bad. Maybe you would find a way to make it up to him.

Weeks later, and you were frustrated beyond belief. The last lesson you attempted to teach was going nowhere. You needed help, and you needed it now.

You sprung from your room with your notes and textbook and practically sprinted to the library where Loki could usually be found. You were right. There he was lounging with his back to you on one of the couches amongst the books, reading Dante’s Divine Comedy.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Sorceress?” He didn’t even look up from the text. Not a good sign.

Taking a breath, you answered, “I was hoping I could get your help with something.”

That got his attention. “Oh? Would you not rather ask that Strange fellow the others prefer to associate with.” he scowled.

Great. Of course, he had to be in one of those moods today. His mood swings were to be expected but the timing was difficult to predict.

“Pff. The last time I asked him for help, he was a total ass. Just because he trained with a master overseas for a short period of time and has a photographic memory does not mean he fully understands every magical concept.” You brought your rant to a halt. You could say so much more but doubted anyone wanted to listen.

“Well, someone who sees that charlatan for what he truly is,” he snorted, snapping his book shut. “Now, pray tell, why would I assist you when your magic is so similar to his?”

Adding fuel to the fire. The rant was back on. With a huff, you came around to the front of the sofa and dropped your supplies on the coffee table, taking a seat next to him.

“You really want to get me started, don’t you? Look, I have been practicing and studying magic since I was child before I even knew what I was even doing. Hell, I’m still learning. That will never stop. I have worked my ass off to get this far. That’s why I get frustrated with Strange. He never believed in magic until it could help him in some fashion, and then he’s deemed a ‘master’ so soon after starting. Admittedly, yes, I am a bit jealous. However, I would not change how I have learned because it has allowed me to dig deeper and understand more.”

You inhaled deeply, signaling the end of your monologue. You had not really meant to go that far with it, but it was too late now. Your words hung in the air as Loki studied you.

“What do you need assistance with?” He flashed you a grin.

You silently screamed with relief. “Okay, so there was a theory I was trying to teach yesterday.” Flipping open the textbook to the right page, you brought your notebook and pen to your lap. “The students just aren’t getting it.”

Loki leaned over the table to read the book. “Magical Exchange: The Equal Exchange Theory...” His eyebrows could have rocketed off his forehead with how surprised he was. “This is an elementary subject.”

“It is a 101 course,” you shrugged. “I just don’t know how to explain it better. I’ve not taught a class that had issues with this before. This particular group has proven... Difficult.”

“Have you attempted a more... Oh what do you mortals call it,” he hummed. “A more ‘hands on’ approach?”

You sighed and unconsciously tapped your pen on your notebook. “Yeah. I tried to improvise like that when the text did nothing. It just made things worse.”

“I see...” His lips drooped into a frown. “Perhaps a new perspective is required.”

“You read my mind,” you teased, winking at him. You still had not forgotten that first day. “So if you were teaching this, how would you go about it?”

Clearing his throat, he picked up the text book and lounged back on the couch. An anxious silence droned on before he finally spoke again.

“This text describes the various classifications of what is considered Equal Exchange, yet there is little on what does not qualify.”

Loki proceeded on his own mini-lecture about the experiments performed by both mortals and Asgardians, many of which ended in failure due to the lack of Equal Exchange. One ended up being about the Philosopher’s Stone, a topic you had already learned quite a bit about. You scribbled notes as fast as you could, filling up a good quarter of your notebook when he had finished.

You chewed on the end of your pen while looking over your notes. “This could work. Between these explanations and showing some examples, they might grasp what all it means.” Letting out a tired sigh, you looked up at him with full sincerity. “Thank you, Loki. I owe you one.”

He chuckled deeply, sending shivers down your spine. What was he up to?

“There is one favor I wish to ask of you in exchange.”

You blinked deftly. “And what might that be?”

Taking your free hand in his, he gently swiped his thumb across your knuckles. “I merely ask for a dance.”

“A. Dance?” That was not what you had expected.

“Yes. Stark is holding one of his... illustrious parties next Saturday.”

Oh crap. You had purposely forgotten about that. Parties were not normally your thing.

“R-right! I forgot...” you mumbled, swiping your hair behind your ear.

“All I ask is one dance. Would that be acceptable?”

You gazed into his eyes where a dabble of insecure hope hid. “I... Yes. That would be nice.”

Your face felt like it was on fire when he kissed your knuckles, whispering, “Excellent,” before he helped you to your feet and gathered your belongings.

Saturday seemed to arrive all too quickly. Anxiety pulsated through your veins most of the day. Why were you so nervous? It was just one dance.

You sucked in a breath as you took in your appearance in the mirror. The off-the-shoulder, malachite dress hugged your form just right until it flowed gracefully from your hips to your knees. A silver pendant and heels tied off the look. You looked... Good. Better than you had anticipated. Now if you could just calm yourself down.

