#but i came on the computer very specifically to write a reply
rainaramsay · a year ago
So my therapist and I were talking today about ADHD brains, and what "executive function" means, and we discovered a really interesting thing about how my brain works. I don't know how much it will extend to other people, but I'm throwing it out there in case it's useful for anyone else.
Usually it takes me about 1.5 - 2 hours each morning, to go from "booting up my computer" to "actually starting on my first task".  This is true whether I work from home or work in the office, whether it's a coding day or a meeting day, whether I jump out of bed when the alarm goes off or if I'm very seriously giving consideration to sleeping under my desk while my computer boots.  I don't want it to take that long, but extensive experimentation has shown that it definitely does.
Today I decided to try an experiment.  Instead of my normal morning routine (where I check email, IMs, to-do list, and self-care list, and compile that into an enormous to-do list for the day, then sort that list in order of "if everything goes sideways and I get to only one thing, what thing will be the most painful if it happens tomorrow instead of today", and then set up multiple desktops on my macbook so that each task -- including "brush teeth" has its own desktop, and then put the desktops in the assigned priority-order), I decided I'd just jump right into my first task, and see if I could get myself a hyper-focused hour of work before someone came into the office to bug me.
It. Was. Terrible.
I mean, I got the task done, in record time. Then I checked Tumblr. Then I checked Facebook. Then I composed a summary of David Graeber's argument that the European Age of Exploitation cannot be understood without knowing why the Chinese decided to abandon paper money.  Then I replied to all my Facebook messages. Then I helped Jessica at work set up her code. There followed a relatively productive afternoon where I helped my boss sort out a personnel problem, set priorities for our department, contributed to one meeting, ran yet another meeting, got consensus on a project, and helped Jessica again -- but I didn't eat my midmorning snack until 1pm, I never did brush my teeth, and my knees are killing me because all through the second meeting my body was sending "This posture hurts! Change position! Get! Up!" signals, and I couldn't summon the focus to actually move from the floor to the couch. By the time my therapist called, my phone was on 3% and I couldn't find my bluetooth headphones. I'm still 400 calories under my target for the day, because I missed 900 calories during my workday and I couldn't figure out how to add more than 500 calories to my dinner.
So my therapist and I talked about this strange mix of symptoms: knocking out task after task of helping people at work, but unable to feed myself; incredibly highly effective code debugging, but also getting lost in Tumblr for an hour. I wasn't under-stimulated, but I also didn't get to pick what I focused on.  And he talked about how executive function isn't just one thing, which I knew, but mentioned specifically that one element of executive function is taking your own initiative, deciding your actions for yourself, rather than just reacting to stimuli.  And it hit me ---
I can't do that.  
I thrive in hyper-focused development environments, where I react to each compiler error by debugging the error ... but I break down when the compiler runs without error; I don't know what to do if I don't have the error-stimulus deciding my actions.
I thrive in high-multi-tasking environments like running a retail store at Christmas, where I do a task, and then look around and see which notification is the highest priority, and then do that task.  But I struggle in January and February, when all the customers are gone and I don't know what to do.
And today, I was entirely stimulus-driven.  Jessica asked for help, and I helped her. Kathy commented on Facebook, and I replied to her. Ryan asked about a report, and I explained it to him. Mark brought up something that reminded me of David Graeber, and I typed up a history essay.  Anything that didn't have a notification -- brushing my teeth, eating my snack, charging my phone -- didn't get done.
And that's when it hit me.  My usual morning routing isn't a waste of 2 hours.  It's setting up my environment so that I will be stimulated to do the things I want to do.
I have barely any initiative-decide-for-myself at all.  I get one (1) intitiativon each morning, and I have to spend it wisely.  And what I do with it, each day, is set up the stimuli I will experience throughout the day.
I finish a task and close that desktop: the next desktop pops up with a note that says "Meditate."
I finish meditating and close the desktop: the next desktop pops up with an email I need to reply to.
I finish that email and close that desktop: the next one pops up with a note that says "Order groceries."
I don't have any initiative left by that point, but I don't need to: I get the stimulus to do my work, maintain my health, connect with friends, and clean my house, and I'm too executive-dysfunction-deprived to do anything but respond to stimulus, and so I do all those things. This explains why I need to leave such specific directions to myself: not “write chapter 5″, but “Open C:/Documents/Writing/NovelTitle/Chapter5.doc”.  The first one isn’t a stimulus to action; the second one is. 
It's also why I have such a hard time with "leisure", and why my "randomized leisure activity" deck helped me so much; because by the time I get to the end of the day, and I'm out of spoons and I have earned a fun and relaxing evening.... I cannot -- by definition -- decide what would be fun and relaxing.
Like I say, I have no idea whether that will be any good for anyone else, but it prompted some interesting introspection, and I wanted to share. Now if you’ll excuse me, I still need to go brush my teeth
13K notes · View notes
persephoneflouwers · 18 days ago
hey hey angie 💞 please bless us with your fanfic top 5?
Hello! 🌸
I'm sorry if I reply so late, but I wasn't home and didn't have access to my computer. Thank you for asking this question. I've been wanting to write a post about my favourite fics for ages now. There are too many. That's why I can't pic 5 favourites, but I will make a run out of my bookmarks for now, if that's okay 👉👈🥹. This was fun and I have so many more fics that I love. Like all the ABOs and really so many others, but I don’t want to add them all in a post because they will get lost and they deserve ALL the attention. So let’s tag this as a LARRY FIC RECS - PART 1. Please, if you read any of these, let me know and let’s discuss them! <3
I'm very excited! Alright, let's go in no specific order:
Mirror Touch by pinky_heaven19 (59K): synesthesia AU that made me all soft and melting. Easily, one of the first fics I'd recommend.
The Changer and the Changed by homosociallyyours (60K): Hands down the best Girl direction AU for me. Lots of lesbian and feminism talk. Very very good. I saved it on my phone and re-read it every now and then. 
No pressure, no diamonds by karamelised (71K): Another fic I would read in loop. It’s just fun and hot but also angstyyy. Louis is a menace and Harry CAN’T (can he?) have any of it. They got me all in the first scene. The description of Harry got me like “alright yeah, that’s it. that’s the one”. Venice x Larry is always a good idea.
Love After the End of the World by mercurial-madhouse (writing_practice) (162K): This one is the dystopian-soulmate AU you need to read. Louis is such a pain in the ass in this one, I swear. You can't not love it lmao
Sodalite & Aventurine by forreveries (81K): Give me all the pirates fics, because I will drink them up like water in the desert. 
Fading by tothemoonmydear (202K): please read the tags of this one. It's a tough one, I read it long ago, so I don't remember much of the writing style, but I think the ED is depicted in a very thoughtful way.
Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66K): this broke my heart. I rarely cry with fics, but I sobbed at the end. Like the tags say... heavy heavy angst.
Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey (@indiaalphawhiskey) (114K): I will defend this fic til my last breath. It's mature, it's complex, it's metaliterature at some point. Definitely NOT canonical, loved it!
For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by green_feelings (116K): the amnesia AU that got under my skin because it made me sooooo mad!
And down the long and silent street by whimsicule (86K): This fic just came back in my mind yesterday in chat with @lt2hoe! Victorian London, wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder. More of these please!
Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis (domesticharry) (79K): even though I remember complaining with my sister about the fact that it contains few historical innaccurancies, I loved the story! Very emotional til the very very very end.
Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) (97K): speaking of annoying Louis... this author never disappoints, trust me!
Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134K): this was cute and got me pouting all along cause I didn’t know if I was sad or just emotional. Oh, this is the Tarzan AU!
Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction (154K): Top gun AU. One direction as pilots was what I needed. Narry is magical here!
With The Strength To Carry On by lovelarry10, therogueskimo (113K): I read it for my professional bias. Doctor AU. They cute cute cute. 
The school of extraordinary lovers by stylinsoncity (168K): I think I consider this one a classic. It’s simply a beautiful read. 
Maybe down in lonesome town by resurrectdead (45K): I don't quite remember this one, but it's in my bookmarks so I'll trust past me and rec this too. Farm AU are my guilty pleasure.
Let me separate my favourite authors from the rest because I’m on my knees for these two angels: 
The agony and the rapture by @thedevilinmybrain (venomedveins) (79K): you have no idea how much I love this fic. I would dare say I love it as much as I love pistacchios. And I love pistacchios A LOT. 
I want to be just as close as the holy ghost is by devilinmybrain (venomedveins) (35K): As Dj Khaled would say... ANOTHER ONE. This is my love letter for @thedevilinmybrain I’m not sorry. 
Babydoll blues by devilinmybrain (venomedveins) (111K): my comfort fic. I read it when I wanna feel something. Hottest one on AO3. So hot it’s dangerous. They have this great ability to create this fantastic dynamic between Harry and Louis. I can’t get enough. 
And the other fave must be @larrydoinglaundry <3 
Love is a word, you gave it a name by CuckooTrooke (158K): this fic is everything. Smut, fluff, serious talk, gender talk, adventure, mental health. Waiting for the sequel like a kid waits for Christmas morning. 
This chemistry like candy to me by CuckooTrooke (35K): If you have ever asked me for an omega Harry fic rec, this one is the first one I mentioned. 100% recommended by me to literally anyone lmao. it’s the fluffiest, most endearing, I like the way the author explores and navigates some events.
83 notes · View notes
mypoisonedvine · a year ago
𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader
𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol
Tumblr media
                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  
Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.
It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…
Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.
Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.
Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.
“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.
Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.
Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.
“What is it?” you asked.
“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”
“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.
He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.
“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”
Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.
“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”
You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.
“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”
“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.
“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”
“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.
And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”
If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.
“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  
“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.
“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.
“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.
“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”
“My friend brought me,” you defended.
“Under what guise?” he pressed.
“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’
“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  
“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”
“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”
Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.
“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”
“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”
You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.
“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  
“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.
“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  
“I’d love to.”
Tumblr media
So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.
But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.
“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”
You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.
His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.
“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”
“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.
“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.
Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.
By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  
He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  
Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.
He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.
You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.
Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  
They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.
His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  
Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  
With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.
It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).
“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”
He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  
“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”
A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.
Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”
“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”
“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”
“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”
“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”
What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?
And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”
Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.
Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  
His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.
"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."
You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.
"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"
With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.
You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.
“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.
Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.
And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."
“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  
“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.
It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.
And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.
“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.
“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.
“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.
“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”
His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.
All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.
Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.
"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.
"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."
"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"
"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.
He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.
The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.
You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.
"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."
"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"
He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.
You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.
He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.
Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.
It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.
But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.
He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.
You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.
In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.
As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.
He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.
If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.
You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.
“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”
“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  
You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.
"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.
"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."
"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"
"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.
"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.
"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  
When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.
As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.
All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.
Tumblr media
Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.
You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.
Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.
You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.
When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.
When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.
And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.
For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).
Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.
"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.
"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."
You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.
"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”
“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.
“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.
“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.
He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”
“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”
“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."
“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”
“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.
"Do what?"
"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."
"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."
Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.
You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”
He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.
“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”
You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.
“Professor…” you whispered.
“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”
A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”
He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.
“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”
His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.
It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.
“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.
So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.
"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.
"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.
"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."
He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."
"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  
"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.
"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.
"Then bend over my desk."
{part 2}
2K notes · View notes
st-juliet · 3 months ago
Utmost Merit, Part II
Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes
Summary: Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.
Content: 18+ for suggestive language (breeding kink is the star of this fic) and smut, specifically our heroine being fingered sort of in public (indoors and uninterrupted), and frank discussion of pregnancy.
Notes: I prefer giving a name to the Reader rather than using Y/N, but I hope you will make the appropriate substitutes in your imagination. And hello, I’m back!!! I lost this whole chapter in a computer disaster, and then was occupied writing for my work, but I thank you for your patience, and for all the absolutely hear-soaringly lovely comments and reblogs on Part I of this story! Most especial thanks to my darlings: @crazybutconfidentaf  @inlovewithhisblueeyes  @donutloverxo  @ghotifishreads​
Previous Chapter: Part I
Tumblr media
The necessary legal and social arrangements were made with your brothers’ assistance, but when it came to the logistical matters, you and Sherlock had been left to your own devices, which in this particular instance meant that you invited him along for one of your early morning walks, on a beautiful sunny day, to discuss the particulars of your wedding.
“This is very peaceful,” he remarks, and you note with a pang of undeniable tenderness that he has matched his pace to yours, slowing his long strides to match your smaller steps. “I confess I am not always up before noon unless a client calls, but I’m beginning to see the appeal of the sunrise. I hope you will not cease this practice once we are married.”
“Not when it is half the reason we will be married in the first place!” you laugh. “I hope you will find some occasion to join me, when you wish to. And I think when the baby comes—” Ah, how easily that phrase has slipped into both of your vocabularies. “—I might have a little companion to perambulate with me.”
“You certainly shall. And we must spend summers on the estate—there you may walk for leagues in the woods and fields…I hardly know the extent of the grounds myself. And we might honeymoon there, as well.”
“I would be honored, Sherlock.”
“But we must of course set the date. When would you be married?”
“I see no reason to delay,” you reply, hopeful that he will not think your enthusiasm too bold.
“Excellent.” He nods approvingly. “Let us see: in three weeks’ time the reading of the banns shall be completed, so perhaps the ceremony could be held on the following Saturday? Will that give you time to caparison yourself as you prefer? I wouldn’t want to deny you the joy of your bridal provisions.”
“My gown will certainly be completed by then…and if I am a few handkerchiefs or nightgowns shy of a full trousseau, I’m sure you will not cast me aside!”
“I will not. Nightgowns are welcome…but by no means required.”
He casually glances away from you, then cuts his eyes back with a somewhat suggestive smile. Your careless joke has sparked a flirtatious tone in him that is a complete revelation to you. The Great Detective, flirtatious? Moveable by a nightgown? He had professed himself anything but a romancer, but in this moment, you thought he might not know the extent of his power…nor neither of you the extent of yours. But all these thoughts—of how you might move him yet further, of how your heart whispered that this was not just lust, not just the chance of a child, but something more, that drew you to him—are dispersed by the sensation of his hand brushing against yours, the offer of his arm, which you accept, bringing you a little closer together as you walk.
“Rosamund, let us endeavor to be entirely honest with one another.”
“A fine foundation for marriage,” you concur, trying to breathe deeply but not obviously to still your racing, reckless heart.
“Indeed. And upon that foundation, will you tell me if you are aware of the manner in which a child is conceived and borne?”
“Yes, I am. In theory. My parents were quite…quite bohemian in some respects, and thought it best I were properly, scientifically educated, for my own protection and my wellbeing in marriage.”
“I am very glad to hear it. And if you—should you have questions about anything, which I might answer more specifically or, as you say, scientifically, than your married friends, I entreat you to ask. We have nothing to be ashamed of between us.”
“Thank you, Sherlock,” you say, emotion welling behind each word. You walk in comfortable silence for a moment, before remembering your purpose:
“Oh, and—pardon me, if we might return to the day of the marriage proper—I was distracted—“ You laugh a little, hoping you are not so flushed in the face as you feel. “I would like to host a wedding breakfast at my—my brothers’ home, for my friends and for yours, if you do not object. A farewell to my childhood home, and a way to bring the old and new together.”
“Excellent; I should enjoy that as well. And on a similar subject: there is the matter of our own home. We have spoken already of the estate, of course, but my business will keep me in London most of the year.”
“Then we will stay with you. You should not have to take a train to see your children.”
This brings out a particularly beaming smile. Who in the world could have ever thought this man—this vibrant, capricious, thoughtful, witty man—an automaton? Does he even know, you muse, how dearly, wonderfully human he is?
“I presently reside in lodgings at Baker Street, and will maintain the flat to serve as my office—for the sake of your safety and privacy—but I mean to purchase a home, perhaps in Belgravia, that would be more suitable for our family. In fact, I will be viewing a house this very afternoon and have some hopes it may prove ideal.”
“May I accompany you?” you ask, and he smiles in surprise, and evident pleasure.
“But of course,” he answers. “Forgive me—I ought to have asked you to begin with. I did not mean to exclude you from the decision.”
“Not at all. It is something new for both of us—to think as part of a pair and not simply for oneself. We will both need to get accustomed to it.”
“You make it very easy to do so, Rosamund.”
Somehow, it is this simple, unromantic compliment, even more than his allusive comment about your nightgowns, which truly makes you blush, and your heart sing in your breast.
He makes it easy, too.
That afternoon, you arrive together at the house, met by the current proprietors’ solicitor who takes you on a tour. Sherlock rigorously inspects floorboards, delights in a magnificent marble fireplace, and scoffs at the gauche, bird-covered wallpaper when the solicitor isn’t looking, which makes you laugh. You feel as though you learn a dozen new things about him, by virtue of what he seeks in a home, and he is granted the same insight to you: he loves the color red but cannot abide purple, you love when floorboards creak because it reminds you that you are not alone in an empty home, you would both be inclined to convert the greenhouse in the garden to a music room, neatly solving the Problem of the Midnight Violin.
On the second floor, you are introduced to an especially sumptuous library. It still bears the mark of the previous occupants; though the books are gone, chairs, settees, and a substantial desk remain.
“They have yet to cart this furniture away,” the solicitor explains. “But if you like it, we might be able to arrange to purchase it with the house?”
“It is a little old-fashioned, perhaps but there is something picturesque in the antiquity,” you offer.
“I agree,” Sherlock answers. “And it would save us a good deal of trouble, to have some furnishings already provided. Sir, will you make your inquiry? The cost is not of consequence.”
“Of course. I’ll return—please do make yourselves at home in the meantime!”
The man departs, and as his footsteps down the stairs fade, Sherlock paces about, examining the library as thoroughly as if searching for clues.
“It is all very dark and dusty,” he observes. “I don’t mind the former and we can easily set right the latter—but I wouldn’t want to condemn you to the shadows.”
“These windows face the West,” you note, and with an easy tug, you pull aside the curtain to reveal an exquisite sunset, painting the drab room anew with lovely, light colors. “We may have light or dark as we choose.”
Sherlock comes to stand beside you in the streams of fading light, and you are struck again by his handsome features. It always takes you off guard, how his magnificent eyes, curving lips, and sharp jaw affect you. This is meant to be a matter of business, of family, of providing a good man with a deserved heir…but still, you find yourself somewhat giddy, playing house with your husband-to-be, and seat yourself in the chair by the window, even daring to raise your arms in imitation of cradling a baby. “And here, Mr. Holmes…a more complete picture for your consideration. What do you think of it now?”
“Well, this is in all ways ideal,” he avers, smiling at your pose, and—seemingly without thought, on a sudden impulse, he kneels beside you, looking first into your eyes, then letting his gaze wander to your posed arms with their imaginary child, and down further still to your skirts spread about you. Almost transfixed, he fingers the lace at the hem of your light walking gown.
“Allow me to say that I have always appreciated the way you dress,” he states, his voice low and deliberate as he continues to trace the trim…and then his hand slips beneath your skirt. “It becomes you so well…soft and simple and fresh…”
His fingertips brush your ankle, your calf, your knee and you smother a gasp, but you cannot possibly pull away. Such an intimate touch sets your skin aflame through the silk of your stockings, and you find yourself pressing against his touch, encouraging the caress as his hand climbs higher.
“Tell me, has your scientific education found any practical application?” he asks, his voice calm but intent as he strokes maddeningly gentle, light circles on your thigh through the fabric of your drawers. Your blush deepens.
“As I have said before, sir, I am…curious…” you manage, and you nearly shatter in an instant as he boldly, shamelessly finds your most sensitive place and begins to circle that bundle of nerves, guided by touch alone beneath the many layers of cloth that still separate you. He huffs in satisfaction as your hips move in time with his hand, seeking more friction, more heat, more closeness.
“My god, I can feel you—you’re wet for me—why, Rosamund, was it me you thought of in your curiosity, hmm? Have you wondered what it will feel like, when I take you to my bed?”
“Yes, oh, Sherlock,” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand and glancing furtively at the door, terrified that at any moment the gentleman may return…and not for fear of your reputation, you realize, but because it means Sherlock would stop. And he cannot, he must not stop—it is too, too good—
“You want this, don’t you, Mrs. Holmes?” he murmurs, and your heart swells at the sound of your soon-to-be name falling from his lips. His sharp, keen eyes are fixed on yours as he moves his hand faster, more urgently. “You want to come for me, like a good, obedient wife and call out my name while I put a baby in you…“
You want it. You want it more than anything.
And in mere moments, you do come for him, just as he says, pressing your hand tighter against your mouth to stifle the absolutely indecent sounds that threaten to reveal your compromised state. He works you through your peak, whispering, “Good girl, good girl…”
And then, reality returns.
You stare at each other for a long moment, both of you crashing down to earth even as you tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Hastily, but not at all ungently, he withdraws his hand and stands, putting distance between you as you right your clothes and rise from the chair, both of you breathing deeply.
“Please, Miss Marlow, I must ask you to forgive me. I let my…my inclinations run away with me. I meant no disrespect—“
“I think there can be nothing to forgive!” you reassure him at once. This is a side you have not seen of the man you are to marry: he is uncomfortable, apologetic, almost shy as he glances back at you over his shoulder. “You yourself said we have nothing to be ashamed of between us, and you seek to satisfy my understanding of my own body, not any prurient or selfish desire.”
“You think very well of me,” he replies doubtfully, but his posture eases and his voice is a little less constricted.
“I have reason to, sir,” you state firmly, and this truly seems to touch him. “And it will facilitate our purpose, will it not…for me to…feel as I have just felt?”
“Yes, I have it on medical authority that it will,” he says, returning to stand beside you, all tension melting away into a your usual, familiar ease.
“Then there is utmost merit in practice.” He laughs softly, and you cannot help but tease him a little further. “Even under such daring circumstances.”
“I am somewhat wont to run into danger,” he admits.
“Then I will simply have to run after you. Sherlock.”
He inclines his head, and you tilt yours up to meet his kiss—
“You can keep the furniture!”
A voice in the doorway, the eager solicitor, interrupts you, and you draw apart, assuming a more respectable distance at once.
“Well, what do you think of it, sir?”
Sherlock glances down at you and pulls out his chequebook.
“We’ll take it.”
Tumblr media
<3<3<3 If you liked this story, please do comment, reblog, or visit my masterlist! And here’s Part III!
110 notes · View notes
jkstompers · a year ago
passing notes | jjk
Tumblr media
pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader
summary: a year of crushing and jungkook’s finally asked you out on a proper date. 
genre: classmates to lovers??!, established friendship, they go on a date <3, jk is so stressed out, !fancy restaurant warning!, jk is A GENTLEMAN!! but wbk, oc is a nerd but is BOLD AF!!
warnings: mature!! (18+!!), SMUT,...they make out, LOTS of built up tension is let out tonite!, fingering, praise kink, handjob, backseat action, semi-public sex?? very strong language, jk overuses the nickname ‘baby’
word count: 9k
author’s note: pt. 3 of seatmate!jk. WE’VE GOT SOME FILTH TODAY PPL!!!!!!! this is my first time releasing a piece of writing that has smut in it so pls!! let me know what u think!!! i’m open to criticism but i cry easily so… pls pls be nice (T▽T) LMAO!! i also completely made up the program for ocean scientists that oc talks about LMAO i just needed her to ramble for a bit hahahah
additional note: also pls imagine jungkook looking like this in class and then wearing this for their date. also if ur curious, this is what i imagined oc’s dress to look like :)
okay enjoy!! thank u ( ˘ ³˘)
Tumblr media
it was the end of the semester and of course, the only time jungkook would be running late to class was when he was finally going to ask you out on a date. so far, everything seems to be going against the idea. his alarm didn’t go off on time, the shower took way too long to warm up, and his car was low on gas. now he’s speed walking, almost running, to lecture to make sure that his seat next to you isn’t taken. 
he wants to make sure this goes perfectly. he spent the past two weeks stressing over the plans. asking for recommendations for nice restaurants in the city in almost every group chat he was in. his friend (the one with parents as ceo’s, eunwoo), helped him and got him a reservation at this one five star restaurant that jungkook’s never been to. eunwoo told him that it was the prettiest place he’s ever been to, said it would be perfect for a first date. 
jungkook specifically remembers you telling him that you’ve never gone on an actual dinner date. ice cream dates, movie theater dates, and amusement park dates were what you were used to. there was nothing wrong with that, it’s just that you’ve never experienced a candlelit dinner at a restaurant, that’s it. jungkook just wanted to be the first one to experience it with you. 
so when his morning starts off this shitty, he wonders if his plans are falling apart. he tries to keep a good, positive mindset, but he’s already so nervous and the universe seems to be telling him: don’t do it, she’ll reject you, you’re gonna look stupid in front of her. 
meanwhile, you’re early this lecture. it was the last class of the semester and you were hoping that you could get a nice conversation with jungkook in before it started. the two of you have gotten a lot closer since you last hung out. the chain of events starting with you apologizing for being so embarrassing, 
[12:44 pm] you: jungkook!!! oh my god i am so sorry for last night 😭
[12:45 pm] you: i don’t take alcohol very well 😖
[12:50 pm] jungkook: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
[12:50 pm] jungkook: no need to apologize! are u feeling sick? hungover? 
[12:52 pm] you: omg no not really
[12:52 pm] you: ur a great drinking buddy, i owe u one 🥺
[12:53 pm] jungkook: it’s alright cutie
[12:54 pm] jungkook: just happy ur feeling okay :) 
[12:56 pm] you: let me make it up to u 😭 i’ll buy us lunch one of these days? 
[12:57 pm] jungkook: ah no can do cutie 
[12:57 pm] jungkook: have to buy u dinner first 
the thought of the conversation makes you smile. that one conversation starting the domino effect of the two of you talking almost everyday for the past two weeks. you couldn’t help but expect jungkook to at least be here, but if he didn’t wanna come, then he didn’t have to. 
you sat in your seat, patiently waiting for the one next to you to be filled by him. the hall was starting to fill now and class was about to start. you look around one last time to see that jungkook is still nowhere to be seen, and that a familiar brown-haired guy was beginning to walk up to you. 
“hello, ___! is this seat taken?” taehyung smiles brightly, you look down at the seat next to you. your bag saving the spot for jungkook. maybe he skipped this lecture, since it was practically for nothing anyway, you’ve already taken the final and there was no other material to learn, it was more so to wrap things up and see if anyone still needed to understand something. 
your brain comes to a conclusion. you remove your bag and say, “no, go ahead,” to taehyung with a small smile on your face, one that hides the disappointment riddling your mind. 
it’s about five minutes after the professor starts talking when jungkook finally walks in. he looks up to try and find you as he walks up the steps of the auditorium. his eyes land on you and taehyung, chatting amongst yourselves. he can’t help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy, that’s his seat. even though there were no assigned seats, the place next to you was always his, that’s just how it was, and seeing someone else sitting there, especially taehyung, makes jungkook’s green monster pop out. 
you feel a presence step behind you while you were talking to taehyung, and before you know it, jungkook is sitting in the seat next to taehyung. “oh! good morning, jungkook!” you’re smiling to him. he doesn’t grant you one of his regular vocal responses, rather he gives you a tight-lipped grin before he leans back into his chair and focuses on whatever the professor was saying. 
maybe he was jealous. witnessing you and taehyung having a wonderful conversation, one that makes you smile and laugh like he does. you didn’t even notice him when he came up the stairs, only greeting him when he sat down. no, he was definitely jealous. 
you’re stealing glances his way, pretending to be interested in whatever taehyung is talking about. he’s wearing the most boyfriend-est outfit in the world. a white long sleeve with grey sweatpants, his long hair tied up in a ponytail. you’re unconsciously biting your lip as you stare at him, he’s just so cool. he’s not even doing much other than looking straight forward. but this angle lets you see his sharp jawline and his side profile perfectly. 
you felt bad, one hundred percent. you should have told taehyung that the seat was taken, because now he was talking your ear off and you didn’t mind it, but you wanted someone else to be talking your ear off and it was the guy sitting next to him. 
when taehyung changes his focus to your professor talking about a summer he had in paris. you steal another glance at jungkook. you catch him staring at you, your eyes meet. he doesn’t keep the connection, cutting it off by moving his head and looking straight ahead. his jaw clenches, arms coming over and across his chest. he seems angry, you pick up on the energy now. an idea pops in your head to try and make him feel better. reaching into your bag to find one of your index cards, writing a message on it. 
feeling okay? 
you scoot your chair back a bit, pretending to stretch as you tap jungkook’s shoulder. he turns his head to you, eyebrows raised. you hand him the paper. he stares at first, eyes flickering between you and the paper. reluctantly, he takes it, unfolding his crossed arms to receive the note. you scoot back into your seat and lean into the table, lowering your chin onto the desk. 
jungkook tries to hide his smile as he reads your little note. how could he ever stay mad at you? it wasn’t your fault he was late. so he replies, his black ink has a stark contrast against your green highlighter. he can already feel his bad mood brightening. 
yeah, didn’t save me a seat? :( 
this time he folds the note, handing it to taehyung and telling him to pass it to you. “really? you’re passing notes? we’re in college, jeon.” taehyung snickers as he slides the paper towards you. 
you let a small laugh, reading the note. taehyung’s scolding continues as you write your response on the index card. you changed your green highlighter out with a blue pen. 
i came super early :( waited 20 mins for u </3 but i didn’t think u were coming so i let taehyung sit here 
you send it back and watch jungkook’s somewhat straight face contort into a smile. there it is, the smile that you know and love. 
jungkook on the other hand could cry. you came early. you waited for him. god, had he royally fucked this up. he makes his mind up now. 
i’m sorry :( let me make it up to u? can i take you out on a date tonight? 
check: ◯  yes ◯ no 
jungkook keeps the paper for a good minute, reading the note over and over again, thinking about how childish this way of asking is. but at the same time, jungkook knows that if he talks to you about it after class, he’ll gloss over the words and never ask you. letting the reservation and plans he made weeks ago render themselves useless. it was now or never. 
so he fully sends it, tapping your shoulder and giving it to you directly. you open the note and scan the words, sending him the sweetest look he’s ever received in his life. he thinks that would be a yes. he hopes. you write something onto the card and pass it back to him, your hand grazing his for a second. 
