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xiao-come-home · 11 days ago

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Alphabet headcanons with Amphoreous men;

✰ Characters: Anaxa, Mydei, Phainon.

✰ Words: 4,8k+

✰ SFW ;

Warnings: none, gn!reader.

A/N: I hope i wrote anaxa at least okayish.. i like to think hes pretty extra with his so. lol. sobs. still confused ;w; some of Phainon stuff is assumed, since he isn’t out yet! Just a heads up!

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they with an s/o?)

Anaxa is quite moderate when it comes to affection, but does not want to deprive you of it. He values having private space for himself and would more often than not share affection with you behind closed doors; though, he does have a soft spot for you and some subtle touches here and there, like having his hand over yours hidden by his desk while he lectures his students, or giving you a quick hug when greeting you.

Mydei, on the other hand, has no problem with showing you affection anywhere, but has a reputation to uphold - that being said, he's absolutely proud to have you as his partner and his ways of showing you affection are graceful. He's fond of having his arm around your waist, holding your hand, and giving you tender kisses once in a while, but behind closed doors, the prince is all over you.

Phainon wants to drown you in affection anywhere, anytime, but unfortunately, he's an adult in the adult world, so he tries to control himself. He's very open about having a significant other and also wants to show that he too, is already taken. He's also very excited to be on the receiving end. Phainon cradles your face when you share your first kiss of the day, hugs you from behind when you least expect it, and loves when you take him by the hand. He just wants you close to him all the time.

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?)

If you manage to outsmart Anaxa, he'll be honestly frozen in shock for a good moment. Quite shocked that once he recovers, he lets himself laugh like a maniac, and then pulls you to dance in the middle of the room. He's proud. That's why he chose you out of everyone else, after all.

For the immortal warrior like Mydei - the more you fight him, the more he respects you, and the same includes you, even as his significant other. In fact, the more you beat his ass, the more he loves you. Once you manage to seriously wound him, better yet! Kill him! He'll be popping the question as soon as he's back.

You take Phainon's breath away by existing. In all seriousness, your compassion, courage, and empathy are what usually make Phainon stop in his tracks and admire you. Whether it is towards the citizens or his close friends, it matters not; his heart swells with pride when you fight for a good cause.

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

Anaxa, again, is quite neutral about cuddling - he doesn't initiate it very often unless he notices your sour mood or if you had a bad day in general, but also doesn't push your clinging form away from him if and lets you do your thing if you're the one initiating cuddles. He prefers to cuddle whenever you both have some free time or when he grades (fails) his students' papers. Usually, he's fine by just having your body near each other - shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh; he might also sling his arm around your neck. As long as you keep him busy conversing about various topics, he's able to cuddle for quite a while.

The lion wants his mate safe, and so does Mydei. He's fond of cuddling, especially on his throne. He pulls you close on his lap and pushes you against his chest - and so, he's content staying just like that. His arm often finds itself around your waist, occasionally going all the way down to your thigh and back up - and if you turn your head around to look at him, Mydei will sneak in a kiss on your cheek. You're also welcome to sit a little bit to the side on his lap - allowing you to wrap your hands around his neck. For Mydei, cuddle time also means a long, nice make-out session - he wants you to remember who you belong to.

Phainon views cuddling as a ritual - and so, everything must be intact. Usually, he goes a little overboard - candles, sharing a bath together, while enjoying some light food. It's a bit cliche, but Phainon's enthusiasm matches the energy. He also likes to have you on his lap, but facing him instead; his hand will massage your hips, only to tickle you. His azure eyes gaze into yours once you're done laughing; his so intense, as if he was counting the sea of stars hidden in your eyes. He follows with a delicate kiss on your chin, moving to your shoulder and leaving a brief, warm mark of his lips there as well. As his forehead leans on your shoulder, he needs no other salvation, closing his eyes and taking in your presence.

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Anaxa would love to pursue the knowledge about the world with you, Mydei wants to fight by your side, and Phainon dreams of simply spending the rest of his life with you - in the end, they desire the same thing - to keep you by their side and to remain by yours, but just how much mercy does fate truly have for their only wish?

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

Anaxa believes that in order for a relationship to work, one hundred percent should be split between the two of you. Of course, he does put effort into it, otherwise both of you would waste each other's precious time, but also expects you to do the same. For Anaxa, putting effort into communication and understanding from your side is the most important - he shall return the favor accordingly.

Mydei too, believes that both halves make a whole - and does everything in his power to make you the happiest, while also hoping for you to pull your weight. The prince shoulders a formidable burden - and so, he wants you to understand the price of accepting this responsibility by entering a relationship with him. Nonetheless, if agree to do so - he'll make sure to make your smile shine brighter than ever until his final breath.

Phainon - a man who's probably putting in effort for 3 more people than necessary. As the part of Chrysos Heir, he tries his best to be there for you, along with bearing the weight of the world; as long as you trust him, that's all he needs to repay for your kindness twice as much.

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

Anaxa's first thought is to fight your fear with logic, though, not always - when his explanations are in vain, he brings you close, embracing you gently, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. Usually, he handles it adequately - he means well with his words, but perhaps too much logic is also not good; still, he's open to learn - and later on, his words include a tinge of comfort, while also distracting you.

„There’s no need for you to fear, I won’t let you go that easily - not even death is saving you from this relationship.” (He’s trying)

Mydei takes your fears seriously, no matter how insignificant they might be. He takes you in his arms first in order to check your condition - once he ensures you're safe, whatever dared to scare his beloved is bound to suffer as horribly. It's a no-brainer that Mydei's go-to comfort is physical touch - he'll be there for you until you feel better, caging you in his arms comfortably and offering you solace with his calm voice.

„Shh, my love, I’m right here. I’ll bring the whole world to your feet at your wish. Save your tears for the beautiful moments that await us.”

Phainon on the other hand, jumps immediately to reassure you with speech - not with logic, but with a rather soothing lecture, letting you know that he's here for you. He kneels before you and takes your hands in his, smiling gently at you, familiar warmth in his eyes that no one else can see - his gaze softens as he guides you back to your cheerful you. He presses a single kiss on the knuckles of your right hand before standing up and opening his arms.

„Ah! There you are! I know you’re scared, but I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. Just listen to me - you’re already doing so good. The world is scary, so I’ll be your knight - ha, ha! I only lack white armor now… Either way, as silly as it sounds, I mean every word. And I’ll try doing everything, everything… so that you no longer remember what it’s like to feel fear. I promise.”

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Anaxa finds himself gifting you mostly books - their contents vary, some of them simply piqued his interest enough that he wants to share them with you, some are deliberately harder to understand - so he’s able to explain them to you. If he finds a book of your favorite genre or author, this one is also landing on your desk. He doesn’t expect to get a gift back - „you don’t give others gifts to get one back,” or at least that’s what he always says. Also… dromases merch…

Mydei is a simple man - you’ll always see him with flowers in one hand, and a basket in another. The said basket is usually full of baked goods from the prince himself - after all, he’s put his whole heart into it, so it surely is going to taste even better. Mydei’s undeniable skill in cooking is truly something else, but the true reward is in your overjoyed expression once your tastebuds get hit with the intense combination of flavors. There aren’t many things that make Mydei flush red, except for your ecstatic praises about his gifts.

Phainon is a man of handmade gifts too! He loves commemorating your relationship through crafts such as albums, scrapbooks, or your favorite paper animals. He has once attempted to paint you, unfortunately it ended up horribly, but you still put it on your wall. What's even more unfortunate is that he has to see it every day. Due to his busy schedule, he prepares them slowly, nervously checking their contents to verify their quality. Phainon will never admit it, but would love to get a gift in return.

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

Anaxa’s hugs are brief, but meaningful - at least in the beginning. As time passes, he grows to like them, but will deny it when confronted - such is the nature of a stubborn man. Nonetheless, as your relationship progresses, Anaxa begins to think of them as a routine; at some point, his body automatically goes out to hug you. Sometimes he lingers longer than usual - but you never complain. His favorite hug is the classic one, where your arms wrap around his neck, while his embrace your waist. Psst, do it the other way around and he'll yelp.

Mydei is rather comfortable with physical contact, so hugs for him are an inseparable part of the relationship; even if the world forces him to bathe in blood, he still knows how to handle a fragile rose. He'll never get enough of how perfectly you fit in his arms, your scent, and radiating warmth. Usually, he holds you just right, with one exception - when he comes back post-battle; he holds you tightly, one arm around your lower back, the other tangling itself in your hair - while Mydei buries his face in your neck for a moment. His favorite casual hugs are side hugs and any allowing him to see your face.

Phainon is all about hugs! Your hugs remind him of a sanctuary that only he is allowed to enter; most of the time it's him who actually feels safer when you two hug - and due to this, he truly has no preference on which hugs are his favorite. Every single one is his favorite! As long as they're from you. When it's Phainon who hugs you first, it's usually from behind you - accompanied with his hands covering your eyes, his excited voice asking, “Guess who?” What a silly guy.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Anaxa is a biiit constipated when it comes to romance, but knows and treasures the importance of intimacy, not necessarily the physical one, but emotional and intellectual. He wants to provide you with closeness and connection, but by the end of the day, Anaxa wants to see you grow and thrive.

Mydei is romantic. HE IS THE ROMANCE ITSELF. And this is the hill I'll die on. He expresses all the passion, love, and affection to you with no occasion needed; that's just how he is. In his eyes, you're far higher than a queen or king, a person unmatched that tends to his heart, and he pampers yours in return. Mydei is also on board with intimacy - of any kind. Anything that brings you closer to him, he'll want to cherish and try it out with you.

Phainon is a mix of both, trying to balance out the romance and intimacy. In his eyes, there's no romance without being truly intimate; romance is important as it nourishes further your relationship, but intimacy keeps it in check. He might keep a very good happy facade, but it's only a matter of time before it crumbles - and he's not going to vent that out to just anyone. Emotional intimacy matters to him quite a lot.

J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Ha! Do you truly think Anaxa would fall that low? Welll, maybe. He doesn't get jealous that easily, he trusts you - so it'd truly take a lot until he snaps. Depending on his mood, Anaxa either sends them an icy glare or begins his dramatic performance to humiliate them until they're crying from embarrassment. Who in the right mind dares to flirt with Professor Anaxagoras’ partner?! They shall regret their actions. Afterwards, he acts like nothing happened.

Mydei is probably least likely to be jealous - again, trust is vital for him. When he's jealous, well… all he has to do is stand behind you and silently glare at that person. I mean, look at him. I don't think anyone wants to mess with the Prince of Kremnos… either way, please give Mydei a reassuring hug. He'll be pouting until you do so. And probably make Phainon's food taste even worse.

Phainon tends to be the most jealous out of everyone, but it stems from him being worried he isn't enough for you. Someone truly has to break a boundary to make him jealous and thus, somewhat mad - but most of the time, his jealousy is just an annoying thing in his head that stays until that person goes away. He keeps stealing nervous glances at you, sighing in shame when he gets caught. Phainon obviously doesn't act up on it further than that, he knows it's irrational.

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you? Where do they like to kiss you/be kissed?)

Anaxa is…surprisingly a very good kisser. He does like to kiss (duh), but mostly prefers to do it somewhere alone with you. In public, if he actually kisses you - he purposely leaves you on edge, wanting more. You definitely catch him giving you kisses more than hugging - it’s just more efficient and satisfying. Anaxa’s favorite place to kiss you is on the corners of your mouth - just to tease you a bit more, while he enjoys having his fingers kissed.

Mydei is a natural at kissing, and his kisses switch depending on the mood he currently has. Once they’re so tender, reminiscent of a falling feather, letting you know he’s there, embracing you like a warm blanket, or hungrily marking your neck, while your swollen lips are taking a break. He does enjoy when YOU mark him too, or at least attempt to - since they don’t stay on him very long; but if you dare, kiss all over his scarlet marks. Mydei likes to kiss your forehead and eyelids the most, but on himself - probably his collarbones.

Phainon too, is pretty good at kissing and does it quite everywhere, while adhering to the setting’s etiquette. He needs no occasion to do that, just seeing you is enough. He kisses you passionately, even if they don’t last long - he’s pouring all the love he has through them, accompanied by cradling one of your cheeks. His favorite places to kiss you are the apples of your cheeks and your chin, Phainon on the other hand - melts when you kiss him on his forehead (you probably have to stand on your tiptoes to reach him, which makes him like it even more. It’s just adorable). What a simp.

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

Anaxa prefers to show his love rather than express it through words. He's very perceptive and it doesn't take him very long to figure out your favorite things, in fact - he actually likes showering you with gifts, even if some of them are as small as (dromas) keychains every day. But when things get serious and you end up injured - the words “I love you” roll off Anaxa’s tongue as soon as he has you in his arms.

Mydei reminds you of it pretty often, be it when you part ways for a few hours - he says a quick “love you” after giving you a kiss on the cheek, or before leaving for a longer mission - this time, he says the full phrase and seals it with a passionate kiss on your lips. He also does show it through gifts - probably something you've wanted for a while!

If Phainon could, he'd glue a piece of paper saying “I love you” to his forehead. He doesn't really need any occasion to do so, literally - he might be just watching you gulp down food like a hellish creature and sigh dreamily before saying “I love you so much.” Most of the time you insist that his verbal proof is just enough, but Phainon still shows up even with a flower in his hand anyway.

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

Sure, Anaxa doesn’t mind getting married, if that’s what you want… except no one knows it even happened. Someone dares to ask a question about the ring on his finger like 5 years later and he straight-up answers like it’s common knowledge. He’d probably want a small ceremony with the most important people to you, the rest is for you to decide - not that he’s absent, he does participate, but only in the most important parts, like choosing vows. Probably writes them himself. Unless you want a wedding with 100 dromases, don't let him choose anything regarding decorations.

Mydei too would like to get married - it’s basically sealing a deal - he loves you, you love him. While it may not change that much on paper, there's a significant change in his psyche - he doesn't come back to his partner. He comes back home to see his spouse. The Kremnoan prince loves being referred to as your husband. The ceremony itself would most likely include all the Chrysos Heir (important: do not let anaxa be the priest) and people closest to you. Surprisingly, Mydei feels nervous waiting for you at the altar, but once he sees you walking down the aisle, glowing and almost tearing up - all the worries fade away; he can't wait any longer.

If you think Phainon wouldn't want to marry you, then you need to read it all over again. He's absolutely overjoyed when you accepted his proposal, and is very active when it comes to preparing for the wedding. Your wedding bands have each other's names on them, and there's a very high chance Phainon was present during the creation of the said rings. The ceremony would be pretty small, but very extravagant - and he's DEFINITELY ugly crying before it even starts. Mydei is his best man. And also probably holds a box of tissues for Phainon to blow his nose into. While it's true that the Chrysos Heir is his only family, if you decided to commemorate the people from Aedes Elysiae - the poor thing is genuinely sobbing from happiness and heartbreak in a separate room.

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

If you don’t mind getting your hands dirty, Anaxa would invite you to tinker with various things; it brings him back to his childhood, but it’s also the reason that brought him to the present day. If you’re in a hurry - a simple dinner is enough to satisfy him.

Mydei loves going on walks with you, his beloved by his side, while taking in the happiness of people around him, especially at night. When most sleep, he breathes in your beauty illuminated by the moon.

Phainon needs a little bit of rest from the important stuff once in a while - and honestly, anything domestic would be a good date for him. A shopping date, picking out new furniture, or giving him a massage. Yeah, a massage would be good…

O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

Anaxa is truly ready to sacrifice himself - he'd read romance books and recommend the best ones for you.

Mydei would attempt to make you something involving arts and crafts, but… maybe he should just stick to cooking…

Phainon would probably agree to a horror movie marathon. Unfortunately, that also includes him yelping and moving closer to you until he's clinging to your arm the whole night.

P = Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Anaxa likes to banter with you - and the more clever your comebacks are, the more determined he is to make his own even better. If you manage to shut him up, he'll probably take you on that god-damned desk and no one will stop him.

“Haha.. Ahahaha! You rendered me speechless! Finally, there is hope for this world! MORE!”

Mydei never turns down your special game of hide and seek - you've mentioned it once before for fun and offered that the winner can wish for anything, but the idea of chasing his little prey piqued his interest more than the reward. Ever since then, when time allows him to - he chases you around Castrum Kremnos, but you always end up with his shadow looming over you.

“Ah… the lion caught you once again.”

Curse Phainon and his long limbs! His tickling is ruthless and he knows it - by the time he's done with you, he has you in tears on the couch. But… you also have a weapon against him - faking your pain and getting your revenge. Did I mention he's ABSURDLY ticklish?

“Haha, look at you! I won't let you get away now! Hey, are you alright? Why are you holding your stomach like this? Hey, hey, answer me, did I hu— HAHAHAHA! No, I— hahaha, FELL FOR THIS AG-HAHAHAIN!” You only touched his knee..

Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

YES. Anaxa wants to know what's on your mind and how your mind works (for science of course) ((he's the science)). Especially if he finds something controversial - he's immediately sending you a text, unless it's something so intriguing that he needs to see your reaction. Conversations are probably the most important and impressive parts of your relationship.

Mydei also values your opinion! He often asks you about the quality of his cooking, but doesn't limit himself only to that. He's very open to discussions - it allows him to possibly change his trajectory of thinking and pondering about his other options, especially if your opinions differ.

Once you unleash Phainon's curiosity, he'll keep questioning you until your mouth becomes dry. He wants to know everything! Your favorite color, flowers, the color of that flower! This serial yapper shares his opinions and hopes you're going to further expand on the topic.

R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

Considering they're all Chrysos Heir, their life is almost all the time spontaneous and they don't plan that much ahead in the future. But if they could choose: Anaxa would love to plan things more than let fate decide. Mydei - is fine with both planning and letting things happen by themselves. Phainon would plan things - but usually end up completing them spontaneously.

S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

Done here by accident lol

T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

I’d love to write them separately, but all three trust you with their own life. Entering a relationship with them means helping them shoulder their burden, but they offer you unconditional trust in return. They have no other choice.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as an s/o?)

You and Anaxa complement each other like yin and yang - what’s his weakness, it’s your strength, and the opposite. While it may seem like a flaw, Anaxa strives to understand the world from your eyes, only to realize that beauty too, lies in things perceived as illogical. Likewise, he tests your limits and boundaries, but solely because he wants you to be prepared for many outcomes; perhaps, when one day he’s reduced to ash, having to watch over you in a form of spirit, he wants you to live on, succeed and surpass him. He shall be the guiding star in the vast, clouded sky.

Mydei is a gentle giant, whose heart is destined to bleed; even if death was his companion longer than anybody else, he’s still willing to let you put a protective bandaid on it and nurture it back to health. In return, Mydei serves as a shield around your heart, not allowing anyone past his unbreakable barrier, preserving your devotion. Bloodied his hands may be, but his love is that of the purest, reminiscent of a pearl lost long ago, yet glimmering just the same beyond the damaged shell.

Phainon as your significant other becomes the driving force to change the world; when you fall, he’s offering you his hand to help you stand back up. His unwavering loyalty transcends the shadows, the touch of his fingertips brings back the colors and patterns to the world painted in black and white. If your body dares to fall numb to the reaper’s scythe, his tears shall act as sprouts leading for a better tomorrow, granting him your warm embrace yet again.

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

Anaxa takes the most time out of them all to be vulnerable; there's nothing personal here - he's just aware of all people having their own agendas. Slowly but steadily, his trust for you grows, and his walls disappear one by one - it's a long process, but worth it. During that state, he's speaking in a monotone voice, avoiding eye contact and by the end, he offers you only a bittersweet smile.

Mydei is a tough cookie. He handles being vulnerable well, but it takes him a bit until he says what's on his mind - everything depends on how much he's able to trust you in this moment; pretty much as soon as he breaks the ice for the first time, he won't hesitate to speak what's on his mind next time. During that state, he's face falls, eyebrows draw together in heartache and occasionally, tears well up in his golden eyes.

I feel like Phainon is very emotionally available, so it's only a matter of time before he says what's inside his head; he doesn't need any more time nor proof. During that state, Phainon's hands curl into fists, his jaw tightens, and his cerulean eyes become glossy - only for his lips to quiver, letting the first tear run down his cheek.

W = Wild Card (Get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice)

Anaxa is surprisingly a very good housewife. Actually, he kinda likes cleaning, changing the bedsheets, dusting, watering the plants, all that jazz. For some reason, he also looks very ethereal doing it? You know, the sun rays hugging his face like he owns it, sparkling with beauty. And then he kicks you off the bed along with the sheet…

Most of the time Mydei has no other choice to wake up very early, which means you're still asleep - but ever since both of you share a home together, he hasn't failed to not give you a sweet kiss on your temples on your sleeping form. He cooks up a quick breakfast if possible before leaving, but ideally, he'd want to serve you breakfast in bed.

Phainon is the most groggy person in the morning that exists. He also refuses to talk, and answers you by whining in a different tone. He thinks of himself as a good person, but… maybe, just maybe, there's a chance that he won't get up until you pepper his face in kisses…

X = X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

Anaxa is not a fool - he brings you to a doctor as soon as possible, unless the situation doesn't allow him to - resorting to alchemy if that’s his last option.

Mydei uses parts of his clothing to tame your bleeding, defending your body from taking even more damage while waiting for healers - he wishes he could do more than that.

Phainon’s emotions get the best of him at the worst time - leaving him with doing the necessary things before wanting to break down, but knowing he can’t let that happen until help arrives.

Y = Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

It's A-NAK-SA-GO-RAS.

Mydei can't stand dirty dishes on the kitchen counter. Please put them in the sink! Poor wife.

Phainon and you both share the same pet peeve for each other: sacrificing yourself.

Z = Zzz (What’s a sleeping habit of theirs?)

Not really a sleeping habit I think? But Anaxa will NOT sleep in a bed with crumbs and nasty bedsheets.

Mydei puts on silly pajamas you buy for him… and still looks like he was carved by Michaelangelo himself...

Phainon is a terrible snorer, but stops when you kick him. It’s okay, he doesn’t mind. Would probably thank you, even.

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #anaxa #anaxa x reader #anaxagoras #hsr anaxa #mydei #mydei x reader #mydeimos #hsr mydei #phainon #phainon x reader #.headcanon

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watchmegetobsessed · 8 months ago

Text

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him.

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot.

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues.

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always.

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure.

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him.

“Profesor! So good to see you here!”

And here we go.

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests.

That’s when he sees her.

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time.

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them.

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway.

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace.

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle.

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her.

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced.

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose.

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes.

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly.

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks.

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling.

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh.

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman.

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads, recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception.

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet.

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance.

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then…

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him.

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further.

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him.

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him.

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen.

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins.

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts.

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins.

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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beast3end · 25 days ago

Text

A light the darkness of truth.

Summary: You, the personal disciple of the Sage of Truth, disappears so suddenly that it cannot but cause him anxiety. Fortunately, thanks to your friends, he notices your letter. But that still doesn't solve the main question: where are you? Characters: Truthless Recluse х reader (pure vanilla x reader); platonic! sage of truth & reader (shadow milk & reader). WC: 1,5k CW: fem!reader; there may be mistakes in the text because English is not my native language; the text contains original characters (your friends); A/N: The prologue can be strange and confusing, because I'm writing fanfiction inside my little AU, which I've expanded based on the official timeline of Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk costumes. I hope, despite this, you will enjoy this work! A/N 2: It was only after I wrote everything down that I realized that there was a Sable cookie in crk. But I didn't change anything.

Something's wrong.

The day went as planned: there were no classes in the morning and Shadow Milk spent most of his time in the library, studying books on the topic of a new dissertation, rechecking information already known; after lunch and until dinner, lectures; followed by a small meeting of professors of the Yogurt Academy…

Everything that was in his plans for today. Calmly. Serene. Sometimes his irritation got the better of him when he noticed students nodding off, but that's okay. There are more than one or two of them, it's even within his expectations. No one broke into his lecture or interfered with the learning process.

It's too quiet.

In the empty corridor, illuminated by the last rays of the sun, there was a nervous knock. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Lost in his thoughts, the Sage of Truth began tapping the textbook with his claw.

Why wasn't he pulled today? At least once a day, but his lecture was disrupted, and sometimes his schedule was shifted due to problems. The source of these problems was [Name], a young child who, if she could, would dry up even the sea itself for the sake of her curiosity. [Name] is not a student of the academy — [Name] is only his disciple. And, accordingly, he is responsible for her antics, otherwise it simply cannot be.

But it's so disgustingly peaceful today that Shadow Milk can't really concentrate. On the days when [Name] went to visit someone from the Sources*, she at least gave a few days' notice of her departure. Now, going over the memories of the past week, he could confidently say: that there had never been a word about anything like this.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

...Come to think of it, they didn't even manage to cross paths in the morning. Unlike him, [Name] prefers to sleep until noon, but invariably, day after day, she gets up as early as she can. Shadow Milk has a busier schedule than the rest of the academy's professors — sometimes his have to return home well after midnight. And [Name], knowing this, tried to be with him at least during a quick breakfast — with her face buried in the table, she sat next to him and slowly blinked, listening to her teacher's chatter. She used to fall asleep in this position while the Sage of Truth stroked her head.

Then he didn't bother her—there were days when [Name] ignored all her alarm clocks. It was just that later, after another lecture, she could burst into an empty classroom and start whining that he hadn't woken her up.

Probably in vain. He would need to check her room upon his return…

“Good evening!” a clear voice is heard somewhere from the side, as the Sage of Truth comes out of the academic building. He abruptly turned his head, looking in confusion at the two cookies rapidly approaching him.

What a hectic day it is. Where did they here?

"What a surprise," Shadow Milk nods, curiously surveying the group. The second cookie, standing silently behind her friend, frowned at his attention. The constant reaction, how charming. "I didn't know you were coming today, Biscotti, Sable."

Biscotti smiled awkwardly, scratching head.

“We didn't warn [Name].”

At these words, both cookies looked at him attentively. It was as if they expected their friend to jump out from behind him and pounce on them.