All those people, people you did not know for the most part would be there, too. Tony always invited so many guests no one else knew. But you also wouldn’t be alone. The whole team was going to be there. You would not be alone. One party should be manageable.

A knock at your door tore you from your spiraling thoughts. With a half-hearted sigh, you meandered to the door and open it to find Wanda and Vision. Wanda must have sensed your distress. She took one look at you, told Vision she would meet him downstairs, gave him a chaste kiss and stepped into your room, closing the door behind her.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this, Wanda.” You sat on the edge of your bed, thoughts of nausea swimming in your head.

She said your name with such resolution, your gaze snapped up to hers. “You can do this.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t start. One, you look gorgeous. Two, you’re a professor AND Avenger. You teach in auditoriums and fight bad guys for a living. This party should not be a problem.”

“Small auditoriums...” you mumbled, earning you a look.

“Three, Vision and I will stay nearby. If any weirdo tries anything with you again, we’ll be there.”

Because you needed to remember the one party where some drunk rando was getting too handsy, the one where you had trouble controlling your abilities because you did not and do not like crowds. Tony, Steve and Wanda had to extract you after kicking out the drunk moron. That was your last party.

“I don’t want to be the third whe-”

“Shush. I’m not done.” She waved you off. “And four, once you have your dance, you can get the hell out of there. Okay?” She smiled sympathetically.

You nodded and looked at the floor. Wanda took you by the shoulders and forced you to stand.

“Alright, now breathe with me. Ground and center. Breathe. Raise your shields. Breathe.”

Doing what you were told, you started to feel better, the deep breaths helping the most.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s get going. Remember, you can do this.” She guided you towards the door.

“Right... I can do this...”

I can’t do this...

You leaned on a wall out of the way, sipping on a light cocktail that you had hoped would keep you calm. It didn’t. Between the flashing lights, pounding music and the chaotic array of energies emanating off the guests just made you want to crawl in a hole and bury yourself.

Wanda and Vision were out of your sight but you could still sense them nearby. They’d be there in a blink of an eye if you needed them, but you didn’t want to ruin their fun. It also did not help that Loki was nowhere to be seen. At first, you thought he and Thor were getting ready, but that thought was thrown out when Thor arrived fashionably late alone. Maybe Loki decided the whole thing was a waste of time and backed out of coming. Yeah. That had to be it which meant you could bug out of here early.

“There you are, Sorceress.”

Never mind. Just as you had moved to the bar to set your glass down, Loki showed up behind you. You spun around, dress flowing out as you did. He looked taken aback with his cheeks slightly flushed. He muttered something under his breath but the music and chatter drowned him out.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

He just shook his head, smiling as he reached out a hand for you. “Would you care to join me on the balcony?”

Balcony?! Why didn’t you think about going out there? It would be so much quieter.

“I would like that very much.” You took his hand and let him lead you outside.

The balcony was so much better. The doors muffled the incessant beat of the club music along with the yelling guests. You took in a deep breath, taking the chance to glance at Loki and appreciate his look.

Yup. Still attractive in Midgardian clothing. His designer suit looked as though it was made only for him, the black color matching his curling hair that brushed past his shoulders. The green tie brought out his eyes and made them seem more saturated like an emerald. You definitely appreciated the new style.

“You’re staring, Darling,” he chuckled.

“Sorry. I’m so used to seeing you in your Asgardian garb,” you flushed. “T-the change is not unwelcome though. You look great!”

Great. Where were your words when you needed them most? And did he call you “Darling”?

“Thank you, my dear. Now, about that dance...”

That’s when you realized he was still holding your hand.

“What about the music?”

“I have something better planned than the noise Stark has chosen.”

He pulled you close, one hand encased yours while the other placed your free hand on his shoulder before snapping his fingers and keeping you close by the small of your back. A record player appeared playing Merry-Go-Round of Life.

“Shall we?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yes.”

Loki swayed with you along the length of the balcony, leading you into spins in time with the music. Neither of you had said a word since you started moving, but you did not need to. Everything was perfect. You felt like you were dancing on clouds amongst the stars. All of your anxiety had melted away. Needless to say, you were disappointed when the song ended.

“I do not suppose I would be able to convince you for another dance?”

Loki held your hands in his as he pulled back. He seemed just as disappointed as you.

“Well,” you mocked contemplation, “That wasn’t part of the original agreement.”

The soft grip on your hands loosened even more.

“But, I don’t see why I can’t make an exception, especially seeing how your explanations went over so well with the students. I haven’t thanked you for that part,” you smirked and with a golden flourish of your hand, changed the music on the record player.

Loki’s grin put the starlight to shame as he brought you back to him. As one song ended, one of you would switch it out to keep the music going.