⚫ yes :) ♡ ◯ no 
the rest of the class passes pretty quickly. not that you were paying any attention. jungkook had emailed you a link to a game that the two of you could play, a weird version of snakes. jungkook kept cheating, you swore it, but in all honesty, you knew you couldn’t compete when it came to jungkook and his computer games. a clap from the professor breaks your attention from your screen, “alright, that was the last class of anatomy 101!” he then goes on a two minute long speech thanking the entire class for their great work this past year. he ends his ment with, “good luck and make good decisions! have a fun summer!” 
you take your time packing your things, a little too long for someone that just has a laptop to put into their bag. taehyung says goodbye to the both of you and leaves first, the seat in between you both empty. now it was just the two of you. a small blush creeps onto your cheeks. you were well past your high school crush phase, but jungkook makes you feel so shy again. 
you try to hide it by speaking first, “so, a date?” 
he sends you that award winning smile that makes you swoon. “yeah, did you change your mind?” 
you shake your head. “is it casual? fancy? want me to wear a dress again?” you tease, finally pushing your computer into your bag and standing. 
jungkook gulps. you looked so pretty that night in a dress. “fancy,” he answers, “you can wear a dress if you want, pantsuits are cool too— whatever you want.” he finishes packing as well, standing next to you as you both begin to walk down the stairs. 
“okay then,” you smile. “what time should i be ready?” 
“i’ll come and pick you up at seven, is that okay?” he replies, hand in his pockets. you both make your way out of the room and start to move towards the parking lot. 
“sounds good,” you nod, approaching your car. jungkook walks you to your door, his eyes focused on your sweet smile and your eyes. if jungkook didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were leaning closer towards him. a small laugh leaves your throat. “see you later, kookie.” 
he sends you a smile, the nickname tugging at his heartstrings. the realization hits him after you’ve already driven away and he’s sitting in the driver seat of his car. an embarrassing blush covers his face, he takes a deep breath and laughs to himself. finally. a year of crushing and he’s finally asked you on a proper date. 
Tumblr media
jungkook is quite frankly, freaking the fuck out. he isn’t sure what to wear and his hair isn’t working with him. the long strands seemingly out to make his life a living hell when he tries to style it. one strand always looks out of place, or the way that it parts doesn’t sit right. he’s pacing his bathroom, debating if he should just shower again and take all the stupid fucking product out of his hair. 
he gives in after ten minutes of deliberation. a quick shower removing all the wax and gel from his hair. the ends of his hair dripping when he goes to check his phone, the time reading: 6:45. he was gonna be late to pick you up. now he’s full on panicking. he has no other choice then to skip the hair product all together and just let his hair dry and part on it’s own. he slides on his all black fancy outfit he had planned out just in case the first one didn’t work out. he steps out of his apartment after grabbing his car keys, wallet, and the flowers he bought earlier in the day for you. 
a friend of his works in a flower shop. jungkook remembers you saying  that you like all flowers and that you couldn’t choose if you had to. so his friend asked what you were like, trying to figure out a way to style the bouquet without knowing your favorites. jungkook said the general things; you’re sweet like an apple, probably sweeter, like candy. you’re so pretty, it’s blessing that he’s able to lay his eyes upon you. you’re smart, too smart for him to flirt stupidly like he always does, ‘cause you outsmart him and flirt with him back in a wittier way. you’re— that was enough information, his friend told him he was babbling again. jungkook only had to wait ten minutes for his friend to finish fixing up a beautiful bouquet for you. 
the bouquet is placed on the passenger seat as he starts his car, texting you when he realizes it’s almost five minutes until 7. 
[6:54 pm] jungkook: fuck 
[6:54 pm] jungkook: i’m gonna be a little late
[6:55 pm] jungkook: i swear i’m not standing u up
[6:55 pm] jungkook: ok i’m putting my phone down to drive to u now, sorry cutie!! 
[6:57 pm] you: ah okay! 
[6:57 pm] you: i was getting a little worried haha
[6:58 pm] you: see u in a bit <3
jungkook drives safely, but efficiently to your apartment. the drive only taking about five minutes because the stop lights were gracing him with green lights his entire way to you. he parks right in front, grabbing the flowers and hopping out of the car. when he knocks on your door, he starts to feel his nerves work against him. the adrenaline from rushing here gave him enough energy to hype himself up, but now as he’s standing here at your door, waiting for you to answer, his throat starts to dry and his hands start to sweat. 
the metal door slides open, revealing you. in your silk dress, draping over your body in the most flattering way. the neckline deliciously hangs down to reveal your cleavage ever so slightly and the slit on the dress, displaying your thigh teasingly. jungkook is speechless at his first glance at you. his eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open, catching himself drooling once you step out from your apartment. 
“h— hi, you look— wow,” he stumbles over his words, taking a step back to admire you once again. “you’re fucking stunning.”  
you brush your hair back behind your ear, your hand covering the blush covering your cheeks. “thank you, you look very handsome, jungkook.” you reach out and play with his black tie. he looks down when you do, remembering that he was holding a bouquet of flowers for you. 
he holds them out, “these are for you.” like a kid giving his crush a dandelion he picked from the grass. 
“these are gorgeous, jungkook! thank you.” you look up to him with your signature sweet eyes, the ones that never fail to make him melt. “just give me one sec, i’ll put these down and then we can go?” you ask, holding onto the bouquet and waiting for him to respond. a quick nod is all you need to open your door and place them in the fridge. you come out a few seconds later, locking your door and standing by jungkook again. 
“that was fast,” he comments. he holds his arm out for you to hold, which you gratefully take. 
“i just put them in the fridge, my grandma showed me the trick, it helps them live a little longer,” you explain. the two of you walking out to his parked car. he never lets your hand touch the handle, always opening the door for you. 
“when they die, i’ll just buy you new ones.” closing the door for you and making his way to the drivers seat. 
you scrunch your nose. when he comes back and joins you in the car, you voice your worry. “it’s kind of a waste, don’t you think?” 
he shakes his head, “if it’s for you, nothing’s a waste.” 
jungkook was a professional with his words. always rendering you speechless. 
with that he starts the car and begins driving into the busier part of seoul. he makes his way into the restaurants parking garage, the building looks to be about five stories. the architecture itself looks expensive, you wonder where jungkook is taking you tonight. he parks the car, turning off the engine, and moving to open the door for you. he takes your hand and you hold onto your dress, fixing it once you get out of the car. god, you’re so pretty. he was so nervous. 
“ready, my lady?” he smiles, his arm out for you to hold. 
it makes you laugh, a snort almost. “i’ve never seen you so proper, mr. jeon.” 
“only for you,” he winks. your heels click against the concrete floor as he leads the two of you into the building. the high ceilings and multiple chandeliers are what greet you first, the brightness of the place giving the sun something to rival. jungkook brings you over to the waiting area, telling you to wait for a minute as he checks you guys in. 
this was crazy to say the least. the last time you went on a date, it was to the movie theaters. you’ve never been in a place like this; a doorman greeting every guest as they walk in, checking in to eat, multi-story, etc. the more you look around, the cooler it is. “let’s go?” jungkook’s voice makes you turn your head. you stand, taking his hand. 
the two of you follow a man wearing a black and white suit, with a long tail jacket. he brings you to the elevators, holding the doors open for you both. you step in and he presses the fifth button, which was the top floor. you squeeze jungkook’s hand. he repeats the action, looking to you and silently asking if you were okay with the look in his eyes and the raise of his eyebrows. you nod, a smile on your face. 
with that the elevator doors open, the metal doors sliding apart to reveal a private terrace. only a couple tables on the entire floor. a few people sitting down and enjoying their dinners. beautiful greenery surrounding the perimeter, the night sky only making it prettier. your mouth is left agape, you’re stuck in the elevator, speechless. jungkook gently tugs you forward, following the suit man to the table. 
jungkook pulls your chair out for you. you could cry at the chivalry. you sit and he pushes the chair in, jungkook follows soon, sitting in the chair across from you. the man hands the two of you the menu and moves away from the table, standing back near to the elevator, waiting until you are both ready to order. 
“this is fucking crazy,” you whisper-shout. the terrace was lit by these bright fairy lights that were hidden in the plants and were above the tables as well. it looked like little fairies and fire flies were in the air, roaming around. 
“i know right!” jungkook looked as surprised as you were. “i asked my friends for some help and holy shit!” 
“they know you’re on a date with me right now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. 
to this he furrows his eyebrows, “of course they do, i talk about you all the time—”but he stops himself from exposing himself any further. you can’t help but giggle. “i mean, i asked them to help me make this special, and here we are.” 
you swoon. he’s so sweet for planning all of this out and wanting to make you feel special. the two of you look through the menu, jungkook warns you not to look at the prices, telling you to get whatever you want because the price doesn’t matter. but of course, your eyes stray to the numbers, the meals costing a pretty penny for a simple spaghetti plate, the cheapest thing on there. you were craving pasta anyway, you didn’t mind. the two of you order and wait for the food to arrive. 
the city of seoul was just below you, not too high but high enough to turn people into smaller figures of themselves. the night lights look gorgeous from up here. the warm summer night only complimenting the gorgeous atmosphere. 
“the view is so pretty,” you gaze out into the city. the pretty colors from all the lights of the different stores and restaurants complementing each other so beautifully. 
jungkook was in awe, he knows that the city below you is gorgeous, but he can’t seem to get his eyes off of you. your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyes search through the streets. “yeah…” he agrees, “very beautiful.” he smiles, only looking at you. 
the food comes and you both dig in. the two of you enjoy some conversation with each other as you eat. the topic of growing up comes up, both of you explaining the occupations you wanted, and you said something that sparked curiosity in jungkook. “your childhood dream was to live in california?” he smiles, chewing on his steak. most of the time kids dream about going to the moon or finding atlantis, but you wanted to go to america? 
you nod, “sounds funny right? when i was a teen, i watched a lot of 90210.” 
“is that all though? you only wanted to go because of a tv show?” he asks. there’s something you’re hiding, and jungkook can see it in the way that you hide your smile. 
at first, you hesitate, but you open your mouth to speak, “well— there is— no, it’s embarrassing.” you shake your head, changing your mind and reverting your eyes down. staring at the plate of pasta in front of you. guys you talked to didn’t wanna hear about it, they thought what you were into was boring, embarrassing almost. a part of you feared that jungkook would feel the same. 
you feel his hand on your chin, tilting your head up. “i wanna hear about it.” his face telling you the truth, the sincerity in his eyes as he patiently waits for you to explain. 
“there’s this science program in california, they explore new ideas for researching the ocean, like trying to see what lurks in the deep blue, helping fix the rising oceans, everything-- oh my god, and they like go on field trips to different countries to see the coastlines and historical sites—” you cut yourself off when you realize that you’re talking at the speed of light. “i’m rambling.” you were terrified to see his reaction. 
but when your eyes finally meet jungkook’s, they’re full of light. and his smile is so big. “dude, that’s so dope!” he grins, “i didn’t know you were so into the ocean!” 
it was the bare minimum, being nice, but that was hard to find when it came to the majority of the male species. obviously, jungkook is above average, he only proves that the more time you spend with him. 
“oh, i love it! my parents would bring me to the beach and i would cry every time we would have to leave, aquariums too, and the fish section in the pet stores.” you gush, leaning into the table to tell jungkook more. he leans into his hand, resting his cheek against his fist as he listens to you spill your knowledge and love. 
he notes that the next date should be at the beach or an aquarium. it was a great time for him to learn this, especially since it was summer. the weather in favor of the cold ocean waves. jungkook swears he can listen to you talk until the end of time. your sweet voice can be the narration to his life, he’d never get sick of it. 
the food on both of your plates had been cleared, the conversation sizzling into a comfortable silence before the man came back to give you the bill. jungkook doesn’t let you see it, instead just sticking his card in the black folder thing, and giving it back to the fancy suit man. it wasn’t long before he came back, handing jungkook back his card and giving the both of you a lollipop with gold flakes encased inside. 
you gasp at the piece of candy, now that was ridiculous. you weren’t one to reject a lollipop though, gratefully taking the candy and popping it into your mouth. jungkook does the same. it tastes of blueberry. at this point he stands up, moving in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “let’s look around? i heard they have a cool museum on the second floor.” 
you take his hand, “i love museums!” the two of you make your way to the elevator, the man (he never told you his name) kept the door open for you both. he presses the second floor button when jungkook asks him for the museum. the elevator landing on the second floor, the doors slide open to show a completely empty art hall. this place shocking you every chance it gets. you didn’t think it could get better, but it did. 
when the two of you exit the elevator, the man leaves you to it, taking the elevator down and leaving you alone. your eyes scan the place, huge paintings on the walls, small paintings in collages, some sculptures on the floor, it felt like a pop-up museum. you both make your way down the enormous hallway, both sides of the room’s wall displaying works of art. you stop at one specific painting, the familiar work has you spewing random facts. “these are the lovers! i had to analyze this once,” you speak. the art displaying a couple kissing, both of their heads covered by a white sheet. “the real one is in australia, i think.” you laugh, tapping the lollipop against your lips. 
jungkook listens intently, but he doesn’t pay attention to the painting on the wall. everytime he does, his eyes always revert to you. the art doesn’t stand a chance against you in his book. you, yourself, were a piece of art, one that was rare in this world, one of a kind. 
he can’t seem to resist. taking your hand and raising it over your head, the way that they do in ballroom dancing. if a twirl was what he wanted, then so he got it. “beautiful,” he compliments, pulling you in close for a hug. the two of you swaying in the middle of the hall of this stupidly expensive restaurant. 
you look up to him, making full eye contact as the two of you lean on one foot to the other. probably looking like a lovesick couple, getting lost in the moment. which, you were. your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his lips, he seems to do the same thing. his hand moves to caress your face, the swaying ceased. now the two of you are centimeters apart, noses brushing against each other. if jungkook doesn’t kiss you now, he thinks he’ll combust. so when he feels you pushing forward, he does the same, meeting you in the middle. your lips connect. the kiss almost identical to the painting in front of you. 
jungkook swears he felt himself levitating. your lips are sweet, the blueberry flavor of the lollipop lingering on them. he’s had his fair share of kisses in his life. makeouts, pecks, cheek kisses, all types of kisses. but something about this one tells him that he’s in for it. he’ll never be able to get enough now that he’s gotten a taste. 
neither of you want to take it too far; swallowing each other's faces in a distinguished, five star restaurant’s museum didn’t seem very proper. so the two of you make your way out of the building, thanking everyone at the front desk, especially the man that helped you out today, and walking into the parking garage where jungkook’s car was. 
when you get to his car, he moves to open the passenger door for you but you stop him with a hand on his arm. you reach to open the back door handle and his eyes almost bulge out. everyone knows what happens in the backseat, and jungkook did not prepare himself for something like this. 
you look up at him with the most innocent eyes, but there’s something devious hidden in your smile when you ask, “do you wanna talk for a bit longer? in the backseat? it’s more comfortable than sitting in the front.” 
jungkook never took you for someone this bold. it’s either you didn’t know the meaning of the backseat (which was totally fine) or you knew very well, and had plans to devour jungkook (which was also totally fine).
he chickens out, his hands starting to sweat. “do you want to just go for a little walk or something?” it’s not like jungkook didn’t want anything to happen, it’s that he did. if he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from it. he walks a tightrope around you when it comes to his self control. one wrong move, and he’s terrified that he’ll fuck everything up. 
“oh, it’s just my feet kinda hurt from these heels.” you pout, lifting you foot up to show him the almost stiletto heel. 
his eyes widen. why didn’t he think of that? “oh— oh shit, i didn’t even— yeah, let’s sit.” he tugs on the door, letting you slide into the back seat. he follows, leaving a good amount of space between you both to make sure that there was nothing too suspicious going on. you hope your bold moves hide your nervousness, despite your confidence, jungkook’s unsure looks make you want to curl up into a ball. did he not want this? 
the air was different now. in the restaurant the two of you had been so carefree, slow dancing in the museum, and landing a sweet kiss on each other’s lips. but now, an uncomfortable silence tears at the two of you. your hesitance makes you speak, trying to see if a conversation would ease the tension in the air. “i had a lot of fun tonight, kookie, thank you.” 
it seems to comfort jungkook, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. with a small smile on his face he replies, “me too, i was really nervous you wouldn’t like the food.” 
“oh it was good! i’ll eat anything really, it’s just—“
“you didn’t like the place? was it too much—“
“no, jungkook, oh my god— i loved it, it was just really expensive, i still feel really bad about you paying for all of it,” you look to him seriously. “let me give you at least my half?” 
he shakes his head, “i asked you out on this date, it means i pay, don’t worry about the price.” 
you roll your eyes playfully, “big spender huh?”
a pretty laugh escapes his lips. “hard worker too.” 
to this you smile, you stare at his impossibly-perfect face, noticing a stray eyelash on his cheek. you see a chance to strike and you take it immediately. you lean forward to swipe it off. jungkook almost leans into your touch. he’s so terrified that he’ll embarrass himself right now, so he’s been holding back tremendously. but the way you pick the eyelash off and place it on your thumb with a smile on your face, it eases most of the tension in his chest. 
“make a wish!” you hold your thumb up to his lips. his eyes cross to look at the piece of hair on your finger, but nevertheless he obliged. shutting his eyes tight, making a wish, and blowing the eyelash off of your thumb. 
you let out a small cheer before you ask him, “what’d you wish for?” 
“if i told you then my wish wouldn’t come true, right?” he boops your nose. suddenly, jungkook doesn’t feel so nervous. his nerves calming at the feeling of your soft hands against his face. you make him so nervous, but at the same time you make him so comfortable and make him want to be himself. it seems as though the two of you were staring at each other for a while. jungkook was thinking about how much he likes you, the same ideas run through your mind. the thoughts make you wish for something more. 
“can i kiss you again, kookie?” 
he stares at you, weighing his options. if he kisses you now, then he has to strategically only give you a few kisses, he absolutely cannot make out with you, or else, jungkook will succumb to his desires.
but he takes a little too long to respond. the both of you overthinking the fuck out of the situation. it makes you draw back. “it’s okay if you don’t want—“ 
“no, no, please, kiss me,” he brings you back, moving closer to you. licking his lips in anticipation as you slowly push forward, closing the gap between you both. the kiss is so sweet, like the one in the museum. jungkook can still taste the blueberry lingering on your lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing you. 
you pull away first. your eyes scanning his face to see any expression of regret. there’s none. his hand moves to the side of your face, caressing your face and bringing you to him once again to meet your lips. he can’t get enough. “tell me what you wished for, please,” you speak against his lips. 
he smiles into the kiss. he wasn’t going to tell you, but since you were asking so nicely, he gives you a kiss on the cheek when he answers, “i wished for a second date.” 
“oh, didn’t you know?” you kiss both of his cheeks before speaking again, “i grant wishes,” with wink.
“fuck, you’re so cute,” he thinks out loud, it makes you blush. pink cheeks out for show and jungkook thinks you look even cuter. he dives in for one more kiss, telling himself this will be the last one, but when you make sweet noises against his lips, it has him wanting more. hands moving down to your waist, pulling you in and letting you climb onto his lap. he pulls away first, trying to get a hold of himself. “i uh— actually, didn’t plan for this to happen,“ he mumbles against your skin, tripping over his words. 
you look down, arms wrapped around his neck. “hm? what did you plan?” 
“we were supposed to kiss on the next date i take you on and i didn’t think— we’re just ahead of schedule, that’s all.” jungkook tries to explain that he didn’t want to rush it, god no. he wanted to take his time, make sure that you didn’t feel pressured to do anything. but now, it seems like you’re taking the wheel and jungkook doesn’t mind it one bit.
“oh so you had like a real plan? like times and everything?” the thought of it makes you laugh, and the way that jungkook flushes makes you want to pinch his cheeks. 
he pouts when you giggle, “don’t laugh, i just really, really wanted to do it right, you’re just so amazing and i didn’t wanna fuck it up.”
you smile at his concern. the fact that you have the uni heartthrob planning dates in his head down to the details and wanting to be sure he does it right makes your head spin. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the way that your heart is beating three times the normal rate when you go to kiss him again. the only sounds in the car are labored breaths and your lips smacking together. it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into him. his growing bulge rubbing against your soaking core. a groan leaving him when you grind particularly harder, his hands moving to your ass to grip it. you melt in his arms, small whimpers leaving your throat as jungkook drinks them up
you pull away from his lips, giving his cheeks attention then leaving a trail of kisses as you make your way to his ear. one final kiss is planted below his earlobe before you whisper, “am i ruining your plans, kookie?” 
jungkook tries his best to conceal his groan, tries his best to ignore his incredibly hard dick in his jeans, but you’re so pretty and you’re on top of him, kissing him. it feels like a dream to jungkook. it is quite literally a dream come true. 
he was already playing with fire, your body a flame in the cold, he moves closer and closer until he burns. “fuck plans,” he breathes. a hand comes back to caress your face once again. filthy thoughts flooding his brain. he wonders what being in between your legs is like, what you sound like when you cum. he wants to make you cry and beg for his cock. but he holds himself back, knowing that you’ll have time to try everything out, if you wanted of course. he leans the both of you forward, his large hands splayed on your back to secure you on his lap. your lips find each other once more. “can i touch you?” he asks so sweetly, a hidden poison weaving through that you can slightly hear through the deep rumble of his voice. 
you’ve never wanted anything more. “please,” you nod. your lips chasing his when he pulls further away. 
jungkook smiles at the action. “lay on my lap, baby.” he instructs, tapping your thigh. the nickname rolling off his tongue, his voice seemingly dropping an entire octave. you raise your leg and move it over to sit on his lap, sideways. your back against the car door and his right hand rubbing your thighs ever so gently. 
“like this?” you ask, looking to him for reassurance. he looks to you with eyes that you’ve never seen, lusted and dark. 
“mhm, perfect,” he nods. “good girl.” the praise goes straight to your belly, your panties flooding from how much you want him. his hands move slowly down your inner thighs as he goes in to kiss you again. 
you’re absentmindedly spreading your legs, making room for him. he smirks against your lips when he realizes. he knows what you want, so his fingers move to your panties, lightly putting pressure over your clothed bud. you whimper at the feeling, biting his lip in the process. he moans in response, putting a little more pressure against your bundle of nerves. 
“jungkook,” you whine, pulling away from his lips, “please.” 
“please what, baby?” he kisses your cheek, “tell me what you want.”  
“please touch me, please.” you beg, making eye contact with him. jungkook’s dick twitches at the sound of your begging. he wanted to string you along a little longer, but you’re being so good. 
“since you asked so nicely, baby,” he obliges. bunching your dress up around your waist and noticing the pretty black lace underwear you were wearing, “for me?” he asks. you nod, your teeth taking in your bottom lip. he groans at the thought, you getting ready and picking out these cute, risque panties out just for him. it’s just too bad they’re gonna be on the floor on his car. he’s gonna need to ask for a rain check on admiring you and your cute underwear later.  
you lift your hips to help him, underwear coming off to reveal your soaking pussy. “oh, fuck,” jungkook murmurs at the sight of it. “you’re so wet baby.” he almost starts drooling, he can’t wait to taste you, but he’s still hesitant, only wanting to do what you want to. next time, he can eat you out. right now, he’ll admire the delicious sight and make you cum on his fingers. 
your eyes travel to the window directly in front of you, suddenly feeling insecure. thighs closing, thinking about how someone could look in and see. “what about the windows—“ 
“they’re tinted, no one can see from the outside in, i promise.” he reassures, giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek before asking, “do you still want to do this? we can stop now.” he’s so lovely, his concern and change in demeanor only making you want it more, knowing that he wouldn’t want to push you to do something you were uncomfortable with. sweet was sexy on jungkook. you never thought there would be a day that jeon jungkook fingers you in a parking lot of a five star restaurant, but here you are. and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
so you shake your head, taking his hand, and placing it back in between your legs. “please.” 
“anything for you.” he whispers in your ear before running his middle finger up your slit, collecting your wetness, and spreading it around your clit. he continues making tight circles on your clit, the sensation drives you crazy. you lean your head back against the window, moaning out. it was almost humiliating how reactive you were, you hadn’t indulged in this kind of intimacy in a while, almost a year to be specific. 
it wasn’t helping that jungkook was a fucking pro. the right amount of pressure and the placement of his digits against you has you dripping onto his nice, dress pants. you hoped nobody else was in the parking garage, else they would hear your cries of jungkook’s name. “more, kookie, more— fuck.” 
“more baby?” he questions, the sound of your moans going straight to his already hard dick. he thinks he could cum just to the sound of your voice. he’s one hundred percent fucked when it comes to you. he dips his middle finger into your hole, you gasp in reaction. “like that? hmm? ” 
jungkook knew was he was doing, he had you spread wide in the backseat of his car, already on the verge on an orgasm. he had a few years of experience on his belt, a ‘retired fuck boy’ he was, but he’s never wanted to please somebody more than he does right now with you. you just looked so pretty like this, so eager and begging for more. 
he adds his ring finger now, his thumb against your clit. “oh, god—“ you mutter, the feeling of his fingers and his thumb on your clit is too good. his fingers fucking you better than anyone else’s dick ever has. you found yourself bucking your hips against his fingers. “kookie, kiss me, please,” you look up to him with the eyes he can never fucking deny. so he kisses you, drinking up your moans as you fuck yourself up onto his fingers. 
“i didn’t know you were such a dirty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. your walls clenching around him, “letting me touch you like this in the backseat of my car?” his usual sweet demeanor now contorting into this cocky guy with an ego. it makes you even wetter. the squelch of your pussy every time his fingers push in is loud, the sound is music to jungkook’s ears. 
“only— only for you, jungkook,” you whimper.  you feel a familiar knot in your stomach tighten. he looked so hot like this. eager to please. his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a strand of his long hair dangling in front of his eyes. 
“good girl, all mine,” he kisses your neck. it may seem just like something you say during sex, but jungkook wanted it to be true. wanted you and only you. all to himself. he makes his way to a sweet spot, the feeling makes you tilt your head, giving him more access to kiss and suck along the sensitive skin. the discomfort of your back against the hard door was the last of your worries. your orgasm creeping closer and closer, juices leaking all overs his fingers. “so wet baby,” he growls, “i know i could just slide in, fuck you so good.” 
“p-please, i want it.” the thought of jungkook fucking you senseless, oh, you’d go crazy. begging wasn’t something you did when it came to sex, most of the time it was quiet, moans and breaths were the only things that you’d hear, no dirty words or praises. it was a good change, you never thought that you’d be so into being talked through it. 
he smiles at your eagerness, “patience baby, gotta take you on another date, yeah?” kissing your pursed lips. always so sweet and lovely. 
you feel his fingers push a little deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you. your reaction does something to him, makes him hit the exact same spot, over and over again, in a slow, torturous beat just so he can draw those delicious gasps and moans out of you. jungkook feels close. he’s never felt like this before, so wound up. he ignores it, pushing it to the back of his head to focus on helping you reach your climax. 
lucky for jungkook, he didn’t have to wait very long. his fingers were longer and a thicker than yours, his efforts making you get there faster than you ever could. the consistent deep strokes of his fingers make the warning signals go off in your head. you speak a verbal warning before, “fuck, i’m gonna cum,” your voice pitches a little higher than usual. 
“gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” he gives you one last sloppy kiss before you’re moaning out and coming onto his fingers, eyes screwed shut as your walls convulse rapidly as his fingers fuck you through your orgasm. “fuck, you’re so hot, ___.” 
you feel a smile break on your face. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you wink, still trying to catch your breath. a laugh slips from his mouth, small smirk on his mouth to match. he slips his fingers out, your body twitching at the over stimulation. 
 “i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. inspecting his fingers, your pale almost-white cum coating the digits. he brings them to his mouth, sucking on your sweet sap. you’ve never seen anything hotter in your life. “sweet, just like you,” he smirks. you shrink in his stare, hiding your blush. like you totally didn’t just cum on his fingers. 
you’re distracted by the feeling of something hard resting under your thigh, it’s then that you realize, “what about—“ you start but jungkook cuts you off quick. 
“no, no, it’s okay, it’ll go away soon.” he shakes his head, but you furrow your eyebrows. 
you pull on his black tie, making him lean forward and make eye contact with you “can i?” you ask, so sweetly. 
he stares at you with the most sexed eyes you’ve ever witnessed. “you’re driving me crazy.” 
“you’re always so sweet to me, jungkook,” you kiss his cheek. readjusting yourself in his lap, straddling him once more. “took me on this amazing dinner, always treating me like a princess.” your lips travel down from his cheeks to his jawline, then to his neck. he shudders at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. your hands move from around his neck to travel further down, to the latch of his belt. his breath hitches. “let me return the favor, kookie.”
“i—“ he laughs, the embarrassment evident in the pink tint on his face. “i won’t last very long.” 
you didn’t mind, just assuring him with a sweet kiss on the cheek before you start removing his belt. jungkook leans his head back on the headrest, his neck exposed for you to kiss and suck. you unbutton and unzip, pulling his pants and his boxers down at the same time. his size makes your eyes bulge. he was huge. your mouth waters at the sight. 