Shadow Milk smiled knowingly. Such a development of events unfolded before his eyes more than once and more than twice. [Name] was well aware of other people's personal boundaries, and then she was happy to break them.

“As you can see, she's not here.”

Sable sighed heavily, whispering something so softly that only Biscotti couldhear. Biscotti hissed at her friend, pushing her harder behind her back, after which she gave him a cursory glance. Shadow Milk pretended that he hadn't noticed either of them, and his friendly smile didn't waver a single gram.

"We've been looking for her all over the territory today, because she usually doesn't go outside the academy," Biscotti explained the situation as politely as possible, then added in a lower voice, muttering more into the void than to anyone in particular. "Did she really go to the city?"

No. [Name] rarely went to the city — she visited bookstores once a month, returning with at least a couple of books. Some of them were donated to the library, but especially valuable ones replenished their shelves.

“In any case, you can stay in your old room,” the Sage of Truth decided to end their conversation, having exhausted all the necessary information from this. "But I need to go to my office first."

"We'll go with you!" Biscotti perked up, ignoring how hard Sable tugged at her clothes. “It won't be so lonely together.”

“I appreciate it.”

Well, that's just as well. The anxiety that had accumulated all day carefully faded into the background as he listened to Biscotti's chatter. Sable was reluctant to answer or correct her friend, rolling her eyes after another joke.

His office greeted them with silence. No matter how much Shadow Milk listened, he couldn't catch any ragged breathing or restrained giggles. So [Name] wasn't here either. He clicks his tongue in displeasure, putting the textbook in the only available place.

What kind of ridiculous situation is this?

Worry involuntarily swirled in his head — if something happened to her... it's impossible to hide everything forever, right? Someone found out [Name] little secret — neither a resident of Dessert Paradise, nor source subordinates, but someone from ordinary cookies. Biased, living in ignorance, hating and fearing…

It's too dangerous.

“Oh, it's a letter from [Name]!”

Fortunately, he is pulled out of the whirlpool of anxious thoughts, reminding him that he is not alone here.

Biscotti was standing by his desk, examining the contents with interest. It was cluttered with documents and hundreds of hastily writtennotes. Normally, Shadow Milk would not have liked such an intervention.

But Biscotti was only interested in the sealed letter that lay on top of the papers. To be honest, Shadow Milk was also interested in it.

"Hello, Teacher! I do not know when you will find this letter, but I hope sooner rather than later. Don't worry, I'm fine. I haven't been able to get our conversation out of my head for the last few weeks... oh, if you can't remember what kind of conversation it was, then everything is fine! Perhaps it's even for the best, I think, otherwise you would have forbidden me to leave the walls of the Yogurt Academy. I went on a little trip—I don't know for how long. Maybe I'll go back to next week, or maybe in a month! This is not another mission from Silent Salt, so please don't bother them for nothing. I'm an adult now and I can take care of myself on my own. Don't stay at work too long and don't forget to take care of yourself in my absence! And also breathing exercises — remember them too, you don't need to terrorize the unfortunate students of the academy just because they understand the material a little worse than others. See you soon! Love, you No. 1 disciple, [Name]~."

Considering how neatly the letter was written, the Sage of Truth could to conclude: his disciple had been preparing for this escape for a long time and carefully. If his looked closely, his could see faint traces on the paper. This means that this is far from the first version of the letter, although it is still impossible to parse the previous version. Given the new information, it is also possible to conclude that [Name] went either in search of someone or something.… But it doesn't really help to narrow down the range of ideas where she might have gone. He often told her about some faraway places of the Earthbread, various plants, unique holidays in different kingdom, or about new, outstanding minds! But this is something, if he had known about it, he would not have allowed to leave the walls of the house.…

“Did she say where she was going?”

The Sage of Truth blinked, coming to his senses, and looked up from the letter to Sable. Irritation tickled somewhere in his chest, unsatisfied that his stream of thoughts had been interrupted, because he was almost…

Well, no. He needs to calm down.

Breath. Exhale.

“No.” Shadow Milk smiled, slightly clutching the paper in his hands. After looking around the room once more, he hummed thoughtfully to himself to finally add. “I have a couple of guesses, but to determine exactly, I need your help. I would be extremely grateful if you could do me a favor.”

“Oh, of co-”

"Why should we?" Sable quickly covered Biscotti's mouth with her hand, while not taking her displeased gaze off one of the Sources.

"You don't have to," nodded Shadow Milk. "But you want to find [Name], right? Then you should accept my request."

"...Okay," Sable agreed with obvious difficulty. "What do we need to do?"

"Oh, it's nothing complicated!" The Sage of Truth assured them with exaggerated enthusiasm, hiding the letter in the inside pocket of his coat. "I need you to compare all the available maps from the academy library with the list and tell me which ones are missing and for how long."

Sable's mouth dropped open in genuine surprise. This request clearly goes beyond "nothing complicated". Shadow Milk giggled contentedly.

Unfortunately, they've already agreed.

There's no turning back.

A small note, because it is impossible to tell this in the text itself: Sources are the local name for Beast. Why are they called Sources? But that's later.

@shinning-stars, you asked me to tag you! <3

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #pure vanilla #shadow milk #sage of truth #truthless recluse #sage of truth x reader #truthless recluse x reader #crk fanfic

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demonvibez · 1 year ago

Text

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath.

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours.

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him.

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap.

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place!

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops!

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork.

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms.

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince.

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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ur-local-wizard · 7 months ago

Text

Eye of the Storm

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

This is part 1! Purely build up in this, so not much fluff and no smut.

characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott being a little oblivious, use of y/n, characters are adults, i think that's it

w/c: 627

nav masterlist

°˖➶ part 2 part 3

a/n: was this supposed to be a oneshot? yes. did it turn into a multiple part story? also yes. (Shout out to an irl friend for helping come up with the title!! ily A)

Divination has never been your favorite class. Not because you’re bad at it, you’re actually quite an accomplished student, but because your desk partner was a nuisance.

Mattheo Riddle was the epitome of chaos. And the fact that nobody took Trelawney’s class seriously definitely didn’t help. He wouldn’t even show up half of the time. But when he did, he barely worked. He would just be scribbling in that notebook of his – the one he’s so protective of. “What’s in that notebook? It looks so beat up,” you asked once, leaning forward to get a better look. He immediately snapped the pages shut, “none of your business,” he told you. You haven’t mentioned it since.

But strangely enough, he’s been coming to class pretty consistently this past week. Not like he pays attention, though. And today was no different. His nose was stuck in his notebook, his hand gripping a pencil tight as he scribbled madly. He rarely looked up, but when he did, it was at you.

You brushed it off, however, telling yourself that he's just making sure you're not trying to sneak another peak at whatever it is he's so wrapped up in. Why would he be looking at you anyway? Or maybe you had something in your teeth.

By the time class ended, Mattheo had already rushed out. But strangely enough, he forgot his notebook. That was a first. He usually never goes anywhere without it. So, being the good person you are, you stuffed it in your bag and walked out the door – deciding that you would give it to him when you see him next.

The day passed by, and Mattheo was nowhere to be seen. Classes finally ended, and you strolled the halls looking for the Slytherin. After half an hour of looking, you gave up, deciding to wander the halls aimlessly. However, you were broken out of your reverie when you crashed into someone. You stumbled back, apologizing profusely.

“Shit- sorry,” a deep voice says. It had a hint of an Italian accent – was it Theo?

You looked up, and sure enough, your hunch was right. The tall European stood in front of you, looking down at the books that fell from your bag. Among them was Mattheo’s notebook. And it fell open to a page full of drawings, one of which caught your attention. It was an eye, drawn in exquisite detail. It was beautiful; the shading, delicate pencil strokes, the way he somehow was able to capture such raw emotion in such a little piece of art. It was truly mesmerizing.

You quickly dropped down and began to pick up the books sprawled out on the floor, putting Mattheo’s notebook away first. He never let you see what was inside, so you might as well try not to let Theo look at it any longer.

“Was… that your eye?” Theo asked, startling you. You didn’t even realize it was yours. All you could focus on was the sheer talent radiating from the page. You stood back up, slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Deciding to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, sorry for bumping into you.”

“It’s quite alright, bella. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No, no. I’m perfectly okay. Um… have you seen Mattheo? He left something of his in class,” you questioned.

“Left something in class? Are you sure you’re alright, y/n? The man never attends lectures. You should know that,” he chided, but the look on his face was one of concern.

“Okay, well, forget I said anything,” you blurted. And with that, you hurried away to your dorm, your quick footsteps ringing off the stone floors – a storm of mortification and curiosity warring within you.

This was an extremely short fic, but I hope you enjoyed it!! Let me know what you think! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

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vrstual · 14 days ago

Text

ᯓ .ᐟ ⊹ The Girlfriend Contract

- part two

ᯓ Pairing: Popular!Karina (Yu Jimin) × Cheerleader!Fem! Reader

ᯓ | When Jimin lies to her mom about being in a serious relationship, the last person she expects to drag into her mess is Y/n–the campus cheerleader she’s spent the last two years arguing with across lecture halls and parties. But now, to keep up appearances over the holidays, they have to fake date through family dinners, long car rides and even in school.

ᯓ Genre: Rivals to fake-dating to lovers, slow burn, college AU, family drama, soft angst, eventual fluff

ᯓ Warning: swearing, argument, a little toxic, family pressure.

ᯓ Content: 9k+ words.

part one, part two

It was Y/n’s idea. Obviously.

"We need to be more affectionate. You know—public bond, believable romance, all that.”

Jimin didn’t even look up from her phone. "Why would I want to be more affectionate with you?”

“Because if we don’t sell it, this whole thing falls apart, you didn't tell me that Yujin's cousin comes to our school." Y/n said, flipping her hair like she hadn’t just insulted Jimin’s entire existence by sitting on her couch in her cheer uniform.

Jimin rolled her eyes and let it go. She didn’t think anything would come of it.

Until the next morning.

A text. A photo.

Y/n in her mirror, ponytail tight, a smirk on her lips like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Smile rating? GF points?”

Jimin stared at it for a full minute before typing back: "Try again. 6/10.”

She said it to be annoying, to remind her that they weren’t friends. And then—because apparently she was losing her mind—she stopped at the café before class and got Y/n’s stupid drink.

The next day? Another selfie. This one with a peace sign. The day after that, a sleepy one, pillow hair and all. And again the day after, a cute one with breakfast.

She kept sending them. And Jimin kept showing up with coffee.

Y/n just started saying “thanks, babe” in front of people, and Jimin would glare but not deny it.

She’d insult her taste in music in the car. Y/n would mock her driving. But every morning, there she was. Jimin didn’t know when it became routine. And she definitely didn’t know why it bothered her when Y/n forgot one morning and didn’t text.

When they got back to campus, nothing changed. On the surface.

Y/n still rolled her eyes every time Jimin made a snarky comment. She still called her “cheer vilain” under her breath and mimicked her perfect posture when she wasn’t looking. She was the same — effortlessly confident, occasionally unbearable, and totally unfazed by how tangled their fake relationship was getting.

The only difference was that Jimin was starting to notice… everything.

Like the way Y/n flipped her hair when she was annoyed. The way she chewed gum like she was trying to intimidate someone. The way she laughed when she didn’t mean to — not the cheerleader laugh, the real one, quick and unguarded.

It was infuriating.

And Jimin hated how easy it was for Y/n to slide into character. Holding her hand in front of their classmates like it was nothing. Wrapping their hands together when they passed by people from cheer. Whispering dumb things in her ear just to make her laugh — or to make it look like she did.

She was good at this. Too good.

And Jimin was starting to forget which parts were fake.

Which was why, when Heeseung asked how things were going, Jimin straight-up threw a pillow at his face.

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, holding up his hands, “you’ve been way less grumpy lately. Maybe dating your mortal enemy is actually healthy?”

“She’s not my—” Jimin stopped herself. “We’re faking it. I told you that.”

Heeseung shrugged. “Yeah, and I told you lying to your mom would spiral. Now look at you, making out in front of the cafeteria.”

“We didn’t make out. She kissed me on the cheek.”

“Ohhh, right. My mistake. Super platonic cheek kisses.”

Jimin groaned and buried her face in a cushion. “I hate you.”

“No, you hate her,” he said, casually scrolling his phone. “Except now you get her coffee every morning which you know how exactly she likes it and stare at your phone like a golden retriever waiting for a good morning text.”

“I’m not—!”

He raised a brow as she shut up. The problem

was, Y/n didn’t know. About any of it. She thought they were still playing a game — still pretending. And maybe Jimin was too. She just didn’t know if she was pretending to be her girlfriend…

or pretending not to care.

Y/n was sprawled comfortably on Jimin’s couch, her feet tucked under her as she answered her phone with a cheery, “Oh! I’ll take that—Heeseung, stop hating on Meredith. She’s a complex character. And shut up.”

Y/n kicked her legs lightly as she leaned back against the couch, phone balanced on her shoulder, voice light.

“Oh my god, you didn’t! Wait, wait, Mrs. Yu—no, Jimin did not say that!"

She was talking about her bestfriend, like this was a normal catch-up with a longtime family friend, not her fake girlfriend’s mother.

Jimin stared.

From the kitchen counter, she gripped her mug a little tighter than necessary, pretending she was busy scrolling on her phone. But she wasn’t. Not really. She was listening to every word. Every laugh. Every “you’re so funny” and “I’d love to see pictures of baby Jimin.”

Heeseung leaned closer and muttered, “You good?”

Jimin shot him a glare, low and deadly. “Don’t start.”

But he just smirked, nudging her elbow. “Your mom likes her, a lot, more than me.”

“I said don’t start.”

Across the room, Y/n covered the speaker with her hand and turned toward them. “She wants to know if we’re coming to Busan again for the long weekend.”

We. Not you. Not Jimin. We.

Jimin blinked. “Why would we—?”

“I said maybe. Depending on practice and, you know, your schedule and stuff,” Y/n added, casually, like it was nothing. “Anyway, she’s sending me a kimchi recipe. Apparently yours is trash.”

Heeseung choked on a laugh.

Y/n tossed him a smug smile and went back to the call, the warmth never leaving her voice. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll text you the moment we’re on the road. Pinky promise.”

Jimin just stood there, watching her. Watching the way she tucked her chin into the pillow, her voice dropping to that soft, familiar tone that wasn’t meant for people like Jimin.

And it hit her again—Y/n was good at this. Too good.

Then Y/n hung up, set the phone aside, and stretched with a satisfied sigh. “Your mom says hi, by the way. And that I should stop letting you drink too much coffee. Apparently it makes you meaner.”

Jimin scoffed. “I’m not mean.”

“You’re literally scowling at me right now.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Okay, Wednesday Addams,” Y/n smirked, standing to grab her jacket. “You’re lucky I like your mom.”

Jimin didn’t answer.

She just stood there, heart pounding, arms crossed tight. Wondering how someone could get so close without even trying.

The car was silent except for the occasional hum of the engine, Jimin had pick up Y/n from cheer practice as she was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window, but her thoughts were racing.

Finally, she turned to Jimin, who had been unusually quiet since they left the gym. “It’s almost Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Jimin glanced at her, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, I know.”

Y/n took a deep breath, feeling a bit of hesitation in her voice. “We should do something for Valentine’s Day, don't you think?"

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, the confusion clear on her face. “Why?”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Well we're supposed to be—” Y/n paused, trying to find the right word, “—a couple, you know? Couples do Valentine's Day.”

Jimin’s expression hardened, clearly annoyed at the direction of the conversation. “I don’t get it. We’re just… pretending. None of this is real, it's unnecessary."

Y/n’s face tightened. “That's the thing we are pretending so we should do that sort of thing. What would your mom say when she will see we haven't post any pictures on Instagram, I don’t want her to get suspicious, Jimin.”

Jimin was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead as if trying to process everything Y/n had said. She didn’t want to admit it, but her mom had been obsessed with their couple.

But still, Jimin didn’t want to go along with this.

“Why do we have to force ourselves?” Jimin finally muttered, her voice low. “Why can’t we just let this… die down on its own? This whole fake relationship thing is already so messed up. Valentine's Day is way too intimate.”

Y/n rolled her eyes in frustration. “I'm not asking you to marry me because this isn’t about us or what we feel. It’s about keeping up appearances, keeping your family from questioning the whole thing.”

Jimin was quiet again, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel as she processed everything. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how this was spiraling. But Y/n was right, and she knew it.

With a heavy sigh, Jimin finally muttered, “Fine. But just one day. One dinner. A couple of pictures. That’s it. After that, no more, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Y/n muttered, eyes fixed on the blurred city lights outside the car window. Her voice was low, tired. “Do you still hate me, Jimin?”

Jimin gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw flexing. “Of course. What kind of question is that?”

“Just asking,” Y/n said, shoulders rising in a small shrug. The air between them grew thick with silence.

Jimin didn’t respond. The soft hum of the engine filled the car, headlights casting faint glows against passing cars.

Y/n spoke again. “Should I stop sending pictures every morning? You don’t even answer. Minjeong told me you might think it’s unnecessary.”

Jimin’s head turned slightly. “No—keep going. It’s only fair, I bring you coffee.”

“You don’t even reply.”

Jimin scoffed under her breath. “What am I supposed to do? Call you pretty?”

Y/n finally turned to face her, expression unreadable. “I’m your girlfriend. Fake or not, you never reply to any of my texts, Jimin. How am I supposed to know you—pretend to know you—if I can’t even get a ‘yeah, I ate’ or ‘I’m not coming over after tutoring lessons'? I sit there, alone, like an idiot, thinking maybe you’ll show up."

Jimin looked away, eyes fixed on the streetlights ahead. Her voice dropped. “I just don’t want it to feel real.”

“It’s already real, Jimin,” Y/n said quietly, not angrily, just… resigned. “We’re posting pictures. I’m talking to your mom. I’m showing up with you everywhere.”

Silence again. Then Jimin muttered, “I don’t want you close.”

Y/n laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Okay. I get it."

The car finally stopped in front of Y/n's building.

“I still hate you too. Just so you know,” she added.

Jimin’s hand twitched on the steering wheel. Her voice barely above a whisper: “Yeah. I know.”

Y/n didn’t move. Her hand stayed on the door handle, but she didn’t pull it open. She just sat there, eyes down, fingers curling slightly against the cold metal.

Jimin risked a glance at her.

Outside, the rain tapped lightly against the windshield. The city was quiet for once, wrapped in that stillness that only really came late at night. Inside the car, everything felt loud. Their breathing. The unsaid things. The weight of what they were doing—and what it was starting to become.

“Look,” Jimin started, voice low, like she wasn’t sure she should even say it. “I’m trying, alright? This was never supposed to go past Christmas. You weren’t supposed to be so… good at this.”

Y/n gave her a look. “Good at pretending?”

Jimin swallowed. “Good at… being part of my life.”

Y/n let that sit for a second before replying, voice sharp again. “Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like being near me is some kind of punishment, it wouldn’t feel like I’m doing this alone.”

That stung more than Jimin expected.

Y/n finally opened the door but paused halfway out, leaning back in just enough to add, without looking at her, “Don’t worry. I won’t make it real for you.”

Then she shut the door behind her and walked up the steps to Y/n's building without another word.

Jimin stayed behind in the car, eyes locked on the steering wheel, her fingers tight around it. The silence returned, heavier than before.

She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. But it did.

And that scared her.

Jimin sat in her car for a long time after Y/n left. The empty passenger seat felt heavier than it should’ve, the air thick with things she didn’t want to name. She stared blankly through the windshield, her fingers clenched around the steering wheel like if she held on tight enough, maybe everything would make sense.

She hated this. Not Y/n—well, maybe a little—but mostly the way this fake thing was becoming something she had to think about.

“You don’t even reply.”

She remembered the look on Y/n’s face when she said that. Not angry. Just tired.

Eventually, Jimin drove off. No direction. Just a need to get away. She ended up at a small convenience store, the kind that still had yellowed tiles and humming refrigerators. She grabbed sushi without thinking—her comfort food, even if it was sad and overpriced in Seoul.

She sat with it in the car. Opened the little soy sauce packets. Took a bite. And for some reason, all she could think about was how Y/n would’ve complained about the rice being soggy.

Which is exactly how, thirty minutes later, she ended up back outside her own apartment.

Y/n opened the door in pajama shorts and a messy bun, half-surprised and half-annoyed.

“You’re back,” she said, crossing her arms.

Jimin held up the bag of sushi. “Peace offering.”

“You literally drove away.”

“I panicked. Shut up,” she muttered. “Anyway, I thought about what you said. And you’re right. If we’re going to do this until May, we might as well not suck at it.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “So your grand plan was… sushi?”

“And bonding,” Jimin added, stepping inside without asking. “You like stupid little bonding moments, don’t you?”

Y/n snorted. “You’re unbearable.”

They sat on the floor, Jimin spreading napkins like it was some sort of picnic. She passed Y/n her favorite roll, somehow remembering from a time they were barely speaking.

“Alright,” Jimin said, chewing, “since we’re ‘getting to know each other’—favorite movie?”

Y/n looked at her, skeptical. “Seriously?”

“Answer the question, cheerleader.”

Y/n sighed, but she played along. “Clueless.”

Jimin paused mid-bite. “…That tracks.”

Y/n grinned. “Yours?”

“Fight club.”

“Of course.”

The questions came easy after that. Favorite comfort food. Most hated teacher. First concert. They laughed when they realized they both snuck out to see BLACKPINK back in high school, probably standing in the same stadium at the same time.

Y/n leaned back on her hands. “Okay. Your turn. Deep question: if you weren’t scared of failing, what would you be doing right now?”

Jimin blinked.

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

“…Probably something completely different,” she said eventually, softer. “But I don’t know what. Not pretending, though.”

Y/n didn’t push. She just nodded and looked down at the soy sauce packet beside her.

They weren’t friends. They weren’t lovers. They were still enemies. But for one night, with cold sushi and honesty between them, they were something else.

Maybe something that mattered.

The soy sauce packet slipped from Y/n’s hand and splashed onto her wrist.

“Shit,” she muttered, wiping it off with a napkin. “You’d think after years of sushi runs I’d have mastered opening one of these.”

Jimin snorted, mouth full of rice. “You act like you’re graceful but you’re literally chaos.”

“Thanks,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Remind me to never compliment you again.”

They were sitting cross-legged on Y/n’s living room floor, boxes of sushi and drinks scattered between them, backs resting against the couch. It was quiet in a comfortable way — almost too comfortable for two girls who swore they hated each other.

Jimin reached for another salmon roll. “So… what other things do we have to practice for this fake dating thing?”

Y/n blinked. “You’re actually taking this seriously now?”

Jimin shrugged, chewing. “Better than letting everyone realize we’re lying.”

Y/n leaned back on her hands, eyes on the ceiling. “Well. If we’re being thorough… Ningning is planning this ridiculous Valentine’s Day couple challenge thing.”

Jimin groaned. “Why are cheerleaders like this?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. "I don’t know, but you’re dating one. So suck it up.”

“Fake dating,” Jimin corrected quickly.

Y/n smirked. “Sure.”

Jimin side-eyed her. “What kind of things are in the challenge?”

Y/n hesitated. “Matching outfits. Answering question right. Sharing food. A cute morning selfie post. And, uh…”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/n kept her gaze on the sushi box. “There’s a kissing round.”

A beat of silence.

Jimin blinked. “And you’re suddenly shy? You literally kissed Jeno on the field once during a pep rally.”

Y/n’s face dropped. “No, I didn’t. That was rumour his friends started."

Jimin stared. “So what you have kissed him anyway." Y/n only look away from her. "You’ve never kissed him?”

Y/n picked at her chopsticks. “No. It just… never happened. Not with Jeno, not anyone. And now it’s supposed to happen with you in a couple challenge that Ningning’s probably livestreaming.”

Jimin blinked again. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

More silence. The rustling of chopsticks. The fizz of soda opening.

“I mean—” Jimin started, licking soy sauce from her lip, “—we can practice. If you want.”

Y/n turned to her slowly. “Practice?”

“You’re the one panicking about messing up a kiss in public,” Jimin shrugged, trying to sound casual but clearly a little thrown. “It’s not that deep. We’re pretending to be dating. It’s method acting.”

Y/n laughed nervously. “Do you… kiss all your enemies as practice?”

“No,” Jimin said, leveling her gaze. “Just the annoying cheerleader ones who send me selfies every morning and steal the last spicy tuna.”

Y/n’s heart beat a little faster, but she disguised it with a scoff. “Right. Strictly business.”

Jimin nodded. “Strictly.”

But neither of them moved to turn the TV back on. And neither of them reached for more sushi.

Just quiet tension, and a shared thought they both refused to say out loud yet.

Not yet.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Y/n said quickly finally breaking the silence unsure why she even brought it up. “It’s not like they’re gonna kick us out of the couple challenge if the kiss is awkward.”

Jimin tilted her head. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

Y/n bit her lip, avoiding eye contact. “Because I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

A. beat passed. The dim light in Jimin’s living room made everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” Jimin said after a moment. “This is… weirdly serious for you.”

“It’s my first kiss,” Y/n admitted again, barely a whisper.

Jimin sat up straighter. “Okay.” She breathed in slowly. “We’ll go slow.”

Y/n blinked. “Right now?”

Jimin gave her a look. “You want to wait until Valentine’s Day with a hundred eyes watching you?”

“…Good point.”

Jimin leaned in just a little, like testing the water. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, heart racing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one sweating,” Jimin teased softly.

Y/n shoved her shoulder. “Shut up.”

But then Jimin was looking at her again. Not in that way she usually did — the one with the sarcastic edge or exasperated sigh. This one was different. Patient. Curious.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” Jimin said quietly.

And she did. Soft, careful, barely there — just a brush of lips. It lasted maybe two seconds. Then another one, a little more sure.

Y/n froze at first, but then she leaned in. Let it happen. The kind of kiss that wasn’t electric, or life-shattering — just warm and safe and real.

When they pulled apart, Jimin looked away first.

“That was…” Y/n said, voice stuck somewhere between a breath and a laugh.