Neither of you knew how long you were out there for. It had to have been more than a couple of hours since Tony was the one to break up your private party.

“Reindeer Games, Magic Hands! Pack it up! Party guests have already left!”

Both of you grimaced, hating your nicknames. Regardless, Loki led you back inside. Wanda and Vision had stayed throughout the party while you were on the balcony, and gave both of you these little knowing looks as you passed them. Ignoring them, Loki walked you to your room.

“Thank you, Loki. You made the night much more enjoyable,” you smiled brightly.

He smiled back, playing with the fingers of your hands. “I am happy to be of assistance, Sorceress.”

A moment of silence and you stepped forward, thinking of something a touch bold. “You know, if this were to become a regular occurrence, I might be persuaded to show up at Stark’s parties more often.”

A low chuckle reverberated in his chest. “That could be arranged.”

“I hope so.” You leaned on your toes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, again.”

You slipped past your door so quickly you didn’t notice the lightly dusted blush on Loki’s face.

Today was not a good day. Scratch that. It was a terrible day. Some senior in Advanced Summoning got cocky and accidentally summoned a few large, irate creatures from the Fae Realm. With you being an Avenger and working for the school, it was no surprise you were chosen to handle the situation. Killing would have been easier, but you could not bring yourself to do it. It’s not their fault they were ripped from their home and dropped in an unfamiliar world. You were able to open a portal and send them back but not without sustaining a critical injury. You were barely able to close the portal before passing out from blood loss.

You woke up in the medical wing of the campus, a fog clouding your brain. You felt the dull pain in your side where one of the creatures had swiped its claws whenever you tried to move.

“Oh! Please lie still!” A healer came rushing over. “You don’t want to reopen the wound. We’ve done all we can to heal you without overloading your body.”

You just nodded and rested your head on the pillow. Looking at the window, you noticed how dark it was.

“What time is it?”

The healer looked at you nervously. “A little after 10PM.”

Groaning, you sank into the pillow more. “Do you know where my phone is? I need to make a call.”

The team knew your schedule, and they were going to flip, especially Loki. You two had grown attached to each other since the start of your balcony dances (there had been at least six so far). The status of your relationship was in limbo, somewhere between friends and romantic partners. Neither of you seemed to know which way to go.

The healer left the room momentarily before rushing back in. Handing you your phone, she warned, “Now, your phone started going off non-stop since about six this evening. We had to answer just to see if it was important and if they could wait until you called back. Th-the man on the other end. He was.. Not. Pleased. He started demanding to know where you were...”

“I understand,” you cut her off softly. “If I could get some privacy please, I will call him.”

She nodded and headed to the door.

“And whatever else he said, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure he behaves.”

The healer pursed her lips and closed the door behind her. What the hell did he say to her?

You picked Loki’s contact in your phone. He answered in barely one ring, calling out your name. “Norns, are you alright?! Where are you? What happened?”

“Loki, I’m fine. I’m still on campus. There was a little mishap that I had to take care of. Got a little banged up in the process, but everything is okay.” You added that last part quickly.

“A little mishap? You should have returned hours ago. Please, allow me to bring you home.”

“Loki, the school only allows faculty members and students on campus. The wards make sure of that. And despite the constant demands, even Fury and Strange have not been granted access. They don’t even know where to look. Besides, you’re on lockdown. Remember?” You tried to reason with him, but knew he would not give up so easily.

He pleaded your name. Lately, he almost always stuck to pet names for you, only using your name when he was truly upset. “Please... I need to know that you are in good health.”

“I am, Loki. I will more than likely be back at the Tower in the morning.”

“Not tonight?” His pout was clear even over the phone.

“It’s late and I doubt the healers would let me check myself out at this hour.”

“I- Alright.” The defeated tone in his voice made your heart break.

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Please...”

“Goodnight, Loki.”

“Goodnight.”

As you pulled the phone away to hang up, you heard him call your name.

“Yes?”

“I... I will see you tomorrow.”

You hummed with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

It was early morning when you finally left the campus. Loki didn’t answer his phone, so you left him a voicemail instead, fairly sure he knew how to access it. Cell phones still were not his strong suit, but he was getting better.

Stepping through the Tower doors, you were greeted by Happy who gave you the world’s most gentle bear hug. He had Friday let the others know you were headed up.

“By the way,” he yelled to you as you stepped in the elevator. “Loki was up all night worrying about you. You should go talk to him.” He winked at you.

You just shook your head as the elevator doors. When they reopened at the common room floor, you were greeted with Wanda tackling you before she dragged you out.

“Loki told us something went down at the University. What happened?!”

She pulled you into the common room to one of the sofas.

“Some moron was trying to impress a girl in Advanced Summoning. Brought in some undocumented creatures from the Fae Realm.”