“you’re so big, kook.” you egg him on, fueling his ego because he just looked so hot. your hand moves to hold him at the base, he lets out a shaky breath when your soft skin meets his. jungkook’s head is in the clouds, he could cum right now if he let go, but he’s holds himself back, not wanting to look like a fool in front of you. your hand moves up his dick, your thumb collecting the precum dripping from his hole, your thumb running over his slit as he groans. 
his hips buck up, “shit, baby.” he just sounds so good. you could just lick him up. you collect some saliva in your mouth, letting it drip from your mouth onto his dick to lube your hand. he groans at the sight, “you’re so filthy, baby, holy shit.” 
you smirk at the admission, the spit making it so easy for your hand to glide against his cock. the feeling makes him throw his head back again. his chest rising and falling.  the picture of him with his eyes screwed shut in pleasure and his mouth agape makes your lower belly light up once more, you clench around nothing. leaning in as you pump his cock to whisper in his ear, “wanna fuck me so bad? have me crying on your cock? you want that, don’t you, kookie?” 
jungkook twitches at your words. that’s exactly what he wants. was he that easy to read? was that what you wanted too? the thought of it makes him want to explode, “oh— god, ffuck— fuck,” he sputters. his hand coming up to hover above his head, your hand still pumping as the spurts of his cum shoot out. you smile at the action, knowing he didn’t wanna fuck up your dress. instead just making a mess of him and his hand. he takes deep breaths before speaking, “there’s a little box of tissues in the center console, could you hand it to me, baby?” 
you lean back, opening the console and reaching for the small box that sits in the center. before you give it to him, your eyes flicker to the sticky mess all over jungkook’s hand and groin. a sudden urge to lick takes you over, holding jungkook’s hand and bringing it up to your mouth. you lick the dripping cum from the palm of his hand as he watches, maintaining eye contact the entire time. 
jungkook shivers, a smile creeping on his face, “you— you’re evil.” the remark makes you laugh. 
“sorry, just wanted to help clean up.” you smile, swallowing the cum you collected on your tongue. 
“yeah, yeah, you’re not the sweet girl i thought you were,” jungkook quirks a brow. 
you roll your eyes playfully, “you don’t like it?” 
“nope, i love it, you’re perfect.” jungkook wipes off the remaining mess from his lap and his hand. you help him clean up tissues and he picks up your panties that were discarded on the floor. the two of you fix yourselves before stepping out of the back seat, jungkook opens the passenger door for you before he goes to a trashcan and throws away the soiled tissues. 
he joins you back in the car, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. you were rambling about how happy you were that no one was around and how there were no security cameras in the parking garage. jungkook blabbers too, telling you about how embarrassed he is that he barely lasted a few minutes. before the two of you knew it, his car parked in front of your apartment complex. 
he stands outside of your front door, leaning against the doorframe. all dreamy and not like he just made you cum in the backseat of his car. “text me before you sleep?” he smiles. 
you nod, “of course,” reflecting the same smile. you wave before closing your door. the date being more than you ever expected. there was no way jungkook was real. he had to be a figment of your imagination, he was the absolute dream guy. 
you lay in bed, staring at the stars on your ceiling. a blush creeping up to your cheeks once more when you think about the events that took place tonight. 
[11:02 pm] you: thank you for tonight, jungkook 
[11:02 pm] you: it was magical <3 
[11:03 pm] jungkook: no problem cutie, i had an amazing time with you
[11:04 pm] jungkook: feeling okay? 
[11:06 pm] you: i’m great!!! more than okay
[11:07 pm] jungkook: 😂
[11:07 pm] jungkook: i’m glad cutie
[11:08 pm] you: lunch on me next time? now that you’ve taken me for dinner :) 
[11:08 pm] jungkook: sure, i’m down :) 
[11:09 pm] you: i’m rlly tired kookie 
[11:10 pm] you: gonna head to sleep now 
[11:10 pm] jungkook: alright cutie 
[11:11 pm] jungkook: sweet dreams! 
Tumblr media
。゚(゚^O^゚)゚。 tag list: @giadalin @ggukkieland
1K notes · View notes
gimmedemballs · 6 months ago
Two of a kind || Erwin x gn!reader
Warnings: None, I think its fluff. Erwin and Reader are med students
I'm a sucker for academic rivals to lovers. One of my favourite tropes. It's the first time im writing something so long so be kind
Maybe a pt2? Idk yet
He was in every lecture, always raising his hands to add something or even correct the professor sometimes. His voice made your blood boil. Why he had a say to everything? You couldnt lie, Erwin was very smart but you'd rather die than admit it in front of someone.
You were also one of the top students, to be more specific you were the second one with the best grades. Erwin was obviously the first one leading to the growth of your hatred. Was it hate? Jealousy? It didn't matter you'd still roll your eyes when you saw him. You always wondered how he could be so effortlessly good at everything. You studied your arse off and he still beat you. Nothing you did was enough.
A new assignment came your way from the class you hated the most, bio computer science. You pushed the door of the library trying to find an empty seat at the computer section but unfortunately for you the only one was next to Erwin. You were very close to leaving the library but you wouldn't let him win. You sat next to him dragging obnoxiously loud your chair and dropped your bag on the floor. You were waiting for the computer to start while tapping the table with your fingers. Everyone around you was looking at you annoyed because clearly you didn't understand that you are in a library. Everyone but him.
He was so focused on his assignment, the reflection of the exercise was on his glasses that were sat prettily on his hooked nose. The admiration of Erwin didn't last long because the windows notification disrupted you. You focused immediately on the exercises that your teacher claimed as easy but when you saw them you wanted to cry because you were technologically illiterate. You looked around to see the expressions of everyone, they seemed so peaceful using the computers, some of them were even smiling.
You stretched a little to take a peak at Erwins progress but your face dropped when you witnessed that was too close to the end. "Do you want any help?" His eyes were now on you after noticing your presence. "Nah just stretching before I start. It helps me pay attention on something longer" you internally cringed with your words. "never heard of that but if that helps you" he chuckled. "Yeah you should try it too" you start stretching your arms and then cracked your fingers. If all the people in the computer section weren't looking you before they sure did now.
Erwin shut down his computer standing up. "I got to go now. Have a nice day" you watched him leaving the library with his leather bag wearing a dark blue button up shirt and grey pants that hugged perfectly his toned butt. When the perfect view left your sight, you had to turn back to the assignment that will definitely haunt your dreams later.
The next morning welcomed you with a headache from your bio computer assignment and Erwin being in the front row. He looked so fresh and full of energy while you looked like you're are one blink away from dying. In order to be better like him you need to see how he works so that's why you sat next to him and it wasn't because you were secretly attracted to him.
"Good morning" he said to you with a warm smile "Morning Erwin" you replied already beaten by his charm. You paid attention in every detail of his routine cursing yourself for being so unorganised. He was writing so fast but so neatly. Everything about him screamed perfection from his looks to his academic performance. You shared every class together. You were quite surprised that you and him made the same choices. Maybe in another universe you two would be very good friends if you didn't want to be better than him.
Curiosity was dominating your brain. What were his feelings about you? Did he see you as a threat? Did he see you as competition? "No way" you said to yourself "what?" Erwin asked you looking at your eyes and that's when you realised that it wasn't an internal thought. "I'm deeply fascinated by the pulmonary edema" you said glancing at the power point of the lecturer. "Yeah it's pretty interesting" he said making you giggle. He didn't question it, you looked so adorable that he wanted to kiss your cheeks.
"Sooo, do you have a partner?" He caught you off guard with that question. What kind of partner? "A partner?" You asked with a confused look. "For the project our professor just said". You were too focused on Erwin and your thoughts that you forgot you even were in a class. "Right. No I don't have. I don't like working with others because they don't reach my expectations" you said that a little bit louder because some people around you looked at you with disgust. Maybe they hated you or they were jealous. Maybe it's the same feeling you have with Erwin? You couldnt care less about what others were thinking about you.
"I know that but since we are in the same level, I thought we'll work well together" he said but you only heard two words same level. "You think we are the same?" Trying not to smile was impossible for you now. "Of course, you are very smart and you are the best at the clinical practice. I don't understand how you remain so calm. To be honest I'm pretty jealous of your ability to make right decisions in a chaotic place" if you weren't shy you'd hug him right now.
You never expected those words coming from his mouth. Your pride didn't let you to compliment him back about how much you admire him. Maybe one day you'll do it. "Thank you. I'll share my tips to you when we'll do our project" you said giving your phone to Erwin "give me your number. I'll send you my address" he grabbed your phone with shaking hands but you didn't comment on it. You were both embarrassingly awful when it comes to flirting but he was still so cute. His voice didn't seem so annoying anymore.
87 notes · View notes
littlesponge-fics · a year ago
One-Shot: Conjugal Visit
Tumblr media
Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: inmate!Bakugou x fem!Reader, slight Kirishima x fem!Reader Rating: R / 18+ Word Count: ~8K Summary: You meet Bakugou for his monthly conjugal visit, on what happens to be a very special day. Warnings: Swearing, smut, dub-con, oral, overstimulation, unprotected sex, spanking, spitting. Please let me know if I missed any. Notes: A birthday celebration fic for our resident angry boy, Bakugou. Inspired by that one Prison Break episode.
Last minute addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab. Thanks @lady-bakuhoe and @jodrawssmut for letting me join. Be sure to check out all the other entries in this Masterlist.
I think my ambition got the better of me when writing this, and I bit off more than I could chew. I have never written anything so explicit - risqué yes, but nothing to this degree; nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing smut, and any advice for the future is welcome.
Tumblr media
Conjugal Visit
You sat in the driver’s seat of your car, gripping the steering wheel in a tight, sweaty grip, while watching the digital clock on the dash like a hawk.
Thirty-two minutes to go.
Taking a look in the rear-view mirror, you assessed your appearance. You had chewed your lips so much you had removed most of the lipstick you had painted on before leaving your house this morning.
Shit! He wasn’t going to like that.
You grabbed your purse from the passenger seat and rifled through it for your lipstick; Blood Poppy. It wasn’t your usual colour, preferring more neutral tones, but you had been told to wear this specific shade. It was wildly expensive, out of your price range, and you were thankful you were not footing the bill. The same went for your new outfit, a matching red, high-waisted dress that flowed around your thighs and ended at your knees; opened-toed shoes finished the ensemble to show your red pedicure.
After pulling off the lid, you twisted the tube and adjusted the mirror down to your lips. You applied a generous helping of the rich, red shade across your anxiety-bitten lips. After blotting the excess on a tissue, you smacked your lips together and fixed your hair, before giving a brazen wink and air-kiss to your reflection.
You looked the very definition of a ‘Scarlet Woman’.
It didn’t lessen your nerves.
Twenty-four minutes to go.
Hands back on the wheel, you closed your eyes and took some calming breaths. You needed to get your head in the game.
It was not every day you were required to visit a prison, and you had hoped and prayed you would never have to. However, life was known to have a cruel sense of humor, and had not been especially kind to you in the past six months.
You were here to visit your husband.
The infamous Amber Dragon.
One of the leaders of the Sousei no Ryuu Clan - The Twinborn Dragons. The other was his brother-in-arms; The Ruby Dragon.
They were notorious and well known throughout Japan for their criminal activities; from extortion, to racketeering, to gambling and drugs. Moreover, they were most infamous for the violence and murders.
If you were unfortunate enough to cross their path, you were unlikely to be found again, not in one piece anyway. One poor sap, you had heard, had inadvertently insulted the Ruby Dragon’s mother. Months later the man's hands and eyes had been found way up north in Hirosaki, his feet down south in Osaka, and his torso in between in Saitama. They never found his head. The police couldn’t pin the murder on him and he walked away scot-free.
His brother, on the other hand, had been caught red handed. He had shot and killed a rival Yakuza boss known as Deku, of the One For All Syndicate, a moniker your husband had given him when they had been childhood friends. It had happened in broad daylight, starting a war between the two groups, and The Amber Dragon had taken the fall to stop the bloody massacre of killings on both sides.
Surprisingly, he was incarcerated in a medium security prison for the crime; and you supposed that's what money could buy you when you were incredibly rich and powerful.
You shimmied your shoulders to adjust your brassiere and clear your head. You hated breaking in a new bra; and the thong wedged between your asscheeks was not helping matters. You resisted the urge to dig it out.
Eighteen minutes to go.
You had been told to arrive fifteen minutes early.
So, it was time to leave.
You put on your peacoat, pulled your keys from the ignition and snatched up your purse. Exiting the car you clicked the button on your keychain to lock it and then threw it in your purse and closed it with a snap.
After taking one last look at your appearance in the reflection of the car’s window, you gave your hair one last adjustment, and morphed your features into what you hoped was confidence.
The armed guards on duty had been trying to be nonchalant with their staring since you had pulled into a parking space, but as you made your approach, they openly stared at you in interest.
One of them banged on the door when you were within a few feet and the gate opened.
You didn’t look at them as you passed, but you felt their eyes follow you as you walked into the building that housed the visitors entrance.
There were a number of women seated in the waiting area. They had made an effort too, to dress up for their men, with fancy clothes and painted faces.
You didn’t stop to chat though, you had zero interest in their lives, instead, you made your way to the window and tapped it to get the officer's attention.
He didn’t even look at you as he asked, “Inmate’s name and number.”
“Bakugou Katsuki, 17042019.”
That got his attention and the rest of the occupants of the room, as all the wives stopped their chattering.
He looked up, and immediately diverted his eyes, but not before you caught the fear in them. It seemed The Amber Dragon’s reputation even held weight here. He typed something on his computer. “Mrs Bakugou, please go straight through,” he said, pressing a button under his desk and the buzz of a lock releasing echoed throughout the room.
As you made your way to the door, you caught snatches of whispering.
“She’s married to that monster.”
“He is a looker though, I wouldn’t mind spending an hour locked in a room with him.”
“Why does she get to go straight through? I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour.”
“I prefer the Ruby Dragon, to be honest.”
You let it all flow off your back. They could say what they wanted, however, they knew nothing of your life.
A male and female officer were waiting for you on the other side.
Just like going through customs at an airport, you emptied the contents of your purse into a tray, which the man checked, and you walked through a security arch. There was no beep, but the woman patted you down anyway. You held your breath as she ran her hands over and under your beasts; and when she reached between your thighs, you resisted the urge to cross your legs. You got the feeling that she was being a little rougher than was necessary, but you kept your mouth shut and your expression blank; refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you so uncomfortable.
“Clear,” she said to her colleague, with a glare at you.
“Clear,” he replied.
You grabbed your things and returned the woman's glare with smug satisfaction. You knew she was dying to find something, anything, just to have the excuse of locking you away just like your ‘evil’ husband.
A third correctional officer appeared and escorted you through a maze of corridors with locked doors; each one having to be locked behind you before the next could be opened.
The officer said nothing throughout your journey, avoiding eye contact with you. Only the clanging of the barred metal doors and the jingle of his keys kept you company. However, with each clang and jingle, your heart rate picked up as you came closer and closer to your destination.
Eventually, you stopped before a plain looking door with a large ‘#3’ plaque set in the center; you entered at his command and heard the lock click behind you after he said the prisoner would be escorted to the room soon.
The room had one barred window, set high into the wall, and the scuffed and dirty walls were painted in a bland magnolia. A large double bed took up most of the space, it’s sheets discolored and wrinkled. An old CRT television from the eighties sat on a stand in one corner, its antenna twisted and bent; and a small, round plastic table and chairs sat to the side of it. You scrunched up your nose. It looked like a scummy motel room, and you didn’t want to think of the activities that had been going on in here before you had arrived.
Taking off your coat and laying it on the back of one of the chairs, you took a seat and resisted the urge to pick at your red manicured nails.
After a few minutes, you heard the jiggle of the lock to the door you had come through, and it caused you to stand and whirl around with your heart in your throat.
He was here.
He was led in by a big burly correctional officer, who undid the cuffs that locked his hands and feet together with a restrictive chain.
He never took his eyes off you, or even acknowledged the other man’s presence, as he was released; even when the officer left with a reminder that he only had ninety minutes, and a final turn of the lock after he left.
For a man who usually wore a black suit and tie with a white shirt, the orange prison jumpsuit oddly suited him. He was known for his impeccable taste in fashion, and his vest of white flowers had flown off the shelves, sold out within minutes, after he had appeared in court for his trial. You couldn’t see the sleeve of tattoos decorating his arms but you knew they were there, you had stared at them enough in the pictures of the newspapers. His hair was a mess, but suited him also, reflecting his explosive personality. But his eyes….
His eyes were still watching you, sweeping up and down your body with an unreadable expression.
Bakugou Katsuki.
The infamous Amber Dragon.
Leader of the Sousei no Ryuu Clan.
You unconsciously took a step back.
His smirk in reply was devilish.
“My brother out did himself this time.”
His voice was gruff and gravelly at the same time, and it sent a shiver up your spine.
You didn’t know how to respond, and you probably looked stupid standing there like a dumbfounded deer caught in headlights. Seeing him on the news and in the papers was nothing compared to meeting him in the flesh.
He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips as he walked towards you with long, purposeful strides, and you started to back away from him.
Before you hit the wall, he grasped your hips to spin you around. You steadied yourself by bracing your hands against the wall. Panic welled up in your chest and the urge to scream out bubbled in your throat.
You shouldn’t have agreed to this.
He shushed you with a kiss on the back of your neck and a finger to your lips. “Shh, we gotta make it believable.”
Your heart was thundering now, ready to burst from its protective cage. You had been prepped extensively by his brother, Kirishima, beforehand, and you knew that for this to work you had to play along, but not like this.
What were you supposed to do? You were trapped in a room with a convicted killer.
You did the only thing you could; you nodded with a whimper and felt his grin against your shoulder.
His large hands came up to cover your own, dwarfing them, as his Callused fingers stroked over the backs of your hands and down to your wrists, where he encircled them in a loose grip.
You whimpered again.
“Good girl,” he whispered, as his hands trailed over the sensitive skin of your inner arms to your elbows. Goosebumps followed in their wake, and you shuddered at his ticklish touch. He didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their invisible path up towards your collarbones, only to dip over and under your shoulders to rest above your breasts.
You understood now why men feared him and why most women wanted to bed him; he emanated confidence and mystique, like a panther stalking its prey.
You watched as your chest heaved up and down and his hands moved to the rhythm as you waited for his next move. He moved his body closer and you felt every inch of him at your back, every hard, sinewy muscle contoured perfectly for you to fit inside his caging embrace. Your breathing stuttered when he hooked his chin over your shoulder to look at your face, and you dared not meet his gaze.
Closing your eyes, you wished he would stop whispering, it was doing unspeakable things to your insides.
They then snapped open, as his hands made a gradual descent over the swell of your breasts to cup them in his palms, and your breathing picked up again.
This was going too far.
Yes, you were told to fake having sex with the criminal, so that the correctional officer standing outside the door would not suspect anything suspicious, but being manhandled had not been a part of the deal you had made with The Ruby Dragon for the cash you needed.
The Amber Dragon must not have gotten the memo.
You knew it was a risky move, but you pulled his hands away from you and manoeuvred around him to put as much distance between you and the murderer.
Bakugou looked pissed at first, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort of causing a scene, so shrugged and put his hands in his pockets instead.
“So,” he tsked, “you want to do it the boring way.”
“Yes,” you breathed through clenched teeth, thankful that little manoeuvre had not signed your death warrant, as you gripped your coat on the back of the chair. You needed to stay away from him, no matter how much his touch ignited a fire in your belly.
He shrugged again and sat himself down on the edge of the creaky bed. “Well,” he waved at you. “Get on with it.”
You felt your face burn with embarrassment, remembering back to when you had been practising with his brother. Hours spent moaning and groaning to simulate sounds of intercourse until he was happy.
“That’s what conjugal visits are for, right? Or did you want a chat and a nice cup of tea first?” he drawled.
Doubting he was the type for small talk, you straightened your spine, closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.
You didn’t think you were very good at it, but if the tent in the redhead’s pants at the end of each session was anything to go by, you thought it was pretty convincing.
You could do this.
As you exhaled, you let out a long, breathy, and drawn out moan.
Peeking an eye open, you found Bakugou watching you curiously, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. He was finding this amusing.
You refused to be belittled by the infuriating blond, and vowed to get this over and done with as quickly as possible; and if you could elicit an embarrassing response out of him by the end of it, all the better.
Closing your eyes again, you put on a show for the officer outside, and more importantly for Bakugou. You moaned, whimpered, keened, mewled and whined your way to an orgasm. You used his actions earlier to make it more believable as you imagined what else he had hoped to get away with as he groped you. Would he have taken you against the wall, over the table, on the bed, or all three?
As you imagined the various scenarios, you felt yourself getting warm with arousal, and began to throw in little bits of speech as your imagination went wild; ‘yes’s’ and ‘please’s’ and ‘more’s’ started falling from your parted lips. His wet mouth on your nipple as his thumb played with your clit, fingers dipping into your cunt to coat your inner lips with slick. Him pushing your head down to watch as his cock kissed your entrance only to disappear inside, feeling the stretch of his girth.
At the crescendo of your climax, you pictured him furiously pounding into you with that infuriatingly smug smirk of his.
Coming down from your high, you smiled in satisfaction. You had done well, if you did say so yourself.
“If you thought anyone would believe that pathetic little performance,” he said, bored, “you’ve got another thing coming.”
“But I-”
“Kirishima taught you didn’t he?”
You nodded, “Yes, but-”
“This won't do.” He stood from the bed. “That idiot watches too much porn; you sounded like a back-alley whore.”
You glared at him, offended. “I am not a whore,” you bit out.
“Fuck this! You won’t be able to keep that shit up for another five minutes, never mind an hour.”
You didn’t even have time to catch your breath before his mouth was on yours. You hadn’t even seen him move, he was so fast.
“Just shut the fuck up,” he mumbled against your lips his hand firm against your jaw, “and go with it.”
No, no, no, no, no.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
You weren’t here for this, but he had given you a taste when he had first walked in, and your body did not agree with the protests ringing inside your head.
What would your mother think?
You were trapped with no escape. If you didn’t comply and decided to call out, you knew Kirishima and his henchmen would hunt you down like a pack of wolves, and you and your mother’s fate would be sealed; that is, if Bakugou didn’t kill you in this very room first. It didn’t matter that you had used his image for your fake orgasm, this was wrong on so many levels.
His grip on your jaw tightened. “Don’t think,” he grit out. “And I promise you will want to come back next month.”
He continued to kiss you more thoroughly, his tongue forcing itself inside your mouth to do battle with your own.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you decided to put any thoughts of your mother aside, and kissed him back. A tear falling from your eye.
“That’s it,” he whispered, in a husky tone, as he pawed at your hips and scrunched the soft material covering them. “Be a good girl for me, it’s my birthday after all.”
You knew what day it was, which is why Kirishima had insisted on you dressing up for the occasion. Apparently, the blond had a thing for the colour red; ironic, considering his brother was so closely associated with it.
You couldn’t deny that the danger was alluring to you though; every time you had turned on the TV to see his handsome profile broadcast on the screen it had had you rubbing your thighs together in want, and wondering what he would feel like between them.
He was powerful, not just in strength, as he demonstrated when he picked you up to deposit you onto the bed, but in confidence and charisma. He exuded it from every pore of his body, without saying a single word; and you found it wildly attractive.
Leaving you to catch your breath, he stood in front of you, pulled down the zipper of his jumpsuit and shook his arms out of the sleeves. Underneath his wore a plain white wife beater shirt, which allowed you to feast your eyes on the exhibit of tattoos that adorned his arms.
His right arm displayed a golden, orange dragon; its head tilted back in flight, its wings spread wide as it breathed fire into the sky, and its barbed tail wrapped around his forearm to end at a point on his inner wrist. The red dragon, that was inked onto the skin of his left, looked like it was crawling down his forearm, leaving deep, bloody scratches in its wake with a snarl on its lips as it showed its pointy teeth; this time, its spiky tail wrapped around Bakugou’s bicep.
They were an exquisite piece of art, and you thought they should be presented in a museum with how beautiful they were. It only added to the fact that he was incredibly ripped like a bare knuckle boxer, and the scars that littered his torso only added more of an edge to his incredible physique.
After he had removed his shirt, you used an arm for balance as you reached up with the other to trace a finger down the tail of the gold dragon. He stopped you before you made contact, and bent over your form, forcing you to lean back. He grabbed your wrists and tugged, causing you to lay back on the bed with a yelp.
He tutted in annoyance, “Only good girls get to touch.”
With your wrists still in his clutches he pushed them over your head, as he guided your legs apart with a knee and settled himself between them, the mattress squeaking as he went. “Do as you’re told and I will pay you double what my brother is,” he said before claiming your lips once more.
You moaned, your head spinning like you were in a fever dream. He was dominant and controlling in his touches; you dared not complain as he had his way and transferred both of your wrists into one hand as he reached beneath you to undo each of the buttons at the back of your dress. When you felt him finger the hooks of your bra he pinched them together and you felt the release as the elastic contracted, and the cups around your breasts became loose.
If there was one thing you could say about this explosion of a man, it was that he had no problem with multitasking; he hadn’t stopped his assault on your mouth, or let go of your wrists still in his grasp, as you felt his thumb pressing into your pulse point, throughout the undressing.
It made you think of the other women he had taken to bed to get so good at this.
Before any jealousy could rise in your gut, he switched gears and bit and sucked at your neck, while pulling down the straps of your dress and bra. You shivered as your nipples puckered when they brushed against the heated skin of his chest, and he groaned in return.
“Fuck,” he exclaimed, looking down at your nakedness and moving to cup one and feel its weight.
You arched your back when his mouth descended and laved his tongue around the darkened areola. While massaging the plump mass, he alternated between sucking and licking at the nub at the centre.
He had released your wrists to grope at the neglected breast, and you took the opportunity to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, with a throaty keen. Your legs also widened when you felt his thighs push at the back of yours and he encouraged you to wrap them around his slim waist.
The next thing you know, you were being lifted into his lap as he sat back on his haunches and you felt how hard he was for the first time. Without even seeing it, you knew he was big, and you gasped at your predicament, realising how deep you really were in this mess.
You knew where this was going, and you mentally slapped yourself for giving in so easily. You shouldn’t be wanting this. But there was no going back. You knew he wasn’t going to let this visit end with heavy petting and dryhumping; you were going to have sex with a criminal, but not just any criminal, a cold-blooded murderer, the head of a dangerous Yakuza empire.
Just as you were coming to this realisation, you felt his digits glide along the smooth expanse of your inner thigh and tease at the edge of your lace underwear. They traced along one of the thin straps at your hip to follow where it dipped in between the mounds of your ass. Your grip tightened in his hair and he moaned at the action, taking a handful of your ass and squeezing roughly, causing you to grind against his erection, and let out your own moan.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Such a good girl.”
You bucked your hips against his with his words of praise, and he encouraged you to move more with a smack to your ass.
His lips found your neck again, and this time you gave him encouragement as you tilted your head to give him more access.
“Been too long,” he whispered between nips.
You whimpered in reply, and he answered with another smack before tugging at the string of your thong, causing friction along the folds of your sex.
Oh God, did that feel good.
And when he bought his hand back around, to cup the heat between your legs, you were lost. Your mind was gone; and when his middle finger drew a line along your clothed slit, it short circuited.
“So wet and needy,” he whispered. “No man at home to keep you satisfied?”
You shook your head in response when you realised he was waiting for a reply, and he had paused in his ministrations.
His smile was self-satisfying as he said, “Better remedy that then, eh?”
Your nod was all the answer he needed, as he flipped you onto your back again and kissed a line from your mouth, and between your breasts, bunching your dress around your waist as he made his way downwards along your stomach, and came to a stop at your aching center.
He made quick work of removing your underwear and dived straight in without premiable.
No part of his mouth was put to waste, everything was used; his lips sucked and slurped at your essence; his teeth nipped and tugged at your folds; and his tongue flicked at your clit and probed at your opening. And with each lewd sound you made he went faster and harder, spurring you on towards your end.
Heaven, was all you could think as he devoured you.
You had died and gone to Heaven.
He didn’t stop; not even after you had released your climax all over his face; he kept going. Faster, deeper and harder. When the overstimulation became too much, you tried weakly to push him away with a hand on his shoulder, but he growled and slapped it away.
When he started to use his fingers, in conjunction with his mouth, to explore your innermost regions, you were sure he was going to kill you, if he hadn’t already. Instead of Heaven, you now found yourself imprisoned in the second level of hell, being punished for your lust-driven desires.
His fingers were long and reached places you could only dream of, and with each new finger he added the more you felt that knot in your belly coil and tighten. He was talented and knew just where to touch to get you calling out for more no matter how much it hurt.
“Again, cum again!” he commanded.
You wailed and screamed in agonizing ecstasy as a second wave of pleasure crashed through you, spreading from your core and working its way through every limb; you felt your back arch and lock with the electricity zapping through your nervous system, and a tingling sensation was left in its wake as you came down from your high, prickling along your sweat soaked skin.
Warm breath fanned across the heated skin of your face, as you tried to remember how to breathe, and you opened heavy eyelids to see Bakugou watching you fervently.
You blinked in shock at his closeness, and a gasp of surprise left your mouth when he kissed you again, sharing your taste. He lifted you up to remove your dress completely and lay against the pillows with you positioned above him.
He smirked that smirk of his and said, “Your turn.”
You choked on a second gasp.
He wasn’t expecting you to… Was he?
