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#favourite genre as of late
sinematically · 1 year
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so I got curious about whether Irene Adler would make an appearance in Enola 2 since John Watson is reportedly in the new one and uh
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WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME WE MIGHT BE GETTING A BISEXUAL SHERLOCK HOLMES PLAYED BY HENRY MOTHERFUCKING CAVILL (source)
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salvadorbonaparte · 2 months
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"there are so many things that sound like antisemitic conspiracy theories like * describes something that is a conspiracy theory * but they're real because someone on tumblr said they read about it online" 🤦‍♂️
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tohkaphobia · 7 months
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replaying life is strange, I forgot how this series absolutely destroys me for no reason. like god I'm going to need a second, it's so surreal considering how obsessed I was with it as a kid and it being something I latched onto the same time I was coming to terms with being queer to where I am now in life it's just such a bittersweet feeling. I love this game sorry all
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maths-is-my-religion · 2 months
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I’m worried about the new TS album bc from the title & cover it’s giving very folklore/evermore vibes… there’s a reason why I haven’t listened to those albums…
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fishlung8877 · 2 months
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Shit now I reallly gottta start watching dungeon meshi
It's very funnny how much media I'm gettting into that involves dungeons and foood (or lack thereof)
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conzoop · 7 months
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He Stone Temple on my Pilot until I Plush (2017 Remaster)
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daesukiii · 2 months
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I Can See You
Pairing: single dad! Seonghwa x babysitter! f! yn
Word Count: 10,137
Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, a creepy old man in one scene, age gap (10 years but both are adults (and not just barely)), smut warnings under cut
Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, single parent au, M for mature audiences
Summary: When you took a job babysitting a young toddler, you didn't expect to be so drawn to the family. And more specifically, her frustratingly hot and single dad.
Smut Warnings: masturbation, sexual fantasies, riding, slight (if you squint) corruption kink, sliGHT breeding kink, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), breast play, overstimulation, undiscussed kinks (yn is fine with it. but discuss your fucking kinks guys *gun emoji*), slight cumplay
thank u to @pyeonghongrie and @mingsolo for beta'ing and for the title hehe <3 this is also a collab with @potatomountain who is also writing a dilf hwa, we're just on two sides of the spectrum lol...and this is so damn long
-
“Hello, I’m here for a babysitter interview with a Mr Park?”
“That would be me. Miss (Y/N)?”
When you answered the ad in the newspaper about babysitting, you were so ready to see an older man, around his fifties. But this man looked so young, around his late twenties although you’re sure he’s probably forty. And you’re not one to judge—nearing your mid-twenties one wouldn’t be expecting you to still babysit as a full-time job. But it pays the bills and helps you get some hands-on experience in your degree, child development.
“Ah, yes. That’s me,” your words spill out as you realise he is awaiting an answer. Mentally, you berate yourself for the immediate blunder while Mr Park’s eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Come on in and make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll be right there. Would you like anything to drink?” Mr Park’s voice is smooth like butter and you have a hard time making sure you don’t get lost in it.
Again, you nod, actual wordy responses jumbled in your brain, walking to the couch and sitting down almost mechanically. If you were mentally present, you would have noticed the smile the older man sends your way.
He doesn’t take too long, returning with two glasses of water. “You didn’t say what you wanted to drink so I just got you water. Is that okay?”
Thankfully, you finally can respond coherently and smile, albeit a little shakily. “Yes, thank you so much.”
You take the glass with both hands, thanking him again quietly and taking a small sip before just holding it as you wait for him to be seated. You’ve felt awkward before, but this is a new extreme. Normally you pride yourself on keeping your cool in front of someone you think is hot, but Mr Park…he’s something else. You try your best to keep your eyes trained on the coffee table, only letting yourself glance at him occasionally so he doesn’t realise just how in awe you are.
“Jihee will be home from school soon, so you’ll see her soon. For now it’ll just be old me and my questions,” Mr Park starts his interview as soon as he sits on the couch across from you. “Now, I saw in your application that your major was in child development? Can I ask why that interested you?”
You blink at him for a moment, not expecting that question. Sure, bringing it up was expected, but the way he sounds like he’s interviewing you for a position in a company amuses you. “Uh…I just grew up with a lot of siblings and their kids. I’m the youngest of six, and the oldest is sixteen years older than me so I have a lot of nieces and nephews as well. Children have always been a part of my life, and my first job was babysitting so it’s something I’m very used to. Child development was just a way for me to learn even more and in a less… hands-on way. Poopy diapers are not my favourite.” You pause. “Not that I can’t change them! Or that Jihee uses them. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
You’re so sure your face is bright red right now as you stumble over your words, and you’re ready to be kicked out, but all Mr Park does instead is laugh at your embarrassment. It’s a little mean but it’s better than your worst conclusion so you’ll take it. “It’s okay,” Mr Park smiles at you. “It’s okay to ramble, it was actually quite amusing. Now, I’d just like to warn you, Jihee has trouble with working on schoolwork. While that usually isn’t an issue, she may be asking you to help her with her homework and reading and I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Would that cause any trouble?”
“It wouldn’t bother me, and I’ll try my best. I took children’s education in college as well so it’d be a good time for me to exercise that,” you laugh quietly. Your first dream was to be a governess, no matter how few jobs there are for that type of work.
Mr Park nods thoughtfully. “Glad to give you some experience in that,” he hums after careful consideration, a smile on his face. “Her struggles lie in understanding the problems and in English. If she faces any difficulty then I can always help out.”
Before either of you continues speaking, his watch beeps and he glances down. Without another word, he stands and goes to open the front door. “Uh–” Your confusion escapes you before you can stop it.
“Oh, Jihee’s almost home and I always leave the door open for her,” he explains, eyes still trained on his watch. “You’ll get to meet her, and then we can discuss more details. And just to reiterate the ad, this is going to be a job that requires a lot of hours. I, of course, will be paying you for any sort of overtime if I need to stay at the office later. Does your schedule still allow for that?”
You hold back your smile. Your schedule mostly consists of scrolling the internet for job opportunities and eating lunch with your friends. “Yes, I can do that,” you affirm. “I’ll need holidays off, but I assume that’s a given as you’ll also be with Jihee?”
A smile pulls at the corner of Mr Park’s mouth. “Very astute,” he chuckles. “Now, here she comes.”
The door swings open without another word from either of you and a little girl dressed in pink and ribbons barrels into Mr Park’s knees. He lets out a quiet grunt, stabilising himself against the door as his hand strokes at her hair. “Hello, Jihee,” he hums fondly. "How was school today?"
The young girl beams up at her father. "So fun!" she grins, her words slightly slurred in her excitement. "Today, Mrs Lee had us do shapes and my favourite colour is blue now! I have so many blue crayons."
Mr Park's eyebrow raises at the mention of crayons. "Do you have them with you?" he asks, and Jihee nods vigorously. "Can I see them?"
Another nod comes from the child and she immediately plops on the floor, pulling out her pencil case and opening it to reveal at least ten crayons, all of varying sizes. What stands out to you the most is that half of them are green. "See! All blue. But this one's my favourite." She grabs at a particularly long and skinny one, a shade of emerald green.
"Ah. Lovey, remember, your colours are a little different, right?" Mr Park talks in a gentle voice, very different from the very adult voice he used with you. "That's a green crayon."
Jihee's face drops. "Oh." Her bottom lip juts out in a pout.
Mr Park holds out his hand and Jihee drops the crayon into his palm. "You can't take the crayons from school anyway, dear. Why don't we leave these in your bag and you can give them back and apologise to Mrs Lee tomorrow?"
Jihee's pout grows bigger but she nods. "Okay, daddy," she agrees and Mr Park nods proudly.
"Now, do you want to meet your new friend?" You flinch as Mr Park mentions you, sitting up straighter in your chair before ultimately deciding to stand instead.
"Hi, Jihee," you do your best to speak with the same quiet tone Mr Park used. "I'm (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you."
You offer your hand for her to shake and Jihee looks at you, her thinking face almost a spitting image of her father's before she walks over and takes your hand with gusto. "Hi, Mrs (Y/N).”
"Ah, I'm not a Mrs," you correct her. "You can call me (Y/N)."
"Miss (Y/N)," Mr Park quietly interrupts and you nod, not wanting to override his parenting although being called 'miss' will catch you off-guard for the time being. "Why don't you tell her one thing about yourself and then Miss (Y/N) has to go, okay?"
Jihee's mouth twists in sadness, her hand still gripping yours. "Okay," she sighs again. "I get to talk to her more later though, right?"
Mr Park nods. "Of course. Miss (Y/N) will be spending a lot of time with you, so I'm glad you like her."
Jihee nods solemnly. "I like pretty people and you're super pretty," she tells you earnestly and your heart swells at the compliment.
“Thank you, Jihee,” you thank her genuinely, although you’re amused at the fact that she considers her appreciation for physical looks a good introduction to herself. “It was nice to meet you.”
With another decisive nod, Jihee turns and marches right off down the hall, presumably to her room. Mr Park turns to you, finally shutting his front door with a sigh. “That was Jihee. Ball of energy extraordinaire. She comes home from school at one-thirty, and will put her own things away before coming to eat a snack. She has one worksheet to do a day but with your help she’ll get it fairy quickly. I’ll email you a list of house rules.”
You nod. “That sounds perfect. What would the schedule look like? What time would I be here, and when would I expect you to come home?”
Mr Park hums, running a hand through his perfect hair. “For her school days, I’d like to have you in here maybe ten minutes before she comes. I’ll always leave her snack in the fridge and you can just pop it in the microwave and make yourself comfortable before she comes barrelling in. Then I’ll be home at five-thirty sharp whenever possible. Every other Saturday I’m in the office for eight hours and you’ll be watching Jihee for those days. If you can’t do a Saturday, just let me know so I can get someone to watch her, but generally I’d like you here from eight to five.”
You nod. All your friends have atypical work schedules so your Saturdays are empty in general, and since the weekdays are shorter hours you don’t mind. “When it comes to after-school playdates, should I expect you to be home or would you like me to take care of them?”
Mr Park’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “That won’t be an issue. Jihee doesn’t do playdates.” Your curiosity spikes at his short answer but his tone leaves no room for discussion so you don’t press it. “I’ll give you a key now. Tomorrow is my off-Saturday but if you can come in just to adjust yourself that would be great. I have some work to get done anyway so I’ll be mostly out of your hair although you can still ask me questions.”
You nod again. “Yeah, that works,” you confirm after a quick check to your phone calendar. When you look up, Mr Park is already holding out a key and you take it after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Mr Park nods, moving to open the door when Jihee calls out with a whining tone to her voice. “Daddy, I need help!”
Mr Park sighs but it’s full of affection for his daughter. “I would walk you to your car but she calls for me,” his head dips into an apologetic bow but you shake your head.
“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “There’s no need for that at all.” That is one of the main reasons, but another part of you doesn’t want him to know you have no car and you take the bus to his neighbourhood and then walk the rest of the way.
A twenty-four-year-old with no car? It’s a little embarrassing, especially in the area you both live in where it’s almost required to have a car to do anything. Generally, your babysitting jobs were close enough to your home, but the salary of this job enticed you to give up walking.
As you exit, you can hear Jihee starting off her complaints about her jacket and you smile to yourself subconsciously.
-
You’ve been working with the Parks for almost a month now and generally, it’s a good time. You only really see Mr Park when he comes home, but by then you have one foot out the door. There are days when he looks so beaten down that you want to offer him some encouragement, but you don’t want to step out of your boundaries. So, you just keep your head down and leave.
Jihee is sweet and easy-going, not hard for you to get along with. She always has some sort of fun idea for you to play along with and her schoolwork hasn’t been too terrible although you dread when she starts getting into more difficult maths.
But today, as soon as Jihee walks into the door, you suspect something is wrong. She doesn’t greet you as excitedly as she used to, just stalking straight into her bedroom and coming right now, settling herself down on the couch with a pout on her face.
“Jihee, don’t you want to eat?” you try to coax her to the dinner table, but she just shakes her head, immobile. You frown. It’s strange for the usually talkative child to be this closed off. “Did something happen at school?”
Jihee glares at the coffee table, shaking her head. “No,” she mutters but her cold-stone facade drops immediately as she suddenly bursts into tears. Your heart drops for the child crying on your couch and you immediately run to her and pull her into your arms. “Why don’t they like me?” she wails into your shirt and your heart drops.
You had suspected it when Mr Park shut down the playdate idea very quickly, but this just solidifies your thoughts. How could the kids at school not like such a sweet kid? As you’ve been working for the Parks for quite a bit now, you’ve grown to adore the young girl like she was one of your own nieces.
You don’t say anything just yet, just patting her hair and doing your best to calm her down. It takes almost an hour but now she just curls up in your arms, her hands gripping your shirt as she’s so close to falling asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up so you resign yourself to letting her sleep on you for now.
Within ten minutes, you fall asleep as well. It’s not what you meant to do, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. When your eyes open again, Jihee is no longer in your arms and there’s a large fluffy blanket laid on top of you. You blink yourself awake before panic sets in and you shoot up, looking around. “Jihee?” you call out and hear deep laughter behind you. When your head snaps back you see Mr Park chuckling at your face.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss (Y/N).”
It takes a minute for your words to register, blinking stupidly at your employer for a few moments before your face drops and you practically leap off the couch. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, bowing rapidly at a low angle. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and it won’t happen again.”
You keep your eyes lowered and you look up at him through your lashes, scared of how he’ll react but to your surprise, Mr Park’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, you looked comfortable and the doors were locked. Jihee didn’t get into any trouble, just was a little bored since you were asleep.”
You shake your head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t sleep on the job but thank you for the kindness. Jihee is very responsible for her age and it certainly reflects on your parenting.” You smile back at him.
“Well, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me as well,” Mr Park hums. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I know you usually leave around the time I get back but let me at least feed you before you go.”
You frown. “I’d like to, but I should get going,” you say absentmindedly. “I have to make it in time to catch the bus.”
You’re looking around, trying to gather your belongings, when you realise how silent Mr Park is. And in turn, you realise what you just said. “You take the bus?” His voice lowers and you stare at the look of concern he has on his face. “It’s practically dark by the time you leave and you’re walking to the bus stop by yourself?”
“Ah– it’s okay! It’s not a far walk, just up the street.” You hurry to defend your choices, waving your hands. “I’ve gotten home safe so far, no?”
Mr Park shakes his head. “No, you can’t take chances. I’ll drive you home tonight after dinner. You must stay.”
You stare up at him with wide eyes, but his stance is unwavering. And as much as you would usually protest—being taken home by a much older man would usually ring alarms in your head—the idea of not having to wait in the cold and the dark by yourself is very appealing. And from how you’ve interacted with him before, Mr Park seems very sweet, and you trust him just a little more than you probably should.
“Well, I do thank you for your kindness,” you sigh, nodding your head in concession. “But this will be the only time.”
Mr Park chuckles, not taking you seriously. “We’ll see. Now come on. Tonight is beef stew and my younger brother will come for dinner as well.”
“Uncle Uyu is coming?” You can hear Jihee’s excited voice coming from the kitchen as well as her feet pittering on the floor as she launches herself into your lap. “Hi again, Miss (Y/N).”
“Hello again, Miss Jihee,” you tease, pressing the tip of your finger to her forehead and Jihee giggles.
“Are you staying for dinner?” You nod again and she screeches in happiness, not giving a second glance at how you wince at the sound. “I can’t wait! I have to make you pretty! Come with me.”
With as much seriousness as she can muster in her body, she pulls you by the hand into her room as Mr Park watches the two of you with a soft smile and follows the two of you into Jihee’s room. He takes a seat on the bed as Jihee fusses over your hair, styling it with her toddler's hands and putting an obscene amount of hair clips into it. But you’re whipped for the little girl and you let her do whatever she wants, ending up in two uneven pigtails and a plethora of Hello Kitty clips.
“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?” Jihee giggles, moving your head to tilt so her father can take a look at her work. “It’s better than your hair to practice!”
Mr Park, mock-affronted, holds his hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own daughter? Alas, but I can let it slide as this may very well be your best work.”
Jihee giggles, pressing her face against your cheek when the doorbell rings. “Uncle Uyu!” As always, her focus is diverted by any new thing and she runs for the door, both you and Mr Park following shortly after. As she yanks the door open, a man around Seonghwa’s age greets her just as excitedly, bending down to pick her up and spin her around.
“Jiji,” he cheers, “Already so big?” His eyes find you and you offer a small wave. “And who’s this? Seonghwa, you found a girl?”
Mr Park’s jaw drops and your eyes widen as you rush to contradict. “Oh, no, no, I’m just the babysitter. Mr Park has kindly invited me for dinner.”
Wooyoung chuckles at the look on both your faces. “Don’t worry, I just like to pull on Seonghwa’s leg. You’re a little young for him too.”
You offer a smile. “Yeah, and the forties are a little out of my age range as well,” you try to joke, but to your surprise, Wooyoung breaks out cackling, startling Jihee who starts laughing with him confusedly. Mr Park’s shocked face has somehow become even more intense.
“You think I’m how old?” Wooyoung has reigned in his laughter although a smile still pulls at his lips. “I’m only thirty-four!”
A gasp made its way out of your mouth as you start bowing rapidly again in apology. “I’m so sorry! You look your age, I just assumed you had to be older.”
Mr Park sighs, although an amused smile now graces his face. “It’s okay, I can understand it. I’ll just be giving you a hard time from now on.” He punctuates with a wink and your eyes snap down to Jihee in embarrassment.