“Of course... Now you were hurt? Where?” She started looking you over.

You lifted your shirt just enough to show the heavy bruising on your side. “The healers did a decent patch up. Just have to deal with this for a couple days, and then I’m good.”

“I wish I could help, but healing is not my forte.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” you smiled reassuringly, letting your shirt fall.

“Fine is not how you would have been classified yesterday,” a low voice came from behind the couch, startling you.

“L-Loki! I thought I had told you not to do that!” You clutched your chest, taking a deep breath.

“Darling, may I speak with you? Alone.” Loki gestured for you to follow him.

You squeezed Wanda’s hand apologetically. “I’ll come find you later.”

Loki led you out, down the hall and into the library. He didn’t say a word until he sat you down on the couch next to him, gaze on his lap.

“Loki... I-”

“Dove, what were you thinking taking on those beasts on your own?” He clutched your hands tightly.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m one of the few stateside who is trained in battle magic,” you pleaded.

He was upset. It was obvious. Your heart shattered with how he looked at you, fear and worry melded into one.

“You could have called for assistance.”

“Loki, we’ve been over this-”

“Would they not have made an exception with their students in danger.” It was a statement. He was right about that.

“If there were time, yes. They needed to be dealt with immediately.” You tore your hands from his grasp and cupped his face for him to really look you in the eyes. “Loki. Everything turned out alright. I’m still here, and I’m okay.”

“And yet you almost were not.” His voice was so quiet, you barely heard him. “I... I do not...”

You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, encouraging him to go on. He pulled one hand away to hold while leaning into the other.

“Just be more careful from now on. Please.”

“Of course.”

“Promise me.” He squeezed your hand.

“I will. But first.” You took your hand from his face. “Finish what you were saying.”

He froze. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“You cut yourself off three times within twenty-four hours. You always finish your sentences. Now. What were you going to say?”

He still was not used to being caught, his initial confusion evident in his eyes which then darted about the room nervously. You sighed, and with a golden flourish of your hand, the library doors shut and locked.

“There. No one to walk in and disturb us or overhear.”

Loki was silent. He stared at your hand that was intertwined with his, then met your eyes.

“I do not know what I would do without you,” he whispered, bringing you into his arms in one fluid motion, your head tucked under his chin.

The scent of cedar and sage filled your senses as you returned the embrace and carded your fingers through his hair.

“Well, that’s not something you need to think about. I’m not going anywhere,” you responded softly. “Promise.”

He hugged you close, pulling you into his lap. His chest rose with a deep breath before he kissed the top of your head.

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter seventeen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2465

note: i pride myself in staying accurate to levi’s character because it’s difficult to do when it comes to romance. one thing i will not budge on, however: he is not a virgin. he’s a god in bed. definitely super rough. isayama is wrong. idc that he’s the author. all that aggression in that little body? this man fucks. period. he’s a different person in the bedroom. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Your mind was somehow racing despite the total lack of coherent thoughts in your head. It was like running in place. The feeling of Levi's lips on yours, moving in unison with his hands as they traced your body, made you ache in the most satisfying of ways. You savored every hungry and merciless prick of his teeth against the newly swollen and sensitive skin of your lips.

His tiny bites moved to your neck, sending chills down to your toes as you gasped for the air that stung your bruised mouth. His hands slid over the curvature of your waist, moving to grip your hips as he turned the both of you around, shuffling you backward until you had no choice but to take a seat on the cool wood of his desk. He ran his fingers along your thighs and tapped them, a silent request, prompting you to spread them to allow his body to fit more seamlessly against yours. His grip traveled languidly to the backside of your knees, lifting them until you understood and wrapped your legs around his waist, hanging loosely from his hips like a belt. Realization set in when you felt the bulge in his trousers brush against your most sensitive place.

"Levi," you whimpered out between gasps as he worked roughly away at your neck, "What are we doing?"

"Do you want this?" he murmured against your skin, his tone obviously displaying his feelings for the first time -- it was husky and desperate.

"Yes," you breathed without hesitation.

His hand left your legs to land gently on the side of your neck; he didn't apply any pressure, he only brushed his calloused thumb down the length of your throat. "Then please, for once in your life, just shut the fuck up." With that harsh remark, his lips crashed back into yours, his tongue pleading at your lips for entrance as you wove your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You obliged him, fighting a whine as his hands came to cup your breasts, kneading them gently. You suckled his bottom lip, drawing the quietest of groans into your mouth and sending Levi even further into his newfound desperation, his insatiable hunger for you.