“Oh yes, Princess, I am,” he smirked. “And I expect to see that lovely lipstick smudged, and a ring of red around the base of my cock by the time you’re finished,” he added, as he touched your lips and smeared your lipstick across your cheek.
You gulped and looked down at the bulge in his jumpsuit.
“Well,” he said, gesturing to his state of arousal, “Clocks ticking.”
You snuck a quick glance at the clock on the wall to find you were already more than halfway through your allotted time.
How long had he been eating you out?
“Oi! It’s my fucking birthday. Get on with it,” he interjected, pulling you from your reverie to look at him again, and he raised his hips to urge you on.
Taking a steadying breath, you took the plunge and tugged down his jumpsuit, taking his prison-issued boxer shorts with it.
Your eyes went wide at the view of his impressive length and thickness resting against the ‘v’ of his toned abdomen. He was so big you didn’t know where to start, and you contemplated on whether you could get away with giving him a handjob.
Bakugou was having none of your hesitance though, as his hand gripped the back of your head and pulled you down towards his crotch with a growl.
Bracing yourself with one hand against the bed, feeling the springs dip, you gripped his cock with your other, feeling the coarse hairs at the base tickling the edge of your palm.
It only took five strokes for him to become impatient with the lack of mouth action, and took it upon himself to remove your hand and grasp it in his own palm before pushing your head down further.
“Open up,” he ordered.
You could do nothing but obey, as the tug on your hair was becoming painful, and as soon as your lips parted and the pink of your tongue peeked out, he shoved you down on his length.
Too far down; you gagged and spluttered around him, struggling to breathe, hot tears brimming your lashes. However, he did not let up; he held you there as you felt saliva and precum pool in your mouth, and like the melting wax of a candle, it dribbled down his shaft to puddle around his hand.
He groaned in satisfaction as your throat constricted around him, your tears burning a line down your cheeks. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he grunted as he took pity on you and pulled you off, only so he could stroke your spit along his erection.
Gasping for air, you coughed, and wiped at your tears, while you watched as he pleasured himself. You had never seen a man masturbate so brazenly in front of you before, and it only aroused you further to know that you were a stranger to him, and that he was a dangerous man to you.
“Ready now?” he asked, catching your eye.
You looked between his face and his still moving hand.
It didn’t matter what you said, you knew he was going to take what he wanted any way.
You can do this, you told yourself. You were no blushing virgin and had sucked plenty of dick before; granted, they weren’t as big as him, but you could do this. Nodding in acquiescence, he removed his hand as you arranged yourself more comfortably between his spread legs.
He folded his hands behind his head and settled back to enjoy the show.
This time, you started by scratching your splayed fingernails up his thighs as you mouthed kisses from the base of his resting cock, along the bulging vein on the underside, and up to the swollen, circumcised tip, leaving blood poppy lipstick stains in your wake. You repeated the action on your second pass, and on the third, you stuck out your tongue and gave the full length of him one long, flat, languid lick.
Bakugou hummed at that, so you did it again and watched his expression to gauge his reaction. His chest was heaving and beads of perspiration were trickling down the valley of his pectorals with each movement; his face was flushed and the ends of his hair were sticking to his forehead. What got your attention though, were his eyes, they were heavy lidded but burned bright, like molten lava, as he watched you.
Keeping eye contact, you took his cock in hand again and licked another long stripe to the tip, where you fixed your lips around the head and gave an equally as long suck.
He seemed to like that, as you felt the muscles in his thighs tighten, and his head fell back onto the pillows. You smiled and sucked again, like you were enjoying a deliciously bitter, cum flavoured lollipop. Two could play at this game.
When you felt confident enough, you pulled away and Bakugou’s head snapped back towards you with a glare, wondering why you had stopped. You gave him a smirk of your own before you steeled yourself with a large, deep breath, and engulfed him in your moist cavern. You hummed loudly, sending vibrations down his shaft towards his testicles.
“Fucking hell!”
The buck of his hips, shoved him further down your throat, causing you to choke, and you pushed a hand down on his abdomen to prevent him from going any further, as you pulled away from him.
“Don’t fucking stop,” he hissed.
You complied and continued to bob your head as you sucked, licked and hummed around his cock, and palmed his sack, going a little lower each time you went back down on him.
His panting and moaning became louder the longer you pursued your goal of getting him off, and taking all of him in your mouth; until, unexpectedly, he pulled you off him.
“Why’d you stop me?” you frowned with a wipe of your chin; you had just found your rhythm.
He snarled like an angry animal, “Too close, gotta have you now.”
You yelped as he pushed you onto your stomach, lifting your behind into the air, your spine curving like a stretching cat. He took position behind you; and as you felt the first brush of his cockhead at your entrance you panicked.
“What now?” he did not sound amused at the interruption.
“What about protection.” You looked towards the bowl of condoms sitting in the middle of the table on the other side of the room.
“Too far,” he ground out between clenched teeth, “and not enough time.”
You raised yourself up slightly, and twisted your head uncomfortably to look towards the clock over his shoulder.
There was still twenty minutes left!
“A girl like you has got to be on the pill, right?”
You nodded, “Yes, but-”
“Then that’s good enough for me. Now take my cock, like the good girl you were when you blew me.”
He never gave you the chance to reply before he entered you.
All the breath was knocked out of you in that one swift motion, filling you to capacity. You fell forward with a strangled exclamation at the intrusion, and if he hadn't had a firm hold on your hips, you were sure it would have been enough to dislodge you and send you tumbling off the bed.
His pace was brutal, and you held tight to the discoloured sheets beneath your bent form as the metal frame of the bed screeched across the floor with each thrust. It was painful, no matter how wet he could make you, or how much he prepped, you don’t think you could ever be ready for him.
This was not how you had imagined how your day would have unfolded. Your job was to pose as Bakugou Katsuki’s wife, and meet him for a conjugal visit so that it was easier to smuggle in something from his brother-in-arms - what that something was, you didn’t know - but you had agreed to the whole scheme for your mother’s sake; she was ill and needed an expensive, life-saving drug to help her get better.
Now you were on your knees getting the pounding of your life from The Amber Dragon himself; and you couldn’t believe you were enjoying it.
Were you a whore for this? Technically you were being paid, and Bakugou had said he would double your fee.
“Better than the others he’s sent,” he grunted over your compromised form.
There had been others? How many fake wives had Kirishima sent into the proverbial lion’s den, or in this case, dragon’s. Bakugou had been here for almost a year now. Did he know this would happen? Had the smuggling just been a pretence and you really were just a paid whore?
You had a sneaking suspicion he did, if what Bakugou said next was anything to go by. And Kirishima had had his little fun out of you too, before sending you off to his brother.
“You taste tart like lemons, suck cock like a pro, and have the tightest pussy in all of Japan,” he moaned, going even deeper with each thrust. “Gonna have to ask for you again, when the next visit rolls around.”
Well, that boosted your ego somewhat; and the thought of coming back to see him next month made you groan. When you pushed back against him and he hit that sensitive area deep within you, your groan turned into a mewl.
“That’s it, Princess,” he murmured, stilling his pistoning hips. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”
Raising up on your elbows, you followed his instructions and looked behind you to find him watching the lewd sight of you pleasuring yourself, his hands spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view. All shame had flown out the window now as you grinded against him, and swirled your hips to find that friction you felt earlier against your delicate spot.
There, right there.
“Yes,” you cried out in triumph.
You watched as he spat where your bodies joined, and you felt the trickle as it mixed with your combined fluids.
He spanked you. “Keep fucking going,” he barked with another slap.
A few more swivels of your hips and you were in Heaven again, shaking and stuttering as your third orgasm of the day sent your head spinning and your bones melting in rapture.
Before you could collapse, Bakugou’s strong hand grasped your neck and pulled you flush against his chest with an arm wrapped around your waist.
“You’re not done yet, Princess,” he growled into the shell of your ear.
“I- I- I can’t,” you stammered, grasping at his colourful forearm for dear life. “It- It’s too much.”
“You’ve got one more in you.” He punctuated his remark with a jolt of his hips, which had you arching away from him - taut like a bowstring - with a squeal, which only made him penetrate deeper.
He held you firmly in place by your throat as he continued to plunge into your, still dripping, cunt, hitting that sweet spot each and every time.
“Take it,” he growled. “Fucking take my cock.”
Your eyes crossed when the callused pads of his fingers joined in on the abuse, and rubbed against your neglected clit, adding a new sensation of torture into the mix.
“Pl- Pleash,” you slurred, dropping your head back against his shoulder. You had no idea what you were begging for - for him to stop, to continue - you had no idea, your brain had long since checked out, and had left you a slobbering, sobbing mess.
He smirked at your plea.
The hand at your throat turned your head to face him. “Say it again,” he said with a firm slap to your abused cunt.
You felt your hot tears burn a path across your temple as you looked into his lust filled eyes, and he licked them up slowly. “P-pl-please,” you whispered.
“Good girl.” He rewarded you with an open-mouthed kiss.
You squealed in both pain and delight when he resumed his assault; your nerve endings were on fire, sending an inferno running through your bloodstream.
Forget Heaven and Hell, you were no longer in this dimension, you weren’t a part of this world, you had transcended. Your shell of a body didn’t belong to you anymore as Bakugou played you like a well-tuned instrument and claimed ownership over it.
He had your mind in the palm of his hands too, erasing everything you knew until there was only him. Bakugou Katsuki. He took up every corner, leaving no room for anything to get past his all-encompassing presence.
You were his. And no man would ever compare.
He had ruined you.
You no longer registered the creaking of the bedsprings or the fact that the bed had moved almost two-foot across the room. You focused on his arms wrapped around you, his hot breath on your neck and his desperate pants against your skin, as a final tsunami of ecstasy drowned you in waves and waves of euphoria.
You screamed as your release flooded out of you.
You felt him fill your spasming cunt; a torrent of life-giving essence flooding your insides and squelching as his hips continued to hammer against you, and you felt his cum leak down your thighs from your conjoined bodies.
You both collapsed forward, Bakugou having the foresight to hold himself above you, before rolling to the side, so as not to crush you.
The bedsprings settled their squeaking as the sounds of heavy breathing took their place, filling the silence of the room.
“I think that was enough of a show to keep that fuck-wit of a guard off my back,” he breathlessly said.
You felt your overheated cheeks burn hotter with embarrassment at his implication. You had forgotten all about him.
A moment later, Bakugou leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve his jumpsuit, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket; after lighting it, he took a long drag and blew the smoke towards the ceiling.
You shook your head at his offer of a turn on the stick, too exhausted to even lift your head, when you noticed he had also picked up your bra, and was rubbing the lace between his fingers.
It was a pretty bra, one you intended to keep at the end of all of this.
“Hey,” you shouted, when he began to rip open one of the padded cups. “What are you doing?”
“Getting what you came here for,” he mumbled around his cigarette.
You blinked in disbelief.
So you were here to smuggle something. You had been confused when Kirishima hadn’t given you anything to hide, thinking the underwear he had handed you was just another part of the blond man's particular tastes.
“Hah,” he said when he found what he was looking for.
He lay back down beside you and raised a plastic, black chip into the air, twirling it between his fingers.
“What’s that?” you asked.
“A birthday present.”
It didn’t look much like a birthday present to you. It was just a small black rectangle, the size of a memory card. “Huh? What’s it for?”
It must have held some meaning to him, as the next thing you saw was him giving you a hard, penetrating stare. “That’s between my brother and me.”
Ok, it was important, and he didn’t want you to know about it. It seemed he was particularly tight-lipped when he wasn’t trying to seduce you.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” you replied in defence, remembering who you were talking to.
He clutched the little chip in his palm, as you tried your luck and tentatively reached towards his arm and traced the lines of one of his dragon tattoos, like you had wanted to do earlier. “What?” you said to his disapproving stare. “I was a good girl.”
He took another drag and smirked knowingly, “Yes, you were. The second best birthday present I’ve had today. Kirishima really is too fucking nice for his own good.”
“Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to see me at the next visit, or was that a ‘in heat of the moment’ kind of thing?” you asked with a frown, as your finger passed over amber wings. You didn’t want this to be it; you only had five minutes left.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he replied. “I think we’ll be seeing each other sooner than you think, Princess.”
He twirled the chip again, focusing all of his attention on the thing, and you watched mesmerized at how dexterously he handled it.
“Much sooner.”
You believed him when you saw the self-assured smile he wore from the corner of your eye.
Tumblr media
Yes, I did take Sousei no Ryuu (Twinborn Dragons) from Yu-Gi-Oh! I do not regret it.
Tumblr media
Alternate Ending - Warnings: Dark Content.
“What’s that?” you asked.
“A birthday present.”
It didn’t look much like a birthday present to you. It was just a small black rectangle, the size of a memory card. “Huh? What is it?”
“The key to my freedom.”
He gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before he was on you, pushing your face into the pillows forcefully and wrapping his hands around your neck.
When he began to squeeze too hard, you came to the realisation that this wasn’t round two of love-making, and you panicked and started to thrash and scream for help.
He didn’t let you though, he flipped you over and shoved the chip down your throat, before you could alert the guard outside. You choked as he placed a hand over your mouth preventing you from spitting it out.
His grip grew even tighter and you clawed at his hands, trying to get him to release you. You reached up to scratch at his face and arms, leaving deep welts behind, like the red dragon inked into his skin, but it had no effect, it only caused him to add more pressure.
“Yes, fight back,” he laughed maniacally. “I love it when they do.”
Your head was becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen to your brain, and when you tried to swallow, the chip lodged in your throat and blocked your air way and you began to violently convulse.
You could do nothing.
You were going to die.
Bakugou was smirking again, but this time it had none of the flirty undertones from before, this time it was sadistic.
He was enjoying this.
He was enjoying killing you.
Black spots began to obscure your vision and your hands dropped from their clawing to fall at your sides.
Why had he done this? Why you?
He leaned down and placed his lips against your ear, “It’s nothing personal, Princess. You’re just a means to an end,” he whispered and kissed you behind the ear. “Thanks for the unforgettable birthday.”
Your last thoughts were of your mother as your vision faded completely, and you stilled.
Tumblr media
992 notes · View notes
camillyb · a year ago
Against a wall kiss.
Tumblr media
Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Reader.
Requested by anon: “Hello! If it’s ok with you may I please request Conner Rhodes x reader “Against a wall kiss” from the prompt list?”
Warnings: Against a wall kiss, Pregnancy.
Characters that may appear or be mentioned: Jay Halstead, Maggie, April, Erin Lindsay, Hank Voight, Trudy Platt, Dr. Charles.
Words: 903
A/N: ok, it’s my first write... idk if that’s how you wanted it, but i hope y’all like it. maybe i need to improve something... english isn’t my first language so, have patience with me🙈
Y/n, ex-military and now 21st District detective. You served in the U.S. Army Ranger in the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment, along with Jay and Mouse. A breakup is difficult, but it’s even harder to be a partner with your ex-boyfriend, or better yet, ex-husband. Amid the comings and goings of Afghanistan and Iraq, amidst traumas and disturbances, we find ourselves in the dark, but without even realizing it, there will be a light re-emerging from there. And Y/n’s light and hope was none other than Connor Rhodes.
You and the surgeon met at the hospital, in the midst of therapy sessions with Dr. Charles. From then on, a feeling began to emerge in both of them. Maybe love at first sight? You and Connor went to meet in various places like: Parks, restaurants, Molly’s, each other’s houses...
You didn’t want to relate now, with the recent divorce, traumas, you preferred to keep it to yourself. Connor, however, was always trying to win her over. He knew of his divorce with Jay Halstead after you came back from Afghanistan and joined the police department, of their post-traumatic disorders caused by the war... Intelligence was working on a gang case, nothing very specific and over time , you’ve been opening up even more about your feelings for Connor.
“Y/n?” - Maggie was surprised to see you arriving in the Emergency Room.
“Maggie. Hey!” - You replied smiling.
“Did something happen? ” - Maggie asked coming out from behind the computer.
“In truth no. I’m looking for Connor... Do you know if he’s out of surgery yet?”
“He leaves in 5 minutes. If you want, you can wait in the doctors’ lounge and when he comes down I’ll let you know he’s there.”
“Thank you so much, Maggie!” - You gave her a hug.
After 10 minutes Connor opens the door to the doctors’ room, entering and then closing it.
“Hey, baby!” - Connor kissed you.
“Hey!” - You got up from the couch.
“What you doing here?”
“Well, I left the district earlier today and since I know your shift is ending in 5 minutes, I thought I’d stop by the Med.”
“Well, I’m going to give the chart to April, pack my things and we can be on our way.”
Connor kisses her cheek then leaves the room. You were thinking about telling Connor he was going to be a father, but you had no idea how he would react. You’re grateful that Connor didn’t ask why you left early. Connor came in, packing his things and getting his keys from the locker.
“Let’s go?” - He asked.
“Hm? Yeah.” - You responded by coming out of trance.
“Are you okay?” - Asked grabbing your hand.
“Yeah, just thinking...”
“About what?” - He asked curiously.
“In how lucky to have met you.”
“Well, in that case I think I’m the lucky one in the relationship.” - He laughed.
“Maybe they both are.” - You said looking at him as they got to the car.
“Can be.” - He agreed, open his door then, going to the driver’s side soon starting the car.
• • ────────────── • •
The way home was silent, but not a bad silence but a good one, a pleasant silence for both. You think about how you would tell Connor that you were pregnant and Connor asking if something happened to make you feel awkward and uneasy. When you arrived, you went straight to the bathroom to take a shower while connor ordered something for dinner, since it was Friday, no one cooked on fridays.
During your bath, you were thinking if you would tell at once before or after dinner because he was already finding your behavior strange.
“Y/n? Come dinner.” - Connor called you out of the trance. You were thinking so much that you didn’t even hear the food coming. You went to the kitchen and started dining with some conversations about each one’s day at work. Connor telling about having spent practically the whole day in the operating room and you telling about the day in the district, the funny and sarcastic way of the famous Trudy platt, Halstead being cheeky, Sergeant Voight and her serious face, the animated conversations with Lindsay...
“Connor... I need to tell you something serious.” - You said to him right after they finished dinner.
“Hm? Can talk.”
“I-impregnant.” - You spoke quickly, eager to see his reaction.
“What? Speak more slowly.” - Connor was confused.
“I’m Pregnant.” - You took a break. - “We’re going to have a baby. You are going to be a father.”
“...” - Connor was shocked. Completely speechless trying to reason out what you just said.
“Connor? Say something! You’re scaring me."
“I-i don’t even know what to say. I’m going to be a father?” - He asked trying to fall back on reality. - “Oh God! I’m going to be a father!!” - He said happily, getting up from his chair going to you rolling it. - “I am the happiest man in the world! Thank you my love! Damn it! I love you so much!” - He kissed you.
Hormones drug! At those times, you were already crying with joy.
“I know. I love you even more!” - He kissed you again pressing you against the wall. Yeah, the night would be long..
• • ────────────── • •
hey, loves!!
how y’all doin’?
i really hope you enjoyed it. it’s my first time writing fanfic, as i progress i hope to be better at it more and more. if you want to be marked on the Taglist click here
441 notes · View notes
pillow-anime-talk · a year ago
longboard dancing.
request: If you’re doing requests for Sk8 the Infinity, can you please do the boys of your choice reacting to s/o longboard dancing? Thanks 😘
# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; comedy; mostly fluff; sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. miya chinen, reki kyan, langa hasegawa, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}
author’s note: aaaa, thank you so much! my first sk8 request :((( i love it.
Tumblr media
↘ At the beginning, he looks at you blankly when he sees what you are doing. I think he would call your behavior ‘childish’ or ‘so stupid’ BUT!
↘ I am 100% sure that after you smiled charmingly at him and winked in his direction, he would think about your sweet longboard dancing for the rest of the day and a half of the night. On the one hand, he still found it strange and embarrassing, but on the other hand... he wanted to be able to do the same, he wanted to join you, he wanted to know all the things you like and enjoy.
↘ He bit his lower lip with his teeth more than once, sighing through his conflicting thoughts.
↘ That’s why when you met at the skate park the next day and you greeted him with a short kiss on the cheek, the dark-haired boy, the first thing he did after you moved away from his face, was grabbing you by the end of your blouse. After a short second loud, even tired sigh left his thin mouth.
↘ You immediately asked if he was okay, and teen only glanced at you uncertainly, quickly looking around you; surprisingly, there weren’t many people in the skate park – in fact, apart from two of you, there was only another couple who were currently sitting on the hard ground and talking about the school and about what they should eat for lunch.
↘ “... What you did yesterday... T-Teach me.” He coughed, looking sideways at the tall trees one more time, and you instantly felt the warmth rising on your own, small heart.
↘ “Awh, of course!”
↘ For your happy and very precious smile, it was definitely worth spending the next few hours dancing and making short videos (which you then sent to all your close friends... making Miya want to hide his head in the sand!).
Tumblr media
↘ Someone said ‘longboard dancing’? He’s totally in it!
↘ Once you saw Reki dancing out of boredom (it was probably his warm-up as well, but you weren’t sure...) and found it very interesting. That’s why you’ve been diligently practiced balance on your skateboard for the last few long days, and when you finally got it under control, you immediately rushed to your beloved boyfriend, who was indescribably happy to see you and gave you some lovely pecks on every part of your pretty face.
↘ And as soon as you asked him to see what you learned, then played one of your favorite fast songs on your smartphone and showed him your perfectly matched moves, he was more than glad and infatuated; he probably felt like on the day of his confession to you. After a few longer seconds, however, he turned off the music, and then kissed you one more time in the middle of the mouth, handing back the phone and quickly running to his house, or more specifically to the bedroom.
↘ The only thing you could hear was, ‘Baby, baby! Please, wait for me, we have to do this together and send it to Langa!’, so you laughed joyfully, nodding your head.
↘ Then, obviously, Reki came back to you, so you two could record some cute videos that you posted not only on your Instagram or TikTok accounts, but which you primarily sent to your blue-haired best friend who, on the other side of the phone, laughed lightly, asking if can he also join to both of you.
Tumblr media
↘ I definitely imagine this situation like: you and Reki are childhood best friends. That’s why you two have very, very similar personality and you think the same way about the skateboard and the whole idea of ​​skateboarding, about creating boards and also about racing. 
↘ So Langa saw this dance, when the three of you were spending free time near your own home. He found it weird but extremely funny and definitely cute, especially when you laughed so sweetly with your bestie, saying, that you were definitely better at it than the red head.
↘ Langa watched your conversation (or rather the argument) for the next few minutes, until he felt you suddenly cuddle up to his warm chest, asking who was better – you or Reki.
↘ He looked at you for a brief moment, then shrugged his shoulders with a pure smile, saying that he should see you both dance again to give you an honest opinion.
↘ Neither you nor your best male friend even thought that Lang would ask you for more random songs, which made you ‘fight’ until late evening hours. Langa definitely had a great time – even better than the two of you!
↘ At the end of the day, when you lay down on the hard concrete, pressing your pinkish cheek against his thigh, you pulled your boyfriend by his snow-white shirt, asking who finally won.
↘ He, with a goofy twinkle in his eye, replied that ‘It was a draw for him, but you were definitely more precious than Reki, so you won the competition for his heart’. And although you were dead due to exercise, you pointed your index finger at the amber-eyed, laughing happily and repeating the word ‘I won!’ over, over and over again.
Tumblr media
↘ Kaoru is a serious and reasonable guy (we all know about it, right?), that’s why such ‘things’ were not on his agenda; he had never heard, and much less seen, longboard dancing. You, on the other hand, weren’t the same as he was. Of course, you could be calm and thorough when the situation called for it, but you had your own moments where you just wanted to have some innocent fun and go crazy.
↘ Therefore, while browsing the main YouTube page you came across a compilation in which unknown to you people were dancing on their boards.
↘ You found it amusing; it was a novelty for you that you wanted to test. So when the pink-haired young man was practicing calligraphy, you took Carla quietly and said ‘Hello’ to her. Although the skateboard was a robot she responded very kindly to your words and even asked how you feel and if you need help checking the weather. You said honestly that you wanted to do one thing and Carla naturally agreed to it by blocking the wheels so you don’t fall on the carpet.
↘ After selecting the song and standing in front of the huge mirror, you could test your dancing skills. It turned out you weren’t that bad at all! It was pretty fun, and Carla, with her built-in tiny computer, helped you choose music without having to walk off her.
↘ Obviously, your loud behavior and cheerful songs made Kaoru leave his huge studio and then go to the source of the noise you were causing. He was worried at first, but then, seeing your actions and how Carla fulfilled your polite requests, he smirked to himself. After a while, however, he coughed lightly under his breath, returning his serious expression to his handsome face.
↘ You quickly turned towards him, then blushed sweetly, apologizing for taking his skateboard without asking first. But to your own surprise, your loved one shook his head quickly, then turned, back to his room again.
↘ “Plug and charge Carla later.” He said lowly, bringing back a loving, extremely sincere smile on his lips.
Tumblr media
↘ That day you met with your female friend who was very into TikTok. As she knew that your greatest passion is skateboarding, she showed you one of the trends that caught her attention recently. Longboard dancing seemed to be an interesting form of activity, so you watched some of the most popular posts, and then you decided to try your hand at this ‘entertainment’.
↘ The whole learning process and the final dance was recorded by the fair-haired girl on her own phone, and you obviously didn’t notice it, too busy by dancing and having fun, as well as commenting on the whole situation and laughing out loud.
↘ All recorded videos were sent several minutes later to Kojirou, who was bored at work because there were very few customers in the restaurant that noon. However, seeing a notification on the messenger from your best friend, he immediately opened the app and watched the received files.
↘ A stupid smile appeared on his face as he surveyed your legs, ass and cheering face. After the last video, he sighed loudly, while looking at the yellow-white clock that took its place on one of the bar walls.
↘ He has three hours left until the end of his shift, but he has already decided to write a short text message to you in which he praised your all moves and confessed that he missed you so badly and would like to spend some time with you. He also added that he would love to see it all with his own eyes, and as soon as you read each word, you blushed all over your face and at the ends of your ears, sending a few stickers that matched to your embarrassment.
↘ The green-haired definitely recalled this situation for the next long weeks...
↘ Without irony, you wanted to bite him.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
haztory · a year ago
hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”
Tumblr media
“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 
 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!
a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!
nanami kento x gn!reader
Tumblr media
There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 
Much less any advice about love.
“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”
“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.
Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”
Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.
“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”
A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 
You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.
“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”
“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.
“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”
You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”
Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”
Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.
 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 
But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”
Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”
“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.
“Because it’s fun to tease you.”
Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”
“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”
Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.
“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”
Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”
Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”
He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.
And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.
You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”
“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.
“I’m still not getting the picture.”
“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”
Oh no.
“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”
Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 
“Shall we go ask Nanami?”
And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.
Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 
Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 
It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.
“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”
Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 
Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 
Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.
“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 
And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.
An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 
“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”
“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”
He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 
An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 
“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”
In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 
“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 
You gulp. “Y-yes.”
“I read your report.”
“You did?”
“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”
Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.
The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 
You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.
He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.
 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.
It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.
“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”
He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.
You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.
“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.
You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”
Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”
“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”
Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”
“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”
His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.
“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”
You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.
“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.
He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.
Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.
“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”
You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”
Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”
“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.
Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.
And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.
Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.
“Home. Warm and comforting.”
Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”
His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.
“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.
You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?
Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.
“Addicting,” you whisper.
And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.
His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.
All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.
“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.
So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.
“Hey Kento?”
“You really do have nice tits.”
Tumblr media
390 notes · View notes
minteyeddevil · a year ago
Hi!I've always wanted to write something myself, but my vocab isnt very large. Sssoooo can you write something that involves a Female M/C and Levi??? She loses her virginity to him(because let's face it, he may be a loner,and non social but hes been living a very VERY long time. Hes had to have gotten some ass at some point in his life) And hes very understanding and sweet about it all.(but meanwhile trying very hard not to be too rough and just plow into her. If you dont want to use Levi, Maybe Satan..If say Beel would be a good fit(no pun intended) but I'm siding with every fan here. Dudes dick is too big.
I forgot to add(for my virgin idea with Levi) hes trying hard not be too rough since it's been oh so long since the last time he had sex.(that and the M/C just makes him feel like that regardless)
(I don't mind it being about Levi, I love me some otaku boy :3 I really hope this come out as you hoped, and thanks for sending in a request, lovely!)
Of all the beings available to her, why did she have to pick him? He's just the disgusting hermit who hides away in his room full of anime figurines and games stacked to the ceiling, glued to his computer screen and in his own little world all the time. Why oh why did she chose him?
Leviathan's brain asks these questions over and over again as he is laying next to MC in his bathtub-bed, her lips softly moving against his own. He can't shake the feeling that this has to be a dream; there is no way in all of the Devildom that this could possibly be happening to him.
He and MC had formed a bond of sorts over her stay in the Devildom; in fact, they had practically gotten glued at the hip with how often they would be around each other. She would hide away in his room til the wee hours of the morning, and even sleep over from time to time, taking up the futon he would lay out for her. Up until she slowly began working her way into his bed. This led to a shy first kiss, one that fried his brain to bits and left him a sputtering mess for days after; even that he couldn't believe actually happened.
As their relationship bloomed, so did their closeness, Levi working out his dislike of being touched to allow her to lay her hands on him, slowly but surely getting him used to her. Their kissing would become more and more heated, hands wondering and touching the most intimate of places, until she finally brought herself to admit she had never physically been with anyone before him. Her admittance was followed by a shy downturn of her face, hiding it against his chest as she waited for his judgment.