“Let’s get on with dinner so I can go home and just melt in embarrassment, okay?” you groan and the two older men laugh. Jihee seems to agree with your sentiment, declaring her hunger grumpily and you laugh and pick her up. “See, even Jihee’s on my side. Let’s eat now.”
Mr Park hums, stepping aside. “All right, I see I’m outnumbered now. I hope you don’t mind how casual this dinner is, but I promise the food is worth it. Wooyoung’s the better cook, but he’s taught me a few tricks.”
You shrug. “Any food is good food to me. At home, I have instant ramen and fried rice so it’s a nice change.”
Out of disapproval, Mr Park shakes his head although the smile does not leave his face. “I do not miss my college diet. Please, take a seat.” He motions to the dinner table, pulling out a chair for you to seat yourself, sitting beside you as Wooyoung and Jihee join the other side of the table.
“So, tell me about yourself (Y/N),” Wooyoung hums, leaning on the table by his elbows. “You’re in college?”
You shake your head. “I graduated a year and a half ago, I’m twenty-four now, but it feels like just yesterday I was taking my finals,” you chuckle. “What was your major, Mr Wooyoung?”
Wooyoung smiled, “Please, call me Wooyoung. Mr Wooyoung just sounds weird. But to answer your question, my major was culinary, of course. Before I taught Hwa how to cook, he was hopeless. I think I was feeding him and Jihee primarily other than his sandwiches and canned soup.” He sighs, leaning back and smirking at Mr Park whose ears are red.
“Hey, Youngah, I paid you for your work. Don’t make me seem incompetent,” Mr Park snorts, leaning over to smack the back of his neck. “Wooyoung may be eight years younger than me but he certainly acts like he’s five.”
You laugh at the banter. “Me and my siblings were the same way. We’d always fight but in the end, we care for each other. It’s sweet to see you guys act the same.” You smile, taking a bite of your stew. “Thank you for letting me sit in on your family dinner.”
Mr Park shakes his head. “Of course. Can’t let you walk on your own at night, you know. I’d be happy to give you a ride home from now on.”
“Ah, no, I can’t make you do that,” you try and decline again but Seonghwa is having none of that.
“It’s not a matter of making me, I offered. I can’t let my babysitter just stand around in the dark. Let me do this for you. Jihee cares for you, she wouldn’t want to make you get hurt.”
You frown, pursing your lips. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you concede. “Thank you once again.”
Mr Park shakes his head, his hand moving up to ruffle your hair. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand rests atop your head a moment longer before he remembers who he is in relation to you. “Ah, sorry. Habit from Jihee.”
The heartfelt moment is cut loose by everyone amused at Mr Park’s habit. Jihee immediately takes the initiative to start rambling about stickers, engrossing everyone in the conversation, Wooyoung being particularly vocal. The dinner is finished with no other events, and you offer to help clean up, ignoring Mr Park when he tries to protest.
“Thank you for helping out,” he tries to thank you but you wave your hand dismissively.
“You fed me and are driving me home. It’s the least I could do. Shall we head out though? I don’t want you to have to leave Jihee for too long.”
Mr Park nods, grabbing his keys and jangling them as he opens the door to the garage. You do your best to not show your surprise at the sight of his fancy car. Of course, you knew he was well off, but you never imagined you’d actually be sitting in his car. He even opens the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger seat.
You hold yourself stiffly, but Mr Park looks over and just laughs at you. “Relax, I’m not going to bite you. Just let me know where to go and we’ll be set. Want a piece of gum?”
He holds out a pack of gum and you gladly take the piece, happy for the distraction. Most of the car ride is silent, except for you telling him occasionally where to go. But as he pulls up to your street, he slows to a crawl.
“You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around.me. Sure, I’m your employer, but I’m also a dad. I got the dad instinct, you know?” Your lips twitch at his attempt to be comforting. “Really, though. Don’t hold yourself so tight around me. I don’t mind doing this for you.”
You turn your eyes down. “Thank you. I’ll try, it’s just a little weird for me if you understand. But I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As you unbuckle your seatbelt, you smile at Mr Park. “I hope you have a good night.”
As you go to your apartment building, Mr Park leans out of his car and calls after you. “You can call me Seonghwa, (Y/N). Mr Park makes me feel old.”
You laugh at his admission. “We’ll see, grandpa!” You can’t help but tease him before running into your home, leaving an amused Seonghwa outside.
-
These days you and Seonghwa have become a lot more friendly. He’s taken to driving you home despite your protests and during the car rides, some interesting conversations have happened. For example, you learnt that he built his company from the ground and yet is respected in many old money circles.
Okay, maybe you didn’t learn that from a conversation, and instead just searched on the internet. But what can you say? You’re curious about the man who happens to be your charge’s father and the man who happens to be very very handsome.
Maybe you have a bit of a crush on Seonghwa, but you couldn’t blame yourself. There was something about him. It is the aura he holds himself with, the kindness in his smile when he arrives home, and it helps that he is hot. Every so often, you can’t help but find yourself glancing at his pretty hands, or his well-toned arms, and you have to look away before heat spreads up to your ears.
You’re down bad, and it’s not getting any better. Every time you see Seonghwa, you want to jump him but it would be inappropriate. Not only is he your employer, but he’s also a decade older than you. There’s no way he would be interested in you, he probably sees you just as some kid.
With a sigh, you look down at your sketchbook. Today was supposed to be a fun day. Both Jihee and Seonghwa were off today, so you were spending the day with her as Seonghwa was still called into the office to put in some extra hours. But then the toddler fell sick and you were tasked with taking care of her.
At least it was a fairly easy job—Jihee slept most of the day and you were free to work on some of your more personal projects. Although your passion lies in children, you do enjoy drawing and even took a couple of classes in college. As you lay on the couch sketching, you get so lost in your mind you don’t even register the door opening and the footsteps coming towards you.
“Is that me?”
A shriek rips its way out of your throat as you do your best to whirl around and hold your drawings to your chest, but your legs get caught in the blanket and you instead fall half off the couch to the ground. Your chin props your head up on the ground but your legs are still tangled on the couch, your arms twisted into the blanket, the sketchbook an arm’s reach away.
“Hi, Mr– Seonghwa. How was work today?” you mumble half into the carpet, too embarrassed to look up. “Jihee’s taking a nap in her room.”
After a moment of silence, Seonghwa laughs, although it’s a little pained. “Uh. Do you need help up?”
You groan, pulling one of your arms out from your cocoon prison. “That would be great, thanks. Sorry.”
One of his cool hands gently takes your elbow as another comes to rest on your back. It’s at the moment you realise your shirt has ridden up. You can’t help but tense at the touch, hoping the embarrassment doesn’t show on your face. “Jihee’s taking a nap?”
You’re grateful he chose to brush over the incident. “Yeah– yeah. She’s not much better, but she’s not much worse. It’s just a simple cold, so she needs to sleep it off.” You chose to ignore the hand lingering on the small of your back, instead scooching back on your butt to distance yourself just a little bit. He’s your employer, there’s no way you can give in to your feelings.
But the couch seems to be against your plans, as when you try to pull the blankets off your feet you tumble into Seonghwa’s legs, knocking him down as you land on his firm chest. Your face is mere centimetres away from his and you freeze. “I–” you stammer out, Seonghwa equally as awkward.
“Sorry–” He tries to sit up, but it just results in the blankets twisting tighter and pulling you two even closer together. You swear if you could hold your breath, you could feel and hear his heart beating. “Ah, shit.”
You can’t help but laugh a little at his profanity, not something you’ve ever expected to hear from him. “Welcome back, Seonghwa.”
Seognhwa’s eyes widen, his blush deepens, and his head snaps away from you. Your brows furrow at the change in his features and you can’t help but wonder if it’s from the proximity, or if it’s the proximity to you specifically. “Ah. Let’s get out of this, shall we?” he coughs. He carefully detangles himself from the pile and holds out a hand to you.
You grasp it, noting his firm grip and letting him pull you up. “Thanks.”
“I’ll drive you back to your apartment first since Jihee’s asleep right now. It won’t take long.” While Seonghwa’s voice remains warm, his eyes move away from you.
Suddenly a guilty feeling pools in your stomach and you turn away as well, bending to pick up your sketchbook silently. “Of course.” The disappointment fills your head as you internally admonish yourself for even trying to entertain your fantasies of the older man.
But, to your surprise, a warm hand pats you on your shoulder. “You are good at art, (Y/N). You should continue to pursue and practice it, even as just a hobby.” His words make you look up into his eyes and you see a sparkle behind them. “You’re a talented person, and you should take advantage of it.”
“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him again. “Once again, I appreciate the kindness you offer me.”
Seonghwa chuckles, spinning the car keys as you’ve quickly found out is his habit. “(Y/N), thank you for putting up with such an old man who can offer you nothing but kindness.”
You snort. “You’re not even that old, you geezer.” In retaliation, Seonghwa leans over and pokes you in the forehead.
“Oh, hush and let me take you home.”
-
It’s been almost six months since that day and your feelings have only intensified. But this time, you swear perhaps he may be returning your feelings too. Sometimes you catch him looking at you with a gentle smile, and his hand on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think. But then he talks to an employee on the phone and you remember how accomplished he is. Even if he wasn’t much older than you, there’s no way you would fit into his lifestyle.
And, like any self-respecting person would do, you start to avoid him. What else are you going to do? Tell him? You’d be crazy to even entertain the thought. There’s no way he would even take you seriously.
These days you’ve just been going to work, and heading straight home. Seonghwa barely has time to catch you, and you’ve been plotting with Jihee to keep him away. She doesn’t quite understand why, but it’s fun to her so she’s happy to. You’re pretty sure half your wallet has gone to sticker sheets. But no matter how many stickers you’ve bought, it doesn’t help Seonghwa from figuring out something is amiss.
It’s your one day off and you’re spending it at home, lounging around and just watching movies while you sulk about your tangled feelings. Watching all these romantic movies doesn’t help at all and you groan. There’s no way you’re going to act like a lonely teenager, you declare to yourself. You’ll go to a club! Maybe meet someone closer to your age and you won’t feel like a wet sock anymore.
That’s it, you’ve convinced yourself. You’ll give yourself a night out. Suddenly inspired, you throw off the blankets covering you and start donning your nicest clothes. There’s a club you used to frequent in your college days, and you haven’t been back since you got the new job. It’d be nice to let loose again.
As the nighttime approaches, you’re almost all ready to go. You have your outfit and your makeup, and all you need is your shoes. Once you pick out your favourite pair of heels (comfy and not too high), you make your way down. You can feel the excitement pounding out of your chest and you can’t wait to get the night started.
As you enter the club, your body immediately relaxes as you take in the atmosphere. It’s been so long, you’re just excited to have fun. Get drunk, find a nice guy, and forget your problems. You down drink after drink, hyping yourself up, but as late night comes, nothing happens. With a sigh, you plunk down your last drink, feeling the buzz of the alcohol burn in your veins.
Nothing will happen tonight, and you just have to come to terms with it. You place down a couple of bills to pay off your tab, tip, and stumble out of the bar. You’re plastered. You can hardly walk in a straight line and you lean against the cool brick for a minute, letting the sensation sober you up a bit as you do your best to call up a taxi.
But before you can do so, a hand creeps onto your bare waist and your head snaps up to see a man, no younger than fifty, leering at you. “Uh, hi?” you slur out, your hands fiddling with your phone as you try and discreetly move to the phone app. You may be plastered, but you’re not a fool and you know what could happen in this situation.
Unfortunately, the old man seems to know what you’re trying and he grabs one of your wrists. “Now, pretty lady, take a break there. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit?” His words are greasy and slimy, and you almost gag at the idea of what he’s insinuating. At least Seonghwa isn’t triple your age…and he’s hot.
“Ah, no thanks,” you manage to push past him, pressing your most recent contact and holding the phone to your ear. “I’m a little uh…” You’re cut off when whoever you call starts speaking.
“(Y/N)? Why are you calling me? It’s nine.” Seonghwa’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Are you okay?”
“Ah, shit,” you groan, stumbling to your side and colliding with the wall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’m just out and–”
Once again, the old man approaches you and pulls you back by the waist. “Come on, pretty. Get off the phone and pay attention to me.”
You shake your head and pull away again, moving even more down the street. “No, no, I’m not– just leave me alone. I want to go home,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the phone to your face. “Just…I wanna go home.”
“(Y/N), are you okay? Where are you?” You can hear the worry in Seonghwa’s voice rise and a faint jingling of keys. “I’m going to get you. Wooyoung’s here so he can watch Jihee. Talk to me, (Y/N).”
“I’m at the club Desire. Or near it. I don’t know.” Your head is muddled and no matter where you look, the street signs are blurring and the old man is still trying to get your attention. “I just want to go home,” you repeat, tears springing to your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone!”
The old man growls at your tone, grabbing at you again. “Don’t be stupid, child. You can come home with me and I’ll teach you how to be proper for a man like you.” His breath reeks of alcohol and bad breath and you instinctively slap him across the face. Surprised, he jerks back, and you take a couple of shaky steps back again.
“Leave me be! I don’t want you near me.”
The old man’s eyes narrow at you and he takes one menacing step forward, his hand raising to strike you but you bring up your arms to block the slap, whimpering in pain when the hit lands and your phone clatters out of your hand. “You insolent child!” Your eyes squeeze shut and you hope Seonghwa gets there soon.
-
Seonghwa has never driven so fast in his life. He’s racing through the lights and he counts his lucky stars that they’re all green and that the police aren’t around right now. He can hear arguing coming from his phone and he’s calm enough knowing you’re at least still on the phone. But then he hears a noise and what he assumes to be your phone falling on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Please, please be okay, (Y/N).”
Stepping on the gas, he roars around the corner to the club you mentioned, praying you’re still there. As he gets out, he’s looking around but can’t seem to find you. “(Y/N)?” he calls out. “Where are you?”
He races down the street to find you pinned against the wall, your hands attempting to push an old geezer away and he sees red. He marches right up, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from your shaking figure. “Fuck off,” he growls in his face, delighting in the fear that moves across his face. “Don’t let me catch you near this place again. Now fuck off!”
He practically throws the old man to his knees before turning and cupping your face. “Seonghwa,” you practically sob. He can still see the drunken haze in your eyes but it’s almost completely cleared up now and his brow furrows even more.
“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulls you along and you do your best to keep up with him in your inebriated state. “I can’t believe you would do this! Have you no sense of security? Why didn’t you get anyone to come with you? Why would you call a taxi outside of the establishment?”
He still opens the car door for you and you slide immediately in, eyes staring wide at the pristine dashboard. He slides in and puts the car in the ignition before sitting back and groaning in frustration. “I hope you’re ready to talk as soon as we get inside,” he gripes. “I still am so shocked, (Y/N). You act so mature about Jihee, but what happened then? You could’ve been hurt…no, you were hurt!”
He continues his rant driving up to your street, ushering you into the elevator and into your place. “Do you know how my heart dropped when I saw you struggling? I don’t want to see you hurt. You need to take care of yourself.”
As he yells at you, his eyes rake over you to see if you’re injured any further, but something else stops him and the words die in his throat. You’re wearing a sheer shirt, your lacy bra underneath just showing off your chest. Your leather skirt has ridden up your thighs and your eyes fill with unshed tears. And something burns in his brain.
It’s been months since he hired you, and with each passing day, he finds himself more and more attracted to you. He berated himself every time these unwanted thoughts popped into his head. Sure, you’re sweet, good with kids, and are passionate about what you care about. But you’re also so young. You can do so much better than him, a single father with no prospects.
But seeing you like this, heat sparks in his gut and he leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “When you wear things like that, it makes me want to rip them off you and do things even that creep couldn’t even imagine,” his low voice pierces through your thoughts and your mouth gapes open.
“I’m okay with that,” you whisper, hand reaching out to brush against his chest, but Seonghwa blinks as he realises what he just tried to do, and he jerks back. Your eyes flash with hurt and Seonghwa would like to hit himself for doing that to you but he can’t let you come onto him when you’re still drunk.
“I– I’m sorry,” you whisper, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself on the wall. “I just felt so lonely. I wanted to be wanted.” 
Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he stares down into your wavering eyes. “I–” He wants you so bad. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when you’re drunk. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He turns away and hears your disappointed sigh alongside your footsteps trudging to your bedroom. With a groan, he sits on the couch with his head in his hands. He wants to reassure you, but he can’t help but feel guilty about it. But he’s still straining in his pants and after locating your bathroom, he sits on the shower bench, leaning against the cool tile and breathing in and out. With a groan, he unzips his pants and pulls out his half-hard cock. The feeling of regret rises but he pushes it down to his gut as he spits in his hand and presses his thumb against the head of his dick.
As he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it, he can’t help but close his eyes and imagine you. You with your mouth wrapped around his cock, with your hands gripping his thighs. You seated on his throbbing member, grinding your hips against him as you lean down to kiss him. He can feel his dick jump and he wonders what it’ll feel like to fill you with his cum.
He lets out a broken moan as his grip turns tighter. His image of you would scratch your nails down his back. He can almost hear your little whines and breathy moans as your hips work over him. You’d lean in and whisper into his mouth, “Seonghwa, fuck me hard,” and—
Seonghwa sighs as he looks down at his cum-coated hand and the mix of shame and relief swirling around his brain. Maybe he should just go to sleep on the couch and hope he doesn’t dream of you. As he washes his hand and goes to lie down, he can already feel a stress headache coming on. He hopes you’ll at least fare better in the morning.