Your fingertips found the smooth, cool buttons of his shirt easily, snapping them apart one after the other until his bare torso was exposed for your exploration. You felt his toned chest rise and fall rapidly as he continued his assault on your lips. He pulled his hand away from your throat and his mouth away from yours for a moment to shrug the shirt off of his shoulders, letting loose his muscular arms. He looked at you for a second, lust clouding his eyes, before he tugged at the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head; the air against your hot skin was jarring as you watched him admire you. He looped his arms around your back and unclasped your bra swiftly, tossing it to the side to join your shirts. He studied you intently, eyes traveling from your face, to your breasts, to your navel and back again. "Such a pretty girl," he cooed, making your cheeks burn red as he caressed one of them, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

This moment didn't last long, as he soon dropped to his knees and dove to your chest, peppering kisses around where you wanted him, teasing you until you almost whimpered with want. This was where the real fun would begin. He cupped one breast in his hand and took the other into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple and sending waves of pleasure through your body. You giggled softly at the memory of him shouting at you only ten minutes prior; you were an idiot to think he didn't want you.

His tongue continued to dart across one of your nipples as he tweaked the other between his fingers, making you squirm. "Do you like this?" he asked you, breaking away for only a second before returning to suck harshly on it. You moaned, nodding your head eagerly. You felt him smirk against you. He then pinched your nipple between his fingers, quickly yet firmly, sending a shockwave down your spine and a whine through your mouth. "How about that? Does that feel good, brat? Do you still want to shout at me now?"

His lips lined a trail down your ribs and your stomach as he detached his mouth and fingers from your now-sensitive nipples, giving you only a second for a sigh of relief as he began to unbutton your pants. He tugged them down your legs before tossing them to join the rest. He sat eye level with your pussy, now only clothed by the thin material of your panties. You knew he could see how soaked you were -- you wondered if you should be embarrassed.

"I asked you a question," he told you, running his fingertip along your inner thighs as he stared hungrily at the space between your legs.

"It felt incredible," you answered honestly, a grin painting your lips as you reached a wonderful thought: "I'm sorry for yelling, Captain."

This awakened something in him. He roughly threw your legs over his shoulders and showed no mercy, licking you through your panties and gripping your thighs tightly enough to bruise. His warm, wet tongue sent electricity through you each time it came in contact with your core, leaving your hands to weave themselves into his hair, pulling harshly as he made you squirm and moan. He tugged your panties to the side with one finger, finally making contact where you needed him most.

His tongue looped quick circles around your clit, pausing to suck harshly on it every once in a while, leaving you no time to catch your breath. You moaned out a string of expletives mixed in with his name, unable to control your voice any longer. You simply hoped no one could hear. Your lewd sounds only seemed to drive him further, his pace quickening and one finger starting to circle around your hole. You quickly discovered this was only to tease as he abruptly pulled away, his mouth and chin shining with wetness as you looked down at him.

"Hush," he scoffed, the iron grip on your thighs not once letting up. "Do you want everyone in the building to know what you're doing right now?"

Any ounce of self-respect you had had long gone out the window, and you knew that. You ignored his question. "Please don't stop, Levi. Please," you whined, your hands trying desperately to pull his head back down to your soaked core. You were too weak to budge him. "I don't care if I'm being loud -- just -- please, Captain. Don't stop." The smugness in the smirk that ran across his lips would normally annoy you, but you were in no place to roll your eyes or utter a sarcastic quip -- you laid on his desk, hips bucking at the idea of having his tongue on you for just one more minute; how pathetic.

"You don't care if anyone hears you?" he asked, eyes lust-filled.

You should have known then that you were in for it, but your brain was too frazzled to make the connection. "No, I don't care, just please keep going," you told him. He obliged. His lips latched back onto your clit, sucking hard and making you yelp. At the same time, he plunged two fingers into you mercilessly, the sound of your wetness sloshing inside of you almost embarrassing; however, it was difficult to hear over the loud moans of his name echoing from your throat like a chant.

You felt your stomach tightening, everything building up to a point that you weren't sure if you could control yourself any longer. You needed release, and Levi was not hesitant to drive you there. He continued his relentless pounding of his fingers into you, his mouth working a special kind of magic you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before that moment. It was becoming too much.

"Levi, I'm gonna cum," you moaned, not-so quietly. As soon as you finished your sentence, his fingers disappeared from within you and his mouth pulled away, leaving you squirming and clenching around nothing. "No no no no," you whimpered, needing to let all the pressure go. "Don't stop. Why'd you stop?"

His arms wrapped around your weak, shaky body and lifted you, your legs and arms wrapping around him as he carried you across the suite. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his hand extend to open a door -- his bedroom. You weren't in a state to take in the details, and made a mental note to do that later; your thoughts, though, were cut short by Levi dropping you onto his bed and unbuckling his belt. You looked up at him with an expression that could only be described as awe: his hair had been destroyed by your greedy hands, tangled, messy, and falling into his eyes; his silver gaze looked like that of a predator -- taking in every inch of your naked body, excitement dancing through them -- his pants hung loosely around his hips, his abs leading into a v-shape that ended in his masculine hands fiddling with his belt buckle. It fell to the floor with a clang, his fingers swiftly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off, a new pile of clothes starting in the floor of this room.