“Not bad,” Jimin offered, standing up too quickly, pretending to stretch. “You’ll survive.”

Y/n just nodded. “Cool. Um… thanks. For helping.”

“No big deal,” Jimin muttered, already pretending to scroll on her phone. “Let’s forget it happened.”

But she didn’t forget.

Jimin walked in with Y/n by her side, their hands casually brushing, like it had become a habit.

Ningning’s place was decked out in the most excessive (and slightly chaotic) Valentine’s aesthetic imaginable. Pink streamers clung to every wall, heart-shaped confetti was already sticking to everyone’s socks, and a faint scent of chocolate and artificial strawberries lingered in the air.

Ningning’s living room had been transformed into a pastel heart-filled wonderland — balloons in every shade of pink and red, chocolate fountains on the kitchen counter, and a handmade photobooth Ningning had forced every couple into.

Y/n had already taken three photos with Jimin — one holding fake roses, one with a candy heart filter, and one where she leaned against Jimin’s shoulder. The first two, Jimin had scowled. The last… Jimin didn’t even realize she was smiling.

Now, as the party settled into casual chaos — soft music playing, people snuggled in corners, eating or playing card games — Jimin found herself standing by the drink table alone, watching Y/n laugh with Yizhuo and Liz like she’d always been part of this world.

“You okay?” Minjeong’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Jimin turned. “Oh. Yeah. Just tired.”

Minjeong handed her a chocolate-covered strawberry. “You guys are kinda perfect together. I didn’t think I’d ever say that.”

Jimin blinked. “…What?”

Minjeong smiled, eyes soft and sincere. “I’ve known her since we were kids. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy — this light. It’s like she doesn’t have to try with you. Like she can just be.”

Jimin didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her mind ran over every moment from the past few weeks — the morning selfies, the coffee runs, the sushi night, that stupid kiss practice that had her staring at the wall all night after.

Minjeong leaned closer, voice lowering like it was a secret. “She’s falling for you deeply, Jimin. I think you are too. Well if it didn't happen yet." She giggled.

Jimin’s heart clenched, not because Minjeong was right — but because she didn’t know how wrong she was.

This wasn’t real. Except, it didn’t feel fake anymore.

And that’s what terrified her the most.

“Okay! Everyone shut up — it’s game time!” Ningning called out, standing on her coffee table with a pink heart-shaped megaphone.

Y/n, curled up next to Jimin on the love seat, groaned quietly. “She’s been waiting all week to do this.”

Jimin leaned in, murmuring back. “Why do I feel like this is where we get exposed?”

“Because it is,” Y/n whispered, her voice dry.

Ningning cleared her throat dramatically. “Alright! Time for the Couples Challenge — Valentine’s Edition. You’ll be tested on how in sync you really are. And yes, there’s a prize, and yes, it’s stupidly cute.”

Minjeong, sitting below her girlfriend with an amused smile, added, “She made it. It’s a DIY ‘Most Adorable Couple’ plaque.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin muttered under her breath.

Ningning continued, clapping her hands. “Final round is a kiss. Not just any kiss — the longest kiss wins bonus points.”

Y/n turned to Jimin. “We’re not doing that.”

Jimin blinked, face already flushed. “Obviously.”

“But if we don’t, we lose.”

“We don’t need to win.”

“But your mom follows my Instagram.”

“…Goddamn it.”

ROUND 1: Trivia Match

“What’s your partner’s favorite midnight snack?”

Jimin blinked at Y/n’s paper. “You wrote… string cheese?”

Y/n nodded. “With honey mustard.”

“Disturbing.” Jimin held up “banana milk.”

“You know me so well.”

ROUND 2: Touch test

Y/n was blindfolded as she touched Jimin’s face — the curve of her jaw — she paused.

“Cheek?” she guessed.

Jimin looked at her strangely. “…Jaw.”

“Close enough.”

They didn’t hold eye contact after that.

ROUND 3: Most likely to...

Question: Who’s most likely to start a fight over nothing?

Y/n confidently writes Jimin. Jimin writes Y/n.

They glare.

“Really?”

“I’m not the one who slammed my locker because I couldn’t find my lip balm.”

“That was one time and it was lip gloss, Jimin!”

They get a point for “sync in chaos.”

ROUND 4: Spill or Kiss

Ningning reads the question:

“What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done for each other?”

Y/n panics. “We're not— I mean—”

Jimin shrugs, cool. “She sends me a photo every morning so I don’t forget her face.”

Everyone went "awwww.”

Y/n turns red.

Then Jimin turns to her and whispers, “Your turn.”

Y/n frowns. “She brings me coffee every morning… but she never says hi.”

Everyone went "awww" once again.

FINAL ROUND: The Kiss Round

The air in Ningning’s living room was warm with laughter and music, fairy lights glowing soft above their heads. Pillows were scattered, people were lounging with drinks in hand, and couples were tangled together like puzzle pieces that somehow fit.

Jimin sat upright on the floor, stiff, her hand clenching her soda can a little too tight. She wasn’t built for games like this — not ones that tugged at things she wasn’t ready to name.

“Alright,” Ningning announced with a clap, “Final round! The couples kiss. Audience votes. Ten seconds minimum. No cheating. And we want passion you have to kiss your partner like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them. Most convincing wins.”

Someone whistled. Jimin’s stomach sank.

She turned slightly, catching the glow of Y/n’s face beside her. Smaller, still out of breath from laughing too hard during the last round. Her hair was slightly tousled, her cheeks flushed. Y/n met her eyes and smirked just a little. “Should we lose on purpose?”

Jimin opened her mouth to say yes — please, let’s just bow out — but her mother’s voice rang faint in her ears: “You’re doing so well, sweetie. Y/n really grounds you.”

She couldn’t afford suspicion. Not now.

“No,” she muttered. “We’ll win.”

Y/n’s brows rose, surprised. “You sure?”

Before Jimin could answer, the spotlight — or Ningning’s dramatic pointing — landed on them.

“Y/n and Jimin. You’re up.”

Jimin turned to face Y/n, already feeling the warmth crawl up her neck. Everyone was watching.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed. That practice kiss still lingered somewhere in the back of her mind. But that was private, awkward — tentative. This? This was a performance. And maybe something more.

The whole room faded to the background.

“We said we should act like it’s real,” Jimin whispered softly for only the cheerleader to hear, almost like a warning. Then, lower, “So let’s make it real.”

And before Y/n could answer, Jimin leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t delicate.

It was full-bodied, anchored. Jimin kissed her like she meant it — like the room had disappeared, like Y/n wasn’t the girl she hated for years, but someone she knew. One hand still firm on Y/n’s jaw, the other moved to her waist, pulling her closer like she couldn’t stand the space between them.

Y/n’s breath caught. Her hands found Jimin’s hoodie, gripping it weakly, the edges of her world spinning. She didn’t know where to put the flood of feeling rushing through her — wasn’t sure if it was the kiss, or the fact that Jimin was really kissing her.

When Jimin finally pulled back, there was a beat of silence — heavy and stunned.

Then the room exploded. Laughter, clapping, cheering.

“Okayyy!” Ningning screamed. “I think we have a winner!”

The knock on the door came just as Y/n was flicking through the most depressing fridge she’d ever seen. Empty shelves. One sad can of soda. Half a lemon.

She opened the door and blinked when she saw Jimin standing there, holding a bag of takeout and looking way too casual in sweatpants and a hoodie.

“You looked hungry through text,” Jimin said, walking in without waiting.

“I didn’t send a selfie this morning.”

“I know.”

Y/n’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything as Jimin unloaded the food on her small kitchen table — tteokbokki, kimbap, and fried chicken. All her favorites. Y/n couldn’t help but grin a little.

“Okay. I’ll allow you to invade my apartment if you keep doing this.”

“You love me,” Jimin smirked, almost out of habit.

“You wish,” Y/n muttered around a bite, lips stained with red sauce.

They sat together on the floor, legs stretched under the table, food between them. The TV played in the background, but neither was paying attention. They laughed more than they had in days — mostly at Jimin’s terrible impersonation of Heeseung trying to flirt.

Jimin was happy.

But she didn’t realize just how happy until Y/n, lying back on the floor with her stomach full, casually said:

Jimin licked some sauce off her thumb, catching Y/n staring. “What?”

“Nothing.” Y/n grinned. “You’re just—so serious when you eat.”

“I’m focused.”

“You’re dramatic.”

Jimin rolled her eyes but her lips tugged up. She hadn’t realized how easy it had become to laugh with her.

Y/n nudged her shoulder. “You’re fun when you’re not hating me.”

“I still hate you,” Jimin replied, but it came out too soft to sound convincing.

“Sure.” Y/n smiled, stretching out. “Hey, Jack’s throwing a party tonight. Wanna come?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Jack? As in frat-boy Jack?”

Y/n laughed. “Yeah, but it’s not that deep. Minjeong’s going. Everyone will be there.”

“I didn’t think you’d wanna show up with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Y/n looked up, genuine curiosity in her voice. “We’re dating, remember?"

Jimin blinked. “Right. Dating.”

Y/n didn’t press. She just stood, brushing off her sweats. “We can go for like an hour. If you want.”

And for some reason, Jimin found herself nodding.

The house was already packed when they arrived — music thumping, voices rising above the bass, neon lights flickering against the walls like a heartbeat. Jimin followed Y/n through the crowd, her hand barely brushing the back of the cheerleader’s head. She could smell her shampoo in the air between them. Peach and vanilla.

The moment they stepped into the living room, a chorus of cheers erupted.

“Y/n!” Ningning squealed from across the room, a red plastic cup in one hand and her girlfriend, Minjeong, barely managing to hold her back with the other.

Y/n laughed. “I told you they’d be loud.”

Jimin offered a faint smile, nodding to Minjeong — the only one here who seemed to feel the same way as her about the party — before being swept into a crowd of unfamiliar faces.

At first, it was fine. Y/n stayed close. She introduced Jimin as her girlfriend with casual charm that made it almost believable. They clinked drinks, smiled for a few pictures, even laughed with Liz and Beomgyu about how badly they’d bomb a couples trivia round.

But then it shifted.

Y/n got pulled into Ningning’s circle — all glossed lips, glittery eyeshadow, and voices sharpened with popularity. She blended in too well. Her laughter grew louder. She tossed her hair over her shoulder like she knew every eye was on her — because they were.

And Jimin? Jimin stood at the edge of it all, invisible.

She hated how familiar it felt. Watching Y/n shine while she sank into the background. She tried not to let it bother her. Tried to remind herself that it wasn’t real. None of this was.

But then he appeared.

Jeno.

Jimin’s stomach twisted the second she saw him, drink in hand, grin stretched lazy across his face as he moved through the crowd like he owned it. He spotted Y/n almost immediately and slid up beside her, leaning in to speak close — too close — lips nearly brushing her ear.

Y/n laughed.

Jimin’s jaw clenched.

Her cup was empty. She didn’t even remember drinking it. She turned to leave, needing air or silence or literally anything but this — but then it hit her.

The reason Y/n agreed to this in the first place.

She wasn’t trying to help Jimin.

She was trying to make him jealous.

Jimin froze at the doorway, eyes still on Y/n and Jeno, the way he placed his hand on her waist like it belonged there.

It shouldn’t bother her.

But it did.

Because the way Y/n looked tonight wasn’t just pretty. She was breathtaking. Real and here and laughing at a joke that Jimin would never get to hear.

She suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore.

She wanted to disappear — or worse — pull Y/n away and ask who she thought she was trying to hurt, because it sure as hell wasn’t Jeno anymore.

It was her.

Jimin hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.

She stood in the middle of the crowded party, surrounded by people she barely knew and music that was starting to feel like static.

It made Jimin’s chest tighten.

“You look like you’re about to punch someone,” a familiar voice teased behind her.

She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Minjeong.

“Just tired,” Jimin muttered, arms crossed as she forced her gaze away.

Minjeong moved beside her, sipping from a red cup. “Tired and jealous look eerily similar on you.”

Jimin didn’t respond, jaw tightening slightly.

Minjeong smiled knowingly. “You know… I didn’t think Y/n was the relationship type. But you really changed something in her.”

That made Jimin turn, brows pulling together. “What?”

Minjeong tilted her head, sincere now. “She used to get bored of people so easily. Even with Jeno, it never looked like this. But with you? She glows. She’s actually letting someone see her — and I’ve known her long enough to know how rare that is.”

Jimin blinked. Her heart stuttered.

She wasn’t sure what hurt more — the fact that Minjeong believed it, or the fact that she didn’t know if it was still fake.

“I…” Jimin started, voice dry but no words came out.

Jimin stared blankly at the floor. Minjeong gave her a pat on the arm and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the dull pulse of music in the background.

Then—

“Jimin!” Y/n's voice.

Her name cut through the bass-heavy music, and Jimin glanced up just in time to see Y/n weaving through the crowd toward her. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, maybe from the drinks, and she had that wide, excited grin she always wore when she was riding a high of attention.

“There you are,” Y/n said, catching her breath. “Come play beer pong with me.”

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“C’mon,” Y/n tugged her hand without waiting, “I need a partner. Ningning already took Minjeong, and I am not playing with Beomgyu again, he does the absolute most.”

Jimin didn’t want to. She wanted to leave, actually. But Y/n’s hand was warm, and the way she was smiling made it hard to say no.

So she followed.

The basement was louder, smell of beer and too much perfume mingling in the air. Jimin could barely hear herself think, but before she could protest, someone handed her a red solo cup and Y/n was lining up the ping pong ball.

“I’ll start,” Y/n said confidently, and Jimin just raised a brow.

They were winning — mostly because Y/n was competitive and charismatic, and people liked watching her. But every time someone made a comment like “Damn, power couple!” or “You two are too hot, this is unfair,” Jimin took a longer sip of her drink.

She wasn’t counting how many she’d had. She just knew she was warm, her cheeks tingled, and she felt a little too exposed every time Y/n leaned into her personal space to laugh, or high-five, or whisper something in her ear to throw off the other team.

By the fourth round, Jimin’s aim was off.

Y/n turned to her, chuckling. “You good?”

“Fine,” Jimin mumbled, but she was squinting at the cups like they were multiplying.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not—” Jimin paused, swayed slightly. “Okay maybe a little.”

Y/n smiled, stepping closer, her hand grazing Jimin’s lower back. “You’re a lightweight.”

Jimin stared at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Y/n just grinned wider, dimples showing. “A little.”

And then someone cheered — they had won again — and Y/n turned to give Jimin a hug, arms wrapping around her shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jimin froze.

Not because she didn’t like it — but because she did.

And that terrified her.

“Hey, there you are,” Jeno's voice appeared behind her, slipping next to her like nothing. “Thought I lost you earlier. I wanted to finish what we were talking about.”

"I thought we had finished talking." Y/n smirked.

“Come on,” he laughed, leaning in slightly. “You don’t have to keep pretending now. We both know this whole ‘girlfriend’ thing is because you wanna get back at me."

Before Y/n could answer, Jimin stepped into the conversation.

“What did you just say?”

Jimin’s voice wasn’t as sharp as usual — it had that drunk haze to it, slurred just at the edges. But her eyes were burning. There was no mistaking the fire behind them.

Jeno raised an eyebrow, amused. “Relax, it’s a joke. Just saying it’s cute, the way she’s dragging this whole thing out. Didn’t expect you to fall for it.”

Jimin stepped forward, a little unsteady on her feet, but not stopping. “Dragging what out?” she asked, low.

Jeno chuckled, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just poured gasoline on something dangerous. “You really think this is real? Come on, you don’t even look like her type. Thought I had her figured out, but guess not.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” Jimin snapped, pointing a lazy finger at him. “She’s not yours to talk about.”

“Oh, so she’s yours now?”

The words hit her like a slap — and not in the way he expected. She stood a little straighter, less wobbly. Drunk or not, Jimin’s voice sharpened.

“Yeah. She is.”

Jeno blinked, his smug expression faltering.

“I know what you’re doing,” Jimin continued, a little louder now. “You wanna feel important again, so you bring her up like you still have something on her. You don’t.”

People were starting to watch now, the party quieting around the scene.

Jeno looked to Y/n, like she might save him. “You’re just gonna let her talk like that for you?”

Y/n took a breath, but before she could speak, Jimin cut in again.

“She doesn’t need to say anything,” she snapped. “But I’m not letting you throw some fake ego tantrum at her like she owes you anything. You lost her, Jeno. That’s on you.”

There was a thick silence.

Then Jeno’s voice dropped lower. “You don’t know what she’s like when she gets bored.”

That was when Jimin laughed — bitter and breathy as she shove him.

“You really think she’s pretending?” Her words slurred again, but they hit harder than ever. “You think she’d waste her time playing around with someone like me just to get back at you?”

Jeno stared. Didn’t answer.

Jimin smiled, sharp and crooked. “You don’t know her at all.”

He muttered a curse, stepping back. “Whatever. You two are a f*cking mess.”

And then he walked away.

Jimin stood there, swaying slightly, the adrenaline mixing with alcohol. Her chest was heaving.

Y/n stepped in, gently wrapping a hand around Jimin’s arm. “Okay. That’s enough. You need water.”

“I’m fine,” Jimin muttered, but her voice broke a little.

“You’re not,” Y/n whispered. “But thank you.”

Jimin didn’t say anything — just let herself be led away, Y/n’s arm steady around her.

And even drunk, even overwhelmed, she knew:

She wasn’t pretending anymore. Not even a little.

The second the apartment door closed behind them, Jimin stumbled out of her shoes, nearly tripping on the rug. Y/n caught her by the arm.

“Okay—whoa, slow down, champ,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You’re wasted.”

“I’m not,” Jimin slurred, squinting at her. “I’m just… dizzy. From the rage. And… beer pong.”

Y/n guided her to the couch, where Jimin dramatically collapsed, draping herself across the cushions like a fallen hero.

“I could’ve taken him,” Jimin muttered, staring at the ceiling. “I should’ve punched him harder. Right in the stupid, smug face. Who names their kid Jeno, anyway?”

Y/n grabbed her a glass of water and sat next to her. “You didn’t punch him at all.”

“I wanted to!” Jimin sat up, unsteady. “He doesn’t deserve to look at you like that. Like you’re his. Like he owned some part of you. You’re not—” she paused, eyes heavy. “You’re not his anymore.”

Y/n blinked, her breath catching. “You’re really mad.”

“I am,” Jimin nodded seriously, and then her face crumpled. “I think I’m gonna cry. Wait, no—no, I’m good.”

Y/n stared at her, her expression unreadable in the low glow of the streetlights. Then she said, almost shyly, “You’re really bad at hating me, you know that?”

Jimin snorted. “No. I’m excellent at it. I’ve just got layers.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like… I can hate you and still think you deserve better.”

That shut Y/n up.

Y/n held the water to her lips, and Jimin drank obediently, blinking slowly as she leaned back. There was a pause, quiet, soft.

“You know…” Jimin mumbled after a beat. “I forgot why I hated you in the first place.”

Y/n turned to her, surprised. “Seriously?”

Jimin nodded again, looking up at her with a haze in her eyes. “I think you’re really pretty. Even when you’re annoying.”

Y/n’s heart jumped.

“I mean,” Jimin added, “you’re still you, but… when you smiled earlier—like, when you were talking to Ningning? You looked happy. And I liked that.”

Y/n was quiet, processing her words.

“Jimin…” she whispered, voice lower now.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe you should sleep.”

Jimin closed her eyes slowly. “Only if you stay.”

Y/n hesitated, then reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over both of them. Jimin curled into her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And as the room fell into a sleepy silence, Y/n sat there, heart pounding, wondering when all of this—this pretend—had started to feel like something she couldn’t untangle herself from.

Something real.

The sky outside was still dipped in early morning grey, barely tinged with pink. It bled softly through the curtains, scattering gentle light across the small living room. Jimin blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting as a dull throb pulsed behind them. Her mouth felt dry, her skin warm, and she could feel the weight of something—someone—pressed beside her.

Y/n.

At first, she thought she was still dreaming. Her head felt too light, her limbs too heavy. But as she turned her head slightly and was met with the very real sight of Y/n tucked against her side, reality settled in fast.

Her breathing paused.

Y/n was curled up, almost instinctively, against her chest, her body pressed close like it belonged there. Her hand rested against Jimin’s waist, fingers slightly curled into the fabric of her shirt. Her face was buried just beneath Jimin’s collarbone, the rise and fall of her breaths steady, calm, unaware.

Jimin swallowed, her heart thudding against her ribs.

The last thing she remembered was the party. The noise. The crowd. The heat.

Jeno.

The thought of him made Jimin’s stomach twist. His voice, that smug tone, the way he looked at Y/n like she still belonged to him, like Jimin had stolen something. Like she didn’t matter. And maybe the drinking hadn’t helped, maybe she had been reckless—but God, the way her blood boiled when he touched Y/n’s arm, the way he had spoken down to her, dismissed her like she was disposable—

And then it was a blur. Arguing. Yelling. The shoving. Hands almost flying. And then someone pulling her away—maybe Y/n—and the next thing she remembered was being wrapped in a blanket, in the dark, Y/n’s voice soft beside her.

“Just sleep it off, dumbass,” Y/n had muttered, but there was a gentleness in her voice. Not anger. Not annoyance.

Just concern.

And now they were here.

Wrapped up in each other like they hadn’t spent the last few months pretending. Like they weren’t faking everything for the sake of their reputations and a lie they told their families. Like this wasn’t supposed to be temporary.

It was quiet.

So quiet it made Jimin’s chest ache.

She looked down again. Y/n’s hair was a little messy, her lips slightly parted. She looked peaceful—nothing like the girl who usually rolled her eyes at Jimin during practice or called her names under her breath when she thought she couldn’t hear.

She looked… soft.

And Jimin realized, with a sharp pang in her chest, that something had shifted.

Not just last night, not just in the heat of that party—but somewhere along the way. Somewhere between the morning coffees and the pillow forts, the fake confessions and the forced laughs. Somewhere between the effort to make this look real and the moments where it felt real, she had stopped noticing the difference.

She let her head fall back onto the pillow and closed her eyes.

“This is fake,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud would ground her again. “This is fake.”

But even in the stillness of the morning, even with Y/n breathing against her neck, Jimin felt like she was lying to herself.

The problem was—it didn’t feel fake anymore.

And Jimin didn’t know what scared her more:

The fact that Y/n might feel it too.

Or the fact that she absolutely didn’t.

As the cheer competition approached, Jimin found herself spiraling. She wasn’t sure if it was the looming pressure of the event, her parents’ constant reminders about her summer plans with Y/n, or the fact that the end of their fake relationship felt closer than ever. Maybe it was all of it — the excitement, the anxiety, the weight of it all pressing against her chest like an invisible hand.

Her mind was clouded. For weeks, she’d buried herself in the act — the fake dates, the fake affection, the fake moments that somehow felt a little too real. But now, with the final competition in sight, Jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that the bubble they’d been living in was about to burst.

Every time she saw Y/n, it felt like the end was inevitable, like the ticking clock of their arrangement was growing louder. The summer was coming, and Y/n’s family was already making plans for them — plans that Jimin couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be part of Y/n’s life, but that terrified her even more. What would happen when the competition was over? Would they just go back to being nothing? Would everything they’d shared disappear?

Y/n didn’t seem affected by any of it. She didn’t talk about the end of the arrangement or what would come after. It was like nothing was changing for her. It only made Jimin’s heart ache more. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the abyss.

But every time she looked at Y/n, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. How could something so real feel so fake?

The day of the competition arrived, and Jimin found herself driving Y/n to the bus. Y/n’s cheer squad was heading to the finals, and Jimin’s heart was heavy with more than just the usual nerves.

“Good luck, okay?” Jimin said quietly as she parked in front of the bus. She glanced at Y/n, her heart skipping a beat when their eyes met.

Y/n smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them against Jimin’s cheek, a casual gesture, but Jimin felt the heat of it all the same. It didn’t matter that it was part of the act. It felt too real.

Y/n’s smile softened. “I’ll text you after,” she said, stepping out of the car, giving Jimin a final wave.

Jimin didn’t watch her walk away. Instead, she drove off, her heart aching as she tried to keep her emotions in check. What if it was really over this time? What if she drove away and never saw Y/n again?

She couldn’t shake the feeling. The whole thing was too much.

That’s when Heeseung texted her.

“Why don’t you come see Y/n at the finals? I’m sure she’d love to have you there.”

Jimin felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Heeseung was right — Y/n would probably want her there. But would she want to see Jimin after everything? After the doubts? After the way things were spiraling?

But Jimin couldn’t let herself back out now. If she didn’t go, if she didn’t show up, it might be the last chance she had to truly connect with Y/n before it was too late. She couldn’t let the fear hold her back.

Jimin stepped into the competition arena, still slightly nervous about being here, even though it was Heeseung who had convinced her to come. She had avoided Y/n’s texts, unsure of what to say — unsure if she was even ready for this. She had told herself she was here to support Y/n, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to act around her now, given the mess of emotions tangled up in her chest.

As Jimin and Heeseung walked into the venue, her eyes immediately scanned the crowd, trying to find Y/n. There was no way she’d be able to concentrate on anything else when she was in this space with all the tension swirling in her head. And then she saw her — Y/n was standing backstage, adjusting her uniform, laughing with a teammate. Jimin’s heart thudded in her chest, a strange flutter filling her stomach.

She had been hearing about Y/n’s cheer competition for weeks now, but seeing her in action was an entirely different thing. There was something about the way she stood there — confident, poised, yet radiating warmth and energy.

But Jimin couldn’t focus on that for long. A voice cut through her thoughts.

“Jimin, Heeseung, hey! You made it!” Minjeong waved her over.

Jimin turned and saw Minjeong standing with Y/n’s brother, Yeonjun, and her father, Chanwoo. Jimin felt her nerves kick into overdrive, unsure of how this would go.

“Hey,” Jimin said, giving a hesitant wave as she walked over. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she had to admit, it was a bit overwhelming meeting Y/n’s family after everything that had been happening between them. She hadn’t been prepared to be this nervous.