-
When you awaken, you have a throbbing pain in your head and you groan and roll out of bed. You’ve taken your club shirt off as well as your skirt, but your bra and underpants are still on. You’re sure your makeup is smudged too and you have no clue how you got home but all you want is some coffee and oatmeal.
You trudge to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes from sleep. There’s a blanket fallen on the floor so you toss it onto the couch and head straight into the kitchen to start your coffee maker. As you lean against the counter and yawn.
“(Y/N), are you feeling better?”
A voice calls out from behind you and you shriek, whirling around to see a sleepy Seonghwa, blanket wrapped around him and his hair a mess. You shriek again, realising how little you’re clothed and duck behind the counter, your cheeks flaming and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could.
“What are you doing here?” you force out, your voice tight.
“Do…do you not remember last night at all?” You do remember most of what happened. He took you home, but that’s about as far as you remember. And you’re not sure you want to know the rest of it. But you’re far too embarrassed to admit, so you put your acting skills to use. You’re not sure you can handle the shame of a real conversation.
“What?” you ask, forcing your voice to pitch higher as you slowly stand back up, hands covering your chest. “I didn’t– Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I came onto you. I was drunk, I must’ve been out of my mind. Please accept my deepest apologies.”
You notice Seonghwa’s eyes trail down to your chest and then snap back up to your face as if he’s forcing himself to and he chokes out a breath. Despite the headache, your mouth twitches. Maybe you’re still a little out of it. “No, nothing like that. I fetched you from the club because you called me to save you from a creep. Then I took you home and we slept.”
You sigh. “I’m glad. I do apologise for whatever my behaviour was. It was out of line and it won’t happen again. I understand if you want to let me go–”
“No!” Seonghwa’s outburst surprises you and your eyes widen. The lack of clothes you’re wearing has been long forgotten and you move around the counter to stand in front of him. Seonghwa has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry. I just…it’s like you’re a part of our family already. I care for you just as much as I care for Jihee.”
Ah. He thinks of you like a child. Your suspicions were right. You turn slightly to face away from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “I see. Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a second family,” you chuckle, internally beating yourself up. How could you even entertain the thought of the two of you being together? “Let me change, and I’ll walk you out.”
As you return to your room, you finally let your heart sink as tears brim in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away as you rummage in the pile of clothes on your bed for something fairly appropriate to wear. First, you make a fool of yourself in front of Seonghwa, and then your crush is unfounded. You can’t seem to catch a break.
With a sigh, you pull on some shorts and a large shirt before heading back out. “Hey, (Y/N), could we talk first?” Seonghwa asks, still standing in between the kitchen and the living room as his eyes flit around nervously.
After some hesitation, you finally find your voice. “Sure? What’s up? You can sit on the couch if you want.”
Seonghwa takes a seat, hiking up his sweatpants and you move to the floor across the little coffee table. “Last night…you told me something.” Oh no. This is it. You bite your lower lip and look down, awaiting his next words. “Uh. So. You think you came onto me, right? Well. It was. Uh. It may have been me.”
You blink at him foolishly as your brain tries to wrap itself around your head. “You what?”
Seonghwa raises his hands and lowers his head ashamedly. “Let me explain, please. I saw you outside with that horrid excuse of a human and something in me snapped. I just wanted to protect you and I brought you home. But seeing you in that outfit? It just made me want you. And I told you. And you reciprocated. At least, you tried to.” He chuckles a little to himself, bringing up his hand to grip at his hair. “I told you we would talk in the morning. But one thing you said stuck with me. You wanted to be wanted. And all night I’ve been thinking about it. (Y/N), you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk. Something you said had truth to it. Please. For my own sanity, tell me how you feel about me. Please.”
His voice cracks at the last syllable and something in your heart hurts at the sound. “Seonghwa I…I do care for you. More than I should. You’ve shown me unbendable compassion and you’ve never taken my words or myself for granted…or treated me like a child. Against my better judgment, I’ve fallen for you.” You sigh, tightening your fists. “I’ve been hating myself for the better part of six months because of it. You were so much better than me. In job, in maturity. What was I supposed to do? I went to the club to forget you, but it appears that didn’t work.”
Seonghwa stands quickly, shuffling over to kneel in front of you. “How could you think such a thing? Me better than you? Don’t make me laugh. I may be older than you, and yes, I have a better-paying job. But in the end, how could you compare? You’re amazing with Jihee. You’ve managed to teach her in ways I could hardly hope to imagine. And just because I have a higher wage doesn’t mean your job is less important. I wasn’t lying when I said it felt like you were already part of the family.”
“You told me you thought of me like Jihee,” you argue, and Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward to take your hands.
“I said I care for you as much as I care for Jihee. Not in the same way, (Y/N).” Seonghwa smiles kindly. “I know if this does happen we’ll need to put a lot of care into this, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to be with you.”
You’re not sure whether this is a dream or not, staring up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You’d be a fool if you said no, but the worries in your head won’t seem to cease. Taking a deep breath, you push them aside and smile up at him. “I’ll have you, Seonghwa.”
As soon as the words fall out of your mouth you can see Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in, his nose almost touching yours. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in his deep voice, and instead of gracing him with a reply, you meet him in a soft kiss.
His large hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, and his thumbs brush against your cheekbones. “You’re so pretty,” he hums, pressing a multitude of pecks to your lips. “Last night I was so conflicted. Seeing you like that made me almost go insane.”
An idea sparks in your brain, and a smile widens on your face. Your fingers crawl up his shoulders to rest your arms on them. “How insane?” you ask, and Seonghwa’s eyes darken.
“I’ll show you,” he grows before capturing your lips with his once again. This time his arms shift to wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer until you’re practically pressed against his body. You squeak at the sudden movement but it’s swallowed by the kiss.
He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel the growing hardness in his slacks. You wriggle your hips a little, grinding down, and the moan that Seonghwa lets out is heaven to your ears. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so pretty,” he repeats, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.
You whine at the pain blooming into pleasure and your hands fist into his hair. Your precious sounds get to Seonghwa and he groans, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and he hoists you up and brings you over to the couch. “Your noises are so pretty, baby,” Seonghwa groans into your mouth. “Can’t wait to hear them when you’re wrapped around my cock.”
“Please–” is all you can muster out and your whines only serve to make Seonghwa’s cock harder in his pants.
With a groan, he pats your ass, motioning for you to move up. As soon as your hips lift, he grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down to your knees, leaving your underwear and shirt on. In the same motion, he shoves his slacks and boxers down just far enough to let his cock spring free.
“Seonghwa–”  you whine and something in Seonghwa’s stomach burns at the idea of you crying on his throbbing dick. He sits back, guiding you to sit right above his cock as he moves it to rub against your soaked underwear. Every time the angry-red tip of it brushes against your clit you let out breathy moans and it only serves to make Seonghwa impossibly harder.
“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Seonghwa breathes, his free hand coming up to brush against your face. A smile blooms on your face as you bend to kiss him again.
“Then don’t.”
Something flips in Seonghwa’s brain and he lifts you, pushes your underwear to the side, and lets his cock press into you slowly. The both of you throw your head back and groan loudly at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but that doesn’t matter as the sting of the stretch is enough to make you drool. You can hardly speak as you whine nonsense into his ear and let your head drop to the crook of his neck.
“You fit around me so well,” Seonghwa praises, his head spinning at the feeling of finally fucking you the way he dreamed of. It was only yesterday he was fucking into his hand at the thought of you and here he is, only a few hours later, his painfully hard member inside of you. “Look at you, a mess for me. Bet you’ve never been with an older man before. Do I make you feel good, baby?”
You clench at his words. “Fuck, yes, the best I’ve had,” you babble, squirming at the already overwhelming feeling. “You’re so good to me.”
Seonghwa laughs delightedly at how gone you seem to be not five minutes in. “So precious, especially for me, (Y/N). Sitting on my dick so prettily.” He gives a little experimental thrust upwards and you gasp. The noises you make are so addictive, he can’t help but do it again. And again.
You’re panting, moaning as he fills you up so deliciously and your hands grip at his now-wrinkled dress shirt. His cool hands slide up your baggy shirt to shove up your bra and cup your boobs. The weight of them sitting in his hands makes him groan as he leans in to mouth at them through your shirt.
“Been dreaming about these tits since last night. Jerked off in the bathroom after seeing you, you know?” Your eyes widen at the admission and Seonghwa smirks at how embarrassed you look. “Wanted you so bad and you thought I wouldn’t like you in that way? You’re so cute, (Y/N).” He punctuates each word with one thrust after another.
The feeling of his dick pumping into you as well as Seonghwa’s teeth scraping against the soft flesh of your tits makes you so overwhelmed. It’s almost embarrassing how close you are already, and Seonghwa knows it, chucking up at you from between your chest. “Aw, baby, you’re so far gone. Am I that good?”
You cry out and sink your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. You’re trying so hard to keep your noises down but Seonghwa isn’t having any of that. His hand finds its way to your hair, gently tugging on it until your head falls back, exposing the column of your neck.
As his warm breath ghosts over it, you stiffen, and when he moves up from your chest to lick a stripe up it and nip at your earlobe, you come with a groan. Your hips are shaking from the intensity of it but his thrusts don’t stop and soon you’re whining from the overstimulation.
And he still hasn’t come.
“Fuck, Seonghwa, it’s so much,” you groan, mouth hanging open. Seonghwa greedily swoops in to capture your lips once more, licking into your mouth as his thrusts become more and more erratic.
His dick twitches and he groans. “Where do you want me? I’m clean,” Seonghwa mumbles into your mouth.
You shift your hips a little. “I’m clean too and on the pill, so it’s on you. I don’t care, I just want you, Hwa.”
Your words spark something in Seonghwa and he thrusts upwards, once, and his cum starts filling you. It’s searingly hot, settling deep in your gut and you throw your head back and moan so goddamn loud. His throbbing cock is twitching like crazy and it’s still pumping cum into you. Seonghwa’s hand slides down your body to tweak at your nipples, thumb over your flesh, and finally come to rub little circles into your clit.
You gasp and it feels like you’re touching heaven from the extra stimulation. “Gonna fill you up so well,” Seonghwa groans. “Do you think Jihee would like a sibling?” 
Your thoughts all blur together at his sentence and you come again with a groan. Your cunt squeezes around him so deliciously and a sob breaks its way out of your throat, one that Seonghwa eagerly swallows as he kisses you again.
His thrusts start to slow down and you slowly pull off his now-softening dick and settle back down on his lap. His hands push his leaking cum back into your pulsating pussy and you sigh at the feeling.
“Well, that was quite the escalation,” Seonghwa laughs quietly as he pulls both your and his pants back up and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand pats your butt and you squirm and slap his chest softly.
“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly and Seonghwa hums, capturing your lips in his yet again. He can’t get enough of your plush lips and you’re not complaining at all.
“I’m lucky to have you, period,” he sighs happily. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
You smile and sit up, ignoring the whines that come out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the lack of contact. “Well, I couldn’t let you be a lonely old man,” you tease and Seonghwa smacks your ass again.
“Can old man do what I just did?” You’re suddenly lying on your back with Seonghwa hovering over you, a crooked smile growing on his face. “Or do you need another demonstration?”
You smile and throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. “I don’t know, sir, maybe you should show me once more.”
With a nip to your lips, Seonghwa leans in and your eyes crinkle at the promise of what’s to come.
2K notes · View notes
cynical-ghost · 3 days
Text
WHOS CHILD IS THAT
Paring: Charles Leclerc x wife!reader.
Genre: fluff, smau-social media, secret family.
Warning(s): use of Yn, translated French.
Synopsis: Paparazzi, the intrusive people they are, send the internet into a frenzy after posting a picture of Charles Leclerc, his secret wife and their child.
Gossip.grid
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Liked by paddockdrama, Cl16myhubby, f1.gossip and 365,798 others
Gossip.grid Charles Leclerc no longer single? The Ferrari driver was spotted on his yacht in Monaco this afternoon with a mysterious woman.
Cl16myhubby Crying rn.
User15 she’s just using him for his money.
User12 he doesn’t want you @/User15
F1wags We are so happy for him!
charles_leclerc
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Liked by Ynforeal, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc and 897.984 others
charles_leclerc Summer break ☀️💕
User10 Soft launching ?
Cl16myhubby He was spotted by paparazzi on his yacht with a woman.
User10 Is it on a gossip page?
Cl16myhubby Yes! @/gossip.grid
User10 TYSM!!
Maxverstappen1 have a good summer mate ☀️
charles_leclerc you too mate 👍
Carlossainz55 👀
charles_leclerc 🤫
Ynforeal
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Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, yourbff and 275,956 others
Ynforeal Sunrise to Sunset with the people I love most❤️☀️
Yourbff beautiful girl🩷
Yourbff Get home so I can see my niece!!
User25 Is baby daddy still a secret?
Ynismymother Not yet, but I can feel it in my nuggets that it will be outed soon !!
User15 Charles in the likes??
User12 girl you are late to the party, he’s been following and liking her pics since before he was in F1.
User4 🤔🤔
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charles_leclerc
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Liked by Ynforeal, Arthur_leclerc, yourbff and 897,865 others
charles_leclerc I would like you all to meet my two favourite people on this earth, @/ynforeal, my gorgeous wife and Juliette my wonderful daughter 🩷❤️
Ynforeal Je t’aime Charlie 💕
charles_leclerc Je t’aime mon amour ❤️
User12 OMFG!!!
User15 They are so ducking cute together!
Maxverstappen1 P wants to know when Jules can come over for a play
Charles_leclerc tomorrow?
Ynforeal
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Liked by charles_leclerc, Maxverstappen1, yourbff and 654,492 others
Ynforeal My handsome husband and our beautiful daughter ❤️
1K notes · View notes
moonchild1 · 4 months
Text
min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)
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she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
series
stalemate by @shina913 f s a
↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."
oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a
↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?
little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk
↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it? 
sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk
↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...
after hours by @archivedkookie f s a
↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.
Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a
↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a
↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?
and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a
↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj
↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a
↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.
grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs
↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”
isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a
↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.
Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk
↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)
mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s
↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.
pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a
↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity
naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj
↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.
babydoll by @jungcock s a
↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.
eleven months by @bratkook f s a
↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.
pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.
darksided by @eoieopda f s a
↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.
three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs
↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 
one-shot
bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s
↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?  
breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s
↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”
Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a
↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.
threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj
 ↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.
under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a
↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?
mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj
↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.
the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a
↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
angel by @sailoryooons f s
↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences
a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f
↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}
last nite by @tayegi s a
↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan
zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a
↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie? 
heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a
↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.
heavy sugar by @kinktae s
↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.
all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s
↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?
calling the shots by @chans-room f
↬ College basketball captain Yoongi
until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a
↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.  When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.
whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a
↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.
shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s
↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.
you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a
↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞
spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a
↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.
all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a
↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.
now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a
↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
stay by sugarwithtea f s a
↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.
when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f
↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...
egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj
↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.
on the court by @centerhaechan f
↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.
sugar by @zehakoo f s
↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.
from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a
↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
the dark by @/bratkook s
↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?
Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs
↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
fermata by @jeongi f s
↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.
private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s
↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…
first love by @geniuslab f s a
↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.
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↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library
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horrorhot-line · 2 months
Text
zayne nsfw alphabet
➵ pairing: zayne x female!reader
➵ word count: 3.2k
➵ genre: nsfw
➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. dominant/submissive, slight somnophilia, slight degradation, sexual control, slight temperature play, toys.
➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.
➵ xavier's ver. | rafayel's ver.
➵ masterlist  (requests are open)
The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.
© 2024 horrorhot-line
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notes: so, i know this is late but i've been sick, so i was bed bound- like i've been asked here is zayne's alphabet, i tried my best to keep true to his character. credit to my fiance for letting me bombard him with questions so i could make this short series accurate.
this was requested here, by a lovely anon &lt;333
credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template
➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵
➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) zayne will cuddle you. you know this man finds it hard to show his emotions; he tries for you- but after he's done with you, hands held above your head, his other arm wrapping around your back to hold your chest to his as he snaps his hips into yours, making sure you feel every inch. then, when you're all used, looking pretty and satisfied, he'll clean you up and wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, focusing on the soft vibrations of your body as you talk and stroke his hair.
➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he loves your hips, loves tracing his fingers on them just to watch you squirm because you're sensitive there. loves holding them as he fucks you, digging his nails into them as he tries to stop himself from cumming, just so he can feel your pussy twitch around him a little longer. loves the feel of them in his hands, knowing you can't escape his grip as he speeds up, enjoying how you get louder the closer you are to cumming. he likes his back; more specifically, he likes how broad they are because you tend to scratch when he's buried inside you, stretching you out as you hold onto him, your nails leaving marks all over him- he'll look at them in the mirror, in awe of how deep and red they are, a reminder of how well he fucks you. "call my name like a good girl, won't you?"
➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he loves your cum, loves the way you get so wet for him, the way it drips down your pussy and onto his thighs, covering them as he holds you in his lap, squeezing your ass to guide you up and down his cock. he loves the mess you make, admiring how pretty you look after you've gotten your release, before zayne's forcing his dick into you again, watching how you struggle in his grasp. "ah, ah, ah. you're not going anywhere until i'm done with you."
➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) despite being someone who likes to keep clean, he adores making you squirt. he won't relent, thumb pressed firmly to your clit even though you're trying to pry his hand away, setting a brutal force, pounding your wet cunt until you twitch around him, and then he pulls out, watching you squirt over the bedsheets. he doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, shoving his dick straight back in and fucking you, watching you squirt in splurts as you sob. "there you go- that wasn't so bad, was it? do it once more for me, won't you?"
➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he's not that experienced, but he knows his way around your body, having spent extensive time studying you. so you're surprised when he tells you he hasn't slept with anyone but you. you don't believe him, to which he'll respond by giving you a demonstration, and suddenly, you don't feel all that curious as he towers over you, arm at the side of your head, stopping you from getting up as he loosens his tie with his free hand. "why don't i show you how much it helps to study your partner's reaction- what do you say?"
➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) prone bone or you on his lap, take your pick. zayne loves the way he can hold you down with just his hips, kissing your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind slowly, speeding up gradually until the headboard slams against the wall and you reach your hand out, grabbing the sheets as you try to get out from under him. he'll reach for that same hand, seizing it in his before forcing it behind your back as he raises himself off you, dick still buried inside you as he sits up on his knees, forcing you to stay in place before he's back to fucking you again. "and where do you think you're going? you wanted this- remember?"
➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he's serious; brow slightly furrowed as he fucks into you, watching his dick enter you before his gaze trails to yours. he loves watching you come undone, focusing solely on making you feel good and then some as his thumb finds your clit, no time for him to fool around as he makes you cum on his dick.
➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's well groomed, he has a stubble, one that peeks over his boxers and has you staring. zayne doesn't like letting it grow out, he feels you deserve the best, and he takes care of himself as such, making sure he's looking presentable enough as he takes you.
➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) he's very romantic when he has the time. outside of his busy work schedule, he'll make sure to make you something nice to eat, lighting candles and giving you flowers when he gets home, before he kisses you, his lips and tongue getting more desperate as he holds you closer, and you swear if he doesn't hold you up, you'll buckle. he'll lead you to the bedroom, slowly taking your clothes off and showering you with wet kisses across your body before his hands find their way to your cunt. "i love every part of you- you're all mine, don't forget it."
➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) he won't jack off for a while, but if the hospital's busy and he's leaving his office later than usual, horny and stressed, and you're sleeping- he'll take care of it himself, not wanting to bother you. though, there is that one time you wake up to get yourself water, not realising zayne's back until you find him fisting his dick on the couch, trying to keep quiet. you end up helping him out, and after he's balls deep inside you, fucking you until you're a drooling mess, eyes rolling back at the way he won't stop even as you cum multiple times, you suggest he wakes you up when he needs you, and he stops jacking off altogether, preferring to empty his balls inside you instead of on a tissue. "you're so tight, so good- i'm going to fill you up, make you take all my cum."
➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) he has a huge size kink. loves watching the bulge in your stomach forming because of his dick, pressing down on it and forcing you to look at how deep he goes. he has a slight degradation kink, likes making you aware of how much of a slut you are for his dick by making you beg for it only to turn you down and make you wait instead. he's a huge dominant, prefers forcing you into submission rather than you giving in to him right off the bat. depending on the position, he'll choke you too, the other hand going for your tit as he squeezes both, releasing his hold when your vision begins to fuzz. also, he loves being in control, adores it when he finally breaks you, slapping his dick against your pussy, teasing your clit until you're begging him to fuck you, only for him to force your thighs together so he can slot his cock in between and tease you some more. he'll force your body against his, moving his dick against your pussy, letting his tip catch on the hood of your clit so he can feel you twitch against him. "no, i don't think so. you'll wait like the good girl you are for when i finally take you."
➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) strictly your place or his, he doesn't like doing it anywhere else. he prefers privacy, and it's mostly because he wants to make sure no one sees how desperate and pretty you look begging for more, yet struggling to take what he gives you. he thinks you sound like pure sin, look it too, and he's certain if any other man saw you like this, they would want you for themselves, so he'll only have sex with you when the two of you are alone in either place, except for when he's stressed and horny because of work- never a good combination, and you end up dropping by at the office when the other staff have either gone home for the day, or are focused on different departments, in which case, he'll bend you right over his desk, shoving your panties to the side so he can finally fill you up, forcing you to take his dick until he cums. "you came here on purpose, didn't you? if you wanted me this badly, you should have just called me home."
➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) he likes the power he has over you, and that by extension, means he has a sadistic side. he can be cruel, teasing you and acting oblivious, not showing that he acknowledges how horny you are until you're begging for him. that's what turns him on, the idea that you are weak to him, the way you stutter when he looks into your eyes, silent and holding your gaze until you relent and look away, something he lets you do unless he's balls deep inside you, fucking you hard and rough, snapping his hips and forcing his dick into your pussy before he's lifting your hips slightly so he can get even deeper. "that look suits you, you know. you're the prettiest when you're taking my cock, you know that?"
➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he's not a huge fan of pda, likes to keep his private life with you quiet and under wraps, so he doesn't have pet names for you outside, preferring to call you by your name. when it's just the two of you though, and he's balls deep inside you, towering over your body as he watches you struggle to take his dick, he'll call you his good girl. the tone he uses is different though, when you've been a brat, teasing him when you know he's on the clock just so he can be rough with you when he gets off work. "you're always such a good girl for me, so what changed today? i suppose you had fun trying to make me lose my composure at the hospital. was it worth it?"
➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he prefers giving. this man adores the way you grab his hair, trying to get him to stop after he squeezes another orgasm out of you, your body spent and your energy depleted as you beg him to slow down, only for him to tighten his grip around your thighs, forcing your hips down to stop you from squirming, before he licks your clit again, forcing a sob out of you as he uses two fingers to stretch your cunt. "if you want me to let go of you- how about you try not to cum this time, hm?"
➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's fast and rough, pace unrelenting as he grabs your leg and raises over it his shoulder, using it as leverage as he shoves his dick inside you, forcing you take every inch, tip kissing your cervix as your stomach bulges. as if the sheer size of this man isn't enough, he tries his best to make you feel him in your gut, as if he's trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his dick. his thumb finds your clit, just so that he can feel your cunt twitch and spasm around him, readying himself to cum inside you, yet again. "want me too slow down? that's too bad- you're gonna have to take it."
➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) he's not a huge fan of quickies, he likes taking his time with you, forcing you past your breaking point until all you can do is tell him how it's too much. but, when he has overtime and late shifts, back to back, and only has a few hours at home before he has to return to his job, he'll trap you against a wall, or a cabinet, or a wardrobe, rip your clothes off you, bending you over before he's balls deep inside you, fingers in your mouth or around your throat as he fucks you from behind, forcing you to look his way before he kisses you. "i don't have much time. be a good girl and behave for me, won't you?"
➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) he doesn't really like risks, prefers staying inside his comfort zone. that is until you get a fixation that you have to explore, and he finds himself giving into you. the first time you asked him to use his evol on you, thinking the cold tempreature would spice up your sex life 10 times over, he refused. until you begged, and begged and he found himself relenting, trying it out as he traced his icy fingers across your lower stomach, his other hand busy being two digits deep inside your pussy, and he won't deny the way his cock twitches at your reactions, you underneath him, jumping at every little touch, and he decides that he loves the way you’re so weak against his abilities. "you wanted me to use my powers, did you not? then be a good girl, and tell me how good you feel."
➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) he has a lot of stamina, and when he has the time he will show you just how pent up he's been because of his busy job, forcing you to take his dick late into the night, letting you know that you'll have to sleep in, because there is no way he is letting you rest until he's emptied every last bit of cum inside you. he lasts a long time too, and he'll never admit it, but he will edge himself, slowing down ever so slightly so he doesn't cum too quick, just so he can enjoy the look of pure pleasure on your face and the way your pussy tightens around him, "you're doing so well. cum one more time for me like a good girl, won't you?"
➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he doesn't own any toys- that is until he brings one back from a buisness trip as a souvenier. he ends up surprising you with it the night he returns, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, watching every little reaction you have as he reaches between your bodies to press the vibrator to your clit, using the momentary distraction to shove the last few inches of his dick into you, the corner of his mouth twitching as you throw your head back, clearly struggling to take him. "don't look away. keep your eyes on me… good girl."
➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he teases you- sure, but that’s not the reason why he’s incredibly unfair. he's borderline cruel with how demanding he is, forcing your body into different positions, forcing you back onto your knees when you collapse from how spent your body is, holding you against him as he fucks his way into your gut, his pace only getting faster as he uses your pussy, never once stopping even as you ask him to slow down, "no- i know you can take it, so you will."
➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he’s not loud, but, he makes up for it. he's never quiet, pure sin falling from his lips, always letting you know how good you feel, or how well behaved you are, as he's snapping his hips up into your pussy, praising you for taking his dick, knowing full well that you're barely coherent because of how big he is. "that's it, tell me how good you feel. you look so pretty like this, struggling to take all of me."
➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) he prefers privacy over all else, and it's for multiple reasons, but the most important is the fact that he's protective of you. more specifically, he's protective over who gets to see this side of you, the one of you drooling underneath him, struggling to take his dick, eyes rolling back at how deep he is, hands reaching out to push against his abs, trying to stop him from slipping the last few inches in, loud in how you moan when he grabs those same hands, trapping them in his hold as he fucks you harder than before, balls deep inside you. "you're mine, and that means that no one will ever see this side of you. do you understand? no- nodding isn't good enough, i want you to tell me you understand… good girl."
➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) he's big, i meant it. not big enough that he rips you apart, but big enough that you feel the stretch of your pussy. he can never get it all the way in on the first try, he has to hold your hips in place as he fucks the last few inches of his dick inside you, lifting your lower body to his so he has complete control as he starts to move. "such a good girl for me. i'm sorry if it hurts, but i'm not going to hold back."
➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) zayne longs for you, and his sex drive is very high. you just have that effect on him, but he likes to keep that to himself. he waits for you to initate most of the time when the two of you are alone, holding his face in your hands as he kisses you the second you let him know you're horny, dragging you onto his lap so you can feel just how much he wants you. by then it’s too late, because now he has you wrapped around his finger and he can do whatever he wants with you, knowing you’ll give in to him. "you have no idea what you do to me."
➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he does get tired after sex, but he'll cuddle you first, stroking your hair or tracing his fingers along your back as he waits for you to fall fast asleep after he's fucked you, stolen all your energy and filling you up with his cum. he likes watching you, making sure you're resting well after he's used you, before he's closing his eyes and joining you.
➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵
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pretty girl | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: you realize you’re not that special to spencer. after all, he’s sharing his coke and kisses with someone you aren’t. and you could never be. still, you’re his friend. you’re gonna be always on his corner even if it means shattering your heart. genre: hurt/comfort i guess. and slow(est) burn with best friends to (maybe) lovers! warnings (?): lila archer's ep spoilers. 18x01. a/n: okay, at first i thought about making Spencer suffer a little more, but i'm not going to lie to you, my heart hurt. because i just finished the prison arc and- i just want someone to comfort HIM. please. he deserves some peace. so- yeah, that's why reader is so soft to him. hehe. i really hope you like this one! thank you so much for reading. word count: 6.7k previous | next
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Los Ángeles, California
Late night
Art galleries remind him of you, especially those of contemporary works. He has to admit that he has a bit of trouble interpreting them. Spencer knows color theory inside out and is aware of the influences of psychology on art. In that sense, reading them is easy for him. But when it comes to enjoying them or feeling them? Well, that’s where he has troubles. So, from time to time, you swap movie nights for gallery ones. And he is more than happy to oblige.
“Does it make you feel anything?” Lila suddenly asks.
Oh. Spencer is surprised to not hear your voice. He frowns in bewilderment.
“Like what?” he answers, returning his gaze to the exhibit. It is an urban landscape of saturated colors. The gas station is dyed phosphorescent green and the sky in the background is an electric blue. Overwhelmed, maybe that’s how he feels.
“I can’t tell you how to feel,” Lila smiles, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.
He knows she can’t, but somehow he’s still waiting for you to guide him in the answer. You know that he has no problem deciphering the meaning of the work, and what the author meant. That’s easy for him. It’s almost like profiling the piece of art. So, you’d ask him what it means to him. And sometimes it just doesn’t mean anything to him beyond what the artist meant. In those cases, you would just shrug your shoulders and tell him it’s okay. “Not all art pieces have an impact on us,” you’d say. At those moments his breathing usually catches and he gently brushes his fingers against yours, just to make sure you’re real. To make sure that he can afford not to know something- at least when he’s with you. That he can finally stop being a genius and still be able to be looked at by you. He smiles just thinking about it.
“Right now I feel pretty good,” Spencer admits. And he wants her to feel good as well, so he talks about you. “Uh, my best friend usually takes me to gallery arts. And one night we went to one of John Baldessari’s. I think it’s one of my favourites.” He doesn’t say that maybe it’s because you are a huge enthusiast about his work. And when he sees you talking about it? Well. He definitely feels warm. “And, so, my friend was explaining to me the importance not only of what we can see in the exhibitions but also those elements that aren’t there. She then told me that Baldessari once said that one of the best compliments he ever got was ‘John, what I like about your work is what you leave out.’”
“He sounds like a smart person,” Lila says. “Your friend, I mean.”
“Oh, she is,” Spencer nods, correcting Lila. “She’s very smart.” There’s a hint of proudness in his voice that he doesn’t try to hide.
Quantico, Virginia
Next morning
You have the back of the chair reclined as far as it will go, with your feet resting on a space on Penelope’s overflowing desk. Your eyes are fixed on the wall, watching how the light changes inside the pink ball each time you bounce it against the same spot over and over.
“Could you stop that, please?” Garcia repeats. “You can break something and my babies are pretty expensive.”
“Sorry,” you say, stopping. “But are you doubting my aim?” you joke.
“I am doubting my patience, sugar.”
“Ouch, you know.”
“Where’s Reid when needed?” she mutters under her breath.
You straighten up, swinging your feet off her desk. The spring of the chair squeaks at your sudden movement.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, trying to measure your surprise. Or your indignance. You are confused.
“You know what I mean,” Garcia says, though her tone is more gentle. Almost like apologizing.
“I really don’t,” you frown. You start to feel like you had been cut by a thin paper sheet.
Gracia sighs, spinning her chair so now she’s facing you. “We both know you are only this early in my beautiful cave because Reid’s in L.A, and since he can’t entertain you from there…” She explains.
You can feel how your cheeks are getting hotter- when, suddenly, you realize.
“Wait.” You say, narrowing your gaze at her. “So… when Spencer casually swings by your office and takes me back there to the bullpen…?” Garcia looks guilty and refuses to return your gaze. “He only does it because you call him! You tell him what, to pick me up?” You can’t believe her. You laugh genuinely surprised.
“No!” She says. “Well, yeah, sometimes. But only sometimes, I swear. And I only started doing it because he already came looking for you often enough.”
“I thought you liked having me here,” you say, the joke dying in your remorseful. Have you been making Garcia uncomfortable? (And in the back of your mind there’s playing a song you are trying to stop- does Spencer seeking out for you in her office mean that he misses you the same way you are missing him right now?)
“I do!” she quickly clarifies you. “But-“
“No, yeah, I get it.” You smile at her. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be!” Garcia’s expression is somewhat pleading. “I’m so sorry.”
Your laugh is amused again. “It’s nothing.”
There’s a knock. “Kid, we’ve got a case,” Morgan says as opening the door.
You nod, standing up in a second, and before leaving Garcia’s office you croon “I know you called him.”
“I didn’t!” Garcia grins back at you.
Morgan just huffs, shaking his head. “Later, babygirl.”
“So, where are we heading?” you ask, making your way to the roundtable room. Morgan stops you in your tracks.
“L. A, we’re leaving now. Grab your go-bag, we’ll debrief on the plane. Reid and Gideon are already visiting the crime scenes.”
“Oh.” You nod, suppressing the smile that threats to slips. “Okay.”
Los Angeles, California.
Later that day
You owe me. You repeat the words in your head. But not exactly how they sound, but rather how they were written on the newspaper. With pink sharpie. Dark enough so someone could mistakenly believe it was red. It’s odd. How many UnSubs had pink sharpies lingering in their houses? It’s very specific. You chew your bottom lip, waving the options.
“Kids, let’s go,” Morgan stands up, bumping Spencer’s knee.
Spencer waits for you to clear the doorframe before adjusting himself to your side.
“Do I look twelve years old to you?” Spencer asks out of nowhere.
“No,” you answer in a beat. “Why? Did someone say you do?”
“Yeah, yesterday we visited an art gallery with Gideon, and uh, an old high school classmate said I looked exactly the same.” He frowns, looking lost. Social cues are hard.
“Well, you don’t,” you assure him, flashing a smile. “I promis-“
You are cut by the sight of her. Gorgeous, gorgeous blonde hair. Beautiful side profile. Bright blue eyes. Oh, she must be a star-
“Lila?” Spencer is pleasantly surprised, his eyes lighten up with recognition. “Hi.”
She looks at him wearing the same expression as his.
Oh, she is a star. A star that Spencer likes.
* * *
“How well did you know Natalie Ryan?” Hotch asks, crossing his arms.
“We spoke when we saw each other in public, but we were never friends,” Lila replies, her gaze flickering through all of our faces. Poor girl, she must be scared, you think.
“How about Wally Melman?” Hotch tries again.
“What?” Lila looks confused.
“Wally Melman,” Elle repeats. “He was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.”
“The paper said that was a robbery,” Lila insists.