Your eyes widened as he stood in front of you, not even pausing as he used your thighs to pull you to the edge of the bed -- you could focus on nothing but the size of him, wondering if it would even fit. It was long and thick, veins protruding as he was as hard as could be. You swore your mouth almost started to water.

"Ready?" he asked you, his gentleness taking you by surprise. You nodded hungrily as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock poking at your core. He lifted your legs with his forearms so that they weren't quite on his shoulders, but still high enough to fuck you as deep as he wanted at the moment. You drew in a breath as he split you, stretching you further than anyone had before; you groaned in ecstasy. As he hilted himself into you and hit the back of your walls, your hands launched to grip his shoulders, nails digging into his back so deeply you were sure they'd draw blood. Then he was still for a moment -- perhaps he was letting you adjust, but you were sure he was only doing it to tease.

"Fuck me, please, Captain," you breathed out, not removing your nails from his back. He rocked his hips gently once or twice, giving you wave after wave of pleasure. You had never felt so completely full -- you were unsure of how he was able to move at all.

Without warning, he unsheathed his dick completely and rammed it back into you, resetting the pace entirely. You became a whiny mess as he pounded into you time after time, the knot in your stomach quickly returning and begging to be untied. He shifted up slightly, landing in the perfect place.

"Fuck, Levi, right there," you cried, dragging your nails down his back. You wondered if it was too early to decide that this was the best sex you'd ever had. "I need to cum."

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he said softly, brushing your hair out of your face. He placed his hand around your throat, squeezing only slightly and earning a loud moan. With his words, you let everything go. You felt tsunami waves  crashing on your shores as he rode out your climax, his dick twitching inside of you and his hand tightening around your neck every time your pussy clenched around him. He never slowed; once you were finished, he continued to pound into your sensitive cunt, making you writhe and whimper. His other hand trailed down from your cheek past your neck, making a little circle around your nipple before going even further. His thumb came to rest on your clit, toying with it as he fucked you like he wanted the entire regiment to hear his name.

He released his grip on your throat and wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you up to look him in his eyes while he fucked you stupid, your own pupils falling to the back of your head as the overstimulation started to make it to your brain. His grunts and groans had begun to grow more frequent, signaling you that he was close. "Who else has fucked you like this?" he asked, sultry anger dripping from his voice.

There it was -- the jealousy. The thing that had started this whole ordeal and a new contender for your favorite thing about him. "No one, Levi," you replied between squeaks of pleasure, the knot retying itself in your stomach one more time. "I'm close again," you moaned, the utter ecstasy from the combination of his cock pounding into you and is thumb assaulting your clit beginning to be too much to handle.

He ignored you. "You thought you were so fucking cute today, kissing him in front of me," his strokes grew sloppier with every word, and you knew he had started to come undone. "I wonder if Eren fucked you like this, seeing as you were willing to give it to him in the disgusting stables. Surely he was at least as good as me."

"No -- nobody's fucked me like you. Just you, Levi. Please just let me cum," you begged him, your heat throbbing around his dick and only worsening your situation.

His strokes grew slower and deeper, his rhythm breaking completely. "Good girl," he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting you fall back to the soft bed below you. "Cum for me one more time."

That was all it took for the flood gates to open as you pulsed around him, moaning out his name like a prayer, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Once you finished, lying there in a panting mess unable to even lift your head, he pumped out a few final strokes, curse words and your name littering from his mouth as he pulled out and released himself onto your stomach. He rolled over to lay next to you, gently pulling your head onto his chest and combing his fingers through your newly tangled hair.

"What am I going to do with you?"

[stressy-enby]

Some Scars aren’t Physical: PART 1

Iida x GN! Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Past abusive relationship (gaslighting, possessiveness, yelling), slight panic attack, swearing

Summery: (Y/N) had a terrible boyfriend in middle school. He was possessive, manipulative, and just plain awful. Since breaking up with Him, (Y/N)’s had pretty bad relationship anxiety. It’s so bad, that it makes them afraid to pursue their new crush: the kind, earnest class rep, Tenya Iida.

Link to Part 2 

Masterlist

. . .

It only takes one bad experience to ruin something forever.

Take dating, for instance.

You hadn’t had many friends in middle school. You had Izuku, your friend since elementary school, and the people who sat next to you in class who occasionally talked to you. That was about it, but it never mattered. You were still happy.

Then there was Him.