Another moment of his brain short circuiting. He felt the heat rising in his chest and creeping up into his face, but he wrapped his arms securely around her, giving her reassurance. "I-It's fine that you've never been with anyone before me, MC. It doesn't make me like you any less, ya know?"
She pulled back and looked up at his face, her eyes soft as they locked with his own. "You sure? I know as a demon who has lived for so long...I am sure you have, um, been with plenty of others..."
"T-That doesn't mean anything!" he yelped, covering his face with his hands for a moment. "I l-like the idea of being with you more...so I, uh, wouldn't mind if, ya know...you let me...be your first."
The tail end of his comment came out in a mumbled whisper, but she caught in none the less. "I would love for you to be my first, Levi. I trust you."
A small groan leaves his throat as her words play back in his mind. She trusts him. He had to make sure this night was the best of her life. With him.
He pulled away from the kiss, both of them panting for moment as they gazed at one another. He visibly swallowed, his fingers fisting into her shirt. "Can...Can I take this off?"
She nodded, sitting up to allow him to pull her shirt off, leaving her in a bralette, his eyes averting from her at first. "It's okay, you can look," she reassured him, reaching her hands out to touch his own.
He swallowed once more, slowly moving his eyes to look, taking in her chest as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. "L-Lemme do it!" he called out suddenly, and she nodded, allowing him to reach behind her back. He undid the clasp easily, letting out the breath he was holding, only to suck in a deeper one when he saw her bare before him.
He stared for a moment before locking eyes with her once more, asking for permission. Another nod was given, and he lifted his hands slowly, cupping her breasts in each one, giving them a firm squeeze. She whimpered slightly, and he paused, gaging her reaction before continuing, feeling her nipples grow pert against the skin of his palm. He pinched them lightly, rolling them between his fingers, eliciting another whimper from her, before leaning in to capture her lips in a deep kiss.
"You're wearing far too much," she mumbled against his lips when they separated for air, and he gave her a funny look before addressing himself. He gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "S-Sorry, just...really wrapped up in you. Lemme just, ugh..."
He stood up from the bed and climbed out, taking off his shirt and kicking off his sweatpants. She stood as well, removing her shorts, leaving herself in just her underwear, as they climbed back into his bed. This time he climbed atop her, nestling himself between her legs. His flush had spread up to his ears and down to his chest, making his skin warmer than usual, and she ran her fingers along his skin.
"You doing okay?" he asked softly, his fingers shakily running along her side.
She smiled warmly and nodded. "Ready for whatever you have next, babe."
He visibly shuttered at the pet name, then leaned in to plant kisses to her neck and collarbone. He latched onto a specific spot at the bottom of her throat, sucking the skin there to leave a dark mark. He pulled away with an audible pop, and looked down at the mark, smirking slightly; good way to show that she was his.
He began to nervously plant kisses down her chest, coming to the valley between her breasts. He remembered a scene from a hentai he had watched before, and leaned over one of her mounds, blowing lightly on her nipple. It became pert at the sensation, and he felt her wiggle against him, making him smirk to himself. He than took the bud in his mouth, drawing a tight circle around it with his tongue and gave it a generous suck. She gave a high whine, rutting her hips against him, making him gasp and release her nipple when her core came in contact with his erection.
"G-Getting impatient, huh?" he tried to dirty talk, his hand slowly edging towards her still clothed cunt.
"Maybe," she mumbled, gasping a bit when his fingers rubbed against the damn fabric.
He shimmied down her body until settled between her thighs, his face now level with her core. He swallowed once more, mouth suddenly watering as he noticed the dark spot in the fabric covering her. His fingers shakily moved it aside and he leaned forward, giving her a tentative lick.
Her thighs clamped shut for a moment, making him yelp, until he pushed them back open, looking up at her. "Too much? Want me to stop?" he asked, worry apparent in his voice.
"No, no! It just... surprised me is all. New sensation, ya know?" she replied shyly, biting her lower lip. He nodded, giving her thigh a loving rub. "It should feel good, MC. Just, um, tap me on the head if you need to stop, 'kay?"
She nodded, and he bowed his head back down, pressing his tongue back to her folds, licking generously against her. Her thighs attempted to close once more, but his free hand kept them apart, his other hand opening her folds so he could tongue at her clit. She moaned, wiggling a bit at the sensation growing in her lower belly. His lips wrapped around the small bud, as he slowly pressed a finger inside her, thought stopped when he felt her tense.
He pulled away to look up at her, but she let out a deep breath, and urged him to continue. Lips going back to latch on to her clit, his finger slipped in with ease thanks to her slickness, and soon a second finger joined the first, stretching her out as he scissored them.
A slight sting made her wince as he stretched her, but soon she found her hips rutting against him, a pleasurable build up sending sparks along her spine. He pulled away what felt like too soon, and she whined a bit, looking down at him.
"I, um, I think you're ready," he reassured, climbing back up her body to lock eyes with her. She took in a deep breath, bringing her arms to wrap around his neck. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, his hands working his boxers down to free his cock. When she felt the head prodding her entrance, she tensed and looked at him with worry in her eyes.
"You can always back out, MC. I won't be upset or anything! I understand if you change your mind or if you're grossed out by me..." he babbled, but she hushed him with another kiss.
"No Levi, I want it to be you. I'm just nervous, and kind of scared of pain," she admitted, giving him a wry smile.
He frowned, but nodded in understanding. "I-It'll probably hurt for a little while, but I will do my best to be gentle, 'kay? Whenever you want me to stop just smack me or something."
She giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pressed his own to her forehead, and let himself press against her once more. His hand guided his tip into her entrance, and he tried not to groan aloud at how hot and wet she felt already. He was worried he might cum too soon with how good she felt as he slowly began to sink in. He felt her tense suddenly and he froze, looking back to her face.
Her brow was drawn together and lower lip bit tightly between her teeth as she felt the sting of the stretch. Once the initial pain dulled down, she motioned for him to continue. He pressed in further, her walls giving and molding to his cock, until he was fully in, skin pressed to skin.
He waited, feeling her walls flutter and pulse, until she began to roll her hips against him did he begin to move.
He started with shallow thrusts, letting her feel the drag of his cock inside her, little whimpers and moans leaving her. The sounds went straight to his cock, and he wanted so badly to pound in to her; but the last thing he wanted to do was take away from this being her first time.
"D-Does it feel good, MC?" he asked shyly, his breath coming in shaky pants. She nodded quickly, her hands running down his back and trailing down his arms to grip his biceps.
"It feels amazing, Levi...please, can you go faster?"
He groaned loudly at her request, burying his face in her neck to hide to flustered look on his face. He sped up his pace, pressing himself closer to her frame as he kept his cock deep inside her with each thrust. His tip made contact with that sweet spot within, and her vision began to turn white at the ends.
"L-Levi! I think I'm gonna--!"
"Go ahead MC! C-Cum for me, please!"
His name left her throat in a high moan, as her walls clamped down on him, milking him hard and pulling him into his own orgasm. He pulled out as quickly as he could, spilling his seed all over her belly. He leaned back on his haunches, panting for breath, as her body became limp against his pillows.
He looked her over, taking in the blissed out look of her face, and his cum all over her skin; he wanted to etch that image permanently into his memory.
"Lemme get you a towel to clean you up," he mumbled almost embarrassed, jumping out of his bed and throwing on his sweatpants to head out into the hall. When he returned, he also had a bottle of water for her, climbing back into to wipe her down. He gave her his shirt to cover up, and curled into the pillows with her, pulling his blanket over the two of them.
She sighed contently as she nuzzled into his chest, planting small kisses to his warm skin. He shuttered at the sensation, but cleared his throat suddenly.
"Was it, um...was it good...ya know, for your first time?"
What he wanted to ask was did he do well for her. Was he good enough for her; but he'd be damned before he asked that out loud.
Though as if she could read his mind, she gave him the brightest smile, reaching up to kiss him on the lips. "It was amazing, babe. You were amazing. Thank you for taking care of me."
He flustered again, verbally key-smashing in his words, as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his burning face in her hair.
240 notes · View notes
Season 3 left feel salty about Alucard not getting his happiness. So may I request for post season 3 imagines please about Alucard meet a empathetic, intelligent human lady whose is a herbalist (not a witch. Something that Lisa does) (whose personality and appearance is like Belle from Beauty and Beast) and their relationship being like Beauty and the Beast.
A/N: I’m ALIVE!!!! School has tried hard to vanquish me but it has FAILED! I HAVE RISEN VICTORIOUS!!! At least for this semester. It was a big challenge transitioning to fully online courses so I must apologize for the hiatus in writings. Being on the computer for school for 8+ hours straight, the last thing I wanted to do in my free time was to stare at another screen with a deadline weighing on my shoulders. But I’m back baby! And with 21 pages for this ask, holie-molie!
OH, AND I HAVE A KOFI NOW! I know times have been hard and money has been tight for everyone, but if you like what you’ve read here, please consider donating to my virtual tip jar here: [x]. There’s no obligation. Right now I answer asks and write Imagines for fun. That might change in the future, and I might open up on more of a commission basis, but that’ll depend on my schedule and how everything goes. 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
The winter winds were much worse than expected. Shivering, you tugged your cloak even closer to your body for what must have been the hundredth time that day. Beneath you, your horse whinnied at your constant wiggling. The sky was crystal clear when you had set out earlier. The weather shouldn’t have changed this fast. 
You weren’t incredibly well-educated on the seasons, but you knew enough about them as an indirect consequence of your area of expertise. You were a herbalist and had studied the properties of plants- both native and foreign- for years. Of course, more often than not this included information on the seasons; certain plants were to be sown and harvested at very different, but specific times. Your family had belonged to a long line of experts in herblore who had taken up studying the gifts of the earth for centuries. As a result, you were very adept at utilizing the natural environment around you. 
Unfortunately, in this unexpected icy-tundra, you feared your knowledge of natural properties would do you no good. Something was haunting about the snow that fell here, you could just feel it. The air itself was well below freezing but the snowy droplets themselves were almost warm to the touch. You sensed a sinister atmosphere behind such circumstances. It felt as if someone, or something, from above intended to punish the beings in this realm. A part of you wished to flee, to distance yourself from whatever entity was suffering retribution. Even then, a strong resilient voice inside your heart told you that you were no quitter and certainly not a coward. So, despite the feeling of dread looming over you, you trekked on. 
You had received a mysterious letter a little over two months ago from an anonymous sender asking you to come at once to a certain clearing in Wallachia. If you weren’t mistaken, the land once belonged to a prominent family, some tens of years ago. You heard the rumors of how they had been either killed or driven out, but this letter insisted that some new person, or people, had seized occupancy of the place. You knew your family was known within many secret circles, and this letter insisted that this former great family, the Belmonts, belonged to one such circle. 
The letter suggested that once again, your services were needed. Although what for, the anonymous sender did not say. You supposed it was safer that way. If this family was indeed persecuted long ago, it was better to be vague in their instructions. Perhaps it was an attempt to reunite each of your families’ services with one another? In exchange for medical aid and advice, you would be equipped with holy weapons and knowledge of supernatural creatures. And with the recent happenings in Wallachia, you concluded that it was a more than fair arrangement and set out just under a week ago. 
You didn’t live far from Wallachia but the journey was anything but quick. So many people required your assistance on the way, and despite the principal objective of reuniting with the great, long lost Belmont family looming over your head, you had chosen to stay when necessary and help in any way you could. It was just that the people you’d met were living in such pitiable conditions, you refused to leave them unaided. You had become so invested in herbology for its abilities to help people. You made a promise, many years ago; not to anyone in particular, but a promise nonetheless to never turn your back on anyone, or anything in need- ever. You weren’t foolish enough to believe your efforts would make an impact on the overwhelming cruelty of the world, however, you stayed dutiful to your cause. Just because the world was cruel didn't mean you had to be. 
Pulled from your train of thought, your body was wracked with shivers again. 
‘Did the winds suddenly pick up again? Or perhaps,’ you wondered, ‘Was it something more?’
You pulled your mare to a stop. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and focused on the feeling. 
“Sadness.” You realized. 
You were not so alone in these woods. 
There was someone, something out there all alone, suffering. Perhaps if you located the source, you could help them. They could be hurt. And even if they were simply lonely or scared, some company might do them good. 
‘Or,’ a cynical voice in your mind interrupted, ‘They could just want to be left alone.’ 
Nevertheless, you had made a promise to help, wherever and whenever you could and this time would be no exception. 
“Come on.” You urged your horse alone. You were going to find the source of that sadness and put a stop to it. 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
What you found was not at all what you were expecting. You had anticipated some sort of humble cabin or cave-dwelling, certainly not the incredibly ornate castle which now stood before you. 
‘Perhaps the builders of the castle are the ones who sent the letter?’ 
Briefly, you considered the fact that this might be the work of the living descendants of the great Belmont family. Then again, an uneasy feeling told you there was much more to the display here than what met your eyes. 
If the Belmont’s had only recently come out of exile, why choose such an ostentatious place to reside? Surely a more understated abode would be less suspicious. Why on earth would they go and invite trouble in this way? It seemed to you like a foolish oversight. 
Still, unwise decision or not, the sight was impressive. You wished the weather wasn’t so harsh so you could stand to gawk another moment or two. However, as the biting winds picked up, you could feel another one of your digits grow numb with every passing moment.
Kicking your mare into action once more, you instructed her to trot around to the rear of the castle. A place this intricate was bound to have a nearby stable. You were still some distance from the actual entrance itself, not even having cleared the tree line of the adjacent forest, but you assumed that along with a stable, a place of this size ought to have more than one entrance and exit. 
You patted the side of your horse’s chest reassuringly. You would give the place a more serious inspection once your horse was safely out of this weather. 
Unbeknownst to you, had you ventured nearer to the front entrance, you might have noticed the two frozen corpses resting on spikes at the foot of the front steps.
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
The stables were easier enough to find and, just as you’d thought, were absolutely gorgeous to look at. Everything was painted in rich, dark colors. It certainly looked like a stable worthy of royals. However, you couldn't help but notice no other horses resided there. Perhaps there was a second stable you missed initially, or perhaps the family living here didn’t have any horses. 
‘That’s odd,’ you mused as you secured your horse within a stall. 
The closest town was Argesh, but even that was miles away. Once again, you found yourself judging this family’s actions as rather foolish. At the very least, they ought to have invested in a horse for travel in the harsh winter months. 
No matter how you chose to look at it, the situation remained quite baffling to you. You supposed you would just have to ask the inhabitants what their reasoning was before you leaped to any more conclusions. 
You left the majority of your belongings still attached to Honey. There was no way you could carry them in all at once, and besides, even if you could, that was presuming too much. For all you knew, the family inside the castle wasn’t keen on having their company stay in the main house. You had heard some well-off families could be funny about those kinds of things.
Giving your mare a final brush, you temporarily ventured back out into the cold. You knew you should have run around to the front door, knowing for certain there was an entryway there, but it was below freezing and the longer you remained outside, the bluer your lips turned. Yes, it might be considered poor manners but in these circumstances, you would rather have a quick entrance than a proper one. 
After a few cold seconds of searching, you came to a simple door with a wrought iron frame. Hastily, you tugged it open, flinching at the loud screeching noise it’s hinges made. Whoever was inside was certain to have heard you. But you supposed that was for the best. After all, you were a guest in their home; to simply walk in without warning would be rather rude. 
“Hello?” You hazarded a cautionary greeting but was met with silence. Was anyone home? Or maybe the reason there were no horses in the one stable meant that whoever had been living here cleared out long ago.  
Without any reply, you were lost to the maze of stone hallways and lush red carpets that greeted you. The muddled architecture outside did not do the inside layout justice. The interior was even more unclear. It seemed that certain hallways ended without warning and others began out of nowhere. You assumed at the very least one or two main hallways would make themselves known, but as you ventured deeper into the bowels of the castle, the more confused you became. You spotted a lone staircase to your left and hesitantly began to climb. Voices carried farther, the higher up they were, right? 
“Hello?” You tried again. “Is anyone home?” 
You racked your brain and tried to think back to all the fellow travelers you had met while on the road. Did any of them speak of an abandoned castle? A building as showy as this one was bound to be a noteworthy landmark. You could only recall a half memory of a story a Gresit fruit vendor had told you. 
You were stopped for the evening, and enjoying some food and drink when you heard the story of their local legend. 
‘A savior,’ they had said, ‘the antithesis of Dracula himself once slept under Gresit. He was the one to thank for the end of the night horse attacks.’ 
Or so they thought. 
At the time you thought it was nothing more than a sweet story, a fairy tale complete with a happy ending. But now, as you stood small in the vast maze that was this castle, you had a creeping suspicion the story was true. 
‘Oh my god,’ you thought. ‘This was the infamous Dracula's castle!. This place must now belong to the saviors of…’
A flash of red at the corner of your vision caught your attention. Clusimly, you tripped on the last step, the blunt stair ledge landing directly at your ribs. Hissing, you sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth and pushed yourself back onto your feet. 
“H-hello? Is there someone there? Bel-Belmont?” You once again announced your presence with a question. “I apologize for using the rear entry, but I had just come from the stable.” You cautiously ventured out into the large hallway at the landing’s level. “My horse, Honey, I put her there, I hope that’s alright.” You tried to keep your voice light and steady but inside your chest, your heart was pounding. “I received your letter.” 
“‘Letter’?” A harsh voice rasped out from beyond the shadows. “Do you think I’m as foolish to fall for that?” 
You blinked in confusion. “B-but, I brought the letter with me, it’s in my pocket.” You went to reach for it, but the stranger’s serious interruption gave you a great pause. 
“If you wish to keep living, I suggest you put your hand back down.” 
You froze. You had met hostile people before- not everyone believed in nature’s medicine. But on those occasions, you had come prepared. Here, like a fool, you rushed in blind, believing the person who resided here to be an ally. What had this person so upset? So untrusting? 
“Who are you?” You asked. “Why would you send for me only to threaten me?” 
“I did not send for you.” The man’s reply was quick and deflective. “I am no longer in the practice of accepting the aid of humans.” His words echoed around you rather annoyingly. You could get a much better read on the individual in question if he only showed himself to you. 
Who was this mysterious stranger? And what did he mean, ‘humans’? 
“Step into the light.” A momentary rush of brevity overtook your speech. “You threatened my life, the least you could do is show me your face. I have a right to at least see my would-be killer.” You scanned the hall from left to right. Nothing. Until...
“I am Alucard Tepes,” a hot breath whispered on the back of your neck, “And I did not ask for any visitors.” 
You were momentarily seized by fear, but more powerfully then, by indignation. 
You were a kind person who only sought to help people. Whoever this person was, you were sure they had reasons for being adversarial, after all, the world was a harsh place. But still, that gave them no right to speak to you in this way. 
You waved away the heat of this stranger’s breath and walked forward. You intended to put some distance between the two of you. 
“My name,” you said displeasedly, “Is (F/N) (L/N) and I have done nothing to warrant this behavior from you. I received a letter asking for my help, and that is all I have come to do.” Despite this man’s earlier warning, you reached into your pocket and withdrew the correspondence in which a mystery individual requested your presence. You held it out in front of you, as far as your arm would go. 
“This,” you said, sounding very self-assured, “Is what I received. I wouldn’t have presumed this much otherwise. Now,” you huffed, “Would you mind explaining why someone sent for me?” 
The man, Alucard, regarded you suspiciously for a moment. Seeming to have decided you weren’t currently a threat, he snatched the letter from your hands quite rudely. 
“Damn that Belmont.” He muttered under his breath. “Now you bother to think of me… How untimely.” He looked back up to you, clearly annoyed by your presence. 
You did your best to hold your ground. You narrowed your own eyes back at him.
“It seems,” he began, “You were brought here under false pretenses. My compani… an old acquaintance of mine must have written this letter shortly after he left. The person who requested your presence is no longer here.” 
“Alright.” You furrowed your brow. “Well, did he mention when he’d return?” 
“No.” Alucard seemed more frustrated than you were. “You’d be better off looking for him elsewhere.” 
“So I’m not welcome here, then?” Alucard tilted his head at your question. 
“You don’t intend to leave? I said the person who requested your services is no longer here; therefore, he does not need you.” 
“And what about you?” 
“Those look awful.” You gestured to the scars on his wrists. They seemed to extend up to his forearm, but you couldn’t see beyond the sleeves of his shirt. “If you’d like, I could try and minimize them, make the scarring less obvious.” 
This ‘Alucard’ stalked menacingly towards you. He didn't seem to appreciate your observations. In fact, he seemed to become even more agitated.  
“You can stay in the stables until the weather clears but I doubt Belmont will return in that time, as long as you don’t disturb anything. But I will be watching. And I will not hesitate to kill you, should you do anything suspicious.” 
You gulped. 
“Then I’ll just avoid being suspicious,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “But under those conditions... You’ll allow me to stay?” 
Alucard waved you along. “If you want to amuse yourself, dying at the hands of a monster, I won’t stop you.” You once again found yourself blanching at his words, but began to follow him down the hall, nonetheless. 
“So a monster is kept here then? Is it one of those night creatures?” You presumed. 
“Something of that nature,” he responded, quite dryly. 
“Well, is there anything you can do for it? Um, them?” You asked, earnestly. 
“What?” Alucard was taken aback. “You want to, what? Feed it? And take it for walks as if it’s the family dog?” 
“No, of course not,” you replied, hotly. “I mean, in terms of treatment, is there any way you can…” You paused, struggling to find the right words. “Can you save them?” 
For the third time since you met, Alucard looked at you deeply. He seemed to be remembering something from long ago and searching for it, somewhere in your eyes. 
“That,” he said after a moment’s pause, “Has yet to be seen.” 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
You discovered, by process of elimination that this was indeed, The Alucard, son, and antithesis of Dracula. It seemed so obvious once you put two and two together, you almost didn’t understand why you hadn’t seen it immediately before.
He had put you up in a stall in the stable with Honey. Well, he had been so gracious as to let you choose a stall. You did thank him for proving a straw mattress and bedroll but that seemed to be the extent of his hospitality. You didn’t mind so much. You were used to traveling and sleeping outside on the cold hard ground. Compared to frozen mud, the stone ground of the stable was a luxury. The stable was heated and shielded you from the howling winds and whipping torrents of snow outside. Truly, you couldn’t ask for more. 
Well, to be perfectly honest there was more you wanted to ask but it had absolutely nothing to do with your accommodations. You wanted to speak at length with the Alucard. You wished to ask him questions about Dracula, about the castle, about Belmont, but most intriguing of all, you wanted to ask him about his heritage. 
You knew his father was Dracula and that his mother was a human woman. But that still left so much to the imagination. How did she and Dracula meet? Why on Earth would he choose to have a child with her? Was it a consensual relationship? Or perhaps she was his prisoner? 
Briefly, you recalled hearing about the church wronging Dracula by accusing his wife of witchcraft. At first, you had assumed the church persecuted an innocent woman, completely unrelated to Dracula but had chosen to do so in his name. It wasn’t until you arrived here, that you realized the woman they burned at the stake was indeed the true wife of Dracula and most likely, the mother of Alucard. 
You felt awful. Your family often faced persecution as well. But more often than not, it resulted in your ancestors being driven from their homes. You could count the total number of times on a single hand that someone in your lineage was sentenced to death for herbology. 
You had been very close to your Mother. If she had died in that manner, you weren’t sure you would have had the strength to continue. Luckily for you, it was merely old age that claimed her in the end. When you were younger, you used to feel angry that she had chosen to have one last child so late in life, knowing full well her chance of seeing you grow to have your children was slim at best. As you grew older, however, and learned more about reproduction, you supposed thinking of when she would die was probably not something your mother considered while conceiving you. 
You shook your head, swearing away such sultry thoughts, and thought back to the problem at hand. You were physically safe from the elements in the stable, but still, you were quite lonely. And while you had no problem foraging and hunting for meals, your curiosity got the better of you: you wanted to know what Alucard had in his kitchen. After all, he was part human. You were so engrossed with the idea of a half-human’s/half-vampire's diet. As a student of herbology, you knew food was not only necessary for survival but often had impacts on mood and behavior as well. At least, that’s what human physiology told you, you had no clue if it applied to dhampirs as well. But you were determined to find out. 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
You waited well into the evening to once again knock on that back wrought iron door, him being half-vampire and all. You half expected it to be bolted shut ever since you entered through it without prior permission, but were pleasantly surprised to find that it was still unlocked. Gently this time, you opened it.
“Alucard!” You called. “Can you hear me?”
You did your best to retrace the steps you took the first time you entered. As you finished ascending the staircase, you expected to find him waiting to ambush you in the hall like last time. Except when you reached the top step, without falling this time, no one was in sight.
“Alucard?” You called again. “I wanted to ask you something… Are you here?”
No answer.
‘Well,’ you supposed, ‘In that case, as long as I’m not suspicious, it should be fine to walk around.’
You continued to stalk down the long hallway, admiring the paintings and armors that adored it. This place was filled with so many things, things that must have had such interesting histories! Briefly, you wondered if Alucard knew about any of this stuff.
Coming to a turn, you found yourself at another hall, this one much darker than the previous. The beautiful magic lanterns that illuminated the path you trekked were dark here. And the surrounding air felt much colder than before. Was this part of the castle not used much? Your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to investigate.
You slowly stepped down yet another stair and emerged out from under its arching molding to find yourself across from a matching staircase. Where the two sides met in the middle was a smooth platform, and in the center of it, close to the front edge, rested a grand throne. The chair was massive and tall, much taller than any human you had ever come across. A chill ran up your spine. There was only one being you could think of that would have had use for such a chair.
‘Dracula.’ You thought to yourself. ‘This must be Dracula’s throne room.’
On the platform, and beyond it to its left and right was a blood-red carpet. You tried not to think of the irony in the color choice. Instead, you opted for walking down beside the throne, to further inspect the stone carving on the divider in front of it.
It was so intricate, and very well carved. You wondered if Dracula had produced the work himself, or if he had someone else do it for him?
‘Perhaps, oh what were they called again? Oh, yes! A thrall!’
For all you know he forced his thralls to complete this architecture. I mean yes, he was Dracula, but still, this place was huge and there was a lot of ground to cover by oneself. As you continued down the side of the divider, you found your attention transferred to the absolute mess that was this hall’s floor. Shattered glass from fallen chandeliers and chunks of tile and wood littered the scorched carpet. Something dreadful must have happened here, you could feel it.
You could feel so many memories and energies in that room, it was overwhelming. There was this strong, serious aura of purpose and destiny. Wrapped around it was this bright aura of energy and a fiery spirit. A third, equally strong energy brought a chill down your spine: it was determined, like the first, but much more distraught. Whoever those three individuals were, they all felt like it was necessary to be there, but how it took an emotional toll on each of them was a different story entirely.
You wondered if Alucard was one of those auras. He probably was, after all, it was he and this ‘Belmont’ who fought to defeat Dracula. And the third spirit seemed to be with them, so they most likely picked up a companion along the way. Their companion seemed to be the most lighthearted out of the bunch. How you wished they chose to stay here with Alucard. If anyone could use some lightheartedness right now, it was him.
However, one more thing troubled you: this battle must have taken place here was months ago! Why hadn’t all this debris been cleared away? Why were some spots of the castle so immaculate while this huge throne room and hall remained littered with rubbish? You were seeking too many answers again.
‘Speaking of questions,’ your mind drifted back to the task at hand, ‘I was supposed to be looking for Alucard.’
Oh well. You didn’t think that obvious snooping was something suspicious. It was apparent as day that you had been gawking at everything here since you arrived. There was nothing sinister or sneaky about that. You hoped Alucard would regard it the same way. After all, you were still technically under his rule as a guest in his home.
‘Home,’ you thought. ‘How sad to have to come home to this. Perhaps,’ you supposed, ‘I could help tidy the place up. Yes! That ought to cheer Alucard up a little. And then maybe,’ you hoped, ‘He might start talking to me.’
You had made up your mind. First things first, you were going to find yourself a kitchen. And second things second, you were going to brighten up this dreary place, even if you had to drag out all this broken furniture yourself. Just because Alucard wasn’t in the mood for talking to you, didn’t mean that you couldn’t talk to him. You just had to uncover a creative way to communicate. And your plan in mind looked like the best way to do it.
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
The kitchen you had managed to find easily enough. And you were pleasantly surprised to find it stocked with bottles of wine, dried herbs, and grain. It appeared half-vampires, such as Alucard, did eat human food. You still had no clue as to how often he ate or how much. Or if he needed blood in addition to human sustenance. You supposed you would learn in time. At the moment, however, you were mainly focused on the rich drink. The sweet wine pooled heat in your belly and with it, you felt ready to begin to tackle the daunting mess in the throne room. 
Normally, you wouldn't have been so forward in your actions, but a part of you was growing desperate. The longer you thought it over, the longer you sensed Belmont had sent for you knowing his friend would be quite lonely by the time you arrived. It was clear to you Alucard had large emotional wounds left from the falling out between him and his father and the tragic loss of his mother. At least, those were the wounds you knew about. There were still those two mysterious… guests staked out at the castle’s front. Alucard told you nothing about them, other than you would be wise to not end up like them. It wasn’t much to go on. 
As you mulled over all of these thoughts, you put your body to good use. You used one of the torn and bloodied drapes as a tarp and went around collecting pieces of tile and ceiling. By the time you had squared away the larger chunks, the sun was rising. Huffing, you took a moment to sit at the foot of the grand staircase. You supposed you may have been a little manic in working for so long, but you were so wrapt up in thought, you didn't even notice how much time passed until the morning light caught your eye. 