“Well, the paper was wrong,” Gideon intervenes, not even glancing up.
“Did you know him?” Hotch redirects the conversation back to the course.
“Well, we met a few times about a project, but I didn’t get the part. They went a different way.”
“Which way?” Elle asks.
“He cast another act-“ Lila’s voice dies. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?” Spencer asks, concerned.
“He cast Natalie Ryan.” Lila’s manager explains.
Spencer glances up at you, standing by his side. You lift the newspaper. “You owe me,” you repeat the words written by the UnSub.
“I guess that’s one way to ice out the competition?” Elle’s eyes are sharp and her tone is sharper. She’s looking directly at Lila’s manager.
“Don’t look at me,” he’s quick to answer, holding his palms up. “I brought her into the police station.”
“Had you ever sense that someone is watching you, following you?” Gideon inquiries, absentmindedly.
“From the moment I get to work,” Lila starts, “I have hair and makeup, and warddrobe people, producers, writers, my agent, my manager, publicist. Not to mention photographers. I-“
“It’s part of the life”, her manager simplifies.
Phew. What a life. Must be exhausting. You think about it and shudder. You look down at Spencer and he’s- worried. His big puppy eyes are full of pure concern. For her.
“Anything that seems odd, out of the ordinary, happens on a regular basis or a semi-regular basis?” Gideon continues, now looking at Lila.
“What do you mean?”
“Repetitive phone calls with hang ups?” Spencer suggests.
“Gifts left anonymously?” You complement.
“I receive flowers.” She shrugs. “On the seventh of each month, they just appear in my trailer. Never a note. Just a plain glass bowl.” You and Morgan share a glance. “Red anemones. My favourite.”
“And you don’t want to know who they’re from?” Elle doesn’t blink.
“Celebrities get anonymous gifts all the time.” Her manager intervenes once more. Then he clears his throath. “She has fans, you know.”
“You remember meeting anyone on the seventh day of the month?” Gideons suggests. “Or in July, the seventh month of the year?”
Lila’s eyes are fixed on the floor, her hand holding her forehead. She shakes her head before glancing up at Gideon. “No.”
“Wally Melman was a producer who considered hiring you, but didn’t… and Natalie was a rival.” Hotch summarizes.
“And Chloe Harris, she looks a lot like you. Don’t you think?”, Elle adds, holding a photo of her.
“Who?” Lila asks, shooting her eyebrows up.
“A potential rival,” you say.
“She was murdered too,” Hotch clarifies.
“So, all these people are…” Lila stops, testing the word in her tongue. She looks like she has licked a lemon. “... being killed because of me?”
“It’s possible.” Hotch’s gaze soften a bit.
Lila brings both hands to her face and breathes out her frustration through them. “Ugh. Sorry. I can’t. I have to go.” She grabs her purse and hurries to the exit. Not even a heartbeat later, Spencer’s following her.
“Ooooh,” Morgan nudges you. “Looks like pretty boy got a celebrity crush.”
“Yeah.” You force yourself to laugh. “Looks like it.”
Elle places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Have any ideas about the case?”
You blink and then you are nodding. “Actually, yeah. Uhm, here, one sec-“
Morgan laughs.
“What?” you say.
“Actually,” he mimics you.
“Oh, shut up.” “Grow up, Morgan.” You and Elle say almost at the same time.
“L/N?” Hotch says, stepping closer to the three of you. “The ideas?”
“Oh! Right,” you pull out your notebook. You don’t have an eidetic memory, so you manage yourself. “Uhm, there were a couple of things that stood out to me from what Lila told. Especially the flowers and the plain glass bowl. If you are choosing a vase and not just leaving the flowers on their own- why choose one without decorations? If I’m trying to win the heart of my object of delusion, wouldn’t I make more effort? Unless I don’t want her to know who I am. Unless my preferences are very obvious. Or I don’t know. Because there’s also the fact that the UnSub knows which flowers are her favorites. How many people know that? I’m going to call Garcia and ask her if there is any interview where Lila said that. Otherwise, maybe we should explore the possibility that the UnSub is someone close.”
Hotch nods. “Alright. Call Garcia. See what you can get.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, already dialing Garcia’s number.
“Ask and you shall receive, my lovely” Garcia’s voice answers.
You bite a laugh back. “Hey, Garcia, could you check some of Lila’s interviews for me? I want to know if she said something about red anemones.”
Spencer is back in the precinct and taps your shoulder to let you know, but you hold your finger up at him, motioning at your phone. You walk away to the other side of the room. And he stays dumbfounded.
* * *
Hot weather doesn’t excite you. Even less when you’ve forgotten your sunglasses. You sigh, cupping your hands over your eyes, praying it’s enough relief for now. While you wait for Gideon to arrive with the boys, you look around Lila’s trailer. There is no space in the parking lot, but there are not too many people passing through either. So the UnSub could be stood out and no one would notice, ‘cause there isn’t much going around. You don’t know for sure.
“Did you forget your sunglasses again?” You squint at Spencer’s emerging figure. Gideon, Morgan, and Detective Kim are a few steps behind him.
“Mhm,” you wince. “I’m so ready to leave L. A.”
He just hums, but something else is holding his attention. You follow his gaze and it lands right on your necklace. The sun shines sparkles on the pendant he gave you.
“May I?” he asks, his fingers twitching in anticipation.
You are unsure what he is talking about, but you nod anyway. Then, he ever so respectful, not even daring to touch your skin, picks up the astronomical ring. He unfolds it, lifting it towards the sun so you can see the shadow that the principal ring casts on the other ones. “See?” he whispers, “the shadow? It’s around noon.”
You’re positive you’ve forgotten how to breathe while buzzing ants walk over your arms. You can’t help but giggle. “Yeah?” you say.
He nods, wearing his good-boy smile. He’s close enough you can see the golden flecks dance in his brown eyes. “You can check it with your phone if you want.”
“I don’t need to do that,” you smile, leaning in enough so that your forehead rests against his cheekbone as shallowly as if it were a feather. “I trust you. And your 187 IQ,” you chuckle, pulling away.
“Are you two done?” Morgan tries to ask in a stern voice but fails to hide the smugness in his smile.
You are about to bicker back when you notice the uncomfortable expression on Detective Kim’s face and the warning in Gideon’s eyes. Maybe later. “Yes, sorry,” you murmur.
“C’mon, kid,” Morgan rolls his eyes, looping his arm around your shoulders to drag you inside Lila’s trailer.
Once inside, all of you begin to search for new details that will help you materialize the UnSub. And as if sent from heaven, Lila enters with a crumpled paper in her hand. Gideon, gears fast from years of experience, puts the note right away in an evidence bag. He hums before passing it around. “I’m intrigued by this particular version of the verb ‘to be,” he says.
“Past participle.” Spencer adds, holding up the evidence so you can read it too. The message is written in pencil this time, with angry caligraphy, made it in a hurry. Lila- I’ve always been good to you. Why’d you go to the police?, says the paper.
“Steady state of being,” you nod, understanding where they are getting.
“Preceding adverb,” Gideon continues.
“‘Always’,” Spencer agrees.
“In English?” Detective Kim urges.
“That is English, actually.” Spencer explains, uncrossing his arms so he can be able to gesture with his hands. You hold back a smile. “We’re discussing the verb tenses of-“
“Reid. Reid.” Morgan cuts him. This time, you don’t hold back your frown on him.
“Our stalker sounds like someone she knows,” Gideon translates.
“Based on the tense of the verb,” you add. “Plus, Garcia couldn’t find any interview about red anemonas. So, the UnSub might even be close to her.”
Morgan then suggests that maybe it’s time to take Lila off the streets in order to protect her. Spencer argues that so far Lila has not been physically threatened and that perhaps it would be best to do the exact opposite: keep her in the public eye. Gideon is about to give his opinion when Lila speaks for the first time since she came in.
“I’m standing right there, guys,” she uses her celebrity tone, tilting her head to the side and letting her hair flow down in a coordinated cascade of golden champagne.
“If we did remove you, we’d have to take you to a non-disclosed location,” Gideon states, glancing at her above his glasses. “I’m sure your stalker knows where you live.”
“I’m not having the whole show close down.” She shrugs, nonchalantly. “I only have one more scene to shoot.”
Everyone shares a moment of silence.
“Look, last night I decided I wasn’t going to be afraid of this lunatic.” Lila’s expression leaves no room for doubt. Surely she gets things done her way more often than not. “Am I safe here?”
“Well, the set’s cleared of everyone except essential personnel,” Detective Kim concedes, “and we have increased security at the gate.”
There’s a knock on the door that waits for no response. “Lila, they’re ready for you,” a blonde girl says.
“I’m staying at work,” it’s the final answer Lila makes, leaving the trailer.
“Well, she’s one tough girl,” Morgan says.
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees.
You press your lips into a thin line to avoid scoffing. Yeah. Tough girl.
* * *
You make the paper cup dance in circles, watching thoughtfully as the watered-down coffee spirally reflects the lights of the studio. You and Morgan are waiting on this fake beach for Spencer to come back from buying his coke.
“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, toasting his own bad coffee with yours to get your attention.
“Hmm?” you reply, lifting your gaze to him. “Yeah.”
“What’s bothering you?” he insists.
“I don’t know…” you hoop your finger in your necklace, fidgeting with it. “I think we’re missing something but I can’t really tell you what. And- on the other hand, I feel like our efforts are being dismissed by the very victim.”
Morgan huffs, noding. “I hear you.” Then a smile takes over his features. Oh, no. You know his teasing look. “Ooh, pretty boy is bold.”
You don’t want to look. You really don’t. But you can’t stop your feet soon enough, already turning in Spencer’s direction. He stands awkwardly close to Lila, shifting his gaze to every available surface to avoid looking at her. She is so bright it may burn him. And then- you can swear Morgan hears you gasp when Lila extends her hand, grabbing Spencer’s coke. 
“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” Lila says matter-of-factly before bringing the bottle to her lips. And Spencer just shakes his head.
The acid settles at the bottom of your heart. You can’t help but feel displaced. You’d never say it out loud, but you thought you were special to Spencer. You thought you were the exception to his aversion to germs. You thought you had earned the privilege of sharing food with him out of confidence and a record of cleanliness. Well, you were clearly wrong. Because you’ve learned to carry hand sanitizer everywhere you go, but all Lila has had to do is reach out and shoot her sly smile. Huh. It doesn’t seem fair. But you should know that playing against stars isn’t. You will never shine the same.
And as if she were listening to your thoughts, Lila drops her bathrobe. You are going to cry. A blue bikini hides enough to not be censored on open television, but that’s it. The rest of her slender body catches the studio light in all the right places, making her skin look like porcelain. You know you shouldn’t, but there isn’t enough willpower in you: you look up at Spencer. And he’s looking at Lila like she’s the first girl he’s ever seen. You drink the horrible coffee hoping to choke.
Morgan, however, has another agenda in mind. He walks over to Spencer and waves to you. You shouldn’t listen to him, but there you are. Right behind him.
“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” Morgan repeats, already laughing.
Spencer flusters immediately. “Shut up.”
You don’t look at him and he doesn’t try to make you do it before leaving as fast as he can. Like your presence is unbearable to him. You don’t know why. He’s not the one having his circulatory system drowning on poison.
* * *
Are three agents more than enough to take care of Lila? Maybe you should leave this to Spencer and Morgan. Maybe you should’ve gone with Gideon. You sigh. You’ve already done your best to profile every person on this studio set. From the lady styling Lila’s hair to the guy carrying the microphones. Even the girl that popped up into Lila’s trailer- huh. That’s funny. You don’t have eyes on her anymore. But you do have eyes on Spencer. Again. He’s talking over the phone and sending worried glances towards Lila. You bite down your jealousy and approach him.
“Is everything alright?” you ask, keeping your voice low.
He shakes his head, not acknowledging you, his eyes still fixed on Lila. “Gideon’s got too late to her manager. He told me to take her out the streets.”
“By yourself?” you furrow your eyebrows, worried.
Spencer blinks, looking at you somewhat hurt. “Why? You don’t think I’m capable?”
“What?” you step back, surprised. “I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you meant?” he’s using his flat tone. The sarcastic one. He’s shutting you out.
“What? Where is this coming from?” you say, blood boiling in incredulous annoyance. “I am just worried. You might as well be a target. Lila likes you, after all.”
Spencer’s gaze softens a bit, but his words are still defensive. “I can manage. I am an FBI agent just like everyone else on the team.”
It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes. You sigh and hold your hands up, offering peace. “Okay, Spencer. I’m gonna get back to the precinct with Morgan. Let Gideon know that you’re safe.” ‘Cause right now I don’t care. You don’t wait for his response before turning around.
* * *
You never made it back to the police station but instead went after a lead. Joe Martinez, a paparazzo in the words of Detective Kim. You guys found a ton of photos of Lila and even a schedule of her shots. And several close-up photos of Spencer from his night in the gallery. The “I told you so” is quickly swapped away by your worry. You can only pray that he and Lila are okay.
And perhaps you prayed too much. Elle clicks her tongue in disapproval, looking Spencer up and down. He is soaked and his hair acts as a curtain, protecting him from embarrassment. You focus on the camera in your hands, mechanically taking out the photo roll. At this point in the investigation, you should know better than to trust your masochistic instincts, but it’s as if you’re looking to stab your heart at every given opportunity. You hold the negative photos up to the moonlight. And you would like an eclipse to occur that pulverizes the evidence of his indifference toward you.
Each frame is fascinating in itself. Lila grabs Spencer’s tie. He doesn’t make much of an effort to move away, but you notice his resistance. Lila’s lips are persuading, however. And Spencer’s conviction wavers with the flow of the pool. In the next photo, they both hold their faces as if they were what kept them afloat. Safe. They are the oxygen they need in the middle of the chlorine.
“I, uh, fell in,” Reid explains to Elle.
Elle extends a hand toward you, palm up. You’re more than relieved to leave the photo roll in her possession.
“Yeah, and I’m sure there’s plenty of photos of it,” Elle states bluntly, passing him the film. “You’re welcome.”
You chuckle, but it comes out more like a huff. And now Reid is looking at you. No, Spencer is. He brushes his hair off his face. You want to follow Elle and get out of there, but there’s a longing in Spencer’s gaze that you can’t ignore. You know what he’s willing to find. And you know you weren’t quick enough to hide it, so you disguise it. You dress your wounded heart with a protective layer of disapproval. He’s a federal agent. He was supposed to take care of a victim being stalked. Is his idea of surveillance making out with her in an open pool? What if Joe Martinez turned out to be the UnSub? They would both be dead. A bullet pierced between their eyebrows by now. He accused you of not believing in his ability to get the job done because all this time he was the one doubting his own skills. He was projecting. You know it well because you know him. And because you know him, you also know that he is having this same monologue inside his head. You sigh. You really don’t want to add more pressure to his guilt. You might be disappointed, but you know he is even more.
“Ang-“ he starts, but you cut him right there.
He wouldn’t. He has no right to call you that. Not now. Not after- Lila.
“Of course you fell in, Crash,” you say, your tongue tracing soothingly every letter in the nickname his mother gave him out of his clumsiness. “Make sure Lila lends you a dry mismatched pair of socks, okay?” you smile softly at him, turning around to enter the house and hide the sting that your eyes surely hold.
Comforting him as your heart bends in two unable to hold its own weight is the last thing you thought of doing, but you don’t regret it. If you are being honest, there’s no room for your hurt. You two are friends. And friends support each other, they don’t rub their mistakes on each other faces. It doesn’t matter how poorly they did their federal job. After all, he’s only 24 years old and he was in a pool with a gorgeous girl. How to blame him? Clearly, his IQ does not exonerate him from being human. But what really hurts you is that he tried to call you angel. How does he think that’s fair?
You can count on one hand the times he has called you that. The first time was when you killed your first UnSub. You stayed as still and quiet as a rock the whole travel back to Quantico. You felt like a bad person. What was the difference between you and him? You both pulled the trigger. You were just like the UnSub. You should resign from the FBI. Maybe it’s the first thing you’d do when you get to the office. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were suffocating you. All your mistakes were on display. The team would see them. Spencer would see them. My God, your lungs were burning.
Before you walked through the glass doors, Spencer pulled you lightly by your sleeve. He took you to the side of the hallway and looked you straight in the eyes. You’ve never seen him so determined. There was no trace of the timid genius who doesn’t shake hands.
“You did what you had to do,” Spencer assured you.
“It doesn’t feel like it.” You simply replied. You couldn’t talk more or you would break.
“It doesn’t matter how you feel right now. It matters who you are not.” He grabbed you by the shoulders, acting as an anchor to the real world.
You were not following, your brain being blurred from tears.
“You are not a murderer,” he breathed out, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You are not the same as the UnSub. You are not a bad person. And you are no less angel than before. Okay?”
You blink the memory away along with the tears. What is an angel compared to a star, anyway. With your focus back to the present, now you notice the collage in front of you. You must be losing your mind, ‘cause you swear you can see Lila’s features all over the art piece.
“Pretty girl?” Morgan softly calls you. It’s the first time he ever calls you that. And you know why.
You look at him like a deer caught by the front lights in the middle of the night. Frightened. In awe. And a little startled to be noticed, allowing you to accept your own existence now that you are in evidence- even if it means your death. “Am I that obvious?” you lower your voice, ashamed.
“Nah.” He hugs you by the shoulders. “Babygirl figured out. She might not be a profiler, but she sure has a sixth sense when it comes to these things. She was the one who told me. I don’t think anyone on the team had noticed, tho.” 