He had been kind. Flattering. He laughed at your jokes and told you His own. You had been happier than you had ever been when you started dating. You spent long nights on the phone with Him, trying to smother your giddy laughter so not to wake the rest of your house. Then you spent hours recounting every moment of the conversation to Izuku, who always rolled his eyes playfully, remarking “As long as you’re happy, (Y/N).”

Then He changed.

It was a gradual shift. You didn’t even realize that something wasn’t right until a month or so into the relationship. It started with Izuku, funnily enough. He didn’t like how close you were with him. You had tried to calmly explain to Him that you were just friends, and had been friends for several years. He wouldn’t have it, though. He never outright asked you to stop spending time with Izuku, but He made it very clear that He didn’t approve of your friendship. 

You didn’t want Him to be angry with you. You didn’t cut Izuku out completely, you couldn’t bear to. You did start to avoid him, though.

It didn’t end with Izuku, though. Next it was the classmates you occasionally hung out with. Next it was anyone He didn’t personally know. Next it was anyone if He wasn’t there.

Then there were the arguments. You were frustrated. You told Him that he couldn’t control you like this. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Him. Not when His counterarguments where oh so persuasive.

“Listen, these people don’t really care about you. They’re just going to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. You trust me, right?”

The hurt look on His face was enough for you to assure Him that yes, of course you trusted Him. You weren’t sure how honest you were being, though.

Four months.

It took four months of loneliness, and anxiety for you to finally end it. It took four months of Izuku pleading with you to leave Him before you actually did it. 

He wouldn’t go down without a fight, unfortunately. He went down in the end, albeit kicking and screaming. He had raised his voice at our before, but never like this. He had never screamed directly in your face. You’d never cried in front of Him before. You’d been good at hiding it, but the all the pent up anxiety and frustrations you were feeling spilt out when He shrieked at you like that.

He’d been suspended for two weeks. They were over all too fast.

He hardly talked to you when He got back, but you always felt His eyes. They seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Izuku stuck to you like glue. He was a nervous kid, and he never said anything directly to Him, but he was always there, offering you his silent support.

“Do you think you’ll want to date anyone else?” Izuku asked one day.

“No one from our class,” You rolled your eyes, surveying the middle school classroom.

“What about when we get to high school?” 

“I don’t know,” You answered after a moment. “I’d like to be in a good relationship, but…”

Izuku frowned. “But?”

You averted your eyes, feeling His gaze burning a hole in the back of your head. “I thought He seemed good at first. Look how well that went.”

. . . 

High school felt like heaven. It might’ve been grueling, and sure, villains showed up every other week, but He wasn’t there. Izuku was, though, plus you both managed to make a few other friends. 

Iida was one such friend. The first thing you had noticed about him was that he was loud. You had never liked loud people, especially after what had happened with Him, but Iida was never loud to you directly. He was just loud in general.

A few weeks into your friendship with him, and you realized that he was incredibly earnest. He was dependable, and seemed to be one of the kindest, if also intense people you’d ever met.

He was also handsome.

You spent lunch periods staring at Iida’s large hands, wondering what they’d feel like in your own. You laid awake at night, hugging your pillow and pretending it was him. 

One night, as you pictured him holding you, his gentle arms suddenly became tight and constrictive. Suddenly, it wasn’t Iida.

It was Him.

Your breathing became sporadic you threw your pillow onto the floor. You folded in on yourself, rubbing your arms to try to rid yourself of His lingering touch.

“I can’t,” You whimpered. “I can’t,”

You wanted to be with Iida, you really did. But He was still poisoning your mind.

. . .

“(L/N), are you doing anything this weekend?” 

You hummed noncommittally at Iida, who was standing at your desk, waiting for you to pack up to go home.

“I don’t think so.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

“Well, a cafe recently opened near my home, I’m thinking of checking it out.” He said casually, eyes darting away. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, looking up at the boy. “Uh, yeah! That sounds fun. It’d be nice to spend some time with you outside of school.”

“Yes, I-I thought the same thing.” Iida readjusted his glasses, a pink dusting forming on his cheeks. “Is Saturday alright with you?”

About twenty minutes later, when you and Izuku were walking home from the train station, he asked if you wanted to do anything over the weekend.

“On Sunday, maybe.” You kicked an acorn along the sidewalk. “Iida and I are going out on Saturday.”

“Woah, really? Like on a date?”

“I- I don’t- what?” You froze. You replayed the conversation with Iida in your head. “Is it a date? Shit. I can’t go on a date.”

“Why not?” Izuku furrowed his brows in concern. “Iida’s really nice, I think you’d be happy with him. You’d have a good time.”

“Yeah, well we thought I’d be happy with Him too,”

Izuku flinched, understanding flashing in his eyes. “Okay. (Y/N), Iida is lightyears better than Him. Iida’s a super serious guy, but that makes him transparent. If he had ulterior motives, or even if he just seemed like he’d be a dick, you’d know it. Iida isn’t Him. At least go out with him this one time.”