“Oh, you’re Jimin, right?” Chanseo asked with a friendly smile as he extended his hand. He seemed relaxed and welcoming. “I’ve heard so much about you. Y/n’s always talking about you.”

Jimin’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t expected to be recognized so easily, but then again, Y/n’s dad was clearly up to date on her Instagram posts and everything.

“Yeah,” Jimin said awkwardly as she shook his hand, “I’m Jimin. Nice to meet you.”

Chanseo smiled knowingly. “Y/n talks about you a lot, you know. I see your posts — she’s always tagging you, saying how much you help her. You seem to be a good influence on her.”

Jimin froze, unsure how to respond. She couldn’t help but glance at Yeonjun, who was watching her closely, a teasing grin on his face.

“Don’t worry,” Yeonjun added, “Dad’s been on Instagram again. He keeps tabs on everything Y/n does.”

Jimin nodded, trying to mask the awkwardness that was creeping up on her. She didn’t know what Y/n had told them about her, or if they even knew about the whole “fake dating” thing. But before she could say anything else, Chanseo was already looking over at the stage.

“Looks like it’s almost time,” Chanseo said, nodding toward the main stage as the announcers began the countdown for the final teams.

Jimin followed his gaze, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure what to expect from this whole competition, but now that she was here, she felt like the stakes were higher than ever.

When the final whistle blew and Y/n’s squad was announced as the winners, the gym erupted into chaos—cheers, confetti, teammates screaming and tackling her into a group hug. The win felt unreal. Her heart was pounding, her throat dry from shouting, but all she could do was laugh, overwhelmed with joy.

She hadn’t even thought to look for Jimin. Honestly, she hadn’t expected her to show up. The fake dating thing had become so tangled, so confusing lately—half teasing, half arguments, and a small, quiet part of her that had started hoping it wasn’t fake at all.

But then she saw her.

Jimin, standing by the bleachers in her black hoodie and that unreadable expression, hands tucked into her pockets like she hadn’t just stood there watching the whole routine. Watching her.

Y/n froze, blinking like she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it.

Her dad was there. And her brother, clapping wildly in the stands, waving like maniacs.

But standing quietly to the side, like she didn’t want to be noticed—was Jimin.

Y/n hadn’t known Jimin was coming.

She hadn’t let herself hope Jimin would come.

But she was here. And suddenly, the noise, the confetti, even the gold medal around her neck faded into the background.

And then she ran.

Not toward Minjeong. Not her dad. Not Yeonjun.

Straight toward Jimin.

No hesitation. No teasing quip or smug grin. Just full speed, eyes wide and shining with something raw and real.

Jimin barely had time to react before Y/n threw her arms around her, burying her face into her chest, the energy of the win still radiating off her.

“You came,” Y/n breathed, her voice muffled, almost like she was afraid to believe it.

Jimin held her tightly, like she didn’t want to let go. “Of course I did.”

Y/n pulled back just enough to look up at her, face flushed, eyes shining. “I thought you didn’t care about this stuff.”

Jimin gave a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. “I didn’t,” she said quietly. “Until it was you out there.”

And just like that, the fake label hanging over them didn’t matter anymore.

Her dad reached them first, eyes still glassy from pride. “There’s my champion,” he said, pulling her into a hug, then giving Jimin a warm, knowing smile. “What a lovely couple! Y/n, you shouldn't have hide her from us!”

Her brother, older and nosier by nature, raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell us she was gonna be here.”

Y/n shrugged quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. “She surprised me.”

The confetti had settled. The cheers had died down. The crowd was dispersing. Y/n and Jimin stood just outside, the noise now replaced by the steady hum of late afternoon footsteps and distant chatter.

“This is it, right?” Jimin asked quietly, voice tight but steady.

Y/n’s heart skipped. She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Jimin’s eyes. “Yeah. After today… we’re done.”

No one had said it out loud before. Not really. But now it hung heavy between them, as real as the gold medal still shining around Y/n’s neck.

Jimin exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing for a moment. “I thought… maybe it wouldn’t feel like this at the end.”

Y/n’s fingers tightened around the medal ribbon. “Me too.”

They looked at each other, a thousand unspoken words swirling in the space between them. The fake smiles, the sarcastic teasing, the constant battles — all of it had been a mask for something else. Something neither of them had dared to name.

“Do you regret it?” Jimin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n blinked, then shook her head. “No. Not even for a second.”

Jimin stepped closer, her hands hesitating at Y/n’s hand. “So why does it feel like I’m losing you already?”

Y/n swallowed hard, the sudden vulnerability catching her off guard. “Because maybe we’re not as fake as we thought.”

Jimin’s gaze softened. “What if we don’t have to break up? What if this—us—doesn’t have to end?”

Y/n’s breath hitched. The medal felt heavy, but this moment felt even heavier — full of possibility and fear all at once.

“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered. “But we can’t pretend forever, we have plans on our own. We can’t hold back each other from finding love—”

Jimin cut her off, voice steady but raw. “I don’t want to find someone else. Not anymore.”

Y/n’s breath caught as she looked up, surprised by the sudden confession.

Jimin took a small step closer, searching her eyes. “This fake relationship… it was supposed to be just a game. But it stopped being fake a long time ago. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want us to be real.”

The words hung between them, heavy and full of hope.

Y/n’s heart raced, the medal around her neck suddenly feeling lighter. She reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from Jimin’s face.

“Then let’s stop pretending,” she whispered back. “Let’s be real. Together.”

And just like that, the walls they’d built around their hearts began to crumble, leaving only the possibility of something real — something worth fighting for.

Jimin’s gaze softened, her breath catching just slightly. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, her hand reaching up to gently cup Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest as their eyes locked, the world around them fading until there was nothing but the two of them.

Then, with a quiet, almost hesitant tenderness, Jimin leaned in.

Their lips met — soft at first, a question in the gentle press, then growing bolder as the hesitation melted away.

Y/n melted into the kiss, her arms slipping around Jimin’s shoulder, pulling her closer.

It was everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d both been holding back — raw and real and trembling with possibility.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling.

Jimin whispered, “Real, then?”

Y/n smiled, heart full. “Real.”

#aespa #karina aespa #karina x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #aespa x reader #x reader #kpop fic #kpop x reader

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impactedfates · 8 months ago

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"Fighting over the bill" - Aventurine x GN!Reader

★ Summary: Aventurine w/ a gift giving S/O who refuses to let him pay for anything :3

☆ Characters Included: Aventurine (Romantic) + IPC (Supporting)

★ Genre/Trope: Established Relationship + Crack (?)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Aventurine may be OOC // Not proof read // Bullet Point format // Short // I think I lost track part way through so uh, sorry

Aventurine stares blankly at you as he watches the credits he was about to give to the cashier slowly fall to the ground. You stare back unblinking as you slowly hand over your own credits to the cashier who awkwardly takes it.

"...You know, the person who asked the other out usually pays"

"And?"

"...And I asked you out so I should've-"

"Well...I wanted to pay. You can pay next time"

You quickly reply, not giving much room to negotiate, not like he could've done anything. The cashier had already taken your money, he could only sigh and chuckle as he goes to pick up the forgotten credits on the ground.

"Well, I hope that means our first date was satisfactory"

He smiles, noticing your eager nod. He'll make sure he pays next time, he has a ton of credits to spend anyways

"WAIT, DON'T LET THEM PAY"

He calls out as he tries to reach you quickly. it was your guys second date, despite your statement that he could pay this time, when you left to get ready he noticed you walking to the front to pay. The person at the counter could only laugh, taking your card.

"Too late, sorry sir"

You smiled triumphantly at him, a sneaky smile on your lips. He shook his head in response, oh how he wished he could playfully lecture you on paying for him again when he should've paid this time.

But you looked rather pretty with that proud smile. He can let it slide this time

"Happy anniversary Kakavasha!!"

You call happily, wandering over to him, a gift behind your back. He smiled warmly in return, patting your head playfully.

"I thought we agreed to meet later, miss me that much?"

"Yes"

A small blush crept on his cheeks at your quick reply. Even after dating for a year he still couldn't get used to the fact you actually loved him.

"Oho? Is Mr Aventurine getting flustered"

Called out an all too familiar voice from behind, he turns to Topaz slightly rolling his eyes.

"Nope, just happy to see my lover"

He turns to you again, noticing your eager smile as he placed his attention back on you. You quickly reveal the bag of gifts you got him, handing it to him.

He takes it with a smile and looks inside, nearly choking on air. He had expected perhaps just matching clothes, perhaps it was just one gift with a bunch of paper to help protect it. Topaz leaned forward to see what had gotten her co-worker so tongue twisted before letting out a small laugh.

"Man that bag is filled with gifts, you like to spoil him huh [Name]?"

"I just think he deserves the gifts, most of them were from our last date. I saw him eyeing some of these things but not buying anything. Wanted to get him it"

Aventurine coughed into his hand and pulled you in for a hug. He had never felt such care from someone in so long. He really did choose the right person. He had fallen for the best person.

"Nuh uh, [Name]"

"What!? Why?"

You looked at your boyfriend with a pout, crossing your arms as he holds up your wallet that he managed to take without your knowledge.

"You've paid for me too much now honey. You didn't even need to. Let me treat you, okay? I'm a Stoneheart, remember?"

You grumble under your breath, before agreeing. Aventurine puts your wallet away in his own pocket before walking around with you in the mall. Placing any item you even show the slightest interest in, into the cart.

"I feel bad that you had to pay..."

"Pfft, sweetheart, how many times have you pay for me at this point?"

You stayed silent, looking away with a blush.

"Take my card!"

"Love, not again"

Aventurine and you start bickering (lovingly) as you tried to pay once again. Didn't help that the whole of the IPC was there, laughing at the display.

"Wow, they still haven't stopped fighting for the bill?"

"Seems that's the case, but I wonder. Dinner is nearing an end, once both of them finally agree on who pays. Do you think there'll be time for little Aventurine to pop the question?"

Jade laughs, leaning her head on her hand as she watches. Now all of the IPC could offer to pay instead, but why bother when this small argument is much more entertaining?

Topaz leans back in her seat with a knowing smile. For she was the only one to know that both you and Aventurine had gotten each other a ring. She knew another small (loving) fight would break out once you two show the ring. Questioning each other about the prices even though the both of you got something expensive for the other.

Heyyy...hey....

Finally back from my break yippee?...Haha...

I think I lost track from what it was meant to be about but hopefully this is still a decent read

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you

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justatypicalwizard · 9 months ago

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Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon.

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #college au

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usoppsstar · 2 years ago

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Op men when you're pregnant 🍼🍼🍼

Pairings: Op men x f! Reader

Characters: Sanji, Usopp, Zoro, Luffy

Tw: none it's fluffy/ mention of boobs getting bigger

Notes: A lot of pregnant reader being fussed over and protected, if you're looking for an op reader this might not be the fic for you sorry; you're not necessarily married to them in these, except for Sanji; I've already got thoughts for a part two; as always, this is proofread but there may still be mistakes🍼🍼🍼

🍼 Masterlist Angst ver Pt.2

🍼Sanji

We all already know that Sanji's pregnant wife isn't lifting a finger. Your feet wouldn't touch the ground either if it wasn't for the exercises chopper makes you do so your labor will be easier . If you thought he pampered you before, you won't believe how he waits on you when you're having a baby.

"Hey chopper! What's this I hear about y/n having to workout!? My lovely wife is carrying our baby! Just her sitting there looking round and adorable should already be enough!"

Has a huge problem when he finds out about the exercises Chopper prescribed you until he saw just how cute you looked trying to do them. Throws a fit and gushes about how adorable you are until eventually you get frustrated with him( and trying to balance on an exercise ball) and tell him to go away.( He's also not a great influence either cuz he's quick to tell you it's fine to stop when you get frustrated, only for you both to be lectured by Chopper).

Now, Sanji might fuss with Chopper over your little cardio regimens but he takes your diet and the food Chopper recommends very seriously, and it's obvious to everyone on the crew. From how long it takes for it to be time to eat because he's taking extra time to add extra care to your dishes, to the way NO ONE is eating until you get your plate. Not that your crew has any problem with you eating first anyway( even Luffy) but your husband can get carried away and lose track of time. They eventually come up with a plan that always gets Sanji moving. Wait until you get hungry,watch as you stomp into the kitchen, and get ready to eat.

Since we're on food, it's a given that there's no craving that you can conjure up that Sanji won't make into a gourmet dish for you( unless it's something inedible like laundry detergent unfortunately). Sanji is pretty strict with your diet though, and although you don't whine much cuz anything he makes tastes amazing, there are times when you can't help but ask for something deep fried or drowned in ice cream and caramel.

Besides that though,Sanji pretty much gives you whatever you want.You are always right during your pregnancy, no matter how irrational or illogical you're being, and that's because you are getting absolutely no logic from your man. It can be asking him to get you golden cheese from the moon as a craving or telling him that the jar you can't open is plotting against you. To Sanji you can do no wrong while you're carrying you twos baby(not that you can ever do wrong in his eyes anyway)

I feel like this is a given of course but Sanji is super overprotective of you while you're pregnant,even more than usual. Always keeping an eye on you and checking on you, or asking another crewmate to look over you if he can't. It's even worse for him during a fight. Is it safer to keep you close to him the entire time or should he leave you somewhere "safe"? Is that somewhere safe, safe enough? What if someone targets you once he leaves? There's not a peaceful moment for Sanji as long as there's a threat anywhere within a hundred miles of you and because of this Sanji frets over you relentlessly during a fight. Everyone knows it would be different if you were in your original state and could defend yourself like always, but because you aren't, you don't complain when Sanji frets over you 24/7. Simply because you know that no one would hurt more than Sanji if any harm should come to you or the baby when he wasn't around to protect you.

On a fluffier note! Sanji sings to you and the baby

Late at night, when most of the crew have turned in for bed and you two(three) are the only ones left in the kitchen. He'll make you your favorite snack ,prop your feet up, and sing to you while he finishes cleaning up the kitchen. You usually drift off to sleep, and Sanji, always carries you back to your bedroom.

***🍼***

🍼Usopp

Usopp likes to dress you up, specifically in…

Overalls. He wants to see your pregnant belly in overalls.

There is nothing cuter to him. Of Course he wouldn't actually ask you to put on the jean ones, but the huge, fabric overalls that come in a variety of colors?? Yes please. Maybe it's because he enjoys wearing overalls himself but there's something about the pockets and the look itself that gives him serotonin. He likes to see you in any of the clothes he either bought or made with you in mind really. His feelings do get hurt sometimes though because as much as you appreciate him and as lovely and comfortable as the clothes are, sometimes the most comfortable outfit to you is a baggy shirt and a pair of his boxers. He'll pout but low-key, he thinks you look good in that too.

He talks to your belly all the time. He finds it fun, especially when he feels a kick. He likes to pretend that the baby is reacting to his story, even if he knows they might just be stretching or something. Besides, we all know that Usopp never misses a chance to tell an impressionable mind an outlandish story about his past. So who better to tell his tales to than his unborn baby? Get this though, despite the amazing adventures he's been on and how incredible his skills actually are now, he tells made up stories anyway. The stories are more precious to him this way, almost like a gift for his unborn child. A story no one else has heard(Besides you anyway lol).

Usopp is building baby stuff the moment Chopper tells you both you're pregnant, like for real sketching up designs that same night. He's discussing room floor plans with Franky, he's picking out fabrics for toys and paint for walls, and asking you if the baby should have a crib or a bassinet. It's low-key a stress reliever for him. There are plenty of times when you'll wake up in the middle of the night, to use the restroom or get some water, and you'll notice the light on in his workshop. Usopp Is always super careful not to wake you up whenever he does this, so you usually never notice, but whenever he can't sleep he goes to his workshop. So ever since you two have been expecting, whenever he can't seem to get some rest,he crafts things for the baby. You usually choose to sleep on the bed in there with him when you find him like this,even if he encourages you to sleep where it's more comfortable( you always wake up in his arms in your guy's bed anyway though)

Usopp would never let anything hurt you while you're vulnerable like this, and there's no fight he'll lose if you're behind him. Unlike Sanji, Usopp has no problem deciding if he'll stay behind with you and watch over you that way, or entrust you to another crewmate and do his job somewhere else. He'd much rather you stay on the Sunny rather than venturing onto the island where the danger is, and as much as he trusts his crew with your safety, he'd just be thinking about you the entire time if he left you. If push comes to shove and his role is crucial, he'll leave you with chopper or Nami or even on your own, and trust that you'll keep yourself hidden. It's not going to stop him from panicking the entire time though.

He makes it very obvious just how excited he is to welcome your new child into the world. If it wasn't evident with how much he was preparing for the arrival, how much he talks about it definitely gives it away. He's always talking about the kinds of things he'll teach them,the plants he'll show them( He's already started propagating some cuttings from his favorites), and just how incredible it is that you can carry an entire tiny person inside you like this, a part of both of you.

"It's just so fascinating that you can carry human life like this!" Usopp happily tells you one day as you sit with him while he tends to his plants outside.

"You're really incredible honey, you know that!?" He says before turning to you with a precious smile, one that makes you glad to be sharing parenthood with him.

***🍼***

🍼Zoro

Will wake up and get things for you in the middle of the night no matter how late it is. Food, water, another pillow, another blanket, it doesn't matter. It takes a little effort to wake him up but he always will.

" Zoro?....... Zoro! Baby!" You whisper as you shake him

" Hunh!? Hm?" Zoro'll sputter and sit up on his elbows.

You'd think because of Zoro's sharp instincts, he'd wake up as soon as you need him right? And he would. If you were in any danger. Someone attacking the ship? He's up in a heartbeat. A particularly intense storm? He's up before you are. You about to pee the bed? He's awake and running you to the bathroom, but unless it's something of that nature, Zoro sleeps like a rock. He just has a sort of sensor in his sleep that differentiates emergencies from minor things, and if it's a minor thing your gonna have to darn near slap his a** to get him to wake up.

Zoro may seem like he doesn't fuss over you but he does, a lot. Someone on the outside looking in might think that Zoro doesn't pay much attention to you, judging by the relaxed way he's resting on deck, but really all his attention is tuned towards you. It's always been, but since Chopper found out that you were pregnant( you two didn't even realize for a few weeks), he's been extra attentive. Noticing changes in your tone when speaking, even if it's just playful banter between you and one of the crew, or changes in your mood at all. Always giving you looks that silently ask if you're tired or if you're ready to leave. It's as if he always knows exactly what you need, almost before you do. All it takes is a single glance and he understands what you're trying to tell him. Not even just when you're uncomfortable or tired, even if you're hot or hungry. Zoro will suddenly be over with an umbrella or loudly asking sanji when it's time to eat( which always ends in a fight because Sanji was already on top of it). It might just be his observation haki but sometimes it feels like something more special than that.

Zoro doesn't talk to your belly much. He'll tell you it feels awkward and he never knows what he's supposed to say but won't admit that it's actually because the first time you guys tried it, his deep voice startled your baby( you both literally saw the jump) and he's been secretly sulking ever since. It's also a little weird for him to talk to the baby because well, you're sitting there. You always reassure him that you're not listening but he knows you are, and that if he says anything that you deem cute, you'll never drop it. So yeah, he doesn't talk to your belly much. During the day anyway. What no one knows is that Zoro talks to your belly all the time after you fall asleep. Complaints about his crewmates, how luffy almost got them all killed today,how pretty he thought you looked today, and how much he looks forward to their arrival.

It didn't really compute to him that you guys are really going to have a tiny version of yourselves until your stomach starts to show. He doesn't notice it right away but one day you lifted your shirt after your short workout session( you decided to do it in the crow's nest with Zoro) and he saw just how tight and dome shaped your stomach looked. He only realized then, that a person was really growing in there. After that, he was pretty intrigued by how he could look away and next thing he knew, your stomach was that much bigger( that and *ahem* other things). He never told you of course but you eventually found out because Zoro kept making sure he was present whenever you changed clothes. That and he's always stroking your belly whenever you both are just chilling, nowadays he doesn't even realize he's doing it until he feels the kicks against his palm.

If you ever start to feel insecure about not being able to fight with your crew( once you get too big to move swiftly) Zoro is quick to reassure that it's alright to sit back and let him and the crew handle everything for now.

" No one here doubts just how capable you are, but that's not important now. There's someone in this crew that needs you more." Zoro tells you in a stern voice as he stands in front of you.

" So let me handle this alright?" He'll also say softly.

***🍼***

🍼Luffy

Luffy talks and interacts with your belly as if your baby is already here. There's times when you actually kind of feel like a third wheel between your captain and your unborn child, and with the enthusiastic kicks and nudges you feel in response, you're justified in thinking your baby feels the same way as their dad. Besides the quick kiss he gives you before their conversation and the kiss he gives you after, there's no other indication that he acknowledges you're there( except when he mentions you).

He likes to do things like carry you around on his shoulder and describe the view to your baby when you all are about to dock on a new island because they can't see it. He also checks on you when everyone is hanging out on deck, stopping to press kisses on your cheek and tummy, or ask how you're doing and if the baby is kicking a lot( he finds it fascinating) and at night he likes to talk about his day to the two of you while laying a little of his weight on you.

Luffy had to learn to be more gentle with you now. No more flinging back to the ship with you, no more accidentally crashing into you, no more dragging you onto crazy islands he's intrigued by. He realized this for the first time when he went for a hug and your belly pressed into his and forced him to pause. It didn't take Nami to slap him in the head or Sanji to kick him. He just realized that it's not just you two anymore,there's three of you now and the smallest one depends solely on the both of you. After that he began to be more gentle with you and think just a little more about his actions.

Luffy hates it when you start to get upset, and no,not because he thinks it's annoying. He just hates for you to want for anything, especially food. You'll never get hungry as long as you have luffy around because he's always checking if you are. At first you thought it was an excuse to get more food out of Sanji, but when Luffy passed his plate to you and made sure you ate first during dinner for the first time, you knew he genuinely cared.He always encourages you to eat as much as you want too, his words always being

" It's OK! You're eating for two now!"

Of course you can't actually eat as much as Luffy thinks you should( his standards are insane) but you appreciate just how much he wants you to be happy and well-fed.

As much as Luffy likes to see you eating, he actually takes the diet Chopper gave you pretty seriously. What you thought would be late nights of sneaking into the kitchen( after bribing him with promises of letting him have some) were actually nights full of cuddles and sleepy scolding about how ' Chopper said you can't have that'. You figured it'd be pretty easy to convince luffy to help you cheat on your diet but he's pretty diligent, not wavering no matter how complain or hang on to him and instead giving you a teasing laugh and kiss. Now of course, Luffy can't actually stop you from getting a treat and he wouldn't try, if you were dead set on it, but there's something about Luffy being responsible for your sake that makes you want to be responsible too. That and the proud hugs and kisses he gives you when you resist the temptation of a sweet treat.( Luffy definitely asks Sanji to make something special but that's good for you too,though)

When it comes to your safety, unlike the other boys on this list, Luffy has absolutely no problem leaving you with the others because he knows all of them would protect their pregnant crewmate with their lives. He doesn't even mind leaving you on your own. Luffy just kind of knows when he should and shouldn't leave you alone, and if he has a feeling you'll be safe from harm, he'll leave you with a light heart. He doesn't even ask you to keep yourself safe, instead he holds you close, presses his forehead to yours, and promises that he'll stay safe, and that he'll be back for the both of you soon.

A/n: I finally finished this one, it took me way longer than I planned, but when you're a master procrastinator it gets a little difficult to write everyday. I've already thought about some head cannons for Kidd with pregnant reader, so there'll definitely be a part 2 to this. Yaaaay, I finally posted one piece content again. Thanks for reading🍼🍼🍼

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #usopp x reader #zoro x reader #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #monkey d luffy #sniper king usopp #roronoa zoro #sanji vinsmoke #luffy x black reader #sanji x black reader #zoro x black reader #usopp x black reader #usoppsstars fatherhood series

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daveth-isnt-dead · 4 months ago

Text

RPF

Summary:

She had sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica directly to her colleague's printer and that isn’t even the worst part. The worst part. Is that she sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica to the very person it was written about. The hot professor in her manuscript, the man who fucks the main character on practically every surface, is Viktor in everything but name. His accent, his hair and eye colour, even the cane. If it was possible to plagiarise a person then she had done just that.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader, Modern AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Professor Kink (kinda, reader isn't a student but viktor is a professor)

Word Count: 11,462

Read on AO3

He can’t know, she reasons, clutching tightly to her binder as she walks down the halls of the university. It’s early evening, so the walk is silent but for the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles. A few students with late classes will still be around, but other than that, the university is dead. She swallows nervously, heart racing in her chest as she rounds the final corner and comes face to face with Viktor’s office door. He asked to review the supply manifest for his class next semester, to review it in person which seemed very strange. The two of them have a largely friendly (albeit professional) relationship and if he just wanted a reason to talk he would have said so, which is what makes this situation so odd.

“This definitely could have been an email.” She mutters to herself, dithering in front of his door.

There must be a reason, and it can't be the one she is catastrophising about. Because he can’t know. She takes a few quick breaths in through her nose and wipes her sweaty palm on her skirt before reaching out and grabbing the doorknob. She inches the door open, peering around the frame. Viktor is sitting at his desk where she had been expecting him, the setting sun casts an orange light in through an open window and the gentle breeze tangles around the curtains. He’s in the middle of writing something, grading papers, she assumes. One of his hands rests against his head, twirling his hair around his fingers.

Her heart begins racing again, stomach churning. He can't know, she asserts and gains the confidence to clear her throat.

Viktor doesn't startle, he takes a second to finish his sentence before slowly inclining his head up in her direction. She half suspects that he knew she was there the whole time.

“Hi!” She says, a little too perky, “You wanted me?”

A smile crawls across his face, too self-satisfied for her liking, “Yes, I did. Thank you very much for coming.”

She steps into the room proper and holds her binder up with an awkward smile, “I’ve brought the manifest with me if you’d like to take a look?”