“I can’t believe Penelope,” you breathe out, hiding your face in his chest. The tears are gathering again.
“She meant no harm,” he says, locking you secure against him. “And neither did pretty boy.”
“I know.” Your voice comes out muffled by Morgan’s shirt. “But it hurts anyway.” Knowing that I will never be the one he likes.
“Yeah, I know.”
You wipe away your tears, stepping back from Morgan’s embrace. You smile briefly at him. “Thank you. And, please-“
“Not a word, pretty girl. Of course.” His smile is nothing but gentle and caring. “So, what’s up with this collage? What’s so interesting about it?”
“Lila said she likes it because it reminds her of life itself.” Spencer’s voice says from behind you.
When you look at Morgan, pure terror in your eyes, he just shakes his head. Thank God. Spencer wasn’t there the whole time. You let out an audible sigh of relief.
“What was that?” Spencer asks, placing himself by your other side. Now you are between him and Morgan, all of you in front of the collage.
“Nothing,” you dismiss. “What did you answer to what Lila said?”, you turn your attention to him, tilting your head so you can face him better.
“I, uh,” he attempts to control his blushing. “Said there was something definitely appealing about this one.”
“Oh,” you nod, returning your gaze to the exhibit. “That’s a first time. You’ve never used that word before-“
You are right. He has never used that word before towards a piece of art. And maybe it is your hot white jealousy talking and you are really losing your head- but now you can see more clearly splashes of Lila. What did Lila say? Life itself. Of course. The collage is made with moments of Lila’s life. You share a glance with Spencer and you know he has clicked as well.
“I hope you already committed to memory this, ‘cause we are tearing it apart,” you say to Spencer, before addressing Morgan. “Help us to take this down.”
You guys take the strips of photographic montages to Lila’s kitchen table and recompose the work. You can’t believe it. It is a great warm and sick love letter that tells Lila’s entire journey.
“Lila, it looks like someone’s been stalking you for years,” Morgan says.
“Yeah, this tells your whole life story,” Elle adds. “Movie premieres, theater playbills.”
“Everything since college,” Spencer says.
“Who gave you this collage?” Morgan urges.
“He did.” Lila points to a photo in the collage. A bearded young man smiling.
“This guy? Who is he?” Morgan insists.
“That’s the guy I went to high school with, Parker Dunley,” Spencer answers.
What? That doesn’t makes sense.
“Garcia.” Morgan pulls out his phone. “Parker Dunley. E-mail me a sheet on him, all right?”
Spencer notices your puzzled look. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” You shake your head. “It’s just… all right. Everything here feels so intimate. So close. So purposefully placed. Almost like a feminine touch. It’s something a girl in love would make like an anniversary present. And I am not saying that a guy couldn’t do it but… a guy like Parker? C’mon. He thought it was a funny thing to say that you look like a 12-year-old kid.”
Elle hums. “Whether Parker is the UnSub or not, we should pay a visit. Morgan?”
“Garcia already sent the address. Let’s go.”
* * *
The lights in the office are off and the only desks on are yours, Morgan’s, and Spencer’s. You want to finish the paperwork today. You don’t want to touch this case ever again, so the quicker it’s over, the better. But you’re so, so exhausted. Even though you pretended to sleep on the return flight, you didn’t get any rest.
The UnSub turned out to be not Parker Dunley, but Maggie Lowe. An old friend from Lila’s college. The same one you saw disappear from the set in the morning. So, so stupid. If you hadn’t been blinded by your dull feelings, perhaps you could have done a better job. Still, the only thing your mind is really determined to remember is Reid’s hands grabbing Lila’s face. It’s an infinite loop. It rewinds every time it ends. Her fingers intertwined in his tie. Reid’s hands on her face. Their lips colliding. Her fingers in his tie. His hands on her face. Their lips-
You make sure to read your report twice, afraid that you’ve accidentally described Reid’s kiss with Lila. You sigh with relief. Nope. None of that, just details of the case. Your eyes hurt and sometimes sting. The tears are at the back of your throat and you know it. Maybe you should have accepted the girls’ invitation. You could be laughing lightly in alcohol instead of drowning in thick sadness.
“I’m out,” Morgan announces, switching off his light desk. “Night, Hollywood,” he says, nudging Spencer’s side. “Need a ride, pretty girl?” he then offers to you.
You jump out of your chair like a spring. Her fingers in his tie. You can’t stay alone with Spencer. His hands on her face. Not with your broken heart on your sleeve. Theirs lips colliding. “Yes!” you nod, grabbing your satchel. “Bye, Spenc-“ You fail to act casual and he fails to hide his sad expression.
“Uhm, alright,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Have a good weekend.”
Oh, God. It’s Friday. You can’t do that to him. You swallow your shattered love. You’ll be okay. You’re his friend.
“Uh, Morgan, y’know what, I’ll take the train.”
Morgan shakes his head. “Okay, kid,” he smiles with sympathy, opening the glass doors.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer says, gathering his things. “I get it if you are tired.”
You don’t know how much.
“No, it’s okay. What are we doing tonig-“
Oh. There’s a magazine on Reid’s desk. A pop one. Spencer never reads that kind of magazine. But of course, he had never been on the cover before. He has his hand resting on Lila’s shoulder and she leans her cheek there. It feels wrong seeing this. It feels more intimate than the kiss. It feels almost personal- Your breathing hitches. He has also taken your shoulder and you have also leaned on his hand. You’ve also seen it like Lila is seeing him in the photo. But he’s never seen you the way he sees her.
“Mystery man, huh?” you joke, trying to suffocate this ugly feeling that spreads through your body faster than the light itself.
“Hmm?” he says, not seeing what you are. But when he does, he looks guilty. A mystery man in Lila’s life?, the magazine says.
“You know, if this thing with the FBI doesn’t work out, you can always be a mystery man,” you chuckle. You can laugh this out. You know you can. You have to.
But Reid doesn’t find funny your joke. “Why’s Morgan calling you pretty girl?”
“What?” you reply, confused.
“Why’s Morgan calling you-“
“No, I heard it.” You furrow your brows. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
He shrugs. You don’t understand.
“I’m just curious.”
And you are not sure why, but you get angry. What does he care what Morgan calls you. You know your anger isn’t more than just an unfounded resentment, but you can feel bile creeping up your tongue and you’re not quick enough to stop it.
“Why? You don’t think I’m pretty?”
He looks surprised. “What? That’s not what I said!”
Oh, how the roles can change. “But that’s what you meant?”
“Wh- no! Stop twisting my words” his voice is coming out in high pitches. And then he realizes. You are just repeating what he said earlier to you. And he hasn’t apologized yet. “Oh.”
Silence fall between you two. And not the comfortable one you’re used to. Maybe you were too optimistic. Clearly, you can’t be alone with him right now. You’re not being fair to him. Maybe you should have taken Morgan’s offer.
“You are pretty,” he then says. “And I’m sorry.” A pause. “Both are facts.”
You hate how your heart seems to sew back with honey threads when you hear him call you pretty.
“And you know how serious I’m about facts.”
Yeah, you do. And just like that, the silence is warm again.
bonus!
spencer’s pov
Spencer feels uncomfortable and it has nothing to do with the feeling of wet socks. No. It’s like a crashing shame that doesn’t let him breathe normally. What is Hotch going to think when he finds out that he was making out with the victim he was sent to take care of? Forget Hotch. What is Gideon, the man who introduces him to everyone as a doctor, going to think? Nonetheless, even as Spencer thinks about their disappointments combined, the weight isn’t enough to explain the pressure in his chest. What is it then? His own disapproval of him? As genius as he is stupid, he calls himself.
Forget both. When Spencer watches you hold the roll of negatives up to the moonlight, it’s like someone has kicked him in the pit of the stomach, effectively knocking the air out of him. And then a pale lightning bolt hits the necklace he gave you and he feels like he’s going to die. He becomes aware of every drop of chlorine in his body and how dirty that water must have been. Even if he bathes a hundred times, he will never feel clean again.
He expects to be greeted by well-deserved anger in your eyes, but instead, he finds a deep sadness that gobbles him up. No. Did he do that? Impossible. He tries to approach you, but the fear of you rejecting him immobilizes him. He is bolted to the ground and desperate. How can he return the stars to your gaze that he is used to looking at? How can he make you understand what an angel you are to him?
“Ang-“ he tries, but he is immediately shushed by you.
“Of course you fell in, Crash.” He doesn’t remember a sweeter nickname or a gentler gaze. He is ashamed of how fast you can soothe him, his guilt draining as your eyes are no longer devastating. “Make sure Lila lends you a dry mismatched pair of socks, okay?” You shoot him a soft smile that smooths his sharp ugly feelings.
His heart fills with relief to see that you’re not angry. Nor disappointed. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you in his life, but he hopes to do everything he can to keep you in it. “Okay,” he replies even though you’ve already inside the house. It doesn’t matter. After all, you’re always present in his mind. Just like the stars are always in the sky.
taglist: @mirdnightmass @monstrosityinside @nervousmumbling @sunflowersndpeaches s0urmarvelwispystarss405rryavis-writeshqsyrrupwishyoudaskmehaileycannotcometothephonernlololololooolook69redros3y@stargirlsturniololoveriamburdenedpleasantwitchgarden queermaxwooo becauseimamirrorball13 smashleywow cultish-corner zeida lou-the-confused-bisexual chaosemia l4venderia jupiteroftheuniverse keenstudentsuitcasegarden nomajdetective bohemianrhapsody86 sabage101 (once again, i hope i am not letting anyone out. THANK YOU SO MUCH, YOU GUYS! is wild how much you are liking these silly blurbs. it means a lot to me, thanks).
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wheeboo · 3 months
Text
01:10am | choi seungcheol
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SYNOPSIS. in which your cuddly boyfriend interrupts your late night reading time. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. a lil suggestive, reader is smaller than cheol, lil makeout kissing sesh oops, terms of endearment, cheol is whipped, self-indulgent fr WORD COUNT. 1.1k
notes: i just have this thing for soft cuddly bed scenes w cheol :(
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Seungcheol really doesn't know why that out of all other times of the day, you choose to read during the depths of the night.
But he's not at all complaining𑁋he's blessed with this grand view of you with your headphones on as you're sitting up against the frame of the bed behind, knees almost propped up to your chest, with a tiny, dim book light attached to the bridge of your book highlighting your face. Seungcheol thinks this might be one of his new favourite views of you.
He flips himself over to face your direction, opening an eye so he could quietly watch you. Seungcheol takes a moment to appreciate the cute, subtle details of your face when you're focused𑁋the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the way your lips occasionally move, silently forming the words you're reading. The only sounds in the room he can hear are the rustling of you turning the page, the distant murmur of the city outside, and the faint music escaping from your headphones.
Letting out a yawn, he takes a moment to check the time on his phone, eyes widening to see how late it was. Yet when he turns back to you, he only pauses, because you seem too immersed in the book to be able to go to sleep right now, and he really doesn't want to disturb you.
"Baby?" he calls out to you softly, yet you don't hear him as expected, only furrowing up a brow at what Seungcheol could assume was you reading a peculiar scene in your book. He feels his shoulders deflate.
Instead, with a huffed breath, he can only take to sinking back within the bedsheets and hoping that you'd fall asleep after him.
But he can't fall asleep, no matter how much tossing and turning he does, since it's almost outrageous to his mind to the thought of him falling asleep without at least holding you in his arms like he always does.
Seungcheol turns himself over once more, a pout at his lips as he scoots closer towards you, yet you still don't seem to notice him. He contemplates for a moment, glancing down at your free hand at your side, and a thought crosses his mind. Slowly, he grabs your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together, and the action is just so natural and instinctive like a missing puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.
He glances at you, noticing the slight smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue reading. It isn't until he starts drawing circles on your palm and picking at your sleeve that finally grabs your attention, and you pick your head up to look at him, slipping your headphones off.
You watch the way he continues playing with your hand𑁋from drawing shapes on it, tracing the creases on your palm, to running a finger over your knuckles𑁋like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
"Cheol, what are you doing?" You ask bemusedly, attempting to pull your hand away but he just tugs it back.
"Hmm, missing you," he coos softly, adjusting your hands so that your flat palms are touching each other. The fact that the size of your hand is perfectly smaller than his is utterly adorable. "Your hand is small, you know?"
You roll your eyes, as if annoyed. "And yours is huge. We've been over this already."
"It's cute." He locks your fingers together again, tilting his head slightly to look at you. "You're cute."
You only click your tongue, biting back the smile to your face and the heat threatening up your neck as you bring your attention back to your book.
You release your hand from his. "Let me go read𑁋"
But before you can go back to reading, you feel a pair of arms wrap around and pull you into a tight embrace, knocking the book off your lap. A surprised gasp flies out of you, and in one swift motion, Seungcheol flips you both over so that he's now hovering over you. Your book is long forgotten on the floor as you stare up at him in surprise, the dim light casting a soft glow on both your faces.
Something catches in your throat as you lock eyes with him. If you listen closely, his breathing is just as unstable as your heartbeat, like he's breathless already. His dark gaze seems to hold a silent request, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. It bares a question that doesn't need words, and you answer with a small nod.
And with that, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It's soft, tender like always, and it doesn't take much for your body to go all limp below his as it deepens. He presses his weight against you carefully, making sure you're comfortable beneath him.
You feel the way he trails his fingers along your arm until he reaches your hand once again. With a deliberate move, he laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to pin it gently against the pillow behind your head.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.
"Okay?" he asks, voice a low murmur.
You nod, even though your heart is more than ready to burst out of your chest at any given moment. "Okay."
His eyes only soften, the smile to his face widening, a couple of shy giggles escaping your mouths together and into the thick air surrounding you both. He captures your lips once again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
"So pretty," Seungcheol whispers against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. He starts peppering feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hand gentle on your waist as he revels in the simple joy of holding you close. You lightly run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips.
"Why are you being so... so touchy right now?" You tease impishly, sighing contentedly at his touch, feeling the soft vibrations of his laughter against your cheek.
"I dunno," he admits simply, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "You were reading too much."
"I was only reading for, like, an hour. That's not that long."
"An hour too long," he counters sulkily, pressing a soft peck to the tip of your nose. "I can't fall asleep without you."
You let out a playful scoff, running your fingertips up the exposed skin of his back ridden up from the black hoodie he wore. "You're such a big baby, Cheol."
Seungcheol leans down so his mouth is just a breath away, and before you could register it, he's rolling over once again so that you're on top of him this time, his hands coming to rest firmly at your hips. There's a smirk to his face that you can hardly see, yet you already know what he's thinking.
"Only for you."
"For... me?"
"Just for you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'm all yours."
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taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag
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avis-writeshq · 7 months
Text
platform ten – spencer reid
summary: two months after he embarrassingly got caught ogling at the pretty girl on the train, Spencer’s team begins to suspect something.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: friends to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).
warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!), reader wears lipgloss, excessive mentions of Edgar Allen Poe (one of my favourite Gothic authors), not proof read
wc: 3.4k
part one: carriage six
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“So, I’ve been reading Poe’s works,” you begin, your headphones around your neck and you pull out ‘The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe’, flipping to ‘Annabel Lee’. 
Spencer watches as you flick to the page, his heart soaring at the sight of the annotations that litter the page. There are different colours and highlighters across the words and from what he could tell pink talked about language and that was the colour that stood out to him most. You bring the book closer so that he can read your annotations too and his heart stutters in his chest at the close proximity. He can smell the strawberry and honey shampoo in your hair and the heat rises up to his cheeks. It’s intoxicating. 
“I really don’t think the narrator is a crazy psychopath,” you say, glancing at him. “It just sounds like he’s really, seriously in love with her which just makes a bunch of people jealous.”
He watches the way you point to a certain line, ‘But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee.’ 
“Does that not sound like something you would say when you’re in love?” You ask, swooning a little. “It’s romantic, don’t you think? And their love is so brilliant and pure that the angels stole her away from him. I mean, it’s sad, but it’s kind of a picture of how amazing their love is.”
He nods along, his cheeks flushed because that’s what he thinks when he thinks of you. But he’ll never tell you that. How could he even dream of you feeling the same? The idea in itself is just so bizarre that he doesn’t even dare to entertain the thought. Not even when it’s late at night and he’s by himself, thinking through every single interaction you’ve had with him since he finally talked to you two months ago. 
“And I mean, think about it,” you continue, gesticulating with every word, eyes wide with excitement. “The last stanza. He’s still in love with her even after she’s passed away. How romantic is that?”
“Very romantic,” Spencer agrees, and he wonders if that’s how he looks when he rambles. “Alright, it’s definitely a love poem.”
He relishes in the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, the way you grin up at him and he wants to make you smile this way every day. His eyes wander to your lips and he swallows thickly. You’re wearing that lipgloss again, a cool berry tone that makes your lips shine and–
“Spencer? Are you okay?” 
He all but jolts out of his trance and he coughs awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. “Yes!” He squeaks, before clearing his throat and repeating the word. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”
He watches as an amused smile quirks at your lips as you ask, “are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he manages to croak, his ears red. 
He can’t even look at you. His eyes turn back to the book you’re holding, reading through the annotations you’ve made on the page for the nth time over. This is an example of one of the instances he doesn’t want to remember and prays that his stop would miraculously be next. 
“I’ve been reading The Tell-Tale Heart,” you say, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Spencer forces himself to maintain eye contact with you and he manages a small, “really?”