“But I-”

“It’s one date, not marriage.” Izuku reasoned, placing a hand on your shoulder. “There are no obligations. Go out with him. If it goes well, then great! You can do it again, or, don’t. If it goes poorly, then end it there. You don’t have to tie yourself to Iida just because he’s showing interest in you.”

You raised a pointed eyebrow. “What if I’m not interested in him?”

“(Y/N).” Izuku deadpanned. “You and I both know that you are.”

You snickered a little, the sound coming out breathy and broken. “Ok. One date. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

. . .

Izuku knew you and Iida had it bad for each other. The staring longingly when the other wasn’t looking, the flustered laughing, all the goddamn blushing, there was a lot. It was torture watching you both dance around each other, but he knew it wasn’t easy for you. He had left his mark on you, even if it wasn’t a physical one. 

Izuku wasn’t exactly thrilled to push you right back into dating when you obviously were uncomfortable, despite knowing that Iida could be a healing presence in your life if you let him. 

So you were going on a date with him. 

“It’s one date, not marriage.” He had said, trying to convince himself as well as you. “There are no obligations.”

Izuku knew Iida. He trusted him with his life, he just wasn’t sure if he trusted him with you. You, the closest thing to a sibling Izuku had ever had. You, who had stayed his friend even after you had manifested your quirk and he’d been left quirkless. You, who stayed by his side and defended him against Kacchan and his other middle school bullies. 

You, who had been hurt before by someone you had liked.

Izuku groaned, flopping onto his bed. “Iida isn’t Him. Iida isn’t Him. He’s not going to hurt (Y/N). They’re going to be fine.”

It still didn’t stop him from constantly checking his phone, to see if you’d messaged him. Today was your date. He check the time again. 3:21. You should be home by now, or at least on the way. He’d told you to text him when you were home and tell him all about the date, but you might’ve forgotten. Maybe he should text your parents?

No. He was your best friend, not your father. He’d wait to see if you contacted him. If you didn’t, no big deal. He’d see you on Monday at school. Izuku very deliberately placed his phone face down on his bedside table. Deciding to go for a jog to get his mind off it, he began to change into his workout clothes.

Not two minutes later, his phone buzzed. Halfway into his gym shorts, Izuku scrambled back to the table, tripping over his own feet and hitting his head squarely on the bed frame. 

“Shit!” He hissed, rubbing his forehead.

“Izuku?” His mother called. “Is everything all right in there?”

“Yeah, I just tripped. I’m okay.” He replied, feeling around for his phone with the hand not cradling his head. Much to Izuku’s disappointment, the text wasn’t from you.

Much to his surprise though, it was from Iida.

Iida: Is (L/N) afraid of me?

“Uh oh,” He murmured, fingers already flying across the keypad.

Izuku: wdym? Did something happen during your date?

Iida: Kind of? It went well, but (L/N) seemed really nervous.

Izuku: And you weren’t? Lol, it’s your first date

Iida: Well, yes of course I was nervous. (L/N) seems more nervous then would be ordinary in that situation, though.

Izuku: What exactly did they do?

Iida: They were very overly jittery. They looked apprehensive and guilty whenever we talked. At one point I put my hand on their arm and they flinched. 

“Oh shit,” Izuku whispered. Iida wasn’t done, though.

Iida: The night ended well enough, I suppose. They seemed to have a good time, it just looked like they were too frightened to enjoy it to the full extent, though.

Izuku: You didn’t do anything weird, did you?

Iida: Weird how? All I did was talk to them. I offered to pay for their food, but they declined. I touched their arm, but once they flinched away I didn’t try again. We walked back to the train station together, and I offered to accompany them home, but they shot me down again.

Izuku sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples. It was a delicate situation. It wasn’t really Izuku’s place to tell Iida your business. So how was he going to tell Iida that you had relationship trauma without actually telling him?

Izuku: Ok, I don’t think you did anything wrong. (Y/N) gets nervous at the idea of dating, but I promise it’s not you. They’ve had bad experiences with dating, but they seem to really like you and want to try again.

Izuku: (Y/N)’s story isn’t mine to tell. If they feel comfortable giving you all the details, then they will. All you need to know for now is that their anxiety isn’t your fault. It also doesn’t mean that they don’t like you because I don’t think I’ve ever seen them as happy with someone as they are with you  

Iida: I see. Their behavior makes a little more sense now. Thank you for telling me, Midoriya. I’d like to have a relationship with them, so on Monday I’ll talk to them and see if there’s anything I can do or stop doing to make them more comfortable. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am when I’m with them either, in all honesty. I would hate to loose them over a misunderstanding.

Izuku chuckled, smiling warmly at his device. “What was I ever worried about?”