“That would be appreciated, yes.” He stands from his desk and she clutches tightly to the binder. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater and the crisp white collar of his shirt is several buttons undone, tie hanging loose. A very appropriate outfit for lecturing, despite the way it makes her eyes dart briefly down to his barely exposed collarbone. Viktor rounds the desk, leaning on his cane before inclining his head towards the door, “Close the door, would you?”

“Yep, no worries!” She replies quickly, gently pushing it shut behind her and trying to ignore the churning anxiety she feels at being alone in a closed room with him. A ridiculous feeling, because they know each other, she would even dare to call him her friend if someone were to ask and finally, because he can’t know. There’s no reason for this to be anything other than a meeting, a work meeting. So she ignores the nervous patter of her heart and steps over to the desk, opening the binder to the relevant page and waiting for Viktor to make his way over to her.

It might just be her already hair-trigger nerves, but it feels like he stands a lot closer than is required. Her hands grip tight to the edge of the desk when his shoulder bumps against hers and she sucks a deep breath in through her nose. At this rate, he’s going to start wondering why she is behaving so strangely and that would likely be the death of her. She steadies herself, and gestures to the manifest on the desk, “Everything is all as you previously requested, I was worried about having trouble with one of the suppliers, but I managed to make it work, so no biggie there.”

Viktor hums and leans in closer to assess the manifest, running over the well-laid-out (if she may say so herself) spreadsheet with his pointer finger, “This does seem to be more than adequate.” He says evenly, tilting his head to meet her eyes, “And I appreciate your colour-coding.” Her cheeks flush and she feels immediately embarrassed at how flustered a compliment regarding her spreadsheet makes her. She chews on her lower lip a moment and then replies, “Thank you. Um, were there some changes you were looking to make, or am I free to go?” “I would like a moment to review it, if that is alright.” He inclines his head towards the chair usually reserved for guests to the office and says, “Have a seat, if you would like. I don't plan on being long.” “Oh, sure, thanks. I will.” She says quickly, stepping away from him and taking a slightly awkward seat in the chair. She gets that uncomfortable feeling again, that it is strange for him to want extra time to review a manifest that he just called ‘more than adequate’ and that it’s even stranger for her to wait around while he does so. But she is just being paranoid, and there is no reason for her to be, because he can’t-

“How are things at the administration office this time of year?” Viktor asks, still leaning over the desk.

She braves a look in his direction and then quickly regrets it when she takes stock of how well-fitted his trousers are. She swallows and looks at his bookshelf instead, “Quiet, mostly. I’ve already gotten through most of the admissions work for next semester, so work won’t really pick up again until the new students start arriving after break.” her eyes unwittingly dart back in his direction, he has most of his weight on his right elbow where it rests on the desk and his sweater has rucked up just enough that she can see half an inch of his white shirt where it tucks into his slacks. She looks away again, “How are things for you? Finals just wrapped, didn’t they?”

“Busy, a lot of grading to do, as I’m sure you can imagine.” it sounds like he is smirking when he says, “I haven’t had much of a break since that faculty party last week.”

Her heart kicks into high gear, the faculty party is the last thing she wants to talk about. The real reason that she worries he might know something he shouldn't, that he can't know, is because she said something very stupid at that damn party. Wringing her hands in her lap, she forces herself to give a polite laugh and replies, “I was surprised to see you there, you’re not usually so…sociable.”

Viktor hums quietly, pushing back up off the desk and turning around to face her. Her eyes dart down to his hand on the grip of his cane and then quickly back up to his face. The shift of his eyes is appraising, almost curious and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile when he responds, “That is quite hypocritical of you, as I recall, neither are you.”

She laughs a little, he’s right. She usually tries to avoid faculty parties, they’re loud and full of people she doesn’t know, but she had heard from some of the other professors that Viktor was planning to make an appearance and that swiftly changed her mind, “You’ve got me there.” She replies, standing from her chair and smoothing down her skirt. She swallows, “Well, I hope you’re able to get some rest over the break. You’re um- You’re an incredibly hard worker, you deserve it.”

He shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I do what I can.” and then, more sincerely, “Thank you, though, you are very kind.”

Her toes suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room, “Oh, uh, well, I try to be.” her hands fidget at her sides a moment and then she adds, “If you’re finished reviewing the manifest, I can let you get back to your work for the evening.”

Viktor reaches behind himself, grabs her binder and snaps it shut, then he takes a deliberate step towards her and holds it out. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to grab it, clutching it tightly to her chest. Viktor is standing very close to her, she has to crane her head up to meet his eyes, “Th-Thank you.” she says quickly, already preparing to dash out into the hallway and catch her uneven breath, “Email me if you need anything else, okay?” “Before you go,” Viktor begins and she gets the sudden, disquieting feeling that she’s walked into some sort of trap, “I would be interested in eh picking your brain.” She laughs a little, “There’s not all that much to pick, unfortunately. That’s why some of us are working admin and not lecturing.” she shuffles her feet, aware that she’s laying the self-depreciation on a little too thick, “Sorry, how can I help?”

A slow smile crawls across Viktor’s face and he leans in just a bit closer, “Do you remember last month when I asked for the updated meeting timetable and you so kindly sent a copy directly to my printer?” he asks, voice low and even She has no idea where this is going, but her heart races at his close proximity regardless, “Yes, I do…” “Well…” he begins, voice quiet and even, “About an hour after that, something I had not requested came through on my printer. It was quite an inconvenience, I couldn’t print anything myself until the two hundred or so pages finished coming through.”

Her stomach drops like a rock, her hands grip white knuckle tight to the edges of her binder and her throat goes completely dry. Oh no. Oh nononononono.

“That’s um…That’s very strange…” She replies, trying to keep the nervous laugh building in her throat clamped behind her teeth, “Did something go wrong with your printer, maybe?”

He shakes his head, “No. No, I do not believe so. If anything, I presumed the error may have been on your end.”

The laugh escapes, a nervous little giggle that does her attempt at composure no favours, “My end?”

“Quite. The print order did come from your computer, after all.”

She isn't sure whether it would be a better idea to go sprinting out of the room right now or to try and find something heavy to knock Viktor out with first. He is right, of course. A month ago she did print him a copy of the meeting timetable and then an hour or so after that, she attempted to print the very thing he can’t know about. It comes back in a rush, remembering that when she first hit the print button, nothing happened, her printer didn't wake up. “Oh god…” She mutters, inching the binder up to hide the lower half of her face behind it, “I- I thought my printer wasn’t working, I didn’t realise.”

She had sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica directly to her colleague's printer and that isn’t even the worst part.

“I have some more supplementary questions if you wouldn't mind,” Viktor says casually, too casually.

She squeaks out a quiet little, “Okay.” and continues cowering behind her binder, preparing for the moment when he reveals this has all been an elaborate sting operation to get her disciplined by HR or fired.

“I didn’t realise it was yours at first.” Viktor clarifies, “You use a pseudonym. Truthfully, I assumed that it was a PDF you had downloaded and decided to print for better reading. A wise idea, by the by, much better for your eyes.” He hums quietly to himself and readjusts briefly into a more comfortable stance for his leg, “Incorrectly surmising that it was a piece of already published literature, I presumed there would be no harm in me reading it-” A shocked gasp escapes her at him admitting that he read it. There’s no way out now, she finds herself praying that he lost interest a few pages in and then threw it out and that maybe he only asked her here to complain about the quality of her writing. The corner of Viktor’s mouth curls at her shocked expression, and she quickly darts her eyes away, heaving a shaky breath.

“As I was saying,” Viktor continues, “I did not realise the work was yours for some time. At least not until I began noticing certain, shall we say, similarities.”

The worst part. Is that she sent two hundred pages of unedited erotica to the very person it was written about. The object of affection in her manuscript, the man who fucks the main character on practically every surface, Professor Novák, is Viktor in everything but name. His accent, his hair and eye colour, even the cane. ‘Similarities’ is putting it lightly, if it was possible to plagiarise a person then she had done just that.

At first, she hadn’t even realised she was doing it, she was just creating her vision of the ideal professor archetype and that just happened to be quite a bit like Viktor. It was harmless, nothing to be even slightly concerned about. Then the more she wrote, the more details she added, the more she rounded him out the more and more his features settled into a shape that looked exactly like Viktor.

She briefly considers the likelihood of survival if she dives from his third-story window, and then wonders if it might actually make things easier if she dies on impact. As she is mulling this over, Viktor walks back over to his desk and she feels like she can finally breathe, at least until he lowers himself into his seat and pulls a heavy stack of paper out from one of his drawers. She mutters a quiet, “Oh no…” under her breath when she realises that the stack of paper isher manuscript.

“Would you mind telling the class why Professor Novák walks with a cane?” Viktor asks, cocking his head to the side.

The mix of emotions she is filled with hearing that, a combination of arousal at him using his lecturer voice and complete and utter terror at this line of questioning, is discombobulating. She panics, she can feel sweat beading at the nape of her neck and she just manages to stammer out, “I write for a very specific audience of House MD fans.”

Viktor chuckles, “Not the most defensible argument, but I am willing to accept it.” He hums aloud, “The accent then, explain that.”

“Eastern European is in right now?” She defends weakly.

“No no no. You were hardly casting such a wide net.” Viktor picks the manuscript up in one hand and she realises with horror that he has it annotated. He flips deftly to a page marked with a blue tab, “Here on page seventy-two it’s specifically described as Czech.”

“You…” she collapses backwards into her chair, suddenly feeling like her legs can’t hold her weight any longer, “You read all the way to page seventy-two?”

He chuckles, “Oh, no no. I read the entire thing.”

She grips tightly to her binder, staring at Viktor with wide, blown-out eyes. Her whole body shakes with some horrific amalgamation of both dread and arousal. Clenching her thighs and shifting in her seat, she lets out a weak little breath, “You read it a month ago and you didn’t say anything?” another nervous laugh bubbles up and out of her, “And you acted so normal the whole time, I don’t-”

“I had dismissed it at first” Viktor clarifies, closing the manuscript and crossing his arms on the desk, “After all, what you write in your spare time is none of my business, even if you accidentally send it directly to my printer.” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning forward just a little, “And then, last week at the faculty party, you said something very intriguing.”

This is the worst possible sequence of events. A scenario devised from her nightmares. She can’t even think of a single word to say, she just stares at him open-mouthed, hands clenched. She remembers exactly what she said that night, so innocuous, so easily defensible if not for the other mountain of evidence he has already provided. A few drinks deep, alcohol buzzing in her veins, she was watching Viktor speak with her chin in her palm, paying little attention to what he was actually saying, swaying side to side and just absorbing the way he gesticulated as he spoke. At some point, he asked her a question that she didn’t even hear and then, likely in jest, he sternly asked if she was paying attention and in her lust-drunk stupor she had replied: Yes, Professor.

“D-Did I?” she responds, playing dumb even though she knows it won't save her.

“Yes, you did. You called me Professor.” Viktor says slowly, and the way his accent wraps around that word has warmth building in her stomach, “Normally, that sort of thing could be dismissed as a joke, a little eh playful mockery towards a man who’d just used his ‘teacher voice’ at a party, but no. I remember the tone of your voice far too well and there was not an ounce of sarcasm in it. In fact, and this may be presumptive of me, but I do believe you nearly moaned it.” he smiles, and then whispers, “How was I supposed to interpret that? Especially after those two hundred pages of highly descriptive erotica I already read. It is not so much a hypothesis as it is a conclusion. Even the way you greeted me when you entered the room this evening, points towards only one possible outcome.” he says quietly, “You wanted me?” he parrots, sending an ice-cold chill down her spine.

She hadn't even realised she’d said it like that, why had she said it like that?

“You seem to be wondering the same thing as me, hm?” Viktor continues, rising up from his chair and resting his palms flat on the desk, “Why on earth did you decide to word it that way? Unless of course, you wanted me, to want you.”

She did, god she did. For some time she tried to convince herself that what she wrote in her book and her personal feelings were not entangled. Illogically she had spent months on end writing and rewriting scenes of Viktor in every sexual position imaginable and clung to the idea that it was all just for the book, that there wasn’t any sort of emotional reason for her to choose Viktor as her incredibly vivid inspiration. Maybe it was because she hadn’t dated in years and the idea of confronting a real person was terrifying, or because part of her always thought that she was beneath him somehow.

“Is that how it is, then?” Viktor breathes, grabbing his cane before rounding the desk and stepping towards her, “Do you want me to play the part of your professor, like in that book of yours?”

Her next exhale is shaky and wanton, her thighs press together in a fruitless attempt to calm the ache between them. She suddenly gets the sense that he has no plans of reporting her to HR. Her head tilts backwards to meet his gaze above her and she swallows thickly before whispering, “Would you be,” she cant believe this is happening, “opposed to that?”

“No. Not at all.” Viktor replies, reaching down and running his index finger along the cut of her jaw, a smile tugging at his lips when her breath hitches, “Do you think those fantasies of yours haven’t assimilated into my own? Do not be mistaken, I would not have pored over a novel’s worth of smut had I not found it so prepossessing.”

“Prepossessing?” She repeats timidly.

“Incredibly.” He responds, “You write very vividly.”

She mutters a quiet, “Thank you.” under her breath and musters up enough confidence to say, “That would be because my thoughts are very vivid too.”

He hums and he’s standing close enough that she can hear the sound rumble through his chest, “Are they, now?” He asks, gently grasping her chin in his hand and letting the pad of his thumb brush across her lower lip. She whimpers, inclining her head up towards him, desperate for him to touch her more.

“Allow me to be candid with you, for just a moment.” Viktor says, hand sliding away from her skin as he stands upright and takes a step backwards to lean against his desk, cane tucked into the crook of his elbow, “I do not usually do this. Intimacy between coworkers can be eh complicated-”

“W-We’re not technically coworkers.” She says quickly, “Different departments!”

Viktor chuckles, “There is no need to try and convince me, if that is what you are doing.” He looks her up and down, slowly, “I am already quite certain of what exactly I’d like from this encounter. I would just like to be sure that we are both on the same page, as it were. So, to be clear, if you change your mind at any time, you are free to leave and we maintain our professional relationship, no harm done.” He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and her eyes dart down to his bare forearms, “Do you understand?”

She nods, staring abashedly at his hands.

“Words, please.”

“Oh, sorry!” She exclaims, “Yes, I do, I’m good, I don’t uh-” she swallows, “I don’t want to leave.”

That smirk comes back and she feels it all the way down to her toes, “Good girl.”

Her breath catches in the back of her throat and her heart thumps hard and fast. She can feel herself growing wet already, the heat at the apex of her thighs is becoming unbearable and her professional work outfit feels tight and restrictive. Viktor notices, she sees his eyes dart down to her tightly pressed-together knees, to the way her chest swells with her heavy breath. She realises quickly that she likes being embarrassed like this and that her long drawn-out humiliation was practically foreplay. Then it hits her that Viktor already knew that, of course, he already knew that, he read two hundred pages littered with her own wants and desires, both subconscious and conscious. A little whine escapes her lips as she realises that he entered this encounter with ample ammunition and surely intends to make the most of it.

“Stand up for me,” Viktor says quickly and she practically leaps up out of the seat. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and then he adds, “Binder on the floor, please.”

She bends down just enough to drop it down onto the carpet, suddenly missing having an object to hold onto, realising she has no idea what to do with her shaky hands. Lacking something else to grab, she clutches to the fabric of her pencil skirt, bunching it up on either side of her thighs. She inhales sharply through her nose when Viktor takes a few slow steps towards her, stopping less than an arm's length away. At first, she tries to meet his gaze but quickly finds it too intimidating, too observant. So her eyes quickly dart back down to her toes, trying to find some way to slow her rapid breathing.

Then she feels something under her chin, slowly inclining her head back to meet his eyes again. It’s the handle of his cane. She lets out a whimpering little sound at that knowledge, thighs clenching and hands gripping tighter to the fabric of her skirt. She remembers this. Chapter Seven, page twelve. Viktor must see the gears turning in her brain, because a satisfied smile crosses his face, “Eyes on me, please.” He says quietly, slowly returning his cane to its place at his side.

“You paid attention,” she says in near disbelief, “To the book, I mean.”

He chuckles and she finds that she loves the sound of it, loves the easy, half-lidded set of his eyes and the almost boyish way his hair curls over his ears. Viktor takes another step forward and she has to tilt her head back even further to maintain their eye contact, “I did.” he replies easily, “I wanted to do this correctly and a little thorough research goes a long way, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she answers, breathless and wanting. He must see it in her eyes, because his head tilts slightly and his free hand reaches out, sliding his fingers through the hair at her temple and then pressing tightly against the side of her head.

He slowly leans over her, close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. Her eyes dart from his own, down to his lips and then quickly between both of his moles. His head inclines downward enough that their noses are almost touching and she can feel her heart pounding through her entire body, her knees grow weak and her palms sweat. Viktor’s thumb slowly rubs a comforting circle over her temple and he whispers, “May I?”

It’s embarrassing how quick the rush of, “God yes, please Viktor, please.” comes bursting forth from her mouth, but luckily the senseless ramble is quickly cut off by his lips pressing against her own, slow but hungry. She melts into him, restless hands gripping tightly to his shoulders, mewling at the sensation of his hand in her hair and the addictive softness of his lips. The kiss is languid, slow and wet. There is little urgency to it, even though his hand slides around to the back of her head and holds her firmly in place, any desperation on Viktor’s part is exhibited in his thorough exploration of her mouth, more so than in his vigour.

His kisses are explorative, testing a bite to her lower lip, testing how she might react to him sucking on it instead. She practically hangs off him, gasping out little moans in between each re-connection of their lips. Viktor lets out a pleased little hum when her mouth opens beneath his and her nails dig tight into the fabric of his sweater when their tongues meet in a brief, tentative flick. She allows one of her hands to slide up from his shoulder and into his hair, it’s soft and she is very pleased to find he makes a very pretty sound when she tugs on it.

When he pulls back, Viktor is a vision with kiss swollen lips and wide eyes engulfed by the black of his pupil. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth and she watches enraptured at the bob of his throat when he swallows.

“Forgive me for the interruption.” He breathes, “But I believe now would be a prudent time for me to lock the door, yes?”

She nods loosely, unsure she can even manage words at this point and when Viktor turns to move over to the door, she spins around so she can continue watching him, bringing two disbelieving fingers up to her lips to convince herself that what happened had really just happened. The click of the lock sends an entirely new shiver down her spine and Viktor must see it on her face when he turns around because he looks incredibly self-satisfied. Her heart begins to race as he makes his way back over to her, desperate to be touched again, only for her to blink down at him dumbly when he walks past her and takes a seat in the abandoned chair in the middle of the room.

He tuts at her, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee, “There is no need to look so disappointed.” He says slowly, “I have many plans for you.”

She lets out a shaky breath and stammers out, “S-Such as?”

Viktor reclines back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, “I’d like to watch you touch yourself.”

Her breath hitches. Chapter Nine. Page Three. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, she feels lightheaded and cloudy. She swallows thickly and responds, “You…You would?”

“Yes.” Viktor confirms, hands lifting to loosen his tie some more, undoing enough buttons that she has a full view of his prominent collarbone, “If you would be willing to do that for me.”

“I would,” she replies after some time, willing, but timid and then because she has already gone this far, she adds a cautious little, “Professor”

Viktor moans at that, and the resulting zip up her spine at having said the right thing is addictive. His slouched posture in the chair makes her eyes widen, one of his arms flung over the side of the chair, the other gripping tightly to his thigh. She wants nothing more than to climb him, ride him, but she is aware there is a part she is playing and admittedly, the role had very much been written with her in mind. So she sucks in a nervous breath and averts her eyes to his bookcase as she begins unbuttoning her shirt. It’s difficult, her fingers shake on the buttons, but the way Viktor’s breath catches when the garment falls open and catches on her elbows has her desperate to continue. She is aware that her underwear is nothing to write home about, she had been anticipatinga slow, boring day at work, after all. Her bra is at least lacy even though it’s otherwise plain white (anything else would be visible through her shirt) and she almost wants to apologise for not offering a better show, but when her eyes cautiously dart back to Viktor she finds him watching with such rapt attention that she suddenly feels less inadequate.

His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks dusted with pink and she can see the way his chest shifts with his heavy breath. It’s enough that she manages to feel a little confident, even. Deciding not to divert her eyes back to the bookcase and to peer shyly in his direction instead. The bob of his throat is what catches her eyes at first, keeping her attention as she finishes the buttons on her shirt and allows it to fall to the floor. Then the tight dig of his blunt fingernails into the fabric of his slacks, that keeps her occupied through the process of unzipping her skirt and letting it join her shirt with a quiet rustle. It’s the vision of Viktor’s teeth biting down on his lower lip that gives her the confidence to reach around and unclasp her bra, and then the sound of her name leaving his mouth in a teetering whine that allows her to drop it entirely.

Viktor hums approvingly at the sight of her in nothing more than her underwear and sheer black stockings, “You are a vision.” He croons, eyes half-lidded and intense, “But I do believe I asked to watch you touch.”

She closes her eyes, nerves returning in a rush, but not strong enough to fight back the coiling heat of arousal, “Yes, Professor.”

At first, she is too self-conscious to even open her eyes, chewing on her lower lip as one of her hands slides up from her hip and over the soft weight of her breast. Viktor makes a sound, something between a gasp and a moan, she takes that to mean she is doing well and so gently squeezes her breast in her palm. When she finds the confidence to circle her thumb over her nipple, she releases a keening moan that she quickly tries to silence with her other palm. She is already so unbelievably, shamefully sensitive, that even that one tentative touch of her own hand has her legs shaking beneath her.

“Eyes on me, please.” Viktor says again and she grits out a whimper from between her teeth before doing as asked.

The sight of him, has her moaning again. One of his hands is now tightly pressed to his chin, his teeth chewing on one of his prominent knuckles. His other hand remains on his thigh, gripping somehow even more tightly than before. Most significantly, he’s uncrossed his legs, thighs hanging wide open and making the strain of his slacks blatantly obvious between them. Her head lolls to the side and her next moan is more wanton, liberating. She pinches her nipple between finger and thumb, rolling it between them and lets her other hand fall from her mouth and rest instead at the waistband of her stockings.

Viktor lets out a slow breath as her fingertips slowly edge down into her stockings and then further down into her conservative underwear. Black, not white. Maybe she would have put some effort into locating a matching set, if she had any inclination of this happening, though Viktor doesn't seem at all bothered by her mismatched undergarments. He hums, chewing on his knuckle some more as his eyes dart down to the shift of her hand inside her underwear and when she finally dares to run a finger up the length of her sex, her resounding whine has him biting down hard enough that she is sure it will leave a mark.

“Are you wet?” He asks, gaze shifting back up to her face.

She scrunches her eyes shut, embarrassed at the more than obvious answer to that question, “Uh, I-I” Her finger bumps against her clit and she loses her train of thought.

Viktor chuckles, “A more coherent response, please. If you can manage it.”

“I-I am.” she gulps a breath, feeling just how easily her finger slides between her folds, “very.”

It's hard for her to stay upright, every feather-light touch of a single finger has her suffering a full body shake. She's so wet that she can feel the gusset of both her underwear and stockings have been soaked through, clinging wetly to the back of her hand as she continues her tentative ministrations. She very nearly sobs when she adds a second finger and rubs a slow circle around her swollen clit, her legs quivering under her weight and hips stuttering out towards her hand.

"Look at you…" Viktor says breathlessly, hooded eyes darting between her hand between her thighs and the pinched expression on her face, "You're barely able to stand, aren't you?"

Her head lolls forward into a boneless nod, biting down on her lower lip as she slides her fingers backward to tease at her entrance, her insides fluttering at even the promise of penetration, "I'm sorry, I-"

"No no, do not apologise." Viktor insists, his voice thick and addictive, "It has been quite, hm, stimulating, observing the way your legs shake, but, I may have a suggestion to make this a little easier for you." He shoots her a smirk and pats his left thigh, “Take a seat.”

Chapter Five. Page Eleven. She gulps a breath, sliding her fingers out from beneath her stockings, shivering as they brush past her clit on the way up. Viktor regards her intently as she takes several shaky steps towards him, reclining further backward against his chair when she positions herself with his leg between her own, still a few inches away from contact. Then, without warning, Viktor takes her hand (the one that had just been down her stockings) and brings it to his mouth, opening his lips and taking her two slick-covered fingers inside. Chapter Seven. Page Fifteen. She moans at the warm wetness that is the inside of his mouth, whimpering at the feeling of his tongue sliding between both of her fingers, his head bobbing forward and then back just a little, encouraging her to fuck his mouth properly.

"F-Fuck…" She stammers, hips quivering, desperate for any sort of friction as she begins to slowly thrust her fingers in and out of Viktor's open mouth. He peers up at her, eyes hooded and releasing a moan that she can feel around her digits. She quickly grows more generous with her fingers, sliding them back out until barely her fingertips remain between his lips and then languidly pushing back in until they are hilted all the way to the final knuckle, deep enough that she can feel them at the back of his throat. Viktor moans again, and she curses under her breath at the sight of his red cheeks and the saliva accumulating at the corners of his mouth.

One of his hands slides up the side of her torso, coming to rest on her shoulder where it then presses down firm. Encouraging her to do as he asked earlier and take a seat. Her knees shake as she slowly lowers herself down, a gasp catching in the back of her throat the moment her aching clit presses down on his thigh, even through three layers of cloth. Viktor lets out a pleased sound around the intrusion of her fingers, lifting his leg just a little and grinding it up against her. She stutters out a moan, writhing impatiently on his thigh, so wanting that she spares only a brief thought for how her wetness must be ruining his slacks.

Viktor pulls back far enough that her fingers slip from his mouth with a perverse wet sound, he takes a few seconds to inhale some heavy, rasping breaths before grunting out the words, "That's it, good girl." and occupying himself with the side of her throat instead. She chokes on a whimper, grinding her hips desperately against his thigh, eyes nearly rolling back in her head with the white hot pleasure that lances through her. Her hands jump up to grip his shoulders, desperate for purchase as her legs shake under the relentless, rhythmless speed of her hips. All the while, Viktor is leaving wet and messy kisses the whole way down the length of her throat, sucking lavishly against the pulse point under her jaw before moving down to her shoulder where he bites. Her hips stutter at the feeling of his teeth, and then again at the soothing lathe of his tongue a moment after.