You laugh and nod. “Yep! It’s really good. Kinda creepy.”
“It is a little creepy,” he admits, his gaze flicking to your lips again. He’s kicking himself internally, asking, ‘who’s the creepy one now, weirdo?!’
He figures that you’re either incredibly gracious or incredibly used to it because you don’t mention the way his attention wavers. 
“You don’t seem okay.”
Or so he thought.
“What— um— what makes you say that?” He asks, clearing his throat.
You shoot him a smile. “You’re not going on about the text like you usually do.”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, his brain short circuiting. He can imagine Derek snickering and Emily commenting her usual, ‘IQ of 187, slashed to 60’. 
“Spencer?” You look amused, a smile on his face and a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “Are you—“
“I’m fine!” Spencer says quickly, ears burning. “I’m just— thinking? Yes, thinking.”
You laugh. “Dangerous pastime.”
“What?”
“I— never mind,” you shake your head, continuing to laugh. “But I do want to hear your thoughts on ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ at some point.”
“Totally!” He jolts, and he’s kicking himself internally for being so eager. “Yes. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
The train lurches to a stop and Spencer gets up from his seat. 
“Bye, Spencer,” you say, smiling brilliantly at him, and it takes every ounce of self control in him to not just grab your face and kiss you.
“Bye,” he says, saying your name, before getting off the train.
*** 
Spencer has been acting weird. That is the conclusion Derek has come to as he watches the youngest member of their team enter the bullpen with the widest grin on the planet for the fourth time that week. He watches as Spencer sits down at his desk, looking like a literal teenager, and gets down to work. He has his earphones plugged in, the kind you would get at a dollar store, or the complementary ones you get from airports that never fit your ears right and leave you with headaches because of the horrible audio quality. Derek supposes he’s just listening to Beethoven or Bach or another dead classical musician. But as he passes Spencer’s desk, he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks. Spencer is humming. No, not just humming. He’s muttering lyrics under his breath. Since when did classical music have lyrics?
“What the hell…?” Derek asks under his breath to no one in particular. 
“You talking about Reid?” Emily asks, an amused grin on her face. “He’s acting weird.”
“Thank God, I thought I was the only one.” JJ seemingly appears out of nowhere, standing beside them with her arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at her lips. 
Rossi enters the bullpen, nodding towards Spencer who was sitting at his desk, blissfully unaware. “We talking about the kid?”
“He’s been acting weird all week,” Derek insists, his brows furrowing. “What do you think it is?”
“Maybe he won a chess tournament,” JJ says with a soft laugh. 
Emily rolls her eyes at the idea. “Please, Reid’s probably the winner of every single chess tournament in the state.”
“Maybe his mother is doing better?” Rossi suggests.
“Doesn’t explain why he’s listening to, I don’t know, not Mozart,” Derek points out.
There’s a silence that pulls over the group as they stare at the back of Reid’s head. It isn’t long before he turns around to face his coworkers, raising an eyebrow.
“… Why are you staring at me?” Spencer asks, giving them all pointed looks. 
“You’re acting weird,” Morgan says, cutting straight to the chase. “Care to share with the class?”
Spencer offers them all confused looks. “I’m… not acting weird? If anything, you guys are the ones acting weird.”
“Ohh, no, don’t turn this around on us.” Emily grins, walking over to him. “What’s going on?”
“What— guys, what happened to ‘no profiling each other’?” Spencer spluttered, shooting accusatory looks towards his coworkers.
“We’re just worried, that’s all,” JJ says with maternal sympathy, but Spencer can tell that she’s hiding a smile. 
He groans, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’m fine guys. I’m not acting ‘weird’ or anything.”
“Who are you listening to, Reid?” Rossi asks quickly, nodding towards the ear phones. 
“What?” Spencer’s head snaps up, redness crawling up to his ears. 
Emily smirks. “Yeah Reid. Who are you listening to?”
“No one,” he answers, avoiding their gaze. “I’m uh— I’m going back to work.”
He quickly turns his chair around, busting himself with his files. His co-workers all exchange glances, mischievous grins on their faces. 
“You know, I could just ask Garcia to dig into your phone,” Derek says with a shrug. “Or you could tell us yourself.”
Spencer shoots him a light hearted glare. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
***
Spencer thinks he’s going to die of mortification. He spent that entire week downloading all of the released songs by Taylor Swift, dutifully listening to each song and reporting back to you on his opinions. He has since come to a conclusion: Taylor Swift is a lyrical genius. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience with other branches of music that involves lyrics, but he figures it’s pretty similar to poetry. Regardless, he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s in for a world of teasing and tasteful jabs towards his sudden shift in music taste.
He’s also been doing this thing called texting, and he even went as far as getting a new phone and email address just so that he could properly contact you. He’s been in contact with you for the past eight weeks, going as far as messaging and calling you during break times and hiding in the bathroom to have an ounce of privacy. He feels like a changed person, all because of a tiny handheld device that fits in his back pocket. And you. Mostly you. The worst thing about this entire situation is the fact that Morgan did in fact manage to convince Garcia to snoop into his phone. 
“Alright, Reid, quit hiding. Who’s the girl?” Derek demands, slapping a piece of paper onto Spencer’s desk. It’s a log of calls and downloads. In other words, it’s a log of all the times he’s called the same number and all the Taylor Swift songs he’s downloaded. 
“Girl? What— what girl?” Spencer asks, playing dumb and willing himself to look Derek in the eye. His mind is spinning. ‘Blink evenly. Maintain eye contact. Don’t stutter. Answer his questions evenly. Play dumb. There is no girl, there is no girl there is no—‘
“Reid? Reid? Spencer!” Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting him out of his trance.
“Huh?” Spencer jolts, snapping out of his trance. “What?”
Derek snorts at his reaction. “Look, kid. This person calls your cell every day at 12:30, which just so happens to be in two minutes. So, either you tell me and I let you have your fun, or she calls you and she’ll be hearing my voice instead of yours.”
Spencer scoffs, holding his phone firmly in the palm of his hand. “There is no girl, Morgan.”
“Right.” 
“I’m serious!” Spencer says, his voice going up and octave and he cringes internally. Smooth. “There is no girl.”
“Totally believe you.”
He groans, wiping a hand over his face to calm himself down. Before he could respond, the phone in his hand begins to ring. A smirk tugs at Derek’s lips and he immediately lunges for the phone, eliciting a yelp from Spencer who leaps from his seat. 
“Morgan— Morgan no—“
“C’mon kid, it’ll be a lot easier if you just give in!”
“No! Nope, nope, Morgan I swear to-“
In seconds, Derek snatches Spencer’s phone out of his hand, a triumphant look on his face. He keeps Spencer at arm’s length as he picks up the phone.
“Hey Spence!” A voice rings through the phone.
“Sorry, sweetheart, not Spencer,” Derek responds, his voice smug.
“… that’s concerning,” The voice responds slowly, cautiously. “Who is this?”
Spencer grabs the phone out of Derek’s hand, running out of the bullpen as quickly as his long legs could carry him, flipping his coworker the finger before he leaves. 
“Hello?” He asks into the phone. “I’m so sorry, that was Derek, my co-worker.”
“Oh, the bald one!” You say quickly, recalling his name from the photos Spencer had shown you beforehand. “I thought it was like… a bad guy or something.”
He laughs softly into the phone, his cheeks warm and wearing a smile that could split his face in two. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. A pain in the ass, maybe, but not a bad guy.”
He hears you chuckle from the other side of the line. “Yeah, he seems like a nice person. Your entire team sounds really cool.”
“Maybe you could meet them at some point,” Spencer says quietly, his heart thundering in his chest. “I mean, they kind of already know you exist.”
“That would be fun,” You muse, and he hears the soft ruffling of cling wrap in the background.
“Lunch?” 
He hears you hum in response, and he can’t help but chuckle. There’s a silence for a few seconds, and he assumes you were eating, before your voice picks up again.
“I’d love to meet your team at some point, Spence. They seem like really amazing people.” 
He can’t help but smile, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. They are. You’d love them, and I’m sure they’d love you just as much.”
Before long, lunch break is over and Spencer begrudgingly hangs up and returns to the bullpen, his team all wearing frustratingly smug faces. He rolls his eyes, not paying them any kind as he returns to his desk. He ignores the very blatant whistle Derek does in his direction and the snort Emily fails to hide.
“So…” JJ begins, dragging her words out. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”
Spencer chokes on air and bites his tongue, grimacing at the taste of blood. “I do not have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie.
“But you want her to be,” Emily says, smirking. 
“No! Yes. I don’t know, maybe?” Spencer feels like a teenage boy being lectured by his parents. Not that he knows what that feels like.
“Alright, well, have you asked her on a date?” Derek asks as he raises an eyebrow.
Spencer coughs, reaching for his mug of stale coffee. That’s all he needs to do to answer Derek’s question, because in moments Derek is screaming in his ear. 
“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?!”
“We talk loads of times,” Spencer insists, hiding behind his disgustingly old coffee. “We just never… we’re just friends.”
Rossi bites back a chuckle. “Yes, because friends call each other every day during their lunch breaks.”
Spencer feels his face grow impossibly hotter and he chugs the last of his coffee. He cringes before turning his attention back to his files in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t work.
“How did you meet her?” JJ asks, gentler this time. 
Spencer flushes and plays with his watch. “On the train.”
“That’s very you,” she laughs, ruffling his hair. “She seems really nice, Spencer.”
He preens at the compliment, his mind drifting to your pretty hair and glossy lips. He sports a grin and he nods. “She’s really, really nice.”
*** 
Spencer sits next to you on the train as usual. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is combed to be a little neater, only for his efforts to be destroyed when a strong gust of wind hits his face the moment he left his apartment. He reminds himself to put a comb into his bag after work. You’re talking about another one of Poe’s works, this time ‘The Raven’, another love poem. Your eyes are bright with excitement as you go on and on about the writing style and whatever else. 
Spencer is far from religious but your existence alone is enough to have him thanking the heaven’s that he is alive. He can’t help but smile every time you do, his gaze perpetually on your lips. He feels a little guilty about it, about how he can’t even control himself when he’s around you but you’re just so beautiful that he can’t help himself. He feels even guiltier when he realises he hasn’t processed a word you’ve said. 
“... and that’s why I think Edgar Allen Poe is really just a huge softie who wants to be loved,” you finish, snapping the book closed. “What do you think, Doctor Genius?”
“Totally,” Spencer agrees quickly, almost biting his tongue. “Absolutely.”
You laugh and Spencer thinks he’s going to faint. 
“Where are you up to in your Taylor Swift project?” You ask teasingly, nudging his arm. If it were anyone else, Spencer would have grimaced and shrugged them off but you aren’t just ‘anyone’. You’re the most amazing person in the world. 
“I’m up to 1989 track 9, Wildest Dreams,” Spencer recites, pulling out his notebook from his inner jacket pocket. It’s a small leatherbound notebook that he’s been writing all his thoughts in regards to the Taylor Swift songs, all in chronological order. He’s actually quite proud of it as he flicks to the latest page. “I really like this one. I did some research and I found out that the bass sound in the background is actually her heartbeat. That’s pretty interesting.”
You almost scream in excitement, leaning closer to him to read his notes. “I love this song! It’s my favourite Taylor Swift song ever and it’s just so pretty, you know?”
He nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed at the close proximity and he finds that he can no longer feel his tongue. He should get that checked out. 
“It reminds me of you sometimes,” you say, completely unabashed. Spencer thinks you’re trying to kill him. 
“What?” He asks meekly, recalling every lyric from the song. 
You freeze, flustered and you pull away from him. Spencer frowns at the sudden space but he watches as you stammer and stumble over your words.
“I just meant– you know, it’s a good song! That’s all.” You laugh anxiously, fiddling with the book in your hand. “Never mind, just ignore me. Tell me more about what you like about the song.”
In an almost uncharacteristic bout of confidence, Spencer reaches out to take your hand in his. At first, he thought his head was going to explode. It felt heavy and light all at the same time and he was almost about to pull his hand away when you squeezed his fingers. Just like that, all doubts are gone. You’re smiling at him and Spencer knows that he would do absolutely anything to make sure to keep it there. 
When the train lurches to a stop at Quantico, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to move. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, intertwining your fingers with his. 
“Isn’t this your stop?” You ask gently, loosening your hold on his hand. 
He shrugs, holding onto your hand tighter. “I’m always early. I can be late for once.”
Besides, he thinks to himself, inching closer to you, this is so worth it.
Pride bubbles in his heart when he hears you laugh again and his smile grows impossibly wider. 
“We’re almost at my stop,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. “We should go out. You know, instead of just meeting on the train.”
Spencer nods immediately at the suggestion. “I’d like that. Are you free on Saturday?”
“I’m definitely free on Saturday,” you respond, squeezing his hand again. 
Spencer sits there with you until you make it to your stop. The corners of his eyes are crinkled and he feels happy, so goddamn happy, and he wonders how he’s lived without you. Before you get off the train, he calls your name. He relishes in the way you turn around, the confusion palpable in your eyes. 
“Yeah?”
He takes a step closer to you, his face in front of yours. His heartbeat is in his ears but at the same time he feels an incredibly ironic sense of calm. In seconds, he presses his lips to yours in a short kiss. He grins at you as you stumble out of the train dazed, waving goodbye. From the window he could see you press your cold hands to your cheeks before reaching for your phone. 
The smile that grows on his face when he sees your face light up his phone is embarrassing. It’s goofy and silly and he is so grateful that the carriage is empty. 
“Hello?” 
“You cannot–” your voice comes through the speaker and he grins again– “you cannot just kiss me randomly and then leave.”
“Technically the train left, not me,” Spencer says with a small laugh.
You’re quiet on the other end before replying, “We need a re-do on Saturday.”
Spencer has no complaints. 
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reblogs are always appreciated!
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elllisaaa · 5 months
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no nut november - lee felix (3rd to lose)
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-> pairing : felix x fem!reader
-> words count : 2,9k
-> genre : smut, etablished relation
-> warnings : you're both whipped for each other, felix being sweet, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, marking, riding + the way i'm depicting felix does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.
-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.
-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november
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Felix told you immediately about the bet. He wasn’t particularly competitive, but it was mostly to prove to himself that he could do it. And being the sweet girlfriend you were, you agreed to participate with him. You continued to make him lunch, to sleep while cuddling with him, to take your shower together when you could, and so far so good. 
Hyunjin lost first, and then Changbin announced that he was out too, making Felix very confident in his chances to win. The second week of November was almost over, and he was more than ready to go through the third one. But at the same time, it was getting harder to keep the same routine with you when he wanted you so bad. 
At first, it was easy. You had been together for two years now, and you were used to him being away for a long time and thus not getting to touch the other. But it was absolutely not the same. When he was alone in his hotel room, you weren’t there, grazing your nails against his scalp, running your fingers through his hair, all snuggled up to him and your breath tickling his neck. No, you weren’t there, and it might make him lose - both the bet and his mind. 
He could just have told you to get off of him, but he felt guilty : he couldn’t even take care of you, and he didn’t want to keep that away from you too - but also because feeling so close to you was one of his favourite things ever.. You always did that when you two watched a movie, and usually, he appreciated it and it relaxed him. But today, it was just enough to get him turned on. 
“- You okay Lixie ?”
Your sweet voice interrupted the dirty thoughts of your boyfriend. You certainly had noticed that he was tense and that he was staring blankly at the screen of the TV, not understanding a word of the movie you put on earlier. 
“- Yeah, don’t worry love, everything’s alright.”
He smiled at you, but he saw that you weren’t convinced. Still, you didn’t push him further and came back to your previous activity, assuming that it wasn’t that important, or that if he needed to, he’ll talk to you when he’ll be ready. Felix knew it, and that made him feel even more guilty. You were nowhere near from thinking about what he was thinking right now, you were just worried he was upset by something. But the only thing that was upsetting him at the moment was his desire for you.
Don’t get him wrong, he was head over heels for you and he knew he was going to marry you one day. You were his soulmate and he loved you more than anything, but, right now, he was thinking about your body and nothing else, in a way that was all but respectful. You did nothing to try to seduce him, really, but it was already too late and his mind was filled with all the memories of you crying his name in pleasure. 
Even if he couldn’t touch you like he wanted to, Felix thought that kissing you couldn’t be that bad. He would be able to kiss you without going further, he was sure. You were doing it all the time, no reasons to lose control right ? 
Right ?
Kissing you was the worst idea he ever had. It all started innocently, just little pecks on each other's lips. But Felix needed more, just a little more. So he started to deepen the kisses, his hands slipping from your cheeks to the back of your head. And finally, he guided his tongue in your mouth. And then, he felt like he could never stop. He wanted to stay there forever, with you on his lap, your fingers gripping his hair and whining into his mouth. 
Though, you seemed to have more consciousness left than him because you pulled back, breathing as heavily as him and lust filling your eyes. But you didn’t seem eager to act on it. 
“- Lixie… We should stop…
- Yeah, maybe.”
Did he follow his own advice ? Not at all. He just grabbed your waist to pull you in closer to him and kissed you hungrily, like he had never tasted you before and that he would never get tired of it - which was not so far from reality. And as much as you wanted to melt in your boyfriend’s touch, let him do all the things he wanted to you, you had to keep the bet in mind when he couldn’t. You pushed him away just a little, trying not to stare too long into his pleading eyes. He was almost begging you to do something with his gaze. 
“- I’m serious baby… We have to win this bet, remember ?”