It wasn’t a grand gesture by any means, but it was a start. You figured the more work you did, the less time Alucard could keep pretending you didn’t exist. The more of the castle you brightened up would force Alucard to either acknowledge your help and by extension, your residence here at his home. Or at the very least his frustration with your changing things would prompt some sort of confrontation. You had initially assumed, based on the way he reacted when you first met, he would be an aggressive sort of house-mate, but instead, his presence was like encountering a ghost. 
There were moments you could feel him nearby; his aura had a distinct sorrow to it, but for the most part, you couldn’t get a solid read on him. The deep, cold, sadness emanating from the castle was practically all-consuming. If you were to get anywhere with him, if you were to truly understand him,  the first thing you needed to do was change that.
And so you did. 
Not overnight of course, but little by little, you dedicated several hours a day to tidying up a room or dusting off old collections of statues and books. On the rare occasion, amid your nesting, you’d feel a chill run up your spine. That’d be how you knew Alucard was watching you, how you knew he was close. Half of you felt incredibly satisfied to have piqued his interest, and the other half of you was downright terrified. You were like an innocent little rabbit, hoping to catch the eye of a sly fox: it was a dangerous game for you to be playing. 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
Alucard felt that danger too. 
He was so unbelievably angry. He was angry at his father for declaring war on humanity, angry at Dracula for betraying his mother’s final wish, for forcing him to fight against his kind in the way he had. He was angry at Belmont for leaving the stupid Belmont trove as if it made up for him and Sypha running off to live happily-ever-after god knows where after leaving him alone to rot alongside all those other long-forgotten artifacts. 
He was beyond angry at Taka and Sumi for betraying his trust the way they had. It had been too intimate, too personal, too awful to look back on the way he was made to-... If they only had threatened to kill him the way most people would, with a stake aimed at his chest after a long fight on the battlefield. No, they had chosen to hurt him in his bed, in his own home after… Just the very memory made his dhampir blood boil. Or perhaps he had willed his blood to boil to not have to feel the ache in his heart and the weight in his stomach. Those two had hurt him most of all. 
And then there was you. 
When he had finally grown comfortable with the silence, with the all-consuming loneliness of his castle and the Belmont hold, you just had to let yourself in. Yes, Alucard was angry at you, but not for the simple act of intruding, oh no. He was angry for the way he longed to be near you. He was angry over the way his mind begged to speak to you. He no longer wanted to be the cold, cruel master who you avoided like the plague, he wanted the freedom to enjoy your company and have you enjoy his in return. It was a dangerous desire, one he didn’t know how to approach. 
It felt like it had been years since he knew how to speak kindly, how to think kindly. He had chosen to forget in order to protect himself. But thanks to your unexpected arrival, Alucard wondered if the emotional walls he had put up were too high for even the most insistent of herbalists to climb over. He supposed only time would tell. 
‘Or,’ a voice in his head supplied, ‘You could push things along.’ 
Alucard stared intently at the flames raging in the fireplace of his father’s study. He had been sitting, quietly pondering what to do about your current situation. 
“How do you suggest I do that?” He spoke towards the fire. He knew it was juvenile. He knew he wasn’t talking to anyone other than himself. Still, it felt... nice to use his vocal cords after all this time. 
‘You could offer her more permanent lodging.’ 
“She hasn’t made any complaints.” 
‘True. And she won’t. She’s too polite.’ 
“Looks can be deceiving,” Alucard replied dryly. After all, he knew all too well. 
‘Yes. But I do recall a certain brother-sister duo asking you about moving the castle rather early in your relationship.’ 
“It was not a relationship,” Alucard hissed. 
‘Acquaintanceship,’ the voice acquiesced. ‘They asked for things- repeatedly. She has asked for nothing. On the contrary, she has done things for you, without being prompted.’ 
“The cleaning, yes,” Alucard sighed. “It has continued to a point where I can ignore it no longer. She’s done more than sweep up the remaining shards of glass.” 
‘Perhaps it is time you do something for her, without asking. See how she responds to such kindness.’ 
“What exactly do you have in mind?” 
‘Invite her to dinner. At the long dining table.’ 
“Why is where we eat important?” 
‘It shows you value her presence. Women appreciate that.’ 
“And what do you know of women?” 
‘Well, your Mother always appreciated it when your Father did it for her.’ 
Alucard paused. 
Briefly, he recalled a time before his Mother’s death, before their move to her home village of Lupu. A happy time when his family would sit around at the long dining table, just the three of them grouped at the front of it. His mother always did appreciate his Father’s melodramatics. She adored the way Vlad made everything fanciful and over-the-top, even when such fanfare wasn't needed. She claimed she found it rather charming. Lisa swore she never needed anything fancy, as long as she had the two of them, she would say, she was happy. 
Alucard pensively rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. “Do you think it will work?” 
‘Sure, it’ll work. You just need to be subtle about it.’ 
‘Subtle?’ Alucard thought. ‘I can do that.’ 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
You had finally settled in for a nice nap when a strong chill ran up your spine. You jolted up into a sitting position. There in front of you stood Alucard, the Son of Dracula, the Savior, and the Prince of Wallachia. 
“I, uh,” you stammered. “The sun is up.” You pointed at the rays streaming through the stable’s doors. 
“I am only half-vampire. I can withstand sunlight.” 
“Alright then.” You thought for a moment. “What about garlic?” 
“You’ll see when you join me for dinner tonight,” Alucard answered rather stoically. 
“Dinner? You’re asking me to eat dinner with you tonight?” 
“I am not asking.” 
You crossed your arms at that. “Is that so?” 
“What if I don’t want to?” 
“Excuse me?” 
“Maybe I only eat meals with people who haven’t taken every opportunity we speak to be demeaning and rude.” 
“I have not been rude.” 
“You threaten my life when I first arrive here, then you avoid me at all costs, and now you demand I join you for dinner.” 
“I told you, I do not appreciate visitors, especially unexpected ones.”
“It’s not my shortcoming that your friend failed to mention my impending arrival. If you want my company, ask nicely!” You huffed. Normally you would maintain your composure but there was something about this conversation that irritated you so much. You wondered if you were picking up the annoyance Alucard was feeling himself. 
Alucard rolled his eyes before sighing. 
“Fine,” he gritted out. “Would you please,” he added an emphasis on ‘please’, “Join me for dinner?” 
You smiled. “I’d love to. But I won’t have you preparing the meal all by yourself. It wouldn’t be right.”
“I did not ask for your help in cooking.”
You nodded, pulling yourself to a standing position. “And yet, I’ve offered it anyway. I was planning on hunting some hare. I saw a handful of them scurrying around yesterday.” 
“You don’t have to. It would take you ten times the effort and time than if I were to do it.” Alucard wasn’t trying to boast, it just came off that way. Sensing his words had unintended consequences, he quickly added, “If you truly wish to help, you can prepare the vegetables.”
That piqued your interest. 
“You have fresh vegetables?” 
Alucard smirked. “There’s a garden house deeper in my castle. I took the liberty of cultivating a few species before the autumn frost.”
It almost pained him to admit, but a part of him was relieved that someone other than himself would be eating the food from his garden house. He had taken to planting seeds when Sumi and Taka were…. Well, when they were staying. The surplus had been just another painful reminder of his foolishness, but now, thanks to your stomach he supposed, he would no longer have to regard his extra efforts as a mistake. 
“Could you-? I mean, if it wasn’t too much trouble, do you mind showing me this ‘garden house’ of yours?” You recited the new term carefully. “My family has studied in herbology for years, but I’ve never heard of such a place.” You were very much intrigued. 
“It’s nothing spectacular, I assure you,” Alucard promised as he gestured for you to follow. “It’s just an indoor room that mimics the elements of certain growing seasons.” 
Your jaw practically dropped. “You’re saying it can create summer indoors and it’s not spectacular? Does it make rain?”
Alucard nodded. 
You were flabbergasted. “It practically sounds like magic!” 
“Not magic, just science. Irrigation systems have existed for hundreds of years. Alucard brought you around to a hidden entrance you hadn’t seen before. Noticing your look of curiosity, he explained, “It was built for the stable hands to be able to ready the horses at a moment’s notice.” 
“Oh, I see,” you commented. “But why haven’t I noticed it before? It’s much closer than the entrance I’ve been using.”
“There’s a glamour that normally protects this door from prying eyes. I temporarily disabled the runes that powered it.” 
“Are you going to try and tell me that’s science too?” 
Alucard paused for a moment, letting your words wash over him, before letting out a hearty chuckle. 
Inside, you were beaming. That was the first smile to grace Alucard’s face since your arrival. He looked so beautiful, with his head tossed slightly back, his eyes crinkled shut: almost like an angelic oil painting come to life. 
“That,” he said, shutting the door behind the two of you, “Was most certainly magic.” 
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
It had been two weeks since Alucard and you sat down to that formal dinner. Although it was much more lavish than anything you’d experienced, you were mostly flattered and only slightly uncomfortable. It was an odd happenstance, to go from being completely ignored to becoming the sole subject of his focus. Even so, you supposed it was better than the silent treatment, even though there were occasional moments now and then when you missed your privacy.
It wasn’t that Alucard was nosy or too forward, oh no; it wasn’t like that at all. It was so clear he was just very lonely and desperate for human interaction. Even though he still verbally denied that desire existed, you knew he was lying by how often you’d find him joining you in a study or the garden house. And while you couldn’t deny you enjoyed the attention, there was a certain desperateness to it that concerned you. You hoped Alucard’s fears, and anxieties would lessen the longer you remained, but at times you believed it was causing an adverse effect.
It was as if your familiarity caused him more fear than your alienness. You wondered if perhaps his sudden closeness was in fact part suspicion, not mere neediness. All you could conclude for certain was those two skeletons out front must have done a serious number on him. For all you know they played the long game and waited until Alucard’s guard was down to strike. You had met people like that on the road. You just couldn’t understand it, the effort it took, to pretend to care with such force, waiting it out to reveal such nefarious intentions.
You wished to ask some questions about the two corpses but kept those morbid curiosities to yourself. After all, you had only recently been welcomed to stay inside Alucard’s home. You didn’t want to find yourself back in the stables if you were to suddenly offend him. You sensed his soul was very raw when it came to that subject. And speaking of raw...
At the present, you were reading over some old tomes of a small study right off of the castle’s garden house. You were working on a surprise salve for Alucard’s scars, and you intended to combine your own knowledge in herbology as well as the castle’s collection in order to make it. This particular collection pertained to the most knowledge relating to plants and their properties, which is why you frequented it so much.
You were illustrating the flowering buds of a Hypericum perforatum in the blank book Alucard had gifted you when he entered and took a seat on the bench across from you. The prior pages contained illustrations on the fundamental steps of honey-harvesting. Honey was one of the main ingredients of your concoction, and you figured it was as good a time as any to record your knowledge on the process. Thankfully, the castle had its own stored honey to take from, seeing as you were out of the supply you kept on your person. Plus, you had some time before the weather warmed and spring arrived, meaning you would have to get on without fresh honey for a while.
You had even gone so far as to ask Alucard if he believed it was possible to transport a hive into the garden house once the more pleasant seasons brought the local bees out of hibernation. You were immensely pleased that Alucard found your idea agreeable. You would always enjoy a swell of pride every time he complimented your knowledge or found your ideas plausible. And you weren’t the only one who beamed every time the two of you had a similar idea. Alucard would get this little twinkle in his eye, as if he was remembering a happier time from his past. There was an awful lot of apothecary equipment and scientific instruments in the castle. Perhaps he used to practice herbology among other things prior to his mysterious heartbreak. At any rate, you were extremely pleased to have such an important aspect of your life in common.
You glanced up from your journaling to send Alucard a soft smile before returning to your work.
“Hypericum perforatum?” You heard him ask. “I do hope you don’t intend to ward me away with that.”
You chuckled at his comment.
“Yes, well,” you started, “I doubt it would be effective seeing as how you were the one to sow and harvest the castle’s Hypericum perforatum prior to my arrival here.”
“Yes,” Alucard mused, picking up a dried stem and twirling it between his fingers. “It would appear useless against me. However, up against a fully-fledged vampire, of course, who knows?”
You shook your head. You could tell from the glint in his eye and the light tone of his voice that he was being playful. St. John’s Wort may have been rumored to have supernatural expelling properties, but you knew that was all it was. Back during the Crusades, knights would rub their blades down with the herb for good fortune and protection. From there, the rumor surrounding the name, St. John’s Wort, as well as the idea of its holy properties only grew.
The plant did possess other useful properties, however, much like most herbs. You were hoping to use the Hypericum perforatum in your salve, along with lavender as well honey. You hoped the inflammatory reducing properties of both the Hypericum perforatum and the lavender would work to reduce the bright redness around Alucard’s scars whereas the honey would help speed up any healing. However, you weren’t sure how to broach the subject of treating Alucard’s scars, recalling how infuriated he was the first time you mentioned them. Then again, that hostility could have been because you had just trespassed into his home. Either way, you figured if there was to be any chance of Alucard accepting your gift, the salve would need to have already been prepared.
“You’ve been interested in ailments of the skin as of late.” Alucard’s observation shook you from your train of thought. “Why is that?”
You shrugged your shoulders.
“Just working through the body, I suppose. The skin is the first step.” You tried to joke in a manner reminiscent of Alucard’s own playfulness not moments ago. But from the looks of his unimpressed expression, your humor missed the mark.
“I told you it would not do you well to lie to me.” Alucard’s voice suddenly sounded so much louder, even though the distance between the two of you had not changed.
Either that or the new sound of your heart pounding in your ears made his words all the more menacing.
“I will give you one more chance to answer truthfully.”
Crap. You’d been had. You bit your lip and prayed that Alucard would not take offense to your actions, once he learned the true intention behind them. You took a deep breath before speaking.
“I wanted to make something for you.”
Alucard’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”
You tried again.
“I wanted to give you something, a salve to try and help reduce the prominence of your scars. I know I mentioned it when we first met but, you didn’t take so kindly to me then. It’s just you’ve been very kind to me as of late, and I appreciate all that you’ve shared with me and I wanted to be able to share something with you.”
Alucard stood up, wordlessly.
Your heart sank. “I didn't mean to upset you!” You started. “Please, forgive me!”
“Forgive?” He spat. “You don’t know the enormity of what you ask.”
“I’m sorry if I crossed the line or presumed too much,” you felt helpless. You didn’t want to go back to dead silence between you two. “I just wanted to help.”
Alucard froze. He had turned to leave but something in your voice, something about the way your body language suggested you resigned yourself to whatever fate he saw as fit, struck a deep chord within him. You weren’t trying to argue, to protest. You didn’t get angry or defensive, you just sat there, with your head held in your hands.
There had been times before, times in battle, times of anger when Alucard truly felt like a monster. He thought he had crossed that line, finally descended into that madness the night he put Sumi and Taka’s bodies out on stakes. He had told himself it was over; the battle inside him was won by the beast, and from that moment on, he would have no regrets or qualms about it. He was a dhampir, the son of Dracula; that was the horribly lonely fate he resigned himself to. That was… Until he heard your apology and glanced back to see your small, vulnerable form, ready for whatever consequences your surprise aid had unleashed. It reminded him, you reminded him of his mother.
His mother, who just wanted more than anything to help people; his mother who even with her dying breath, begged for her murders’ forgiveness. His Mother was a saint, and the people persecuted her for it. And there you were, much like her, simply trying to help, and suffering for it.
He was the one making you suffer for it.
Yes, there had been moments of absolute rage and madness within Alucard, but until that moment he had never felt as much as a monster as he did looking down at you.
‘What have I done?’ Alucard’s hands began to tremble.
His own mother’s final wish was for him to be kind to humans, it was the reason he fought his Father’s war; it was the reason he staked his own Father, because of her last wishes. He had sworn to uphold his promise to her, to get along with humans, to be better than his father was. And yet, in just a few months, as the result of a mere two people’s transgressions he had allowed a cold wall of disgust to build between him and humanity, solidifying the distance between his vampire half and his very own humanity. How could he have allowed it to get this far?
You were awaiting shouting, or a blow, some sort of violent outburst on Alucard’s behalf. You sat still, hoping he’d be quick about it, hoping you could take whatever anger he dealt and start again in repairing the relationship between you two. You never intended to offend him; you just wanted to help. You waited, the silence overwhelming you like a storm’s wave overtook a ship.
And then… amidst the silence, you found yourself listening to the sound of someone sobbing. You were embarrassed until you reached up to your eyes and found them dry. So if you weren’t crying, that left...
“Alucard?” You straightened up to ask, absolutely unprepared for the sight that awaited you.
You had always thought Alucard was beautiful, angelic almost. There was this air of royalty around him; he always held his head so high, always seemed so sure. He looked the complete opposite now.
Before you, Alucard’s form was doubled in half, his lovely golden locks obscuring his face from your vision but you could tell from the shakes that wracked his body that the sobs were coming from him.
“Oh, Alucard,” you quietly rose from your seat and approached him slowly. You didn’t want to startle him. “I’m so sorry, for whatever happened to you. You didn’t deserve it,” you said, kneeling down to be on par with his eye level.
“How could you possibly know that? You barely know me. I’m a monster.”
You reached out to place a supportive hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “You’re the savior of Wallachia, and you’ve welcomed me into your home. You’re smart and proud. But I know enough to tell when someone’s been hurt, Alucard. You’re not a bad person for doing what you had to in order to survive.”
He turned to look at you. “So much has happened, so quickly. I’m not used to feeling…” He sighed. “I suppose I don’t have much practice when it comes to these kinds of things. I can recite any one of these books in several languages. I was raised by a Doctor and a polymath. I am knowledgeable in most sciences, but when it comes to emotions… I don’t suppose you have a remedy for that?”
You smiled, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I don’t have anything instant or magical, but I think I have the next best thing.” You straightened yourself up to a standing position, pulling Alucard up with you.
“Oh?” Alucard allowed you to brush some of his hair back behind his ear. “And what’s that?”
“A good hot cup of herbal tea.”
❀    ⭒    ❀    ⭒    ❀
A/N: @mightyarsh Again, sorry for months-long delay, but I’m back!
And @ the rest of yall.... once again, please consider donating to my Kofi, if you enjoy my work and want to see more. 
538 notes · View notes
imtryingmybeskar · a year ago
So I was inspired to write this by this amazing art by @enstatia and by a beautiful dream I had. (Art used with permission.)
This is 18+ only! So, so smutty. Priest kink obviously with a Fem! Reader. Unprotected p in v and male and female oral sex. Desecration of sacred spaces and words, specifically Catholic. He calls her "my child", but she's not a minor (in my head she's at least 30). He also calls an elderly woman "my child" at one point. If any of this offends you, go no further.
Word count approx 6.5k
Tumblr media
The church was cool and still as you stepped into the nave. The scent of the incense lingered in the air as the rays of the setting sun filtered through the stained glass, spilling their colours on to the walls. You had just finished your work for the evening. The part-time clerical post you had recently taken up at the church was repetitive and didn't exactly stretch your mental faculties, but you needed the money. And there were...other benefits. You felt absolutely terrible for thinking it, especially within the church itself, but the priest here was...well he was attractive. More than that, he was hot. There were no two ways about it. His hair was wavy and dark, with a few streaks of grey starting to permeate. His eyes were of the darkest chocolate hue and always had a sparkle about them. He chose to wear a moustache and sometimes the scruff at his jaw grew out a little. Rather than looking messy, it added to the kind of overall roguish, tousled look that he had, and accentuated the strength of his jaw. He was also a kind and considerate man, but you supposed that came with the territory with being a man of God. Two days ago he had leaned over you to better look at the computer while you went through some accounts with him. You had blushed like a teenager when his hand had brushed your shoulder as it landed on the headrest of your chair. A crush on your boss was bad enough. But when your boss's boss was God...it was never going to end well.
As you walked and mused, you noticed that some mass sheets that had once been stacked neatly on a table near to one of the transepts had blown into disarray over the floor. You stopped to collect them up, but had difficulty reaching one that had landed under a stack of chairs at the back. You got right down on to your stomach, wiggling forward. You could...almost...reach...
A small cough behind you. Then "Can I help with anything?" Great. This was exactly how you wanted the priest whom you had a crush on to find you. Flat on the floor, your skirt riding up your thighs and making small grunting noises of exertion. You swiped at the paper with your fingertips, bringing it within reach and grabbed it. Then you slid backwards, your skirt now riding dangerously high, and got to your knees, pulling your skirt back down with one hand and brandishing the mass sheet with the other.
"I was just collecting these up after they fell and this one went a little further than most and I thought I could get it without too much difficulty but apparently not!" Your voice sounded too high and slightly panicky as you blathered your explanation. As he reached his hand to you, you realised you were still on your knees in front of him and you blushed deeply, both at the awkwardness of the situation and that he had touched your hand.
"You could just...leave it next time?" he smiled at you. "I'm sure we have plenty of copies." His eyes drifted downward over your front and your stomach gave a little jerk. "You've gotten all dusty under there." His hands brushed over the shoulders of your jacket. They were so big that while his fingers dusted over your clavicle, the bottom of his palm was brushing over the tops of your breasts. Obviously it was entirely accidental, but you found yourself blushing even more. Your face must be like a beacon by now, you thought. As if he had heard you, he spoke again. "The church always captures the sun in this spot and makes it very warm. Why dont you come walk in the gardens with me and get rid of the rest of that dust on you? I've got a clothes brush in the sacristy." You readily agreed. Anything to get away from this space and moment in time.
He opened the beautiful arched wooden door and gestured for you to go ahead of him. You stepped out of the church in to the riot of colour that was the garden that adjoined it.
"I'll be right back," he smiled at you, his dark eyes crinkling at the sides.
You breathed out a sigh that you hadn't even realised you'd been holding on to and leaned back against a tree behind you, closing your eyes as you did so. You had to calm down. He was just being kind to you, as he always was. When he touched you, it meant nothing. It couldn't-he was a priest for goodness sake. You just needed to go home, have a shower, maybe a glass of wine, and go to bed. Start afresh tomorrow. You opened your eyes and he was approaching down the path toward you, his cassock blowing softly in the breeze and hugging his figure, the black cloth stark against the green of the grass and the pastels of the flowers.
"Here," he offered as he handed you the clothes brush.
"Thank you," you replied as you began hastily brushing yourself down. You still felt uncomfortable in his presence. There was a tension between the two of you that you were sure came entirely from yourself, but that was difficult to sit with. You did a terrible job at actually getting the dust off your clothes, but you just wanted to go home at this point. You went to hand the brush back to him and he took it from you with slow deliberation.
"You missed a bit," he said smoothly, in low bass tones and began to dust the bottom of your jacket himself, being much more thorough about it than you had been. When he had finished, you thought you might finally escape, but- "Turn around," came the command. You obeyed, and you weren't sure if it was because you wanted him to touch you again, or because you felt that you shouldn't disobey him when on church grounds. You weren't even sure if you had any dust on your back at all. He passed the brush over you firmly and slowly and when he stroked it over your backside he muttered "Sorry," in a tone that you could detect no actual apology in. Was he...enjoying this? No, it had to be your imagination. He was merely helping you, like a man of God would. "There now," he purred. "That's more like it."
You turned back to him, confused and aroused just by being this close to him. "Th-thank you, Father," you stuttered out. "I really must be-"
"Going?" he finished for you. "So soon? But look, the nectarines are just ripe. Have one. Please." He gestured upward as he spoke and you could see the blushed, round firmness of the fruit hanging above. Giving you no chance to respond, he grabbed and unfolded a stepladder that was leaning against the wall beside you, and climbed it, the material of his cassock brushing against your face as he did so. He smelled of fresh laundry and a hint of incense. As he climbed back down, he had three large nectarines in his hands and he gave you two. "Take them home," he pleaded. "I know this job doesn't pay very well, so you may as well get the perks where you can!" He gave a small laugh at his own joke and you felt a spike of arousal as you briefly imagined what other perks he could offer.
"Thank you, Father," you repeated. "It's very kind of you." As you were speaking he had bitten into his own fruit and you could smell the heady tang of the sweet flesh. His eyes closed and his head lolled back slightly as he uttered a tiny groan of pure bliss. A small dribble of juice ran down his chin and you had an overwhelming desire to catch it on your finger and push it into his mouth. Thankfully, he wiped it with the back of his hand before you had the chance to act on your ridiculous impulse.
"You really must try." He was holding out the nectarine he had just bitten into out to you.
"Um...but I-I already have-" you began.
"Those will not be ripe for a day or two. This one is perfect now. Try it?" he offered.
Slowly, uncertainly, you stepped forward half a pace and bit down hesitantly into the fruit. He was right. It was absolutely delicious. You felt the juice running down your own chin, and as if he had heard your earlier thoughts, suddenly the pad of his thumb was there to wipe it away. But instead of pushing it into your own mouth, he sucked on it himself, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. You were shocked. Surely, this was not priestly behaviour. It was too much. Although, perhaps it was innocent from his point of view and you were the one putting an impure spin on it? He was so close to you now, you could see a gleam of amber in the brown of his eyes from the dappled sunlight hitting his face through the tree.
He moved even closer and murmured into your ear, "The Lord provides such sweetness for us to enjoy. It seems a sin not to. Wouldn't you agree?" Your eyes widened. Was he still talking about the fruit or...? He moved back and took another bite of his nectarine, the juice freely running down his fingers and before you could think too deeply about what you were doing, you caught his hand in yours and softly licked the trail of liquid running down his index finger. You closed your eyes as you did so. Either you would be fired and banished from this church and probably this diocese forever, or...You opened your eyes to look up at him. His eyes were dark and fixed on your tongue as it moved on his finger, his lips had parted slightly, making them even poutier than usual, and when you chanced a glance downward you could see a distinct bulge in the pelvic region of his cassock. His eyes darted to yours as you slowly lifted your lips from his finger. You suddenly felt flooded with shame.
"Father, I-I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." You all but barged past him as you fled the garden. If he called after you, you didn't hear him. As you had promised yourself, when you got home you showered and had your wine. Half a bottle, instead of one glass but you felt you needed it. What were you thinking? He was your boss! And a man of the cloth! A priest! With chastity vows! Not only was your behaviour inappropriate, it was cruel. He couldn't indulge himself in anything like that. Of course he would get hard just from that sort of contact. If he was still prepared to keep you on in your role, you would have to find some way to apologise for your actions, though you had no idea how you could ever face him again. When you went to bed that night, you tossed and turned for what felt like hours until you gave in and brought yourself to orgasm, imagining those big brown eyes staring up at you from between your thighs, and those beautiful lips kissing at your clit.
When you arrived at work and sat at your computer the next morning, you were still no nearer to an answer about how you were going to say sorry in any meaningful way. The first few hours of your day passed in a haze. You were doing your work, but not concentrating on it at all. Your mind kept swinging wildly between being flooded with guilt and shame, and thoughts of how his eyes had so greedily drunk in the sight of your mouth around his finger, and the impressive prominence it had elicited.
When he finally knocked on your door and came in, it was almost a relief - you were so worked up and anxious about everything. You couldn't look at him, so you merely stood with your head bowed and your eyes to the floor.
"Father, I-I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for my behaviour yesterday. It was unconscionable. I-I understand if you no longer want me to work here." Silence met your words. You tried again.
"Father, please say something. If you want me to go I will, but-"
"Look at me, child." You slowly raised your eyes to his face. He was looking at you in a kindly way, no judgement or anger and you felt relief crashing through you. "The only thing I would ask is that you come to Confession if you feel that would help you."
"I've not considered myself a Catholic for a long time, Father. It might feel...fraudulent if I were to do that."
"Confession is never fraudulent unless it is taken under duress. I am here to help if you need me." He smiled benevolently at you, and departed.
Well, that could have gone a whole lot worse, you thought as you resumed your tasks. He really was a good man. And perhaps Confession would help. You hadn't been in more than a decade, there were probably quite a few things to get off your chest. But to confess to him? Wouldn't that be a little odd due to the circumstances? You shrugged off your doubts. He wasnt firing you, which was more than you deserved really. Don't look the gift horse in the mouth. As you were musing, you had moved from your office to his and knocked on the door. He bid you come in and you stuck your head around the door.
"Father, if it's okay with you I would like to take you up on your offer. Be prepared though, I haven't been to Confession in a long time. We might be there a while." He gave a small laugh and you swore you saw a smirk ghost over his face as he stood before following you out of the room. You moved into the church itself and entered into the confessional. Before you could shut the door and sit down, he offered you his hand. You noticed that he had shed his cassock before leaving his office, and the black shirt and trousers he wore underneath were extremely flattering to the broadness of his shoulders and the slenderness of his waist. The white of his collar lay starkly at his throat.
"I want you to sit with me, child. I already know what you wish to confess. What difference does this lattice between us make?" Okay, this was definitely not standard procedure, unless more had changed in the Church than you remembered. Still, you found yourself taking his hand, curious and a little excited to see where this might be heading. Perhaps your feelings of guilt about yesterday's situation were unwarranted. Now all you had to feel guilty about was continuing to behave inappropriately with a priest, even if he clearly did want you to.
He led you around to the other side of the confessional and sat on the wooden bench inside. There really wasn't much room in there. How did he expect you to-?
He looked at you with that hint of a smirk on his lips again and a definite sparkle in his eyes and invited you to sit on his lap with a few gentle pats to his thigh. Your mouth was suddenly dry and you swallowed hard. This was the moment. You could back away and pretend that this had never occurred, or you could take the plunge. Taking a shaky breath you moved forward and perched somewhat daintily on his thigh. You didn't dare look at him, but you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.
"Now child," he said softly, "What do you need to confess to me?"