"God, Viktor!" She grits out from between her teeth when he sucks a purple mark on her collarbone and then his mouth moves down to capture one of her nipples between his lips and that makes her go nearly boneless against him. Her hips grind and rut and fuck almost without her permission and her head falls slack against his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his sweater as she feels her stomach coiling with an unbearable arousal. Having her head buried in his shoulder makes her take notice of just how good he smells and the endless grind of her clit against him is making her lose herself, unable to even think about being embarrassed anymore. Viktor nips at her breast and she mewls in response, moving faster, faster, her breath coming heavy, mind completely lost to the pleasure. The sounds escaping her mouth are unfettered and increasing with pitch and fervour with every passing second. Her pleasure is so intense that it nearly aches, she is so close but still so far and a grunt of frustration escapes her that she tries to hide by biting down on Viktor's sweater.

Then, his hands clamp down on her hips, tight enough to impede her writhing. She whimpers, lifting her head up from his shoulder and one of his hands instead moves to cup her cheek while the other works hard to keep her locked in place. Viktor tilts his head to the side and brushes his thumb across her cheekbone, "I apologise," He coos, kissing lightly against her collarbone, "but this is not how I wanted you to finish."

She whines, grinding against him as much as she can, which is no longer very much, "H-How, then?" she manages to force out between her rapid breaths.

"Do you recall the events of chapter six?” Viktor asks against the side of her throat, “I found them to be particularly enthralling.”

"God yes, so did I," She responds breathlessly.

He chuckles, pressing his lips to her jugular, “Would you like to get on the desk for me, then?”

"Yes"

Viktor leans back, tilting her chin to meet his eyes, "Yes, what?" He asks, a playful mirth shining in his eyes.

Her heart races behind her ribs and she forces herself to swallow before whispering, "yes, Professor."

Viktor sighs pleasantly, thumb tracing her well bitten lower lip, "Such a good girl." He breathes, pressing a quick kiss under her jaw and giving the side of her thigh a quick tap, "Up, please."

She does as asked, rising on her shaky legs and giggling shyly when she needs to rest a hand on his shoulder for balance. Once she is steady, Viktor takes that hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"Stockings off, if you would be so kind.” he whispers against her skin.

"Oh! Yes, of course, sorry!" She kicks off her shoes and scrambles to roll the offending pantyhose down her legs without tearing a hole in them, struggling a little when they get down to her ankles and she has to stand on one foot to yank each side off, “Sorry.” she mumbles, shaking the last bit of the offending garment off her toes, “That part is always much sexier in writing.”

Viktor laughs warmly, “Do not worry. I appreciate the touch of realism.” he inclines his head towards the desk, “Up you go.”

She feels her cheeks flushing but does as asked, taking a few steps backwards and hoisting herself upwards so her legs are dangling off the desk. Viktor smiles and then slowly stands so that he can push his chair forward until it is right between her thighs. He rounds the chair and leans his cane up against the desk just beside her leg and then returns to his seat.

The anxiety comes back in a sudden rush at the sight of him settled in between the open invitation of her thighs, her breath races away from her and she struggles to catch it. Viktor's expression shifts, eyebrows pulling together in a concerned furrow.

"Are you alright?" He asks, rubbing a comforting hand on her knee that feels far more platonic than anything else has this evening.

She nods loosely, "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just uh…overwhelmed?"

"Would you like to stop?"

"No!" She replies a bit too quickly and then let's out a nervous laugh before correcting, "I mean- No, I wouldn't. Thank you for asking, though."

He hums under his breath, "If you ever do need to stop or take a break, just let me know, alright?"

"I will, promise" She responds, managing what she hopes is a coy smile before adding, "So don't worry about me, do whatever you want to."

"Oh?" Viktor answers playfully, smirking up at her from between her legs, "I suppose I should pick up where I left off then, shouldn't I?" He inches in a little closer and she squeaks at the feeling of his lips pressing against the side of her knee and one of his hands sliding up and under, holding her leg slightly aloft. He hums against her skin, placing another kiss further up on her inner thigh and she grips tightly to the edge of the desk to ground herself somehow. A shocked little whine escapes her mouth when he nips gently at her thigh, and then a whimper follows as the feeling of his tongue lapping over the bite.

In between kisses, Viktor mumbles, “If would indulge me, I have some questions to ask.” against her skin.

“O-Okay.” She replies, a little too shocked at their positioning to really understand what is being asked of her.

He makes a pleased sort of sound, his next kiss so far up her thigh that she can feel his warm breath through her underwear, “When you were writing this scene, the one in chapter six.” another kiss, on the opposite leg, “Did you have to take breaks?”

Her mind is so addled at the feeling of his mouth so close to her sex that she doesn't even manage to catch his implication,“W-What like to eat? I try to, but sometimes I get distracted and forget.”

Viktor chuckles into her thigh, “No.” he begins, sucking gently on the skin there before continuing, “Did the process of writing that scene, of committing it to paper, ever fluster you so much that you had to leave your desk to relieve yourself?”

Another swirling of aroused humiliation begins in the pit of her stomach, her thighs quivering on either side of Viktor's shoulders as she tries to maintain composure, “Yes.” She admits, voice shaking, “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes or often?” Viktor insists, the hand under her leg sliding upward and toying with the leg of her underwear.

She curses under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, “Often.” She corrects.

"Good." He responds, his delicate finger running up and along the lacy hemline, gentle enough that she can just barely feel it, "Though I would prefer that I do not need to request clarification again." he bites at her innermost thigh, right at the join to her pelvis, "So please do try and be honest with your responses, yes?"

She nods loosely, still too overwhelmed to open her eyes, "O-Okay, I will, I promise."

"Good." Viktor answers, his voice low and utterly addictive, "Then allow me to ask my next question." He whispers and she feels his breath right at the apex of her thighs, "When you did this, when you took the time to…recuperate before returning to your writing. Was it him, Professor Novák,you were thinking about?”

Her hips stutter upward just a little and she bites down on her lower lip to silence a moan, “No.” She says unevenly.

“Who then?” He asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

“V-Viktor you’re embarrassing me.” She stammers, her heart climbing its way up her throat, her sex growing shamefully wet with each of his meticulous, prodding insinuations.

He laughs fondly, palm rubbing a warm circle on her inner thigh, “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I just want to hear you say it, that's all.”

"You." She whispers.

Something a little bit like a whine escapes Viktor's mouth and his hands move to either side of her underwear, "Open your eyes for me." He breathes and then adds, "Please."

She does, slowly and nervously, still chewing away on her lower lip. Viktor peers up at her with something almost like reverence, his summer-gold eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. His throat bobs and he slowly starts tugging her underwear down over her hips, she lifts herself up for him as they slide down her thighs, her knees, her calves and then catch on her left ankle where Viktor seems content to leave them.

He leans forward, close enough that she can feel his hot breath directly on her wetness. She twitches and Viktor lets out a soft groan, peering up at her from beneath his eyelashes, "Tell me again." He croons, lifting one of her legs up over his shoulder, "Tell me who you were thinking about."

She releases a shaky breath, unable to pull her eyes from his despite her nerves begging her to, “You, always you. Every single time.”

"Fuck, zlato" Viktor hisses out between his teeth, sucking a mark on the inside of her thigh as his free hand inches up the other leg, gripping to the uppermost part of her thigh, his thumb inching so close to where she really wants it, "Such a good girl." He drawls, the words rolling around delectably on his tongue, "So good for me."

She shifts her arms, hands flat on the desk behind her, head lolling backward at the duel sensations of his mouth on her thigh and his thumb lingering so close to her sex. When she suddenly feels the warmth of his breath brush her wetness again she mumbles a sudden, "Please." and rolls her hips up towards him.

"Please, what?" He asks, still fully committed to his role even as she hears his voice losing it's even tone.

An utterly pathetic whine escapes her and her hips roll again, "Please, Viktor. Your mouth, please, I-" his hand slides up the join between her thigh and pelvis and she whimpers, "I've been good, please!"

Viktor's next moan is low and deep, all the way in the back of his throat and her head shoots up at the sudden eruptive pleasure of his tongue against her swollen clit, gasping at the sight of his head buried between her thighs. She curses under her breath as he draws slow circles around her clit, his tongue is so wet and warm and the uncombed tips of his hair tickle her inner thighs. Her arms shake beneath her and it takes every ounce of energy to not collapse backwards onto the desk, but she doesn't, she refuses to, because it's Viktor between her legs and she can't bear to stop looking at him.

Then, his second hand joins his mouth between her legs, one of those devious fingers teasing at her entrance and she feels her insides clench involuntarily in anticipation. Viktor grunts against her, sucking on her clit as his finger slides all the way inside in one fluid motion. Her eyes nearly roll back in her head, her hips cant up to meet his ministrations, the whole room filled with the slick sounds of his fingers and mouth, she knew she was wet, but god she is wet. She's lets out a rasping gasp when a second finger joins the first, the both of them curling up in just the right spot to have her seeing stars and then Viktor has the gall to look at her, his eyes blown wide, peering up at her over the curve of her belly. A third finger, then, as his eyes are still locked with hers. The stretch is addictive, she can feel tears beading in the corners of her eyes and her teeth are grit, breath huffing desperately in and out through her nose. Viktor moans against her and the vibrations of that have her quivering, the effort of holding herself up is starting to take toll, she can feel her stomach muscles burning with the strain, but she can't stop looking at him.

She yelps at the feeling of another finger sliding inside of her, the protrusion obvious but still so easy and not at all painful. Viktor pulls his mouth from her for just a moment, just long enough for him to praise, "That's four fingers, zlato." he pumps them in and out of her, slowly enough that she feels the gravity of it, "And I barely even had to work for it."

She's close now, fuck she's so close. Her arms finally give way behind her and she manages to catch herself before she hits the desk, shakily lowering herself down onto the wood. With her hands free, the both of them quickly jump up to grab at Viktor's hair, tangling in it, holding him firmly against her as she grinds her hips into his face, her mind utterly lost, the very concept of shame vanishing as all four of his fingers fuck her and his tongue works its magic on her over sensitive clit. He grunts when both her legs hook up behind him, her feet locking behind his head, "Fuck fuck, please, m'close, so close, fuck please." she pleads, her moans beginning to sound like desperate sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks with exertion.

Viktor takes the hint, fingers moving faster, lips locking around her clit and suckling ravenously as she shakes and grinds above him. His fingers crook up just the way she needs them to and her back arches up off the desk as the pleasure coiling in the belly snaps and shoots from her centre all the way out to her fingers, leaving her quivering and wrecked. Viktor slows, carefully removing his fingers and gently lapping at her with the flat of his tongue, at first even that feels like too much, her hips twitching with every swipe of his tongue, but after a little bit the feeling starts settling warm in her stomach and she regains the energy to unhook her feet and sit back up.

Viktor lifts his head up, resting it on her thigh and giving her an utterly salacious smile. His fingers take the place of his tongue, not touching her clit directly, but slowly sliding up and down the full length of her sex, "Do you think you have another in you?" He asks.

She assesses for a moment, considering how the fingers between her thighs feel. Good, she surmises, "Yes. I think so." and then, a little boldly, "Chapter nine, then? Since I'm already on the desk."

Viktor practically purrs, nipping gently at her thigh before rising from the chair, "Ah, like you read my mind." he says, smirking and wiping the bottom of his face with the back of his free hand. His fingers continue their slow movements against her sex and she slides her hand up the side of his neck around to the back of his head.

She tastes little more than herself when their lips meet, but Viktor hums a moan into her mouth that tastes far sweeter. Her tongue runs behind his upper row of teeth and then she sucks gently on the tip of his tongue when it ventures into her mouth in return, he grunts in response adjusting his weight to rest further forward on the desk all while his fingers continue stroking up and down the length of her. She bites a moan, pulling back from him and drowning in his lax, lust drunk expression for just a moment before jumping her hands down to the hem of his sweater and yanking it up as best she can.

"A little help?" She says, struggling to get it past his arms.

Viktor laughs good naturally, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before leaning backward and pulling the sweater up over his head on one swift motion. She reaches up and quickly undoes a few more buttons on his shirt, enough that she can see down to his sternum and becomes suddenly distracted by the expanse of skin that she pauses in her effort of undoing the rest, instead latching her lips to his exposed collarbone, sucking and kissing the length of it. Her lips travel upward, licking at the side of his throat when her hands return to their task, undoing the rest of his buttons and then shoving the shirt down off his shoulders. Viktor quickly yanks his tie up over his head and she shuffles forward just a little on the desk, wrapping her arms around his middle and tugging him up against her, relishing in the feeling of her breasts pressing against his bare skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses from the protrusion of his shoulder all the way up to his jaw. Viktor releases a shaky sigh, two of his fingers between her legs tentatively dipping into her, just to the first knuckle to test her sensitivity. When she doesn't immediately recoil he inches them in a little further, all the way, at the sound of her breathless moan.

"It seems as if you are ready for me, don't you think?" He says against the side of her throat, sucking a mark beneath her jaw.

She moans a little at even the thought of it, "Yes, please, I want you so badly."

Viktor coos at her, the hand between her legs moving instead to his belt, quickly working to undo it as his other hand cups her cheek, "Oh, I know you do, zlato. I read all about it."

She laughs despite herself, the sound is easy and bubbles right up and out of her. She covers his hand on her cheek with her own, leaning into the warmth of his palm, "Viktor?" she asks cheekily, "When you were reading my manuscript," she cocks her head to the side, "did you ever have to take breaks?"

His responding laugh is warm and not at all embarrassed, instead he raises their interlinked hands to his lips and places a kiss on the back of her knuckles, "Not during the first perusal." he replies evenly, "I did not quite realise the gravity of what I was reading at that point." he releases her hand, needing two to undo his trousers and inch them just far enough down his thighs, "Ah, the second time however, that is a different matter entirely."

She can't resist quickly darting her eyes downward, hissing a breath through her teeth at the sight of his hand wrapping loosely around the base of his cock. It looks almost painfully hard, flushed red and dripping. Her breath hitches when he nudges against her, just barely, a minuscule pressure against her sensitive clit that sends a quiver through her legs. Viktor hums, watching her intently as he moves his right hand to balance his weight on the desk, compensating for his right leg, she assumes. His left hand remains somewhere between their legs, but he's now leaning in so close that it's difficult for her to see what is happening down there anymore.

"Would you like to hear some more about my second reading?" He asks smoothly, slowly running his tip up and down her slit, lathering it in the accumulation of wetness between her thighs.

She whimpers, nodding her head, "Please."

He sighs, a wide and loose smile playing around his lips, "My second reading, was a great deal more eventful, because by then I had more than a suspicion of just who you were writing about." the head of his cock stills at her entrance, the heat of him, the promise of penetration has her biting down on her lower lip. Viktor's eyes are wide and dark, he leans down to nip at her throat and continues, "It became increasingly difficult to maintain focus, as you might imagine, when I realised that I was reading about you, on your knees, sucking my cock." he grunts, his cool demeanour betrayed for just a moment as his hips stutter forward.

She wriggles her hips, a breathless sigh escaping her throat, "Chapter four?"

"Yes." He responds lowly, hand on the desk gripping tight as he inches himself inside her, connecting his lips to hers so he can swallow the sound of her resounding moan before pulling back with a heavy breath, "I did not survive chapter four, at least, not at first."

She curses under her breath as he continues pushing in, a few more inches, but she is already so sensitive from her last orgasm that even that has her desperately panting, grasping wildly at his hair, his shoulders.

Viktor still mostly maintains his composure, despite the fucked out mess of his hair and the way it clings to his sweaty brow, "Chapter four would not be the last time that I put your writing aside and-" he slides in the rest of the way, a grunt escaping his teeth when his hips slot against her, "-fucked my hand to the mere thought of what you had written." He leans in, his golden eyes broiling, so close that their noses touch and their breaths intermingle, "You, zlato. Are an outstanding writer."

She moans into his mouth when his lips collide with hers, looping both of her arms around his shoulders and tugging him closer to her. Viktor's left hand grabs tightly to her hip, his tongue meeting hers in an utterly filthy writhe and his hips finally start to move. Despite the intensity of his tongue in her mouth, the pump of his hips still remains slow and methodical, a gasp escaping her lungs each time he sheathes himself back inside, his tip grinding against that perfect spot inside of her. The feeling of his bare shoulders beneath her grasping hands, and the hitches in his breath with each thrust keep her grounded, solidifying that it really is Viktor inside of her. She pulls her mouth from his, admiring the focus in his eyes, the intense furrow of his brow, his kiss bruised lips. The sun in the window behind her has well begun to set, painting him in shades of pink and orange, catching in his tangled hair and the beads of sweat on his forehead. He is unfairly beautiful. So she fully wraps herself around him, clinging tightly to his shoulders and encircling his waist with her shaky legs, encouraging him to move faster with a nudge of her heels.

"Ha, impatient?" Viktor manages to say in between panting breaths, his voice is raspy and deep, accent curling delicately around the word.

She whimpers, burying her head in his shoulder, licking at the skin there, "Want you to finish, need you to."

Viktor let's out a shaky sigh, and his hand slides from her hip to down between her legs, rubbing a quick circle around her swollen clit, "Not without you."

Even that slight touch has her gritting her teeth, breathing in hard through her nose, hips twitching. It's so much, it's too much, but somehow it isn't nearly enough, "I-I don't know if I-"

"You can. You will." He responds, his thrusts growing faster, his fingers on her clit applying just the right amount of pressure to have her hissing and gasping into his shoulder.

"F-Fuck!" She exclaims, the heat is nearly unbearable, her legs shake with each circle of his fingers and it's like all of her joints have locked around him, she couldn't be pried from him if he tried. His next thrust has her nearly sobbing, gasping aloud at the feeling of herself clenching down on him and the again at the moan he releases at the sensation.

Viktor bites a curse in Czech, all sharp consonants, the pump of his cock increasing in speed, gradually losing rhythm, "That's it." He grunts, "Such a good girl, zlato. You can do it, I know you can."

She feels his praise deep inside her, it makes her walls flutter, her legs tighten around him. She releases an aching moan against the side of his throat, kissing, biting and tonguing at his skin in equal measure. Barely coherent, she just needs her mouth on him, any way possible, "I-I'm close." she nearly sobs, burying her head in his shoulder.

"Look at me." He grunts, and then again, softer, "Please, look at me."

Her head feels heavy and her lower lashes are wet with tears of exertion, but she manages to loll her head back upward, biting back a whine at the luxurious way Viktor's golden eyes dart around her face. She rests a hand on the desk for balance, inhaling a shaky breath as she lifts her other hand to his cheek. He huffs a breath through his nose and leans into her palm, eyes fluttering closed and then reopening with a pointed intensity that she could drown in.

She feels his fingers slip down to her entrance, sliding quickly inside and then back out in the gap between his thrusts, before gliding back up to her clit, newly wet with her arousal and circling faster and faster. Her teeth grit, her jaw so tight that she can feel it in the base of her skull. She struggles to keep her eyes open, barely able to gulp down enough air to keep her brain functioning as her hips twitch and stutter with each touch of his fingers, the knot in her stomach growing tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts.

A rising crescendo of moans starts forcing it's way out from behind her teeth and she sees Viktor's eyes blow even wider, his own breath going uneven, "Are you going to come for me?" he rasps

She barely manages a nod, whimpering as she teeters on the edge of her orgasm, hand on his cheek moving down to grip tightly at his shoulder for purchase, grinding her hips upward to meet his on each thrust, "F-Fuck, Viktor I-" she's cut off by a moan, struggling her way through a near incomprehensible sentence consisting nothing but curses and pleas of his name. It feels so good that it nearly hurts and with a few more desperate panting breaths and utterly wild writhes of her hips, she feels her climax taking over her body. She shakes, she quivers, her legs lock around him impossibly tight and somewhere amongst that she feels Viktor follow her, leaning his head in to cover her mouth with his own and swallow down her moans as he jerks against her, cock pulsing warmly deep within her sex.

Then she goes limp, head collapsing on his shoulder as she slowly starts catching her breath. Her body feels lethargic and weak, but incredibly good, warm and loose and soft. Remarkably, not at all sore - especially given the less than orthopaedic status of Viktor's desk. She lets out a little giggle into the side of his neck, feeling warm and affectionate.

Viktor laughs too, a warm chuckle that he follows with a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Are you ready for me to move, zlato?" he asks and she gives him a tired nod, wincing slightly at the feeling of him sliding out of her, even though he does it very carefully. She watches as he leans back from the desk and works on getting his trousers and underwear straightened.

"You don't have a sink in here?" She slurs, very tired.

"Ah, no." Viktor responds, almost sheepishly, "It is not ideal, but I will at least need my clothes back on so I can make a trip to the faculty bathroom across the hall and steal some towels."

He does an awkward sort of hop, adjusting his clothes but avoiding putting any weight on his right leg. She quickly realises that he probably overexerted it and either hadn't noticed or just trying his best to ignore it. She frowns, "Just hang out with me for a sec, don't go yet."

He smiles, "That is very kind of you, but there is little appropriate room for me to eh, 'hang out' as you put it."

"Wait, one second." She manages to shuffle herself to the side a little, tapping the free space on the desk with her hand, "Hop on up."

Viktor gives her a warm sort of look and takes her up on the offer, lifting himself up onto the desk and then letting his upper half lie flat. She does the same, laying back on the desk and staring up at the ceiling, an overjoyed smile tugs at her lips when his hand quickly finds hers, thumb tracing the back of her knuckles.

"Remind me to give you my number when we get back down." He says warmly, squeezing her hand once.

She turns her head and gives him a quizzical look, "I already have your number."

He levels his gaze with hers, smiling, "you have my business number."

"Oh…" she mutters, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"There is a lovely little cafe a few blocks away, I will have to show you sometime." his smile turns mischievous and he whispers, "You could always bring your laptop, if you intend on getting some more writing done."

She giggles and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, "So long as you promise to read it when I'm done," and then, because she suddenly feels hardly nervous at all, she winks playfully and adds, "Professor."

"You will not be able to call me that during office hours." Viktor answers with a telling flush on his cheekbones, "I like it too much."

She smiles warmly, "We should meet up outside of office hours more often, then." she chews her lower lip, "Not uh, not just for sex, I-I mean-"

Viktor reaches his hand out, running the backs of his knuckles down the length of her cheek, "I'll admit, I have done this all a bit out of order, but I would like to take you on a proper date sometime." his eyes crinkle when he smiles, "Maybe after I finish grading finals?"

"That sounds perfect." She replies, unable to stop smiling, "And then, after that…" she says coyly, shuffling a little closer to him, "We never made it to chapter Eleven, did we?"

"No." Viktor replies, eyes growing wide, "We did not."

#bree writes occasionally #viktor x reader #viktor/reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

Note

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

#female reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #obsessive yandere #tw yandere

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filthygalli · 3 months ago

Text

The Unseen Observer

One shot: F!Reader x Professor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Masterlist

Squid Game Masterlist

Warnings: Age gap, Forbidden relationship, student librarian x teacher relationship, light smut, teasing, sexual innuendo, office sex, manipulation, innocence, not proof read

Word Count: 2741

Author’s Note: Originally a fiction story for my Contemporary professor because he reminds me of byung hun’s character from the picture above.

Y/n stepped into the hushed sanctum of the college library, a realm that had always whispered promises of knowledge and escape. The grand wooden shelves stretched out like welcoming arms, beckoning her deeper into their labyrinthine embrace. She was no stranger to books, but this particular sanctuary felt different, alive with secrets waiting to be uncovered. Today marked her first day as the new librarian, and she couldn't suppress the thrill of excitement that coursed through her veins.

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and orientations, her fingers tracing the spine of books that held galaxies of wonder. She was shown the ropes by Martha, the elderly librarian whose eyes sparkled with wisdom and stories untold. Y/n listened intently, soaking in every detail, her symphony of nerves and anticipation beginning to crescendo.

As the day wore on, Y/n found herself in the spacious reference section, the allure of old treasures too strong to resist. She was lost in the murmurs of decaying paper and faded print when she heard it - a laugh, deep and resonant, echoing from the adjacent lecture hall. Intrigued, she stepped out into the corridor, her gaze drawn towards the source.

Through the window, she saw him. In-Ho, she'd been told, was his name, the new history professor with an engaging smile that could ignite a thousand ships. He was pacing, hands gesturing wildly, his voice weaving words into magic as he spoke about the Reformation. His eyes, intense and vibrant, held the students captive, drawing them into his narrative. Y/n found herself captivated too, her heart pounding in rhythm with his crescendoing oration. When he caught her staring, she quickly ducked back into the safety of the library, cheeks aflame.

The rest of the day was a flutter of heated glances and chance encounters. Y/n found herself reaching for her necklace, a small silver locket that housed a picture of her late mother, a ritual she employed when nerves ran high. Each time she crossed paths with In-Ho, she felt a spark, a silent conversation passing between them, igniting an invisible flame that danced on her skin.

As the sun began its descent, casting warm hues through the stained-glass windows, Y/n found herself alone in the library once more. She was rearranging a stack of books when she noticed something peculiar - a section of the history aisle seemed out of place, the books not quite aligned. Curiosity piqued, she stepped closer, running her fingers along the spines. Her touch paused at 'The History of the French Revolution,' a thick tome that felt oddly hot to touch.

As she pulled out the book, a small, folded note fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, she noticed it was addressed to 'In-Ho.' With a growing sense of trepidation, she opened it, her eyes scanning the intimate words written within. It was a love letter, passionate and raw, detailing stolen moments and whispered promises. Intrigued, she turned it over, her eyes widening at the signature - 'Ellise.' A quick internet search revealed Ellise to be one of In-Ho's students, a pretty girl with doe eyes and a flirtatious smile.

Y/n felt a pang of something - jealousy, perhaps, or maybe it was just the realization that In-Ho, this man who'd set her heart aflutter, wasn't as unattached as she'd hoped. She placed the book and the note back, stepping away as if burned. Just then, she heard footsteps, and In-Ho appeared around the corner, looking every bit as surprised as she felt.