You smiled at his pouty face, knowing it was just fooling around. He would thank you later, when he had cooled down. But for now, you just had to get off of his lap, in order not to feel his half-hard cock pressing against your throbbing pussy. You weren’t directly participating in the bet, you could have touched yourself, but it wasn’t nearly close to what Felix could have done to you. And if he kept being so close to you, you were sure to lose your mind too, and then, no one could prevent both of you from doing something stupid. 
So you started to move, wanting to go back to your previous spot on the couch. But Felix’s hands were gripping too tight on your waist, making it impossible for you to move - well, you could have set you free if you were being honest, just loved it when he was showing you his strength. You laughed and hitted his chest playfully, even if your boyfriend seemed to be really serious about the whole thing. 
“- Let go of me Lixie, you know we can’t do that.
- And how about me taking care of you ?”
You bit your lips, tempted by the offer. Well, he was allowed to do that, but if he was able to contain himself or not was a whole different question. And Felix knew it very well, but that was the least he could do for you - and for him, by the same occasion. Yes, he couldn’t please you with his cock without coming, but he could do it with his fingers. 
“- You know I want you Lixie but…
- But I can control myself. Please love, I just want to make you feel good. I promise it won’t go further.”
His puppy eyes and words were begging for you to agree, and you were far too aroused to say no. Of course you wanted him to touch you, to lick you, and do all the things he usually did. But you knew the bet was important for him, and you didn’t want to be the reason for his loss. However, you decided to trust him. After all, it wasn’t like it would be his first time fingering you. 
“- Go on.”
Your voice was only a whisper, but Felix heard it very well and he didn’t lose any more time, sliding down your thighs the shorts you were wearing when you wanted to be comfy as well as your panties. He was happy to find you already wet, and he almost groaned at seeing you this wet just from kissing. You must’ve been craving his touch, just like he was craving yours. But this was all about you, about making you cum around his fingers. 
“- You’re so wet love…
- Yeah, it’s not the same with my fingers, I prefer yours.”
Felix chuckled and let one of his said fingers slide inside of you easily with who excited you were, not feeling any pain, only pleasure. You moaned at the feeling of him finally touching you. And your boyfriend couldn’t help but be filled with pride, knowing only him could make you feel that way. He wasn’t possessive at all, nor jealous. However, feeling you clench so hard around his now two fingers turned him on even more.
“- Everything’s alright ?”
You were only capable of nobbing at this point. You couldn’t think straight anymore, not when he was rubbing his digits against that particular spot that had you moaning his name, not when his thumb was circling your clit and making you dizzy, not when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you out for hours - and if you’d ask him, he would have done it without any hesitation. 
Felix knew you were already close to coming, he could feel you getting tighter with each move he made, your moans increasing in volume. When his other hand slipped from your hip to your ass, squeezing it firmly, you finally opened your eyes that were shut since he started touching you. His gaze met yours instantly, and Felix knew he was screwed. You looked fucked out already, gripping on his shoulders so hard your nails were digging into the material of his shirt, and you never looked so hot. 
“- L-Lix… Please-
- What do you want love ? Tell me, and I’ll do it.
- Please- Kiss me…”
And how could he not do it ? Impossible. So he moved the hand that wasn’t busy to the back of your neck, pushing on it until your lips met and your moans were muffled by his tongue playing with yours. And that did it for you. You started to move your hips, smacking them into his hand and making yourself cum hard. You took your time to come down from your high, your forehead pressed against your boyfriend's. Both of you were breathless, couldn’t put your shit together because you missed this too much.
“- Almost forgot what you look like when you come…”
Felix was staring at you in awe, like it was the first time he was seeing you like this and it really wasn’t, considering the fact that his sex drive was high, and yours even more. And it wasn’t at all, considering the fact that his sex drive was high, and yours even more. 
“- But you love seeing me like that, don’t you ?”
Your boyfriend eagerly nobbed, making you chuckle. He could act like such a child sometimes, but it was something you liked, his innocence - well, not really when he just removed his fingers from your cunt and that he was currently burying his face in your chest only covered by a thin top. You put your arms around him, sighing when you thought about the fact that you’ll have to stay away from his cock and touch for two more weeks. It was torture.
“- I want to fuck you so bad.”
He whispered against the skin of your cleavage, but you heard him very well since the only other sound in the room was the film still playing in the background. You smiled, and ran your finger gently through Felix’s hair. You wanted him so bad too, wanted him to fill you with his cock and cum. 
“- Me too baby, but we can’t and you know it.”
Felix didn’t answer, letting his lips trace your collarbone instead, leaving hickey and light bites in his way to your neck. You whined quietly, closing your eyes again and tilting your head to the side to grant him more access. He knew very well that your neck was your weak spot, and he didn’t let the information go to waste, literally devouring the sensitive skin while groping every part of your body he could reach. Your whimpers quickly became moans as you could feel his hard cock pressing against your crotch.
“- Felix…
- What’s up baby ?”
His deep voice against the skin of your neck made you shiver, and you knew he did it on purpose, aware of how much you liked hearing his low tone. You could feel him smirk as he resumed his previous activity - aka licking, kissing, sucking and biting your skin endlessly. 
“- You have to stop now…
- Don’t do this to me love, not when you know how bad I want you.”
You stayed silent, thinking about it. Should you risk the bet even though you were really well placed to win it ? But Felix took your quietness as a sign of you being uncomfortable, so he immediately pulled out, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his hand resting gently on your waist.
“- Well, I mean only if you want it too. Or we can stop and put on another film, it’s up to you.”
His little smile made your heart flutter, and when he put back a strand of your hair behind your ear with the softest touch you’ve ever felt, you melted. What did you do to deserve an angel like him ? You slid your hands on his cheeks, bringing your faces only inches away and smiled at his big doe eyes waiting for your answer.
“- It’s not that I don’t want it Lixie, you can’t imagine how excited I am right now. But… Aren't you going to regret losing ?”
This time, it was Felix who felt his heart melt at the tenderness he catched in your gaze. And also the fact that you were worried for him ? You didn’t care about your own pleasure once, always putting him first, and that was probably the thing about you that he loved the most. 
“- I’m one hundred percent sure love. Let the others fight over this stupid bet, and let’s enjoy ourselves for the rest of the month. How does that sound ?
- Perfect. You’re perfect.”
Felix’s chuckles quickly died when you kissed him again, this time hungrily, each one of them filled with the neediness you didn’t have the strength to hold back anymore. He sometimes wondered how he got so lucky to get the girl he could only dream of, the perfect girl for him. But that was something he’ll thought about later, for now, he had to fuck you like you deserved to.
Since then, you didn’t need to say a word to each other, your gestures talking for you. You hastily helped your boyfriend to get rid of his sweatpants and boxer, sliding them just enough to free his throbbing cock. At this point, Felix knew he wouldn’t last long, but you already came and he could do it again if you wanted it. And on top of that, you didn’t seem to be bothered by that because he could already feel your hand squeezing his dick and making him grunt your name. 
“- You’re killing me love… I need you.
- Look who’s desperate now.”
You said that, but your actions showed the other way as you sunk on his cock fully, letting out a loud moan as you did. It was impossible to say who was more pathetic between you, smacking your hips from the get-go and letting his dick stretch you out, crying out in pleasure with no shame ; or your boyfriend who was grunting and hissing at the feeling of your tight pussy surrounding him, his hands gripping your ass firmly to help you move and his head thrown back.
“- Shit- You’re so good to me love…”
You whined at the praise, clenching around him as a reward. And then, you felt Felix’s hips meeting yours, which made his dick reach deeper into you, getting both of you to moan each other's name. His cock twitched inside you and you knew he was almost there, so you asked him the same question as usual, trying to collect your thoughts enough to produce a coherent sentence. 
“- Where do you want to finish baby ?
- Tits, please…”
He answered you with a shaky breath, unable to think straight as you took off your top, exposing your bare chest to his starved gaze. 
“- Come here then.”
Felix groaned, pulling out of you quickly. He only needed a few strokes on his dick to come, his cum painting your breast white, some even ending up on your chin. But you honestly couldn’t care less when he was moaning so sweetly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he released himself from the tension of these two weeks. You didn’t have the time to say anything that he had already layed you out on the couch, spreading your legs wide and diving into your pussy. 
“- F-Fuck ! Lix… S-So good.”
These were the only words that escaped your mouth before all you could manage to get out were moans and whimpers of your boyfriend’s name. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and earning a small grunt from him, sending vibration through your sensitive clit. Soon enough, you were grinding against his face, desperate to get your sweet relief. All he needed to do was to flatten his tongue against your slit, and you moaned even louder, pushing his head between your legs so hard you would have been worried about him being able to breathe in other circumstances. But Felix loved it. This way, he was enveloped by your intoxicating scent and he could lick you until it felt too much and you wiggled out of his touch. 
Felix pressed kisses as soft as a feather touch on your inner thighs before coming back to your face and kissing it all over, making you giggle like an idiot. He let himself fall on top of you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck - where he could admire his little work of art. 
“- Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again ?
- Yeah, because it’s what I feel everytime I look into your eyes.”
Maybe it was cheesy, and sickeningly sweet, but at that moment, Felix couldn’t care less about losing the bet.
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i23kazu · 4 months
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♡ GENSHIN MEN & STUDYING WITH YOU
characters. xiao diluc kaeya childe wriothesley lyney alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. i need motivation. they are my motivation | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D
xiao
he's the one who's a all the noise-cancellation, blacklisted apps kind of student. everything is on lockdown and on do not disturb mode – please don't disturb him. poke him with your pen and you'll just see him roll his eyes at you– no, seriously- it's not worth it! however, xiao is also a really good student ; always on task, even on the subjects that he absolutely despises. ask him to tutor you and he might grumble and groan, but what happens when the tutor falls in love with his student?
diluc
possibly the class rep. studying with him is a express ticket to resources that teachers had given him because of his high-class status. he's not proud of it – he believes that each student deserves the chance to have the same access as him – which is why he's willing to share it with you as well. we didn't even have to meet up, you could just have sent it over- you whine, but the tinge of crimson on his cheeks is a telltale sign that perhaps he needed- no, wanted, this excuse.
kaeya
the teasy study buddy. watch him annoy the hell out of you– you know he's teasing, but sometimes it hurts. "haha, i thought i taught you this already? does the little bunny not have enough space in there?" he taps your head with his pen. it's only when your face crumples and you start to mumble out apologies, teardrops cockling your paper – that he panics. "shit- i'm sorry– how can i make it better?" he wipes your tears away. he makes it up with a sweet kiss and a stack of gift cards to your favourite cafes.
childe
he's the friend who keeps you going, truly. if sunshine was bottled up and wrapped with a bow and had an orange cap, it would be childe! watching your face fall after staring at algebra simply won't do, no, no. let him lead you as he tugs on your hands outside of the study room, and just let your feet follow in his footsteps – you'll find yourself outside the library cafe. "alright, it's on me! what do you want?" maybe his wallet is a little lighter, but so is his heart, once he sees your face light up.
wriothesley
wriothesley is the one who has it all planned out. first, you'll start studying at 10pm... which is a little late, but it's alright. you'll get tired around midnight, which will be when he offers you the first cup of chamomile. "won't this put me to sleep?" you whine, accepting it from him anyways. he chuckles and runs his hands through your hair, replying that it's never worked on him. true enough, you start getting sleepy around half past one – finally leaning against his shoulder, your arms going slack. kissing your head, he drapes a blanket around you. good night, (y/n).
lyney
the one who sits besides you, cracking jokes every now and then! but when it's time to study, he can buckle down and start doing work –that's just lyney – the human on and off switch. there's something about him doing work while twirling his poker cards in his hands that's just so mesmerising – a stare too long catches his eye, and he starts doing a trick for you. get back to work!, you laugh and playfully swat his shoulder, turning back to your own paper. he chuckles in return, and unbeknownst to you, turns back with a smile.
alhaitham
alhaitham can be stricter as a study buddy – he's stern with distractions, wanting you to keep your phone to the side as he's explaining concepts – yes, concepts you learnt, but never understood. "hey, eyes here. did you understand, or do i need to go through it again?" he sounds bored, and you feel sorry for him. you mumble a soft i understand back, and he sighs and tells you to take a break. "look up." your eyes trail up from your phone, and instinctively close as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.
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orchidyoonkook · 5 months
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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG
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Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  
Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader
Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff
Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,
Explicit warnings under the cut.
Word Count: 10,488
Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM
A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!
A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much
A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.
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Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....
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Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 
Intimate. That would be a better choice. 
From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 
The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 
You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.
He’ll be back for another soon.
While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 
Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 
Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.
And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 
Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.
Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 
Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 
Most of the time.
You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 
“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”
“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.
Fucking incubi demons…
You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 
You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.
You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”
Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 
Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 
They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 
It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 
You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 
“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 
And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 
“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 
There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.
“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.
It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.
Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty. 
But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 
Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.
Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 
It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.
He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 
“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 
To which you think again, fucking incubi…
Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 
You learned your lesson.
So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 
You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.
From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.
Which can only mean one fucking thing. 
You just lost all your tips for the night. 
Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 
Fuck. 
“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.
“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 
You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 
“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 
You know exactly where it is.
No one else will touch it. 
Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 
No one serves him but you. 
But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 
You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.
You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 
After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,
“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”
He didn’t take another breath. 
A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  
“Thanks,” You’d said.
“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 
Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.
But he was more than pleased. 
After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.
He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 
Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 
A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 
Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.’
You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 
‘Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,’
You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.
“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 
He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 
You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.
“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 
He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 
“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”
You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 
No one calls the Devil by his first name. 
Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 
And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 
No one except you. 
What a funny little exception you are.
Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”
You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.
You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 
“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 
Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 
“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 
He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 
“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.
Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 
You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.
Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…
Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.
You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 
The King of Hell. 
He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 
Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 
Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 
He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.
You have to stay away from him. 
But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.
As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 
There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 
“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”
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Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.
Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 
The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 
Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 
You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 
All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 
And maybe he is. 
But not to you. 
The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 
You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 
The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 
And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 
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It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.
You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 
Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 
They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.
All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 
Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 
Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.
You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 
You needed this.
A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 
You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 
“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 
“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 
You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 
Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 
In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 
Yoongi. 
God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.
Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 
Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 
And he looks like sin incarnate. 
Fitting. 
Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?
Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 
Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.
When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 
Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 
Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.
They were all you. 
Maybe his plan was working after all…
“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.
“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”
He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.
“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.
A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 
“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”
Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 
Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 
Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 
You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.
“What do you think?”  
Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.
“May I touch?”
You don’t hesitate. 
“Yes.” 
Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.
“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 
This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 
Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 
Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 
The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 
“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..
Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 
Beautiful. 
“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 
“My birthstone,” you reply.
“Your birthstone.”
You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.
“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”
“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 
Makes you wonder what he promised.
Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 
Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.
Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 
Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 
What is he doing to you?
“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 
“Mmm?”
“Would you like to dance?”
Fuck would you ever, but wait— 
“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 
Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.
“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 
“Yes.”
You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 
“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.
Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.
Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 
They don’t know about Yoongi.
They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 
You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 
You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 
You’ve decided. 
To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 
To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 
You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 
But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.
You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.
“Let’s go to yours.”
“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”
Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 
“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.
Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 
And apparently neither does Yoongi. 
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
“Yes, but what does tha–”
“Close your eyes for me, Love.”
Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 
So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 
You trust Yoongi. 
“That's a good girl.” 
One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 
Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 
But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.
What?
“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 
Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.
“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.
Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 
He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.
“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”
You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 
There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 
Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.
Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.
“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.
He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 
Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 
You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”
You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 
“Please what, Love?”
“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”
“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 
“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.
“There she is.”
Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 
They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 
Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.
“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 
His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.
“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”
You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 
“I need to hear it.”
“I understand.”
“Understand what?” He pushes.
“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 
“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.
The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.
“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”
Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”
He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 
“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”
Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”
His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 
Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 
If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.
Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 
“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”
He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.
He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 
“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.
“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.
He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.
“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 
Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.
“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”
“And if I do?” 
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”
Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”
“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 
And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 
Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 
Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 
“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 
Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”
“Whatever you want, Angel.”
Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 
“Fuck—”
Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 
“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”
Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.
“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”
The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 
Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 
“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 
His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 
You’re the most powerful person here. 
You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 
And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 
“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 
Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 
“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”
His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.
“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”
“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 
You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 
Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.
This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.
This is about you. 
And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.
You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 
You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 
Perfect in every single way. 
“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”
He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 
“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”
You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”
“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.
“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.
“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”
The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 
Not yet. 
You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.
Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 
Ever.  
And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 
He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 
There was only you. 
Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 
And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.
It’s time for him to finally claim you back.
“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”
“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”
Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.
“Only for you, Yoongi.”
His thrusts stutter.
“Fuck!”
He’s coming. 
He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 
It’s the first time he’s said your name.
And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 
You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.
Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 
It’s yours. 
He’ll make it so.
At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.
He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 
You got exactly what you wanted.
He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 
And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.
“What changed?” 
“Hmm?”
“What about tonight made you change your mind?”
You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 
That seductive smirk makes an appearance.
“Yes.”
“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”
Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 
“Next time,” he says. A promise.
You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 
“What about you?” you ask.
“What about me?”
“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”
He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 
“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 
“My soul?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve never asked for mine before.”
“Never needed it.”
At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”
“You.” 
Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 
You just know it. 
“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”
You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 
You never expected anything like that. 
You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 
Kindness. Patience.
The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 
Because of you.  
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”
You can do that. 
“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 
Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.
“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.
“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 
He was yours now. 
The Devil was yours.
King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Not thank God?” you tease.
Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”
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A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3
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