The old repetition of the words came back to you easier than you though it would. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been...twelve years since my last Confession."
One of his hands drifted across your lap to hold yours and he murmured tenderly to you, "Go on, my child."
"I have done many things that are sins in the eyes of the Church, Father. I have taken God's name in vain, I have blasphemed, I have..." Your voice faltered and he squeezed your hand in encouragement. You suddenly felt emboldened and raised your eyes to look at him full in the face. "I have had so many impure thoughts. And I have masturbated to those impure thoughts. And I have fornicated." Even through the dim light of the confessional, you could see his eyes had grown darker. His lips twitched and he continued to squeeze your hand while his other hand snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him. You could feel his stiffness against your leg, growing with every second that passed.
He raised his lips to your ear and the delicious rumble of his voice echoed through your very core. "These...impure thoughts," he began in a husky tone, "could you describe them to me?" The hand around your waist drew your body even closer to him and his thumb brushed over your nipple with the lightest of touches. You were under no illusions that it was accidental any more. Your clit was thobbing with want and you could feel your underwear beginning to stick to you with the wetness you were emanating.
"Well Father," you said in a slightly shaky voice, "Last night, I imagined your face between my thighs."
"Indeed?" he breathed as his cock twitched against you. His hand travelled up your shirt, fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin at your waist and leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Well, what could be a suitable penance for such wicked sin, hmmm?"
You brought your arm around his broad shoulders and ran your fingers lightly through his hair. "Would a kiss suffice, Father?"
"Perhaps. Why don't we see?" As he was speaking, he was moving his lips closer to yours and as they met a roaring fire of arousal erupted in your abdomen. His kiss was electric, the slight tickle of his moustache against your nose felt gorgeous and when he probed your tongue with his you shifted your hips on his lap, trying to find some small amount of relief from the desire within you. He broke the kiss at your fidgeting and muttered "As beautiful as that is, I don't think it's quite enough, do you?"
"No, Father," you agreed meekly as he laughed softly and kissed you again. He tasted sweet, like he had been eating nectarines again.
"Well then, how about this?" He came close to your ear again and grazed his teeth gently on the lobe before whispering "Why don't you kneel before me and we can pray together?"
You stood, moving to obey but before you could do so he stopped you when you were in front of him, and began unbuttoning your shirt. "Patience, child. Prayer and absolution take time. He slid his big, warm hands around your waist and kissed your stomach, as it was level with his lips. As he trailed his tongue over your skin, he pulled your shirt down your arms and away, dropping it to the floor. His hands came up to cup your breasts and rub the lace of your bra across your nipples. You moaned quietly at the sensations, running your hands through his curls and tugging at the roots, slightly. He sighed into your stomach and raised his hands around your back. It only took him two attempts to unhook your bra which you thought was pretty good, although it did raise questions about if he had done this sort of thing before. Then all thoughts were driven from you as he bared your naked breasts to him and took your nipple in his mouth, licking and grazing his teeth gently over it, while he continued to rub his thumb over the other. You pressed his face closer in to you, making him slide his hand down your body to grip your waist hard in response to your need to feel more of him. He kissed a bridge across your breasts, his eyes turned innocently up to your own as he did so, which sent another wickedly sharp thrill through your core. He sucked on your other nipple and then lapped at it while it was in his mouth, using his big fingers to spread his saliva across the nipple he had just abandoned. Your clit was pulsing now, you needed him to touch you but instead he slid his hands up your body to your shoulders and gently applied pressure so that you would kneel before him.
When you were in position he guided one of your hands to his cock where it was straining mightily against the fabric of his trousers. You ran your fingers lightly up and down his length, stroking his underside more firmly and eliciting a low groan from him. He put his finger under your chin and raised your head up so he could plant another kiss on your lips, this one stronger and more insistent. Continuing to kiss him, you undid his belt, buckle and zip and his cock sprang free. It was lengthy and girthy. Truly a blessing, you thought with a smirk. Shuffling forward on the bench slightly, he stroked your hair and looked down upon you with what looked like genuine fondness.
"Clasp your hands together, child," he instructed. You did so, your fingers interlinking and your palms surrounding his shaft. He hummed in assent and ran one of his hands lightly down to your breast, keeping the other on your head. You moved your mouth forward and oh so gently kissed the tip of his cock, lightly flicking your tongue out over him in small circles and tasting the saltiness of him. He sighed a little and entangled his fingers through your hair as you swirled your tongue over him in ever increasing circles, running it up and down his full length and coming back to his head, all the while gently pumping him with your hands. As you took him in your mouth and slowly moved down his shaft, he softly rolled his hips into you and let out a low groan of pleasure.
Suddenly you heard a noise echoing through the church. The door opening and closing. Slow footsteps echoing through the nave. You looked up at him with your mouth around his cock and a questioning look in your eyes. He removed his hand from your breast and put his finger to his lips. You heard the door to the confessional open and someone settle themselves on the bench in the other compartment. An elderly voice spoke, dusty as old parchment.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last Confession."
You chose this moment to move your mouth down his cock as far as it would comfortably go, the head of it sliding over the back of your throat and making you gag slightly. He shivered and cupped your face in his hands, giving you a pleading look as he replied in a slightly strangled voice "I am here my child. What would you like to confess?"
As the woman began to recite her supposed misdeeds, you ran your mouth back over his shaft until he sprang free of you, red and throbbing. You maintained eye contact with him while you alternated delicately spiralling your tongue over and lapping at his tip, whilst pumping his length furiously between your hands. He was getting close already, his precum was leaking faster into your mouth now and he was thickening in your mouth so you were having to open your jaw wider to take even the tip of him. Either you were better than you imagined or he was getting off on someone else being on the other side of the confessional.
He was just about managing to keep his voice at a steady cadence while he gave her penance, but as he began to speak the words for the prayer of absolution, you decided to make life difficult for him once again. You shuffled a little closer to him and where you had been sat back against your lower legs, now you raised yourself to your knees and moved your hands to his hips, slowly pushing your mouth all the way over his cock as far down as you could. His head slid over the back of your throat again and even further as you gagged a little and swallowed around him, bobbing shallowly around his girth. To his credit, he kept it together remarkably well in the circumstances. His voice only cracked a little on the final words, "I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."
His hands were twined at the roots of your hair, pulling it firmly, the delicious sting of it making your clit throb even more insistently. As he uttered the final "Amen" of the prayer, you felt his body tense and his cock give a last pulse and then he was coming down your throat, salty jets rushing into your mouth. You began to move slowly back off his cock and risked a look up at him. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back in pure beatific ecstasy, his curls pressed against the wood at the back of the confessional making a dark halo around his head, his brow furrowed and his mouth open slightly. He looked absolutely beautiful. You slowly moved your mouth up his softening length, sucking him clean of everything he had poured into you. The footsteps of the penitent faded away into silence.
His hands slowly distangled from your hair as he came back to himself. You wondered if now would be the point he would tell you to get out and never darken his door again. Instead, he stroked your hair and your face murmuring sweet words about how good you were to him and how well you prayed. You couldn't tell if he was talking more to himself or you, but when his hands moved to your upper arms and he helped lift you to your feet, he looked into your eyes and pronounced, "And now, sweet child, it is my turn to venerate you," before his mouth closed over your nipple once more and his hands began to rove under your skirt. He brushed his large fingers across your clit through your underwear, and when he felt the wetness that had seeped from you on to the fabric, he huffed a tiny moan against the skin of your breast and held you closer to him. Your head was starting to swim already. His tongue and teeth were teasing over your nipple, and your clit had been neglected for so long that his simplest touch of it made you quiver.
Standing suddenly, he kissed a path from your breast, up your neck and jaw, to meet your lips again. He bit down slightly on your lower lip and when your mouth parted in a pleasured gasp he drove his tongue into you, tasting himself in you and breathing out a delighted hum. Pressing you more firmly against him, he turned on the spot in the tiny space and deposited you down on the bench he had just vacated. Your face was level with his cock again and even flaccid, he was impressive. You breathed out sharply with desire as a flare of arousal arose again inside you. He knelt before you and kissed you again, his tongue probing deep within your mouth as his hands wandered over your chest, stopping briefly to gently pinch at and then stroke your nipples, and then moving down your body to your thighs. He grabbed gently at them, moving them so he was sandwiched between your legs. Your breath was coming more shallowly as he got closer to fulfilling your most intimate fantasy, but he seemed to be in no rush as he leisurely ran his hands up the soft skin of your inner thighs, his fingers brushing over your clit once again and making you tremble with desire and want. One large finger hooked over the elastic of your underwear and you raised yourself off the seat to allow him to pull the soaked fabric down and away.
"Such beauty I am blessed with," he muttered to himself as he pushed your skirt back up to your stomach, the better to look at you displayed for him. He kissed the hair on your mound, taking the opportunity to dip his tongue oh so briefly against your clit, allowing himself the tiniest taste of you. It was like an electric jolt passing through your body and you gave a tiny whine of supplication. He smirked up at you, his eyes glittering black in the half light of the confessional. "Patience, child. Patience is a virtue." As he spoke, he belied his own words by plunging one of his thick fingers inside you. You gasped out loud at the divine intrusion and your hand strayed to your breast to brush your own thumb over your nipple. "Poor thing," he purred, "So tense. You work so hard for me. You're so good to me. It's time someone took care of you." He punctuated his praises with another finger inside of you and by cupping your other breast in his hand and passing the pad of his thumb gently over your nipple. It was almost embarrassing how close you were to coming. You hadn't been with anyone for so long and his fingers were so big and thick inside you, his eyes gleaming with such lustful wickedness in the dark.
He kept his eyes on your face as his mouth finally met the slickness between your thighs and you gave a prolonged groan when his tongue brushed strong circles around your clit. He hummed against you as he began to pump his fingers into you, curling them up inside to hit where you needed them to. Rolling your head back gently, you closed your eyes in purest pleasure. You could feel your wetness sliding out of you and pooling underneath you on the wooden bench. Your abdomen was shooting sparks within you and the coiling heat within was beginning to burn intensely. Removing his hand from your breast, he shifted his broad shoulders between you and suddenly you found your legs were hooked over his arms. He pushed himself forward slightly and reached for your breast again, simultaneously driving his fingers even deeper into you and beginning to lap at your clit and all of the juices you were leaking. "So sweet," he moaned against you, delighting in the taste of you and how wet you were for him. The fire within you was burning hotter now, coursing through your entire body, you were so close and your body was tensing around his fingers.
He raised his eyes to yours again and the sight of him here and actually between your thighs was enough to push you over the edge. You muffled your wail of pleasure with your hand as he buried his face as deeply into you as he could, sucking on your clit and passing his tongue gently over it as he kneaded your breast, your nipple skating over his palm. Another peak joined the first as his fingers played over your walls inside and your hips began to thrust, rubbing yourself on to his face, the prickle of his facial hair a beautiful counterpoint to the softness of his tongue over your clit. Your thighs were beginning to tremble around his head but he managed to tease a third wave from you, your muffled cries turning to choked gasps for breath, the pleasure becoming overwhelming as your nerves became more sensitive. You pushed your hand gently against his head, feeling the soft waves of his hair against your fingers, and he withdrew his tongue from you, resting his mouth against your mound once more as you gazed breathlessly, adoringly, down at him. He smiled cheekily and couldn't resist one more tiny lap at your clit, making your whole body tremble. When he withdrew his fingers from you he sucked them clean, tasting every last bit of you that he could. You moved your legs from his shoulders and put your feet on the floor again, but you didn't trust your legs to support you just yet. He knelt up and kissed you, the taste and wetness of you all over his lips, his moustache, in his mouth. He smeared your own slick on your lips with his and then sucked it back from you, his kisses more forceful than they had been previously.
"Now, child," he murmured against your lips. "Do you think this adequate penance for your sin?"
"N-no Father," you whispered back breathlessly, in between his increasingly bruising kisses.
"Then we are in agreement," he said softly and he held you around the waist, standing once more and bringing you up with him, your thighs still shaking. He turned again and sat in the place you had so recently vacated, touching the pool of moisture that had dripped from you on to the wooden bench and licking his fingers again.
"Mmmm," he rumbled in delight, "Sweeter than any fruit." From your standing position in front of him, you could see he was hard again, his cock reddened and glistening at the tip. He turned you on the spot and kneaded the flesh at your hips. "Perhaps this then, shall be atonement enough. " He lowered you on to his lap, one hand leaving your hip to guide his cock into you.
As you felt his blunt head press against your slick folds and start to push inside, you both emanated a simultaneous moaning sigh of rapture. You slowly slid down his length, savouring the burning stretch of him within you. Returning both hands to your hips, he supported your weight so you could take all the time your body needed to adjust to his impressive girth. His legs were surrounding yours, so you were holding him within you as closely as you possibly could. As you came to a rest against his lap, you were breathing deeply and harshly, inhaling the sweet, spicy, musky scent of him within the enclosed space. It felt like he was permeating every inch of you, and that you had never been filled so utterly. You braced your feet on the floor and your hands on his thighs, and began to roll your hips against him. His hands wandered to your chest, to graze your nipples against his palms and to roll them between his fingers. His mouth trailed kisses from your shoulder to your neck, nibbling at your skin and then soothing it over with his tongue, his breath hot against you.
As you got used to the expanse of him inside you, you began to move more energetically, and with every push of him inside you, his cock slid over your sweet spot inside, making you wetter around him. One of his hands dropped down and his finger squirmed it's way between your thighs to rest on your clit, your own movements on him providing the friction between you that made you moan with gratification. You could feel your release building again and as he began to thrust his own hips in time with yours, the flame within you built hotter and hotter. His hands were all over you now, pawing and kneading your breasts, your waist, your thighs, as he started to build to his own peak, his cock feeling even thicker within you each time he plunged himself into you anew. Your legs began to tremble again as your body tensed and the white hot flame ripped through you, your head thrown back and your teeth almost drawing blood with how hard you were biting your lip to keep from screaming aloud. His hands crept smoothly around your body again, coming to rest over your breasts as he drew you gently back to him, so that your back was lying flush against his chest. He thrust hard into you once, twice, three times before his own body trembled and you felt his release spurt into you as he moaned softly into the crook of your neck.
You sat there awhile, feeling him soften within you, his hands softly stroking your flesh. He tilted your face to the side so he could kiss you fervently, before he helped you stand and sunder yourself from him, the evidence of his passion leaking from you on to your thighs. He hummed lazily to himself in contentment at the sight and you found that you felt no remorse in the slightest for the desecration of this holy place. He made sure to kiss you once more on each nipple before you put your bra and shirt back on, while he also tucked himself away. You pulled your skirt back down and looked around for your underwear. Not finding them on the floor, you turned back to him in puzzlement only to see him holding them in his hand. As he tucked them away in his pocket he commented with a wicked smile, "To remind me. Of my exalted sin, and yours." And he pulled you to him, to kiss him deeply once more.
317 notes · View notes
venushasvixens · a year ago
Ch. 11 - Fightin’ Words - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)
Tumblr media
[A/N] to clarify before I begin, I do NOT hate Faye. There will be a following chapter to explain how we got from point A to point B, since now that I see it, this chapter seems like a stretch. I apologize if the writing is a little shitty, I got too excited when writing it, and I was basically vomiting words onto my screen. Enjoy!
Previous chapter: Ch.10
⛔️ WARNING: this chapter contains implied sexual content, drinking, and strong language
There is a clear difference in kissing. One was for lust, meant to excite and give pleasure to the receiving, as a plus on to tie in all the ingridients for good sex. The other was for love, showing affection and those deep emotional feelings that both parties were in need of.
The lines were blurring.
Wanting this to be a strictly physical relationship, other elements started to incorporate their way into your escapades. And now Spike knows almost everything about you. Eating habits, what makes you laugh, and the type of people you hate. Talking for hours on end, both of life and it’s ridiculous nature, there was no off time between you both. It felt good.
The quiet moment after you left his room for your own, a faltering feeling of sadness and loneliness enters Spike. The urge to grab you and bring you back to his bed for the night was strong. He tried to get you to stay (always subtly), but to no avail. Well aware of your need for space, he always respected your decision.
The crank that was once rusty, was in Spike’s head as his mind ran endlessly of if you liked him or not. It was a thought, a discussion he wanted to put off for so long. The consequences of his doubt were going to hurt, especially when it was going to be that time to go. The reassurance that this was only a fling, a friends with benefits deal, was on its way to be tossed out of the trash chute into space.
“Trust me, Spiegel, I’ve had plenty of time as a child to know what I’m talking about.” You said as Spike passed you his cigarette.
“About what?” He asked, completely clueless.
“Rocks. Crystals, geodes. Have you not been listening?” You scolded, scoffing as Spike shook his head.
“The library in the city gave the orphanage books they didn't want anymore. My favorite book was the one about rocks on Mars, of course it was simplified for my small brain…”
Head in his hand, Spike listened as you rambled mindlessly of all the different rock formations on Mars. As much as he wanted to learn, he couldn’t help but be distracted by his acknowledgment of your presence. More specifically, the air you brought in the room. Spike began to think of it as his favorite perfume, sweet and sultry, with a hint of spice. It made him feel safe.
You were so attractive when you were educating him. He hated to hear it from Jet or anyone else, but you made it interesting.
“You’re pretty hot.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah thanks. Anyways, like I was saying…”You replied, flattered by his sudden proclamation.
“I’m serious. You’re talking all smart to me, and I can’t help but tell you that.” Spike smirked. “I think I learned more from you than in high school.”
You laughed softly. “I tell you because I know you’re dumber than a bag of hammers.”
“Is that so?” Spike raised his eyebrows. Why was your teasing making him feel even better? “You’re going to regret saying that.”
“I only have one, and not that.” You smiled slyly, the glint in Spike’s eye becoming more noticeable.
“I’m about to make it two.”
“I would love to see you try.”
You put your hands up to defend yourself, Spike’s smooth moves rendering you helpless. In a second, he had your arms pinned down by your sides, a deep throated chuckle emitting from him as he watched you struggle. There was no danger but that of falling to his charm and whim.
“I don’t regret this.” You panted.
“Sounds like the best decision I’ve made.” Spike mumbled, gaze traveling all over your face. He brushes the stray hairs from your face, fingers tracing your hairline and ears. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck, threatening to brush his lips on yours.
“Can I ask you something?” Spike broke the silence. You nodded eagerly.
“I-“ He began, cut off by the loud knocking on the door.
“Spike? Spike? Are you there?” Jet called out.
There is no answer, except you panicking over whether Jet sees you naked or sprawled out on Spike’s bed. The only sound that could’ve been heard was the thuds of you scrambling around the room, looking for your bra and panties. Spike watches in amusement, not caring at all at the dilemma you both were in.
“Yeah?” Spike called out, the clink of his lighter going off.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come up to the bridge for a drink, got a few good bottles of gin from our last bounty.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Good.” Jet finished. Footsteps drew further away down the hallway and supposdely onto the stairs. You sighed in relief, getting dressed at a leisurely pace. Safe, once again.
“Y/n, you can come too if you would like.” The loud booming laughter of Jet filled the hallway, masking your dread.
This evening was going to be delightful.
“Where's the gin?” You said in confidence, like you weren’t just caught in Spike’s room. Hopefully he wouldn’t see the slight limp in your step either.
“I have it, but I knew it would be a good bait to get some help up here.” He replied.
“Then I want at least half the bottle as a down payment. And an apology.” You scowled, taking a peek on the holo computer, skimming over the briefing for the next bounty.
Jet chuckled. “Now young lady, I have something very important to ask you.”
“Huh, you and Spike. I’m not too scared of yours.” You glanced at him, sitting in his seat.
Jet rested himself against the table, nodding. “I was going to say that us boys and Ed really enjoy you here. These last few months have been the best one this ship has seen in a while, and you are welcome to stay however long you want, kid.”
You knew you were doing well, but now you caught the bag. Jackpot. “You’re just saying that because I feed you all.”
“That's part of it too.” Jet grinned. “But I’m serious, (y/n). I think all of us could vote in favor of a new crew member. What do you say?”
Thinking, you remembered your freedom, sought as a child. That’s all you ever wanted, was to be out and allowed to do whatever you could. But deep down, the thing you really needed was a home. A family.
You could find that here on the Bebop. Even if you got a rocky start, it was smooth sailing for now. You felt wanted. That’s what you needed.
“Doesn’t sound too bad. I’m down.” You beamed.
“Glad you agreed, or else it would’ve been real awkward if you said no.” Jet replied, giving you a soft pat on your back.
“Mmm, would you kick me out if I declined this most generous offer?” You teased.
“Kid, you have my respect, I would let you pack first then throw you out.”
You cracked up, the deal was done. As you sat in your new home, you couldn't help but feel eternally grateful. “I really owe you one, Jet. You really got me out of a tight spot.”
Jet nodded as he searched for something on the control board.
“Was..was that how Spike came around? Picked him up like a stray?” You asked, surprised at your brazen question.
Jet stops messing with the controls, paused as he tries to peace his words together. “To be honest, I can’t even remember when or how Spike joined me here. He just popped up one day, and I haven’t been able to shake him off.” Jet gave a small titter. “Ah, (y/n). The man’s been through it tough.”
“Can I ask?” You said meekly.
“All that time spent together, and he hasn’t told you?” Jet chaffed, a smirk starting to grow.
Shit. “We haven’t spent much time talking today.” Fuck it, no use in denying it now.
“That’s what I thought.” He snickered. “Well, let me put it this way. A heartbroken man is a lonely one. He roams the galaxy in search of finding a way to fill the void left in him, either desperate to find something new. Or leave the void empty, allowing himself to wither away peacefully.”
“Hmm.” You replied shortly. A lot wasn't said, but it made sense.
“I’m only saying this once, (Y/n). He’s changing, and for the better. I haven’t seen him smile so much sober. I have to thank you for that.”
You made a change, as small as it was. You hear footsteps approaching the bridge, the sliding door opening to reveal Spike. As he quietly passes you by, he shoots you a small wink, making you blush. Spike sits down with a sigh, his legs propped up on the control panel.
“Easy, I’m still working there.” Jet warns as he hands Spike a drink.
“Then how come you're not sitting here?” He smirks, side-eyeing you to watch him kick up dirt.
You smile back, letting their conversation fade away slowly. This moment, you had to screenshot it. It doesn’t look like a normal family, but it wasn't dysfunctional. You had a crazy red haired computer genius as a sibling, along with a dog that you think could do math better than you. It topped nicely with a protective mentor and teacher with one robotic arm, and a man who you didn't think you could even get near without getting your arm bitten off.
Someone was missing. She hasn’t been seen all day, but that’s typical. As an official member of the Bebop, there was no back burner now. You could turn off your predatory instinct on your prey. The hunt on Faye was over. You didn't have to be her best friend, just tolerate her attitude enough when she decides to stay on the ship for longer than a day. You really didn't want to fight her, but sometimes she made it so difficult. Besides, you were too tired anyways.
The little get together was carrying on joyfully, now joined by Ed and Ein. Ed wandered aimlessly in all directions on the bridge, babbling on about all the buttons and flashing lights. You sat next to Spike in your own chair, feeling the small soft padded pushes of Ein on your legs.
“What is it boy?” You asked sweetly, reaching down to rub the top of his ears. He jumps on his hind legs, trying his best to climb up onto your lap. You cooed at him, picking him up and placing him snuggly on your thighs. You swore you could’ve seen him smile as your pet his fluffy face, massaging his soft head.
Spike leaned over, whispering. “Do you think I can get a massage too?”
Before you could respond, Ein gave a small huff, one eye opening to watch out for his competition. “I’m sorry, but the baby said no.”
Jet laughed as Spike smiled. You looked down to see that Spike’s glass was still full, while Jets was drained of all gin. You were working on yours at a slower pace. “You don’t feel like drinking tonight?”
“Hmm?” Spike looked down at his drink, sloshing it against its glass walls. “ Oh, I’ll get to it.” He said before reaching out and touching your back gently, his fingers tracing circles on your spine.
What a win-win situation, Ein gets to be loved on and you get to be petted, you thought. Goosebumps rose on your arms as Spike continued. The sky turned to night, all the stars in the galaxy could be seen from the bridge’s giant front window. Ed was curled up in a ball in front of it, tuckering herself out. Ein provided some warmth to Ed, loafing on Ed’s stomach. Their snores mixed in together, obnoxiously loud, but incredibly cute.
Spike never got to his drink, so he offered it to you instead. Two was all you needed to finish off the night. You took over Ein’s spot on Spike’s lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you conversated with the boys. His hands rubbed the side part of your stomach before interlocking, his heated palms providing comfort. You wouldn’t mind falling asleep here.
The flash of Faye’s Redtail blinded you as she clumsily parked out on the flight deck. You didn't care as long as she didnt destroy the hangar, then you all would be in huge trouble.
“She’s home early.” Jet stated, watching as she stumbled out of the ship.
“It’s not even midnight yet. Think she missed us?” Spike called out sarcastically.
“Doubt it.”
This was the last of peaceful silence for the night, you thought. You were hoping not to jinx it.
Everybody around you whipped their heads to the source of the sound, except yours, because you knew exactly who it was and what was going to happen. Ein used Ed’s stomach as a launching pad, frightened at the loud noise. What could you say, you have a knack for sensing a challenge. The only thing was, you were not in a mood to seek it. It was brought to you, sucking all good energy out of the room and switching it to a fireball of jealousy.
In walked a staggering Faye, pleased with her grand entrance. She tipped to one side, before switching to the other slightly. Just one look was all it took before you gulped the rest of your drink down, flipping the glass on its head. You could see out of the corner of your eye Spike’s focus was on you. His brows furrowed, head tilting as if to ask what were you doing. Your reply was a swift head rub, his hair swooshing.
“Evening, Faye.” Jet chimed, pushing the bottle of gin closer to his side behind him on his control board. There was no way she was getting any more tonight.
Your gaze changed to Jet, who you thought could also sense the new air in the bridge. He sat at the edge of his seat, arm resting on his knee. What was he waiting for?
A small hiccup bounced off the metal walls, prompting Faye to trip and catch herself on the main control board in the middle of the room. Her eyes closed, she began to shake her head side to side, a small manic giggle escaping her mouth.
“You just-just can’t keep your fucking hands off of him, can’t you?”
You felt a shiver of shock rest on your shoulders as you turned your head to face Faye. Before you could speak, Spike opened his mouth to defend you.
“The hell is wrong with you?” Spike retorted, his hands now pressed firmly on your waist.
“Everything was just fine without her, you-“ Faye snarled as she pointed to Jet, “just had to have a heart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jet replied cautiously.
Faye circled around the control table, using it as support or else she tumbled over. A mumbled slur of insults, consisting of calling you a slut and Spike an idiot. She was drunk, you thought. Let it run off like water. She will be fine once she’s in her bed, snoring her way into a killer hangover. You couldn’t shake that feeling that you needed to start gearing up. You wiggled out of Spike’s hold, planting your feet firmly down as you lean on the control table.
“I..I honestly don’t get it.” Faye said aloud.
“Get what, Faye?” You piped up, the slightest shake in your voice.
Oh! So it can talk!” She cackled out loud. “Let me tell you what, since you asked!”
“Please, I would love to know.”
Her pointer finger shoved right in your face, furiously wanting to make contact. “I-I find it hard to believe that you managed to get him to fuck you.”
“Jesus, Faye, in front of the kids?”
“Fuck that! She’s going to hear what I have to say, whether the slut likes it or not.”
As angry as you should’ve been, coolness was all you displayed. The voice in the back of your head reminded you of unforgettable advice you knew all too well. Alcohol could be a very good truth serum.
“What a f-fucking slut … you know how I think y-you managed to stay on this tin can of a ship?” She muttered. “You have to be f-fucking the captain.”
“That’s enough! Leave until you sober up.” Jet stood up, standing in the space between you and Faye. “Not having any of that on my ship.”
You looked at Spike, face frozen in a silent menacing fury. Leaning back on the console, you kept glancing to see Faye moving further and further away towards the door. That was it, the show's over. But someone had some kind parting words.
“Hey, how about this! I bet Spike has to cover your face while fucking your ugly ass, I would too, you stupid-“
Your knuckles had never stung so bad, but it felt so good to watch Faye’s head swing back. A flurry of raged-filled punches landed on either side of her face, so fast it didnt give her enough time to react. Waking up, Faye gave a heavy footed kick to your side, prompting you to scream out in pain.
Each swing of her high leg swings missed as you ducked, giving you a chance for an uppercut into her stomach. You could hear the sound of the wind knocking out of her with each punch. Faye’s hand pulled your hair back roughly, fists meeting across your face, swiping your nose. Intense pressure built up, the threat of blood leaking out of your nose becoming evident. She wanted to play dirty?
We can play dirty.
You used everything you had in you. Scratching, biting, kicking. You were not going to lose. You did not give two shits if she was vulnerable, this bitch was going down. It felt like forever until you felt the strong arms of Spike yanking you away from the fighting ground.
“Hey, hey, hey!” You heard Jet roar, becoming a flesh and metal cage around Faye’s upper arms, taking a small beating as she tried to claw her way back to you. Ed was yelping and screaming at the top of her lungs, while Ein barked and yowled at the commotion.
“Stop, (y/n), its me you’re hitting, damn it!” Spike yelped as you gave the last swings, realizing that the fight was just about over. You panted, the painful injection of adrenaline overcame your body. You watched on in pity as Jet tried to get Faye to calm down. As you trudged back to your seat, with the help of Spike, the last word was finally given out of the door.
“Get comfy bitch, I’m going nowhere!” You screamed.