"Y/n," he started, his voice a low rumble, "You're still here."

"Could say the same for you, Professor," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

He smiled, a slow, guarded smile, and she felt that spark again, lingering, fiery. "In-Ho," he corrected, stepping closer, "Please, call me In-Ho."

She nodded, her gaze flicking to the bookshelf, to the letter hidden within. "I was just... arranging the books," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze followed hers, lingering on the shelf before returning to her. "You're thorough," he commented, his voice laced with an unspoken challenge.

Y/n felt a blush creeping up her neck, her mind buzzing with questions. She wanted to ask about Ellise, about the heated words in the letter, but she couldn't find the courage. Instead, she simply nodded, stepping away from the shelves, from the temptation they presented.

As she passed him, their arms brushed, and she felt a jolt, a zing of electricity that left her breathless. She could see the same reflection in his eyes, a sizzling heat that spoke of unspoken desires and late-night whispers. With a final glance, she walked away, leaving him and the library's secrets behind, her heart pounding a rhythm of anticipation and dread. Little did she know, this was just the beginning, the first page of a story that was yet to unfold.

Y/n tossed and turned in her bed, the echoes of In-Ho's voice and the hint of illicit words from Ellise's letter refusing to leave her mind. The dance of his fingers against the spines of books, the way his gaze had held hers, it all felt like a secret language, a seductive whisper from behind the dusty tomes. She woke with the sun, her body thrumming with an anticipation she couldn't suppress.

The library was her sanctuary, but today it felt more like a battleground, each aisle a potential encounter, each book a silent witness to her racing heart. She lost herself in the comforting rhythm of organizing returned books, her fingers tracing their worn covers, until a familiar, resonant voice broke her concentration.

"Y/n," In-Ho's voice echoed through the shelves, smooth and inviting, like velvet draped over a blade. She turned to find him leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Planning to stay hidden amongst the books all day?"

She flushed, the implication clear. "I'm working, In-Ho," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "Unlike some people who seem to have too much time on their hands."

He pushed off from the shelf, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming. "Oh, Y/n, always so serious. Allez, let's have some fun. Tell me," he paused, his gaze flicking to the book in her hand, "what's your favorite book? The one you'd bring to a deserted island."

Taken aback, she chuckled, the unexpected question disarming her. "White nights," she admitted, noting the surprise in his eyes. "You?"

"'Les Liaisons Dangereuses.' It's... educative," he said, his tone laced with suggestion, his eyes holding hers captive.

Y/n swallowed hard, the title sending a shiver down her spine. The books were a code, a language of their own, and his choice was as bold as a kiss. She could feel the heat radiating off him, see the pulse at his neck quicken. He was playing a game, and she wasn't sure she wanted to play, yet she found herself drawn in, a moth to a flame.

"You know," he continued, his voice a low murmur, "They say libraries are the most erotic places. All these hidden worlds, waiting to be discovered." His gaze drifted to her lips, then back to her eyes, the silent promise clear.

Y/n felt her breath hitch, her heart pounding. The library, their little game of words and inferences, it was intoxicating. She wanted to challenge him, to match his boldness, yet she found herself at a loss for words, her mind blank except for the relentless hammering of her pulse.

In-Ho took her silence as an invitation, stepping even closer, his hand brushing hers as he reached for a book. The touch was electric, a spark that shot straight to her core. She could see the reflection of her desire in his eyes, the pupil dilating, the iris aflame.

"They say knowledge is power," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "But I say, understanding the rules is power. And you, Y/n," he paused, his gaze holding hers, "you're either a master at playing this game or a novice eager to learn."

Before she could respond, he stepped back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Think about it," he said, then turned and walked away, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Y/n stood rooted, her body humming, her mind racing. In-Ho was dangerous, his flirtations bordering on manipulative. But there was no denying the attraction, the thrill of their silent dance. She was stepping into uncharted waters, but somehow, she knew she was willing to dive in, to explore the depths of their shared passion, one word, one touch, one stolen moment at a time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of restless anticipation. Y/n found herself constantly stealing glances at the lectures hall, catching glimpses of In-Ho in his element, his voice weaving tales that captivated not just his students, but her as well. Each time their eyes met, she felt a jolt, a silent conversation passing between them, a dance of tension and longing.

As the sun began to set, casting the library in a warm, golden hue, Y/n found herself in the rare books section, her fingers tracing the spines of ancient tomes. She was lost in thought, her mind a whirlwind of In-Ho's words and the echoes of their illicit encounters, when she heard footsteps. Turning around, she found In-Ho standing there, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the setting sun.

"Still hidden amongst the books, I see," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe you're not hiding at all. Maybe you're just waiting."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her heart pounding. "Waiting for what?"

In-Ho stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "For the right book to find you. Like this one," he murmured, reaching past her to pull out a thick, leather-bound volume.

The sudden proximity made her breath hitch, her body tingling at his closeness. She watched as he opened the book, revealing beautifully illuminated pages. It was a collection of love poems, words that whispered of forbidden desires and stolen moments.

"These are..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing.

"Erotic," In-Ho finished for her, his gaze holding hers. "A perfect reflection of us."

She could feel the heat radiating off him, see the pulse at his neck quicken. The words on the page seemed to dance before her eyes, mirroring the tension between them. Unable to resist, she leaned in, her gaze lingering on his lips.

In-Ho closed the distance, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. His lips met hers in a soft, hesitant kiss, a question more than a statement. Y/n leaned into it, her eyelids fluttering closed, her body humming with desire. His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

The world around them faded away, the ancient words around them a symphony of their shared passion. His lips were firm, commanding, yet his touch was gentle, exploring. She matched his urgency with her own, her hands tangling in his hair, his shirt bunching in her fists. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

"You taste like answers," he whispered, his voice ragged. "And questions. So many questions."

She smiled, her heart pounding. "Maybe we should find a place to... discuss them," she suggested, her voice laced with innuendo.

In-Ho chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "My office," he said, stepping back, his gaze holding hers. "Ten minutes. Don't be late."

As she made her way to his office, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. They were playing with fire, their passion fueled by the forbidden, their desire to their shared love of literature. Yet, she found herself eager to burn, to explore the depths of their shared passion, one word, one kiss, one stolen moment at a time.

When she stepped into his office, he was waiting, his eyes reflecting the dim light, his lips curled in a smirk. He closed the door behind her, the click echoing like a promise.

"Now," he said, stepping closer, his hand reaching for hers, "where were we?"

Y/n sat across from In-Ho in his cozy office, his desk lamp casting a soft glow on the books stacked haphazardly around them. They were both breathless, their earlier encounter in the rare books section still lingering in the air like a tangible promise. In-Ho reached for a glass of wine, his hand slightly trembling, and topped off their glasses. As he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed, and she felt that now familiar spark.

"You know, Y/n," he began, his voice soft, "you're not what I expected."

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of wine. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Good. Definitely good. You're... refreshing. A breath of fresh air in this stuffy old institution."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her at his words. "Well, I could say the same about you. A history professor with a penchant for romance novels and illicit liaisons in the library. You're full of surprises, In-Ho."

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine. "You have no idea, Y/n. No idea at all." He paused, setting his glass down, his gaze turning serious. "There's something I want to show you. Something I've never shown anyone here."

Intrigued, Y/n watched as he stood up, walking over to a bookshelf filled with an eclectic mix of books. He pulled out a thick manuscript, bound in plain paper, and placed it on the desk in front of her. It was titled 'Memoirs of a Lost Love.'

"What's this?" she asked, her fingers tracing the letters.

In-Ho sat back down, his gaze never leaving hers. "That, Y/n, is my past. A part of me I've kept hidden from everyone here. It's a...Lessons learned, so to speak."

She opened the manuscript, her eyes scanning the first few lines. It was raw, intimate, a tale of love and loss, told in In-Ho's signature resonant voice. She looked up, her eyes wide. "This is...this is beautiful, In-Ho. You're a writer."

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I was. I am. History has been my mask, literature my soul."

Y/n felt a profound connection in that moment, their shared love for words binding them together. She leaned over, her lips meeting him in a soft, tender kiss. When they pulled away, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling.

"I want to know you, Y/n," he whispered. "All of you."

She smiled, her heart pounding. "And I want to know you, In-Ho. The writer, the professor, the man."

Their conversation flowed like a river, their words intertwining, their laughter echoing in the small office. They talked about books, about their dreams, about their fears. They talked about the first time they fell in love, the first time they got hurt. They talked until the sun began to rise, their shadows intertwined on the wall, their bodies barely inches apart.

And then, they didn't talk at all. Their lips found each other again, their hands exploring, their bodies pressing closer. Their clothes fell away, discarded pieces of a puzzle they were fitting together. In-Ho's touch was gentle yet commanding, his fingers tracing the curves of her body like he was memorizing a map. Y/n matched his intensity, her hands exploring the hard lines of his muscles, her lips leaving trails of fire on his skin.

When they finally came together, it was with a shared groan, a testament to their restraint, a celebration of their release. Their bodies moved in sync, their rhythm a dance they'd choreographed without words. They paused, their gazes locking, their breaths hitching in unison. Then, with a silent agreement, they continued, their bodies building towards a crescendo, their hearts pounding a shared melody.

In the aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts still pounding. Y/n rested her head on In-Ho's chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling it slowly return to its usual rhythm. She felt at peace, content, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.

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humanpurposes · 2 years ago

Text

Mine All Mine

Michael doesn't have a lot of friends, nor does he want them. Now he thinks he might have found his perfect match, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away

Main Masterlist

Michael Gavey x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, Michael Gavey being a little shit (affectionately), possessive behaviour (yk the drill here)

Words: 7k

A/n: This ended up leaning into more of a cuter side, I definitely wanna do something creepier with him at some point! Also available to read on AO3.

He gets to the room early, before the tutor has even arrived. It’s his first tutorial of the year and his first ever at Oxford. He stands straight with his head up and his hands unmoving, a picture of neutrality. He has his problem sheet in his satchel and runs through the questions in his head, not because he needs to, not because he doubts himself, but simply because he can.

He doesn’t even like maths all that much, but he’s always been good at it. He had considered doing something a little less straightforward, physics or economics, but then what would be the point in getting into Oxford to be anything less than perfect?

He knows his tutor’s name from his schedule, Stephen Breyer. He arrives only a few minutes later and they go inside. The tutorial room is small, with three of the four walls covered in bookshelves. In the centre of the room there is a table, an armchair on one side and a small sofa on the other.

Michael takes the seat closest to the door. It puts him in a slightly more direct line of sight with Stephen. It also means his tutorial partner will inevitably have to climb over his legs to sit down and the thought amuses him.

“How are you finding it so far?” Stephen asks, unpacking a thermos flask and a notebook from his bag.

“It?” Michael repeats.

Stephen pauses and looks at him, slightly bewildered. “Well, the course, the college, Oxford. All of it.”

“Right,” Michael says. He takes his time taking out a pencil and his problem sheet before placing them on the table. He sits back against the sofa and rubs his lips together in thought.

He supposes it’s been exactly as he had expected. Lectures have been fairly straightforward, Lincoln college looks the same as it had in the prospectus, and so far, most of the people seem insufferable. So many of them have no sense of urgency, no drive to truly succeed because to them, Oxford is a rite of passage rather than an earned privilege. He’s met maybe one person he’d consider worthy of his time, and even then, Oliver Quick is only a literature student. He might as well get a degree in overthinking.

Stephen is looking at him like he is still expecting an answer. Michael stares back. He’s never been one to bother with smalltalk.

“Alright then,” Stephen says, then nods to the empty place on the sofa. “Do you know if–”

The door opens and a girl walks in, closing it gently behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she says, eyes flickering around the room and settling on the space beside Michael.

He’s seen her before, in lectures, in the dining hall, walking around the college with her little group of friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were all Cheltenham girls by the way they talk and dress in the stupid outfits rich girls wear to make themselves seem like normal people.

He watches her as she walks towards him, the awkward little smile she gives him before she steps over his legs.

“Sorry,” she says again, falling onto the sofa. Michael almost winces at the sudden jolt of movement and the faint scent of a sweet perfume drifting from his left. “Had some trouble finding the room.”

“You’re right on time,” Stephen says, “we haven’t started yet.”

She’s better at the smalltalk than he is. She has a constant smile on her face and a bright look in her eyes, already having plenty of humorous anecdotes to share, despite the fact it’s only their second week.

As they go through the questions on the sheet, comparing calculations and answers, Michael is horrified to find that he’s a little nervous. His throat feels dry and he can feel his heart pulsing in his chest. It’s her fault, he thinks. Everything about her is distracting, the sound of her voice, the satisfied little hum she makes when she realises she’s got another question right. Her black tights, the way her skirt rides up her thigh when she crosses her legs.

He wants to think she’s vapid, a pretty face dressed up in black boots and a denim jacket, but to his dismay, all of their answers are the same, down to every detail in their calculations.

That is until they reach the last question. It’s terribly complex and he had almost struggled with it. Almost.

He steals a quick glance at her sheet and notices their answers are different. Because she’s missed a step, he realises. He feels a smile creeping across his lips.

He proudly goes through his working out, delighted at the surprised look on her face as she goes over her own sheet.

“I got something different,” she says with a shrug.

Stephen invites her to talk through her answer. Her voice is quieter and softer than it was before, but not as defeated as he’d like.

“She has you beat there, Mr Gavey,” Stephen says.

It’s like being punched in the gut. “What?”

“Overextend yourself a little,” he explains, drawing a line through the last few calculations on his paper. “Make sure to read what the question asks of you.”

His blood is boiling and his fists are clenched. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been wrong. A dangerous impulse in the back of his mind wants to scream his throat raw and tear his paper to pieces.

Then he feels a warmth settle over his knuckles. She’s placed her hand over his.

“It’s a compliment, really,” she says to him.

He looks up at her, only more infuriated by the gentle expression on her face. But he knows better than to let anger get the better of him. It will only leave him feeling ashamed. So he forces a smile and nods. “Thank you.”

She smiles too, sweet and reassuring.

He can’t bear the humiliation. Once they’re dismissed he packs up quickly, practically storming out of the room before she even has a chance to stand up.

He spends the rest of the day in his dorm, looking over the same problem and pulling at his hair, because now his mistake seems glaringly obvious. How could he be so useless? So careless as to not even read the fucking question properly?

His room is on the second floor, overlooking the quad. There are always people around, walking between classes, sitting on the grass, their voices and the smell of cigarette smoke rising and drifting in through his window. He hates it. He hates the noise, the distraction.

But as he goes to close the open window he spots her. It’s only for a moment. She’s walking towards the library with her hands in the pocket of her jacket and her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’s not with any of her preppy friends, in fact she looks rather solemn.

He feels a slight twinge of guilt in his gut. Perhaps he had been a little unfair to her in their tutorial.

He keeps noticing her, especially at meal times and during lectures. Whenever he enters a room he finds himself searching for her, and if he cannot find her, he waits for her to appear. He plays guessing games with himself, waiting to see what outfit she’ll wear, the pretty mini skirt or a pair of faded blue baggy jeans. If she’ll be with her friends or if she’ll be alone.

He never approaches her. He waits for her to look at him, and once they’ve made eye contact she’ll smile at him.

He likes watching her, and comes to the conclusion that she is charming and polite, but not overbearing, and that’s what's so intriguing about her. She knows how to talk to people, even the most insufferable of their peers, but she’s not nearly entitled enough to truly be one of them.

It’s a Friday evening the next time they actually speak. The library tends to be quieter at this time and he has a textbook to look over before his next lecture. Only, when he goes to find the book, he discovers the last copy has been checked out a matter of minutes ago. Fucking typical.

He goes to stalk out of the library, debating whether or not he can be bothered to ask Oliver if he wants to grab a drink in The King’s Arms, when he sees her.

She’s alone, with her chin in her palm, writing in a notebook as she looks at the textbook open in front of her. He’s willing to bet that’s exactly the book he needs.

He approaches her slowly, waiting for her to look up and notice him, but she seems utterly absorbed in what she’s doing. Only when he puts a hand on the back of her chair and leans over her shoulder does she react to him.

He sees her jump when he gets too close. “Jesus Christ!” she hisses, clutching her hand over her chest.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still hovering over her. “Did I frighten you?”

She hums a laugh but composes herself quite quickly. She turns her head to look at him. “I’m guessing you want the book?” she says, her breath fluttering over his cheek.

He straightens his back so he can look down at her. “Will you have it for long? Only I think I’ll get through the reading quite quickly.”

“Oh yes of course, you’re a genius, right?” she says with a grin.

Irritation scratches under the surface of his skin, hot and restless. That’s how he usually introduces himself, but it’s the truth.

“We could just share,” she says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “that is, unless you don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.”

There’s something exciting about the way she holds his gaze, the hint of a smile on her lips.

She offers to go back a page so he can catch up and admittedly, he skims through, only writing down a few notes before he tells her to move on. He can find the book again if he really needs to.

He has to lean over his left arm rather significantly to read the book properly. She notices this, and pushing it closer to him, shuffling her chair over to follow. They’re close enough that he can smell her perfume again.

“None of your little friends around then?” he asks quietly, so as not to disturb the other students.

“What?”

“That group of girls,” he says, “I’ve seen you sitting with them in the dining hall.”

She brings her chin back to her palm but doesn’t look up from her notes. “They live on my floor. I don’t need to spend every waking moment with them.”

“Touchy subject?” he asks, perhaps a little too hopefully.

His heart leaps in triumph when she looks up at him. “No. I’m just not sure I’d count them as friends, necessarily.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not my kind of people,” she says.

“Why not?”

She frowns briefly. He thinks she might scold him for being so direct, for asking so many questions, for being too intrusive. But she doesn’t.

The textbook is forgotten. She tells him about the village where she grew up, a sad little place by the sounds of it. She spent most of her schooling surrounded by the same twenty or so kids.

“For a long time, I knew there was something people didn’t like about me,” she says. “I didn’t understand why. I was never rude or cruel, I just kept my head down and did my work. The other girls told me I was a freak, the boys used to tease me, pull my hair, tear pages out of my books. Mum said people hated me because I was clever. Dad said I should stop complaining. So I did.”

He can’t help but draw a comparison to himself. He can feel it when he meets someone new, the inherent distrust, the sense that there is something inherently unlikeable about him. In a way he likes that people are unnerved by him because at least it’s something he can control. He has never been one for friends or common ground, a consequence of being the smartest person in every room.

He watches her intently as she tells him about a private school a few miles outside of her village, a proper posh place, Victorian buildings and sprawling estates. For her, it was her one chance of escape, and while her parents worked hard to make ends meet, the only way she was going to get in was with a scholarship. So she worked for it, got all A*s in her GCSEs, started at the posh school, and from there, set her sights on Oxford.

“You’re rather deceptive,” he says.

She smiles at him. “It’s not like I lied. Were you expecting a daddy’s money brat?”

“There’s enough of them about,” he says.

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Fucking tell me about it.”

They start to make a habit of studying together, at first it’s by coincidence, and then she gives him her number so they can organise themselves more effectively. They meet at the library every Friday to share a textbook or go over problem sheets, in preparation for their lectures. They even start to meet before their tutorials together, to compare answers and make sure neither of them are left out. Sometimes they go for coffee after their classes, and branch off to chat about things that aren’t maths.

He tells her about the grammar school he went to, that most of the boys there were rugby playing morons. He tells her about his family, his mum, his dad, the family cat that’s been around longer than he has. He tells her about his summer, running numbers for his uncle’s accountancy firm.

She tells him about the posh school, that starting at a boarding school was like being thrown into a different universe. Sure, she had been the odd one out and got the odd “povo” comment, but it was the first place where she had felt like she didn’t have to be ashamed of her own intelligence. She learnt how to fit in, to the point where he can’t tell if she actually likes her preppy friends or if she just puts up with them for the sake of it.

He starts to wonder if he could consider her a friend. He likes that she’s smart and sharp, the slight air of competition when they compare notes or go through a problem together. He likes challenging her, making her second guess herself, watching the way she squirms and tries to hide that she’s flustered. Just once, he thinks it would be fun to one-up her, but of course, she never slips up, and she never makes a mistake.

On Halloween she mentions a party at Magdalene College being hosted by one of her old school friends. Of course he’s sceptical. Hanging around a bunch of stuck up posh kids, who no doubt will all be in slutty costumes and getting off on each other’s egos, isn’t exactly his idea of fun. Although, part of him is intrigued to see her in a different setting.

So he agrees to meet her outside her dorm at 10pm exactly. He doesn’t bother with fancy dress, opting for jeans and a black jumper so that he can just fade into the background.

She appears with some of her preppy friends. They’re all in pastel dresses of differing colours, matching wings strung on their backs, glitter on their cheeks, a little pack of fairies. She’s in white mini dress that floats around her thighs as she moves, more like an angel.

She introduces him enthusiastically to the girls, already giddy from their pre-drinks, pink gin and rosé. None of them seem that interested by his presence and he grunts in response.

She links her arm through his as they walk over the cobbles, through the maze of ancient buildings to the dorm where the party is being held. She talks about everything and nothing. She tells him who’s going to be there, who’s been uninvited but might show up just to stir shit, how many girls are going to be there and that they’re all going to be trying to get into Felix Catton’s Calvin Kleins.

“Are you going to get with anyone?” she asks.

He makes a sound of disgust.

“Come on, Michael, live a little!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think– I don’t know–”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and turns him to face her. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

He swallows thickly. It’s not something he’s ever been ashamed of before, now it feels like a weight crushing down on his chest. “No,” he says, simply, determined to remain indifferent.

“Get with someone tonight!” she says excitedly, “just for the fun of it, we’ll find you someone good.”

He hates the idea, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. Perhaps it seems like fun to her, but to him it seems like an impossibility, and he thinks he’d rather have the consistency of being unwanted.

The party itself is loud and sparsely lit by neon lights. He starts off on bottles of beer to ease himself into it, but seeing everyone else is doing pills and white lines, he thinks he might need something stronger to get through the night, especially when she keeps getting distracted. The angel is quite the social butterfly and insists on saying hello to everyone, even the people she’s never met.

He finds himself in a common room and reaches for a bottle of whisky and a cup when he spots her. She’s leaning against a wall, wings discarded on the floor beside her. A tall boy, wearing nothing but jeans, a pair of feathery costume wings and a horrible Carpe Diem tattoo on his forearm, has his hands on her waist. She’s smiling and giggling into his neck every time he goes in to kiss her. Of all the girls Felix could go after.

His skin feels tight. He fears if he keeps having to watch this little display he’ll retch his guts up, and yet he’s utterly hypnotised by it, the way she had her arms around his shoulders, the way her fingertips trace the base of his neck. And fuck, he’s never seen her look so beautiful.

He ends up downing the rest of the whisky straight from the bottle and most of the night becomes a blur after that. At some point he thinks he starts trying to talk to one of her pastel fairy friends. He doesn’t catch her name, and he wouldn’t care to remember it anyway. She plays with his glasses, tries them on and giggles hysterically. He thinks she must be completely off her face, considering the look of utter disgust she had given him at the start of the night.

Somewhere in the noise of the party she throws her arms around his neck and they sway clumsily to the overwhelming bass of the music. He thinks he feels her lips graze his cheek, his jaw, his neck, but where he can help it, he keeps his eyes on his angel. Felix has one of her legs around his waist and his hands halfway up her skirt.

Fuck this.

He pushes the nameless girl off him and storms over to put an end to the scene before him. He grips Felix by his shoulders to pull him off her, grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the dorm. He doesn’t look back to see if Felix protests, he’ll probably find some other throat to stick his tongue down.

She tries to shout over the music. “Where are we–”

“I’m tired,” he snaps, bringing his face in close to hers. He gets closer than he means to, pressing his nose and his forehead against hers. He’s breathing fiercely, he realises, desperate to contain the full extent of his anger, his jealousy. “I want to leave.”

She stares back at him with parted lips, and nods.

He feels better the moment they’re outside, away from the disorientation of the party. He takes deep breaths of the night air, cold and sharp in his lungs. He snatches off his glasses, runs his hands over his face and his hair to find himself drenched in sweat.

His angel tucks herself in against him, under his arm, huddling her arms around herself and shivering.

“Do you want my jumper?” he says. His voice and the words on his tongue feel strange. His limbs feel weightless as he pulls it off and helps her into it.

“Hmm, thank you,” she says dreamily, clinging onto his arm as they stumble back to Lincoln College. He burns where she touches him, her fingertips digging into his skin. He loves it, and hates that her hands were on someone else before him.

“You were getting rather cozy with Miranda,” she says.

“Who?”

“Lilac fairy costume,” she says, playfully hitting his arm. “Did you kiss her?”

His heart sinks. He presses his lips together but she doesn’t seem to pick up on his annoyance. “No,” he says with a tight jaw.

“Oh no,” she says, looking up at him with a comically sad pout.

“It’s not important,” he says.

“It’s your first kiss! Or should have been your first kiss. It’s important. Did you at least have a good time before you got tired?”

“No,” he says, “your friends are all imbeciles.”

They walk the rest of the way back to her dorm in silence. He makes sure she has her keys, holds her face between his hands and tells her to drink a whole glass of water before she falls asleep.

She leans into his touch with a sleepy smile. “Yes, yes, I will,” she whines.

The sound stirs a wanting in his stomach. Suddenly his heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

“And call me if you need anything–”

“Would you want to kiss me?” she asks.

His eyes flicker down to her lips. His hands are still cupping her cheeks. “What?”

Her eyes are wide and alert. “I just mean, I could be your first kiss, if you wanted to.” She places her hands on his wrists, tracing her fingertips over his skin, along his forearms. It’s such a simple touch, and yet he can feel it driving him slowly insane.

He imagines her hands running over the rest of his body, down his chest, his stomach, teasing over the growing hardness in his jeans.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, terrified of how desperate his voice might sound.

She rises onto her toes, inching her face closer to his, drawing her nose over his cheek. “So?” she says, lips brushing over his skin, “I promise it’ll feel good.”