“And I know who burned your ship, but there’s no way I’m telling you, you dumb cunt!”
Other insults flew in your direction, but were ignored. You stood in disbelief as you let the major bombshell play over and over. Feeling the soft tug of Spike pulling you back gently down to your seat, letting you wallow for a second. He knelt in front of you, examining your growing black eye and red welts on your face. “Damn, that's going to leave a mark.”
You looked away from him, tears welling in your eyes.
“Oh (y/n), I didn't mean it like that, it doesn’t look that bad.” Spike apologized as you sniffled.
“It’s not that. I-its that..'' sobs so quietly, but causes the greatest quivering, “she knows who did this to me, and won't even fess up because she hates me. What kind of shit is that?”
Tears fell freely onto your lap, pain induced by your loss fueling more hurt. It was so cold by yourself, a shell encasing you in. Through the mists of your tears, the shell was just Spike’s chest moving closer in. The heat of his body provided consolation without words, the tightness and slight rocking bringing you down to a clearer, more relaxed consciousness.
“I’ll catch them for you.” Spike mumbled into your ear, his hands massaging the back of your head. “It won't bring anything back, but if that will make you feel better, I'll do it.”
This wasn’t an empty promise. There was sincerity behind Spike’s words, wanting to help you. It was now confirmed just how much you meant to him. He was willing to assist for payback. His offer was sweet, but it didn't feel right. This wasnt his struggle, it was yours.
You were going to catch them, and only God knew the hell you were going to bring.
75 notes · View notes
babymetaldoll · a year ago
The BAU First online Secret Santa (aka: Rossi vs Zoom)  (Spencer Reid/ Reader)
Tumblr media
Summary: Rossi might have said too much when he wasn't muted in the BAU online Secret Santa Celebration. And Reid is too embarrassed to face (Y/N) afterward.
Requested: Yes. My boyfriend asked me to write this, and asked for some specific gifts for some team members. (Based on season 7 of Criminal Minds in COVID quarantine).
Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader- feat the whole team 
Warnings: None
Word count: 3K
- “Hello?”- Penelope waved at Rossi, but he didn’t reply. She sighed and stared at the camera on her computer, and nearly started jumping and waving. 
- “Rossi!! Hey!”
- “Penelope??”- Rossi screamed, looking at the screen, unable to find the tab with the Zoom video conference on his navigator. He could hear her but couldn’t see her. 
- “Where are you??”
- “Rossi!! I can’t hear you! you are muted!”- Penelope was already frustrated, and it had been only two minutes. 
Rossi had been struggling using Zoom the whole quarantine. Every online meeting for the last couple of months had been filled with “Rossi, you are muted,” “Rossi, we can see you picking your nose,” “Rossi, you aren’t mute, we can hear you fart.” It had been as frustrating as funny for the team. 
- “Hey!”- Prentiss waved at the camera- “Where’s everybody?”
- “We’ve got Rossi trying to find us and unmute his mic”- Emily chuckled and nodded- “And Hotch just logged in… hey!”
- “Hello everybody”- Aaron Hotchner waved, and his son Jack appeared in the back of the room, waving too. 
- “Did you clean your room?”- he asked his son
- “Yes…”- it was clear Jack was lying
- “So if I go upstairs right now, your room is going to be clean, your bed made, and your toys in their place?- Jack stayed still and just smiled. Slowly, he turned around and ran back to his room. 
- “Hey, how did you change your background?”- Emily asked Garcia, who started explaining how to do it. 
- “Henry! what is it?”- JJ logged into the conversation, but her attention was really on her son, who kept crying somewhere near her. 
- “Hello? Hey? can you hear me?”
- “Hey Spence!!”- Prentiss and Garcia said at the same time and chuckled. 
- “Hello! How’s everybody!”- he smiled and stared at his screen. 
For someone who hated technology, he was pretty comfortable meeting the team online. Maybe because his germaphobic self was glad they didn’t have to go to the BAU if there was a pandemic going on.   
Germs were worse than technology, which was good to know when it came to his phobias. 
- “Baby girl, what are you doing?”- Derek’s voice interrupted Garcia’s class of “How to change backgrounds one on one.” Emily enjoyed her time switching pictures on his background, laughing, while JJ tried to convince Henry to eat his banana. Hotch was reading a case file, not paying attention to anything going on around him. Rossi was lost and muted still, trying to find the right tab in his browser, and Spencer was reading a book, sipping a cup of coffee.  
- “Hey!!”- (Y/N) waved at the screen and stared at the scene. Everyone in the BAU was on their little bubble.  
- “Hello, hey! How are you?”- Spencer closed the book and waved. (Y/N) blushed and waved back. She just stared at him, and all the memories of their last video call came to mind. 
They had literally spent the night together. They started a video call around seven, then cooked dinner. Spencer actually cooked ‘cos (Y/N) gave him an easy cooking lesson online. Both of them ate spaghetti with homemade bolognese sauce. 
They started talking and talking, drinking tea, and coffee, and cocoa, and more tea. They snuggled on their couches and kept on talking, laughing. Somehow they started reading each other their favorite parts of their favorite books. And somehow, they ended up in their beds, drinking one last cup of tea. They were hugging a pillow, wishing they could actually hug each other, but never saying those words. And so they kept talking until they fell asleep. 
(Y/N) had fallen asleep first. Spencer felt he had bored her ‘till she passed out, but the truth was, she had made her best effort to stay awake but failed at four in the morning. She loved talking with Spencer. She loved Spencer, all of him, including all the facts and statistics he would ramble on for hours. 
If only she knew he felt the same. He could hear her ramble about books and albums she loved. He didn’t know half the bands she talked about but always googled them after their conversations to understand her a little bit better. And to add facts to their next talk. 
- “Rossi! Rossi! unmute your mic”- Aaron repeated for the hundredth time during the call, but Rossi still had no idea what he was doing. 
- “Ok, ok, don’t touch anything, I’m hacking into your computer,”- Garcia simply said, already tired of waiting. It wasn’t the first time she had done it during the latest months. I wouldn’t be the last either. 
- “Hello? can you hear me?”
- “Yes, David”- Aaron nodded and almost smiled- “Hello everybody, I trust you are all having a nice day.”
It was their annual Secret Santa, and for the first time, it was online. They had all made sure to mail their presents earlier enough, and everybody had gotten theirs already. It was December 24th, and though it was still just noon, Rossi enjoyed the first whiskey of the day.  
- “I sent you all cookies!!”- Penelope clapped and smiled, staring into the camera- “Did you all get it?”
- “Yes!”- they all answered but (Y/N). 
- “No… I didn’t”
- “What?! But I sent them yesterday! the delivery said you had gotten them,”- Penelope explained, but (Y/N) just shook her head. 
- “Sorry Garcia, I just got my Secret Santa present this week, and that’s it”
- “Someone stole your cookies, pretty girl!”- Derek chuckled and took a bit of one of his- “Your lost, ‘cos they are delicious.” 
- “Great… not only I get to spend Christmas alone, now I have to bake my own cookies.”- she groaned and sighed. 
- “What? Alone?”- JJ was in shock- “What about your family? Family get-togethers are allowed this weekend. It just has to be less than ten people in each house.” 
- “They live in Seattle, and I can’t travel ‘cos I don’t wanna expose my grandparents to any risk, so I decided to spend Christmas alone”- (Y/N) cut the team a short smile. They all wide opened their eyes in shock. Christmas alone was never a good plan. 
- “Me and Jack are going to spend it with his grandfather and aunt. We would be glad to have you over.”- Hotch immediately said, and (Y/N) smiled.
- “Thank you, but that’s ok, it’s just Christmas…”- that really didn’t sound good. 
- “I’m gonna be alone too,”- Spencer texted her ‘cos he didn’t want to say it in front of the team- “Do you wanna spend Christmas with me? I can save you some cookies”. 
(Y/N) chuckled as she read, and Spencer smiled, staring at her. You don’t usually get to see the reaction of the person you text. And he loved it. 
- “Why are you going to be alone?”- she wrote back
- “Same as you, I don’t wanna expose my mom, and she is all the family I’ve got. She’ll spend Christmas with aunt Ethel”. 
- “Hey! (Y/N), are you listening?”- Penelope waved and nearly yelled. 
- “Sorry, what?”- (Y/N) left the phone aside and tried to focus on the team. 
- “JJ was saying you are also welcome to spend it with her mom, Henry, and Will.”
- “Thank you guys, but… I think I’ll be ok.” 
She blushed at those words and made her best not to look at Spencer as she smiled. Which was incredibly useless, ‘cos no one knew where Spencer’s image was on her screen. And at the same time, it was so easy for the team to profile what was going on. That’s why neither of them said another word.
- “Ok, can we start opening presents now?”- Prentiss asked. Her background was now a beach, and she had put on a big hat and sunglasses. Penelope and JJ laughed at her so loud that they didn’t listen when Aaron said they should make a distant toast. 
- “Wait! let me get something to drink!”- (Y/N) stood up quickly and poured herself a cup of tea. 
- “Ok, now I’m ready, sorry”- and when she looked at the screen, Spencer was blushing, and everybody was chuckling. 
- “What did I miss?”
- “Nothing pretty girl”- Derek just smiled- “Let’s do the presents thing… who wants to start?”
- “Henry is pretty restless today, so if you guys don’t mind, I want to start”- JJ waved and showed everybody her present. 
“You have to guess who gave you your present,”- Emily explained and sipped her cup of coffee. 
- “Alright… let’s see… I got this envelope from my Secret Santa and… it’s just what I needed!!”- JJ smiled and nearly jumped on her seat
- “It’s a whole spa day!! Mom needs a day off when this pandemic ends!! thank you, Secret Santa!!” 
- “Who do you think gave you that?”- Penelope asked, and JJ looked at each one of her teammates on the screen.
- I’m gonna go with… Hotch, ‘cos I think he understands exactly what’s like being a parent in quarantine- Aaron chuckled and shook his head. 
- “Sorry, I would have given you that, though, but it wasn’t me.”
- “Then who?”- Rossi raised his hand and smiled
- “I noticed you were a little… stressed last time we talked. I thought maybe when this whole thing ends, you would enjoy a day to treat yourself.”
- “Thank you so much, Rossi. I really appreciate it!!”
The whole team continued opening their presents and laughed, trying to guess who was their Secret Santa. Hotch got a horrible (and yet adorable) Christmas sweater with a gigantic Rudolph on it and a matching one for Jack. He guessed right away it was from Penelope. 
Hotch bought García a fantastic pair of high heels and confessed he had picked them himself. Aaron Hotchner had a pretty good fashion sense. Who knew? 
Rossi opened his present and laughed, shocked. It was one costly and hard to find Scotch bottle. He thought it was from Emily, but no, it was from (Y/N). 
- “I remembered you said it was your favorite, and I thought maybe you’d like to share it with us next time we have a real get-together in your house.”
- “It’s very nice and naive of you to think I might actually share this present with anyone”- Rossi smiled and waved at the screen- “Thank you, kid.”
Emily got a weekend in Vegas from JJ to make it up for the “Sin to Win” weekend she lost because of a case a few months before. And again, she refused to explain to the team what “Sin to Win” meant. 
Morgan got a life provision of baby oil to rub on his six pack and biceps each time he took his shirt off. It was a joke from Emily, and Rossi nearly had a heart attack laughing at it. Penelope wanted a demonstration, but Derek promised a private show. Prentiss also got him a new kit of tools for home repairs, which always came in handy for him… mostly to fix all the doors he kicked. 
- “And what did you get, Spence?”- JJ asked, now holding Henry in her arms, trying to keep him calm. Reid opened his present and smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile though, it was a “are you fucking kidding me?” smile.   
- “Dating for Dummies”- he said and showed the book- “And I’m pretty sure this is from Morgan.”
- “As soon as this quarantine ends, you and I are going to a club, so you better study that book, ‘cos I’m gonna make you put it on good use.”
Morgan joked, but after all those years, it just wasn’t funny anymore, not for Spencer, at least. 
- “And last but not least, what did you get (Y/N)?”- Penelope’s eyes were shining. She loved Secret Santa. She had forced Hotch to put on his sweater, and he was now feeling like a dork on camera. Garcia, of course, had taken many screen-captures to save that amazing moment. 
- “Well, I’m pretty sure this is from Spencer”- she smiled, ‘cos he was the only one left. He blushed and waved. 
- “I hope you like it”- (Y/N) unwrapped the present carefully and smiled, surprised. 
- “Where did you get this?”- it was an original edition of The Little Prince, in french. It was tough to find. 
- “You said you loved the book ‘cos your mom read it to you when you were a kid, so… I thought you’d like it.”
(Y/N) couldn’t stop going through each page, as a million memories of her childhood came to her mind. Her mother had passed away when she was in high school, and the book meant more to her than anyone could imagine. 
- “Thank you”- she whispered and bit her lip, making her best not to cry. 
- “Jesus Christ! When is he going to tell her he loves her!?”- Rossi nearly yelled. He was in the back of his office, pouring himself a glass of his Secret Santa present. 
The whole team stayed quiet, making their best not to laugh. Spencer wanted to die. He rested his head on the desk and controlled the urge to leave the conversation. 
- “Hey, Rossi… just so you know, you weren’t muted.”- Prentiss managed to say and chuckled. He looked at the screen and stayed quiet. 
- “Ok... I think I’m gonna go now. This Scotch is already getting to my head, so… see you guys!!”- Rossi waved and tried to leave. 
- “Fuck! I hope I didn’t ruin it for the kid. Well, someone had to say it anyway”- he whispered, embarrassed.
- “Rossi, we can still hear you. You didn’t close the conversation, just minimized it”- JJ warned him, and that time, everybody burst out laughing. 
- “Ok, I’m gonna go now…”- Spencer couldn’t even look at (Y/N) anymore. He just waved and closed Zoom. 
- “I’m gonna go too”- (Y/N) whispered- “I hope everybody has a nice holiday!”- she didn’t even wait for anyone to say anything else. She just left the conversation and walked to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. 
What the hell had just happened? 
Spencer had a panic attack. What was he supposed to do now? Confess his feelings? Rossi had already done it for him. Should he call (Y/N) and tell her it was just a joke? Tell her the truth? Invite her over for Christmas, again? 
- “Fuck!!”- he shouted and walked to his kitchen. Some whiskey Morgan left last time he visited was still there, and though Reid wasn’t much of a drinker, he needed one. 
He honestly had no idea what to do. He knew he couldn’t face (Y/N) now. How? he would fluster just to be in the same room with her. Rossi really ruined everything. It seemed it was the end of the world. 
- “I’m gonna have to quit, move from DC, change my name, start my life from scratch…” 
Yes, Spencer was making a drama out of the whole situation. But in his defense, he had never been in that kind of situation before. 
It was eight pm when Spencer heard a knock on the door. He had been lying on his couch most of the afternoon, trying to read. Still, his mind kept coming back to (Y/N) and the embarrassment he felt after Rossi’s comment.
- “Hi”- (Y/N) whispered as soon as Reid opened the door, and his heart stopped- “You said I could come for Christmas… so…”- he stood still and just nodded. She was there, wearing a Dr. Who mask, with some snowflakes on her coat.  
- “Can I come in?”
- “Sure! I’m sorry, I just…”- Spencer moved from the door and watched her taking off her shoes, leaving a few paper bags on the table, and smiling at him as soon as she removed her mask. 
- “Can I wash my hands?”
- “Of course, the bathroom is…”- Reid stopped himself. She knew where the bathroom was. That wasn’t the first time she was there.    
While she washed her hand, he made his best to clean a little, folded the blanket on his couch, and piled all the books that were lying around. 
- “So… I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”- (Y/N) started apologizing again, but Spencer just shook his head. 
- “No, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you to come after… what…”- he couldn’t even mention it.
- “After what Rossi said?”- she turned around and avoided looking at Spencer. She walked to the bags she had brought and started taking things out
 - “Should we worry he was getting drunk so early?”- she simply said, and Reid chuckled
- “I don’t know, maybe… what are you doing?”
- “Well… I’m not into chicken tandoori for Christmas, so I cooked some things.”
- “It smells delicious”- Reid smiled, and so did (Y/N), feeling her cheeks blushing. 
- “It’s mom’s turkey recipe, so it better be good”
- “Let me put that in the fridge”- Reid held the turkey, roasted potatoes, and many other things (Y/N) had cooked and walked to the kitchen. 
- “I also got you this”- (Y/N) giggled and followed Spencer. As soon as he left everything he was carrying, she put a Santa hat with red and white stripes on his head.
- “You look like the cat in the hat”- she joked, and Spencer laughed, feeling like the happiest nerd on earth. 
- “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
- “It is…”- (Y/N) stared at him and sighed, both of them smiling in silence for a second. 
- “Did you get one for yourself too?”- he finally asked.
- “Yes! so we can take dorky pictures and send them to Garcia, she is gonna love those”- she made a pause and bit her lips for a second. 
- “So… do you like Christmas traditions?”- she asked and looked down at her shoes 
- “Mmm, sure… like watching Home Alone drinking hot chocolate?- Spencer asked, thinking he hadn’t really lived many Christmas traditions growing up. However, he knew his mother had made her best to make him happy each holiday. 
- “Yeah… that and… maybe this”
(Y/N) took a mistletoe from her pocket and lifted her arm to place it right on top of their heads. 
Spencer didn’t move. He just wide opened his eyes, staring at (Y/N), who was now smiling, completely blushed. 
- “Since we are spending Christmas together, I thought… we… could…”- but she couldn’t finish talking, ‘cos Spencer leaned in slowly, very slowly until he reached her lips and kissed her. His hands cupped her cheeks carefully, and her arms ended up wrapped around his neck.  
- “Merry Christmas, Spencer”- she whispered, rubbing her lips against his when the kiss ended, but neither of them wanted to move apart.
- “Merry Christmas, (Y/N)” 
Tumblr media
490 notes · View notes
blossom-hwa · a year ago
hello!! i'm in love with the way you write and the breathe & live au has to be one of the best aus i've read on here thank you so much for writing it aaaaaa
may i request another drabble for the breathe, & live au if it's not finished yet? i can't get enough of it :')))
again, thank you so much!! ^^
!!!! anon thank you so much for the kind words, it makes me very happy to hear you liked breathe, and live so much! the series is definitely not over I can tell you that, I just have to get myself off my ass to keep writing it LMAO. thank you for this request!
4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
I don't know if you specifically wanted me to write for chan in this drabble - I originally was going to do that, but then I remembered this idea that a mutual came up with (it was mai or furat or both...) a few months ago for dad!minho + kid!seungmin, so I decided to write this instead. I hope you don't mind!
Read the original series, Breathe, and Live, here!
Title: The Floor is Lava!
Pairing: none (Minho centric, implied Chan x reader)
Word count: 1.1k
Triggers: cursing
Minho blinks. Pauses. Makes sure he wasn't just hearing things after spending way too many hours staring at the dance video on this computer screen - he needs to get this done as soon as possible, it's all ready been too long -
A small, familiar hand tugs at his pants. "Papa."
Not a figment of his imagination, then.
Minho turns in his chair, coming face to face with a solemn-faced Seungmin clutching his favorite stuffed animal in one hand. A tired smile curves his lips. “Hey, Minnie.” He swings Seungmin up onto his lap. “I thought you were asleep. What’s up?”
Seungmin doesn’t answer. Minho watches his eyes follow Soonie’s path as he slowly traipses his way around the room. “Do you want to play with Soonie?”
A shake of the head. Okay, then. “Do you want to play with Doongie?”
Another shake. 
Another no. 
“Do you want to play with me?”
Seungmin pauses. Nods a little. Then -
“I want Jinnie.”
Oh, fuck. 
“Jinnie isn’t here,” Minho says softly, turning Seungmin around just enough to look at him. “I think he and his mom are busy tonight.” You told him yesterday you’d be going out with Chan and the kids, and that you’d probably get back a little late. “We can go and see him tomorrow?”
Seungmin nods. Stays silent. Clutches the stuffed dog in his hand even tighter. 
“Alright.” Minho tries not to feel his heart crack in half. He knows he agreed to you moving out with Chan, but even then, he feels the loneliness sometimes without you and Hyunjin. He can only imagine it must be worse for Seungmin. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Okay,” Seungmin replies. “What game?”
What game, indeed. Minho didn’t manage to think this far ahead. He hums a little, eyes searching the room frantically for a game that will hopefully wear Seungmin out enough that he forgets about Hyunjin long enough to actually go to sleep...
Sometime during the course of this conversation, Dori has joined Soonie in the living room. Minho watches with an idle eye as he pads across the floor, then leaps up onto a table - 
That’s it. He’s a genius.
“Minnie, do you know how to play the floor is lava?”
. . .
It takes a little preparation at first. Minho moves away the rolling chair and the smaller, unsteadier pieces of furniture. Seungmin listens carefully when Minho explains the rules - pretend that the floor is lava when he says ‘go’ and jump onto one of the toddler-proofed pieces of furniture - and warns him not to jump on any of the chairs or small tables he’s purposely moved out of reach. By that time, Doongie has also joined them, so when Seungmin asks if the cats are going to play too, Minho just shrugs and says yes. Why not?
“Remember the rules, Seungmin?” Minho calls from his spot in the middle of the living room. 
By the couch, Seungmin nods. Smart boy, standing next to a piece of furniture. He definitely got that from Minho. 
“Okay.” He smiles. “Three, two, one... the floor is lava!”
Seungmin scrambles onto the couch with a tiny shriek of laughter. Minho barely manages to get onto the table after Dori decides right now is the best opportunity to try and weave through his legs, forcing Minho to basically trip onto the table. “Again!” Seungmin cheers as Minho almost falls flat on his face. “Again!” 
A cat jumps onto his back. Probably Dori, the bastard. Minho groans. “Let me get Dori off my back,” he wheezes, subtly trying to edge the cat off. “Come on, stupid cat.”
Finally, Dori is on the table too, and Minho can sit up to catch his breath. This isn’t going very well for him, but Seungmin’s beaming like he hasn’t all evening, and that’s what’s most important. “Alright,” he says, smiling. “Ready, set... the floor is lava!”
Seungmin leaps onto a chair at the same time Soonie does, which earns him a face full of cat fur and Minho a screeching laugh that widens his smile. Minho collapses onto the couch where Doongie has claimed a spot. Said cat looks at him with a disdainful eye when he lands on the cushions.
“You try being a father,” Minho mutters under his breath. 
Doongie just turns back around, pressing his nose into his tail. Minho wants to say more, but Seungmin’s yelling “again! again!” once more all the while hugging Soonie, so Minho turns his attention back to his son and they begin to play again. 
Fifteen minutes pass before Minho falls off a chair and onto the floor, prompting Seungmin to screech out a “Papa fell in the lava!”, which in turn prompts Minho to pretend that he’s dying, awkwardly flailing his limbs before assuming a comical dead position on the floor. As Seungmin’s laughs ring in the air, Doongie comes over to investigate his body. Minho kind of wonders why it was the possibility of him being dead that got Doongie to actually come over here. 
Better not to think about that too much, the helpful part of his brain says. 
Soonie and Dori join Doongie, and once Minho has reassured Seungmin enough times that the game is over and the floor is no long lava, his son joins them too in one little pile of fur and bodies on the floor. Minho hugs him close, feeling Seungmin giggle into his chest, and smiles despite the tiring evening. “Tired?” he murmurs into Seungmin’s ear, patting his head. He gets a little nod in reply. 
For the second time that night, Minho puts Seungmin to bed, reassuring him that they’ll go to see you and Hyunjin tomorrow and that yes, maybe they can play the floor is lava with all of the other boys too. When Seungmin’s breaths have evened into sleep and Minho thinks he can safely leave the room, he pauses in the hallway and smiles.
Tomorrow, they’ll go over to your place and see Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. Tomorrow, Minho will get to see you and make sure you’re okay, all the while subtly reminding Chan that if he does anything to hurt you, he’ll pay. 
Tomorrow, Seungmin will laugh like he did today. 
Tomorrow, Minho will smile like this again. 
Minho pauses in his thoughts. Is he sure about what he’s thinking? Absolutely sure?
He’ll never be sure. He can’t see the future. Every new day is uncertain. But for now, he can predict. He can wonder. He can believe. 
He smiles again. Yes. 
Tomorrow, things will be okay once more.
68 notes · View notes
selfship-sideblog · a year ago
So this little ficlet is because of this post. I know the anon didn't ask me specifically, but I wanted to see how I feel about writing this kind of think and if I can do it.
Hope all Sykkuno simps have a lovely day and that you like this!
Disclaimer: This fic is just for fun and if Sykkuno ever says that he isn’t comfortable with fics about him I’ll delete this. Also I'm not comfortable using his real name so he'll go by Sykkuno in the fic.
Note: Gender neutral pronouns for reader, short/small reader.
Word count: 1005
"Ok, guys we're starting and - oh we're imposter now. First game of the day and we already got imposter, with Poki," Sykkuno said to his chat as his and Poki's characters appeared on the screen with "Imposter" in red letters above them.
The screen faded into the Dropship of the Polus map. Sykkuno walked to the keys along with the others, faked the task and walked down along with the others before splitting off towards the medbay.
Sykkuno faked some tasks and looked for people to kill. The lights went out while he was alone in O2. He went down and saw Rae on the water wheel, so he just killed her before going up towards the lights and being the first one there and fixed them. He went out of electrical and towards labs. As he walked in the medbay the animation for a reported body flashed before it faded away into the meeting.
Toast had been the one to report the body.
“Ah, Poki already killed two people,” Sykkuno said to his chat.
During the meeting they discussed their positions and the time of the kill. No one suspected Sykkuno, but Poki had a little sus on her but everyone skipped since they were on seven and weren’t exactly sure.
A little later into the round Sykkuno walked into medbay and saw Poki, Toast and Wendy.
“Ok, guys we know exactly what to do.”
As Toast and Wendy started leaving Poki’s character jumped forward as she killed Wendy.
Now to kill Toast-
“Sykkuno, sweetie, have you seen my pho- oh here it is!”
Sykkuno jumped in surprise at the sound of someone’s voice and turned his head to the right. His eyes lit up and his lips turned up. An arm covered in grey appeared on the camera before it returned with a phone in the hand.
“Hey (Y/N), you’re up,” Sykkuno smiled to the person outside the camera frame.
“Yeah, I just got up. Oh God it’s 11 am! It’s so late!” the person shouted.
“That’s not so late.”
There was a chuckle, “Maybe for you bae.” 
Then the person came fully into frame, with a wild mess of a hair, a big hoodie hanging down from their small body, leaned next to Sykkuno and gave him a kiss. “See you later.”
“What the fuck Poki!?”
The unfamiliar person jumped at Toast’s shout, snapping their head towards the computer and their eyes widening.
“I’m asking myself the same thing, Toast!” Poki replied.
“Wait, wait, what happened?” Abe asked.
“What’s going on?” The person next to Sykkuno asked him.
“Oh, well, you just interrupted my double kill.”
“Oh, no I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were playing!” The person apologized frantically, their eyebrows furrowing.
“No, no it’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Sykkuno assured them, still his sweet self while in the background Toast was explaining how Poki killed Wendy and that it was probably a failed double kill since Sykkuno was there too, while Poki was trying to accuse Toast. “I’m streaming too though.”
“Oh,” they looked at the camera and waved, “hi!” then they turned to Sykkuno again “Still I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok.”
When Sykkuno’s name was called in the conversation, he just said “It’s not me guys.”
“But did Toast or Poki kill Wendy?” Jodi asked him.
“Uhm, I - I don’t know. My partner came in the room and I was distracted,” he stumbled over his words.
“It’s definitely Poki, we sussed her last round and it’s probably Sykkuno too and they were going for a double kill but he was distracted,” as usual Toast was right.
“I better go before I get you in more trouble,” the person left with an apologetic look.
Sykkuno turned back towards the computer and saw the chat had blown up with messages, but focused on the game. The voting time had ended and the others had voted out Poki.
“Well, it’s over guys. It’s over,” Sykkuno laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.
The next round started and Sykkuno didn’t even bother to call a sabotage and waited until Toast called an emergency meeting. They voted him out and after he was thrown in the lava the “defeat” screen showed up.
“Poki, I’m sorry I got distracted, I couldn’t kill Toast,” Sykkuno said.
“No it’s ok, it happens,” Poki replied.
As the others were talking Sykkuno read the chat and saw a bunch of questions of who the person that came in was and commenting on how cute they were.
“Uh, that was, um,” he lowered his head for a second, hiding his smile, “that was my partner (Y/N).”
The chat was very excited, some were saying they were really cute together, others that they were happy for him and some even asking if they would be featured in his streams in the future.
“I don’t know, they have never said they wanted to be in my streams, but if you guys want I’ll ask them,” Sykkuno answered, brushing the bangs off his face.
“’Was that your hoodie they were wearing?’” he read the question, “Uh, yes,” he answered with an awkward laugh, “they especially enjoy wearing that one, they say it’s very comfortable.”
A lot more questions went by in in the chat but Sykkuno answered one more question “How’s the relationship going so far?”
“Well, uhm, I don’t know how they feel and what they think, and uh,” he began stuttering, not sure how to answer and how much he should share, “how serious it is, but it’s been going good. We’ve been dating for uh, four or five months I think,” he answered.
He thought about it for a few seconds and he decided to say it:
“They’ve made me really happy and I hope they feel the same,” he said, softer than usual and a little blush on his face.
He saw the teasing comments of his chat like ‘that’s the face of a man in love’, ‘HE’S BLUSHING’ and even ‘smittenkkuno’ and just laughed nervously.
447 notes · View notes