Their lips find each other in a simple movement. It’s easier than he thought it would be, following the movements of her mouth, letting his hands fall from her face and rest on her waist. He can feel her breathing, the little hums she makes as she kisses him and runs her hands through his hair.

He decides, in that moment, that she is perfect. She is bright and beautiful, passionate and kind, soft and sharp, everything he wants for himself, the only person he has ever felt a need for. That need burns through his bloodstream, goes straight to his head and makes his mind hazy. It tightens in his gut and only makes that wanting feeling in his chest feel emptier. His heart races, his trembling hands graze over the thin, silky material of her dress.

His glasses come askew. He feels her smile against his lips and it feels good. Really fucking good.

His hands clench into a firmer grip on her waist. He needs to keep her close, to touch her, feel her, know she wants this as much as he does.

Only she’s slipping away.

Her hands come away from his neck and the cold night air stings his skin in her absence. She pulls her head away, not abruptly, but that’s the pain of it. He leans forward to chase her lips but he has no choice but to let her go in the end.

She looks up at him with a vague smile. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice in the moment. Pure torture that he’ll have to spend the rest of the night clinging onto the memory, only able to imagine how good it felt.

After that night he cannot escape the thought of her, when he’s in his lectures, when he’s in the library, when he’s walking between classes, when he’s in the dining hall. If he’s with her he cannot help but notice every little detail about her, her clothes, her hands, the colour of her nail polish, every micro expression, every word, every laugh, every sigh.

And when he’s alone, he can’t help but picture her in that white dress, the sound of her voice, the feel of her lips. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his hands over every inch of her skin and make her a breathless, whining mess. When he’s in his dorm, it’s inevitable that his hand will end up dipping into his boxers, stroking himself until he spills over his knuckles with a grunt or a whisper of her name.

He’s never known himself to be so distracted.

Worst of all is the rage that comes with the wanting. He hates walking into the lecture hall to see her chatting to someone else, seeing her with her preppy friends around the college or drinking with that old school friend in the King’s Arms. None of them deserve her. None of them. Does she even realise it? How long before she loses herself, before she decides she doesn’t need him?

He knows he’s not a sentimental person. He doesn’t have a lot of friends nor does he want them. People have come in and out of his life, but this girl is different. He feels a draw to her, a hunger that he can’t satiate with his own imagination. She is everything he wants for himself, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away.

As Michaelmas terms comes to an end, the colleges and libraries are covered with garlands and wreaths. Despite the lingering worry in the back of his mind, Michael is rather happy with his collection of outcasts, though poor Oliver Quick seems rather unhappy at being a designated Norman-No Mates.

He finds it easier to get her attention as the term and the workload progresses. They’ve had tutorials and summative assignments, and she’s finally starting to struggle.

And then there was the incident about the scholarship. One of the preppy friends let slip that she wasn’t paying for her tuition fees or her accommodation, likely done out of jealousy after she’d gotten close to Felix at the Halloween party. He was there for her with a perfectly good shoulder to cry on when half the girls in her dorm started teasing her for it.

He tells her that she doesn’t have time to get distracted with parties or friends who won’t help her succeed.

He’s sitting at a table in the library, ready for one of their Friday evening study dates. She’s late but soon hurries in, pulling off the thick red scarf she has wrapped around her neck and shrugging off her denim jacket.

He has the textbook open at the right page and places a Crunchie in front of her when she sits down.

“Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight?” Michael asks as she takes down her notes. “We’re NFI, apparently. Not fucking invited.” He’d checked his pigeonhole, and Oliver’s for good measure.

In the corner of his eye, he sees her look up from her notebook.

“As if we’d actually want to hang out with those vapid cunts,” he says, laughing to himself. He turns his head to check if she’s laughing too.

She doesn’t look very amused. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me,” she says.

He pauses, hovering his pencil over his worksheet. “You got an invitation?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” she says, “I was chatting with some of the literature guys the other day, you know Farleigh Start–”

“What the fuck were you talking to him for?” He asks in a voice like ice.

She stares at him with wide, almost accusing eyes. “What, am I not allowed to talk to anyone besides you?”

“They’re not worth your time so stop acting like a fucking bootlicker” he hisses. “They’re all self-obsessed and cruel, and I don’t know why you’re so desperate for their approval.”

“Desperate,” she echoes.

The silence of the library is screaming at him. He has an awful feeling in his stomach, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s pushed a little too far.

It’s Halloween all over again. He can feel her slipping away, and he can’t reach out for her, can’t hold onto her and make her stay where he wants her. He curls his fists as he feels his body start to tremble.

“I guess I won’t waste any more of your precious time then,” she says sharply as she starts to pack up her things.

“No,” Michael utters. He reaches his hand up as if to stop her but she stands up, out of his reach. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She throws on her jacket, wraps her scarf around her neck and turns around, glaring down at him with sad, glassy eyes. “I need to get ready,” she says. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Then she sweeps out of the hall with a cold rush of air and a slam of the doors.

Michael groans and lets his head fall into his hands. How had he managed to fuck up that badly?

He can’t think about the problems on the sheet in front of him, or think about the reading from the textbook. All he can picture is her in some skimpy dress, letting some sick trust fund baby put his hands all over her. It makes him want to tear his hair out.

He stays there until the evening has turned to night, until any other stragglers have left the library, to attend this stupid Christmas party or to make their own fun.

He can’t understand why she keeps trying to befriend the people who would abandon her the moment they got bored of her, the very same people who shamed her for her scholarship.

He’d never leave her, never let her feel anything less than worshipped.

When he finally packs up his bag he finds himself walking to her dorm. A few girls are leaving as he arrives at the building and he easily slips in while they’re busy chatting. He knows which floor she’s on, and then all he has to do is find her name on one of the doors… and there it is, under the number 205. Perfect.

He glances up and down the hall. It’s deathly quiet. He wonders how many students have already cleared out of their rooms, how many will be at this party, at the pub with their friends.

He can hear music on the other side of the door, a voice singing softly to a song he doesn’t know.

He brings his knuckles up and taps four times against the wood.

She seems happy when she opens the door, but her face falls when she realises it’s him.

He buries his hands in his pockets, keeps his chin down as he looks up at her. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

She sighs and purses her lips, but steps aside enough for him to come into her room.

It’s not as neat as he imagined, but it’s cosy. There are photos and posters all over the walls, clothes strewn everywhere, an opened makeup bag on the floor by the mirror, pieces of paper and used mugs on the desk. His eyes are drawn to her bed, to the colourful comforter tossed carelessly over the duvet and the pile of mismatched pillows. It smells like her perfume, and something else that is distinctly her.

A red dress hangs on the front of her wardrobe, her outfit for the party, he guesses. For now she’s dressed in her favourite pair of baggy jeans and a tank top, her hair slightly damp and her skin dewy.

She sits on the edge of her bed with her legs crossed. She doesn’t prompt him, but he knows what she wants to hear.

He stands in front of her, his knees almost touching the bed. He tries not to look at the cut of her tank top, the way it clings to her torso and teases the swell of her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “You were right, I was being unfair.”

She looks up at him, furrowing her brows and catching her lip between her teeth, like she always does when she’s thinking. It makes his stomach drop.

“You can be cruel too, you know that?” she says, “and so full of yourself, but you hold it against everyone else you meet.”

“But I’d never lie to you,” he says, “and I’ve never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

She keeps frowning. “Neither have I.”

He hums a laugh. He can’t help but reach for her, taking her chin between his fingers. She doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t question it when he gently strokes his index finger over her cheek. “Silly girl,” he says, “you care too much about what people think of you. You’re smarter than that, but you’re happy to hide it.”

Her breath hitches as tilts her head further back and lets his thumb drag over her lower lip.

“Michael,” she utters, pressing her palms against his chest, but not enough to push him away. Her hands grip at the collar of his jumper and she nudges her nose against his.

He doesn’t know where the sudden recklessness comes from. Perhaps it’s in the way she said his name, the way her eyes are gazing up at him, but every part of him feels hollow.

He leans in closer. “Why bother? Why do you want to dumb yourself down when I could just fuck you stupid?”

She leans in to kiss him and he indulges her, letting his hand settle against her cheek as they clash together in a mess of lips and tongues. It’s more frantic than the night of the Halloween party, wetter, clumsier.

She comes up onto her knees, snaking one of her hands down to the hem of his jumper.

“Have you fucked a girl before, Gavey?” she says between their kisses. He can feel her smiling.

“No,” he says, practically tearing his jumper and his shirt off, “but I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Anyone in particular?” she says, palming over the bulge in his jeans.

“Who do you fucking think?”

His hands are on the buttons of her jeans, ripping them open, dragging them down her legs before she’s on her knees again. He slips his hand between her legs, against her clothed centre and she ruts against him like a bitch in heat.

With his other hand he grabs at her waist, impatiently pulling her tank top over her head to reveal a lacy black bra underneath. He can’t stop himself, planting firm, desperate kisses over the flesh of her chest as he undoes the clasp.

He tosses her bra aside and takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over the sensitive bud. He loves how she whines for him, how she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls when it feels good.

And then her phone rings.

She sighs in frustration before she shoves Michael away and crawls over to the table by her bed.

Michael groans at the loss, wanting nothing more than to grab her and pull her back across the bed. “Who is it?” he asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Could be Farleigh, or one of the girls, I said I’d meet them before the party–”

That’s all he needs to hear. In an instant he’s on top of her, pinning her wrist to the mattress so she can’t reach her phone, legs on either side of her body as he presses her down.

She writhes underneath him, unintentionally grinding her rear into his crotch. She tries to turn her head over her shoulder, but it’s hard when she’s caged in underneath him. “Michael! What the fuck are you–”

“When are you going to get it into that pretty little head that you don’t need them?” he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of her ear. He feels her shudder, feels her heartbeat racing against his chest.

“I know I don’t need them,” she says.

“Hmm,” he says, leaning back to undo his jeans enough to free his hard and eager cock. I’m not convinced.”

He takes his time pulling her panties down her legs, kneads at her thighs and her ass, pulls her hips up and parts her legs so he can get a look at her slick, glistening cunt. He’s almost fascinated by it, drawing his thumb through her folds, noticing how she reacts to his touch, the sounds she makes, the way she fists the bedsheets when he gets close to her clit, but just enough to keep her on edge.

“I could be so good to you,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder, “so fucking good, so why do you act like you don’t need me?”

“I do,” she breathes, interrupting herself with a light moan when he presses firmly against her clit. “I do need you.”

“There you go, you’re starting to get it,” he coos, circling over her most sensitive spot with the pads of his fingers. He may not have the practice but he has the knowledge, and he needs this to feel good for her.

She responds beautifully, sighing and rocking her hips against him, and she just melts when he presses the tip of his cock against her entrance.

He has to push harder than he expects, pausing when she gives a little yelp of what sounds like pain, but she assures him she’s fine.

He grabs her hip for leverage, hissing through his teeth as he pushes in deeper. She’s so tight, so wet, so warm.

“You can move,” she says, letting her head fall against her arm. “Please, I need it.”

He starts slowly, focuses on the drag of his cock through her, the way she stretches around him, but he can’t hold back for long. Once he finds a rhythm he gets a little more reckless, snapping his hips against her rear, keeping his harsh grasp on her flesh as he fucks her into the mattress.

Her moans are heavenly and obscene. She’s given up struggling but she’s trying to look at him, trying to touch him but she can’t. She calls his name and it sounds so pathetic but so endearing.

He chuckles lowly to himself. “Silly little slut, didn’t know what she was missing, did she?”

“No,” she whines. He can feel her clenching around him and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to last. “Fuck, Michael, it feels so good…”

He pulls out of her, only to turn her back and slam back in. Suddenly she’s all over him, running her hands down his torso, wrapping her arms around his neck. She has her face buried into the crook of his neck, grazing her lips, tongue and teeth over his skin.

It feels good to have her close, but he’s still not entirely satisfied.

He pulls away to hold her down again, one hand on her throat, the other on her stomach. “Mine.” he huffs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “All mine. Fucking say it.”

She places her hands over his, urging him to hold her tighter, press harder. “Yours,” she utters, “all yours.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, and feels her respond to his voice, cunt fluttering, back arching, another whine sounding in her throat— maybe she likes that. “My clever little girl.”

He feels her come undone around him, back arching as he lets out a breathless moan, practically squeezing him to his own release.

He pulls out and with a few strokes of his hand, paints her belly and her thighs with his spend.

She’s trembling, smiling, reaching out to touch him again, grabbing at his wrists and pulling herself up. She guides him to lay back in the bed and straddles him, tracing her finger over his lips, his jaw, along his nose to push his glasses up for him. He can hardly see through them, the lenses fogged up and smeared with sweat.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she says.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pawing at her hips, watching his cum as it drips down her body. He can feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest, the arousal in his gut starting to tighten again.

He gasps when she drags her wet cunt over his already hardening cock. “You.. want to go again?”

She tilts her head, looking down at him with that familiar excited look in her eyes as her mouth spreads into an eager grin. “You’re adorable,” she says, tracing her fingertips over his chest, down the lines of his abs, to the trail of thin hair on his navel.

She leans down, reaching between them to take his cock in her hand, moving with agonisingly slow strokes. When he tries to protest she silences him with little more than a peck on his lips, before she trails down to his throat. “I stand by what I said, Gavey, and you’re not leaving this bed until we’ve taken that ego of yours down a notch.”

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demonvibez · 2 years ago

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Hello, I came here to ask you a request: Mc is wearing a pajama (nightgown, little shorts, whatever you want) that shows a little bit too much. So one day, Mc comes down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, taking advantage about the brothers sleeping in their rooms so no one would see her like this, and suddenly, she bump into one of the brothers. How would they react?

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, and sorry for the delay! I started working on it, got writer's blocked, solved the block, then got...inspired, lol. This ended up being like 8 lil narrative one shots. Anyways - This is only part one of two; hope you like! ♡

Characters: [Lucifer / Mammon / Leviathan / Satan] x F! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k+

Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes]

Tags: suggestive/sexual themes, making out, light petting/groping, reader = she/her pronouns, each demon has a lil backstory

[Part One of Two - Read Part Two Here]

It was late at night in the House of Lamentation, and you had just finished preparing yourself for bed. You had finished your homework for the day, as well as your nighttime routine, and it was time for you to settle down. Just as you sit down on the edge of your bed, you start thinking about how it would be nice to have a quick little snack before you turn in to sleep for the night. Picking up your DDD from the nightstand, you check the time to see just how late it was. You decide that it was probably late enough for everyone to be asleep, and it was safe to venture out into the house alone with what you are wearing - a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. You push yourself up off the bed and cross the room, making your way towards the door. Leaving your bedroom door open, you make your way towards the kitchen next door . . .

For the Avatar of Pride, staying up late and overworking himself was a normal part of his daily routine. Usually after dinner, he hides himself away in his study so that he can start working his way through the mountains of paperwork sent to him from his superiors. Usually every night, he has the same routine - he finishes his RAD related paperwork, takes a break to patrol the House, stops by the kitchen for a cup of Hell Coffee and then back up to his study to deal with the paperwork associated with his political duties.

Lucifer starts making his way down the hall for his nightly rounds through the House, as he normally does at this hour. He usually does this in order to make sure his brothers’ mischief was kept at a minimum, but it’s in order to keep you safe as well. He couldn't help but to notice that the chaos in their House had increased quite a bit since you had arrived - some of it from his brothers dragging you into their antics, some of it chaos created all on your own, and some of it external chaos that seeks to consume your beautifully shiny soul. When you first arrived here, you used to be a major source of his headaches. He used to struggle with how to punish you, seeing as you were the fragile little human sent here for Lord Diavolo's exchange mission. But now, the more Lucifer thinks about you, he cannot deny to himself the fondness that has grown for you within his heart. A smile twitches at his lips for a brief moment before he refocuses himself on his task.

Just as he is making his way down the stairs to check the first floor, he hears a noise coming from the kitchen area, a faint glow emitting from its frame and spilling into the hallway. He lets out an exasperated sigh to himself, believing it to be Beelzebub on one of his frivolous late night snack missions. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he strides towards the kitchen door, scripting the lecture he wants to give in his mind as he walks. How many times must he punish the Sixth Born?

When he reaches the doorway, he halts at the unexpected sight before him, and he can’t help but to stand back and observe. He sees you in the kitchen, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator, looking through what’s left of its contents for a snack. You look so innocent while doing so, completely unaware of your surroundings. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this - hell, he wasn’t even used to seeing you dressed like this. Usually dressed in your RAD uniform, the attire you were currently wearing is much more revealing than what he is used to seeing you in. The way the thin cotton fabric clings to your curves, he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming your entire body. You grab something from the fridge, closing it before making your way over to the kitchen island with the leftover Acidic Hell Fries you found. Sitting down with your back turned to the door, you open up the tray and lean in to take a bite, all the while Lucifer can’t help but notice the way your shirt rides up the arch of your back, the way the waistband of your shorts sit right at your hip, the way your skin just looks so soft. He wasn’t sure how a human could stir up such emotions in him, but he was in fact curious to see where it would take him.

In a rare moment of impulsivity, Lucifer swiftly makes his way towards you. Before you even have time to register the Avatar of Pride's presence, he sets both of his hands on the table on each side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the counter. He leans down closer to your ear, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, as he whispers your name into your ear with a very seductive tone. "What do you think you're doing here," he asks, his tone husky as you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin. Your pulse accelerates as he presses his lips to your earlobe, his gloved hands now slowly finding their way around your waist as Lucifer trails light kisses down the soft flesh of your neck. You would usually have some sort of snarky comeback for Lucifer, stating how it was obvious why you were in the kitchen shoveling fries into your face at half past midnight. But in this moment you couldn't muster up a retort, your brain beginning to fog up with the haze of pleasure that Lucifer's touch can bring. As he continued to tease your neck, occasionally nipping at it with his fangs, his hands began to drift lower on your body, lightly teasing at your waistband. One of his hands pulls your chin up to him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips collide with yours in a way that sets your soul ablaze with passion.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss, your eyes slowly opening to see his crimson orbs gazing back at you with lust, love and admiration. He slightly loosens his hold on you, before turning you around on the barstool you sat upon to face him. He brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking it back behind your ear before leaning down to press one more kiss on your lips. When he pulled away this time, you chased his lips with his own, filling him with a sense of pride at the idea that you're craving more of him - much like he craves more of you. He lets out a small chuckle before suddenly sweeping you up in his arms, your legs dangling over one side while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for safety. "We're heading straight to my room," he said along with your name in a confident tone, "and I hope you have plenty of energy, because we won't be getting much sleep tonight." He carried you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking no time getting you to his room and into his silk sheets.

Mammon had just recently arrived home about an hour ago from one of his many side hustles he did to help earn some extra Grimm and pay back a few of his debts. The witches have been hassling him even more than normal recently, threatening a variety of curses if he doesn't comply with their demands, so he's had to take up multiple side hustles in order to make enough money. He could have sworn he paid them off a while ago - math is one of Mammon's strong suits and he always keeps his debt ledger up to date. He's pretty damn sure the witches are just jealous of you, and take it out on him one of the few ways they know will work. They would never mess with you directly - and risk earning the wrath of all seven Avatars of Sin? And perhaps even the Future King of the Devildom himself? Hell nah. They'll just keep toying with Mammon the way they know best.

Normally, Mammon would be pretty exhausted after a grueling shift of serving tables at Hell’s Kitchen, but tonight for some reason, he was feeling restless and couldn’t seem to settle down. He had completed his nightly routine and settled into bed, but he found himself feeling restless, scrolling Devilgram instead and finding himself growing bored rather quickly. After tossing and turning in his bed for what felt to him like an eternity, he let out an annoyed groan and pushed himself out of bed. If he couldn’t lull himself to sleep, he might as well go find his favorite human. He crossed the room to pick up his designer underwear and sweatpants off the couch, slipping them both on before making his way to the door. Once his door is closed, he starts briskly but silently making his way across the hall and down the stairs, doing his best to avoid running into any of his brothers - namely, Lucifer.

Making a beeline straight for your room, Mammon notices the door is open and just walks inside as if he owns the place. “Oi, human! I’m bored, why don't ya-” he says, before looking around to see that the room is actually empty. “Where the hell even are ya,” he mumbles to himself with an exasperated huff, turning about-face and exiting your room. As he steps out into the hallway, he finally notices the kitchen light is on. He starts stomping his way over to the kitchen, mumbling something about how much work it is to watch after one stupid little human, when he crosses the threshold of the door and almost bumps into you as he is turning the corner. "Aye, what gives," he says in an almost shouting tone, "ya gotta watch it, human! Ya gotta be more careful! Ya ain't always gonna have the Great Mammon to..." he trailed off as he finally looks down at you, taking in fully just how you look and what you are wearing. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, standing there completely frozen in shock as his eyes scan you up and down repetitively.

Despite the many times the two of you have shared a bed, he has never seen you wear something so small and form fitting as pajamas before. Usually when he was over, you'd just wear an oversized tee shirt and some baggy sweatpants, which was usually cute and endearing in its own way. But tonight, since you assumed you would be spending the night alone, you wore something you thought no one would see you in. And now here you are in the kitchen, the Avatar of Greed stood in front of you, a blushing and stammering mess. The more of his golden eyes took in of you, the more he could feel the greed rise up within him. Every little inch of skin, every little curve of your body has Mammon craving more and more, his avarice knowing no bounds when it comes to you. Typically, in moments like these, the tsundere side of Mammon's brain would kick in, and a flurry of denials would leave his lips before you could even playfully accuse him of anything. Seeing you like this has Mammon forgetting all about those silly habits, his mind focused on wanting only one thing - you.

In this moment, Mammon can't help but succumb to his greed. His hands reach out to pull you into his bare chest, his demon form now on full display and eyes glowing as gold as Grimm. His arms tighten around you in a possessive hold as he buries his face in your hair, your scent as intoxicating to him as the most expensive Demonus on record. You feel his hands roam your body, feeling both his soft skin and his rings' hard metal gliding up and down your back. You melt into his touch, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso. "I've been lookin' for ya," he mumbles into your hair. Before you can even fathom a response, Mammon's hands find their way under your ass, hoisting you up and setting you on the counter. He leans in and presses his lips to yours with a sense urgency you hadn't seen from the Avatar of Greed previously, his yearning and need for you growing with each kiss. As his tongue brushes your lips, they part and allow him entrance, and the way your two tongues dance with each other sends Mammon over the edge, feeling that same greed start to build within you. Mammon's kisses became hungrier and sloppier the more he could feel his sin in the air, a hint of lust mixing with it as his hands squeeze your ass, your own hands roaming his beautifully brown torso. "Mine," he states simply, as he breaks the kiss momentarily.

He picks you up once again, your legs squeezing his waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He runs off with you to his room to have his way with you - and to hoard you to himself like the Devildom's finest treasure.

It wasn’t at all unusual for Leviathan to stay up all hours of the night. On this night in particular he was counting down the hours until the newest merch drop from his favorite idol group, Sucre Frenzy. He picks up his Bufo Egg Milk Tea to take a sip, only to hear the slurping sound of his cup being empty. Looking at the clock at the bottom right of his monitor, he mentally notes that he still has an hour and a half before the drop, which should be more than enough time to run downstairs and raid the fridge. He presses pause on the song he was listening to on Devilfy, pulling off his headset and making his way out of his bedroom door. He pulls his DDD out of the pocket of his hoodie, swiping it open and pressing on the 'Mononoke Land' app. Checking to see if there were currently any in-game spirits lurking in the House, Levi games as he presses forward towards the kitchen, his own IRL mission falling to the back of his mind as he continued to focus on the side quest on his phone. One hand in his pocket while the other clutches his device, his tail slides along the handrail of the staircase, making sure he doesn't stumble as he tunes out the rest of the world.

He really hopes you can make it to hang out for the drop tonight! When he invited you at dinner you seemed interested, but you told him you weren't sure if you'd be able to stay awake that late or not. He would really love it if you are able to - everything is more enjoyable for the Lord of Shadows when he has his Henry by his side! It makes him excited even thinking about it! Maybe he'll swing by your room on the way back from the kitchen and see if you're awake! Or...that maybe awkward? What if you're asleep and he wakes you up? What if he annoys you? Maybe he'll just send you a text instead. Either way, he loves you more than all of his anime combined, and it would be the highlight of his entire month to spend tonight's event with you.

Refocusing on his game, he turns the corner to cut back towards the kitchen. He doesn't even notice the kitchen light on ahead, nor does he hear the clattering and clanking coming from inside. All he can seem to focus on is Mononoke Land. As he walks past your room, he does a double take, expecting to see you in your bed. On second glance, he notices you missing from your room, and Leviathan couldn't help but be confused as he pauses in your doorway. It's almost one in the morning and you aren't in your room?! Where in the Devildom could you possibly be?! You're probably hanging out with one of his brothers, aren't you?! You're probably in one of their rooms, in one of their beds, doing Dia knows what while he's down here getting some stupid snacks for his stupid merch drop. 'Stupid stupid stupid I'm so stupid! Of COURSE she wouldn't want to waste time her time with a disgusting otaku like me! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!!' A wave of envy washes over him so powerful that he fights everything within himself not to summon Lotan and flood the House. His fists clench his DDD, stressing it from the pressure as his knuckles turn white. His eyes blaze a bright orange as jealousy rages within him like a hurricane brewing over the sea.

Wanting nothing more than to barricade himself in his room and never come out, Leviathan angrily marched onward towards the kitchen, determined to get his snacks and get the hell back to his room so he can wallow in his feelings. Hastily making his way through the kitchen's threshold, he doesn't see you as he barrels straight into you, knocking you backwards. Before his mind can fully process what's going on, his tail grabs ahold of you, wrapping around your waist and preventing you from hitting the floor. His eyes finally connect with yours, and he realizes that it's you he has run into. A quick scan of the room tells him you had been in here alone, and suddenly he feels foolish for the jealous tantrum he was throwing in his mind.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry...I didn't see y-you th-" he stammers, now looking down at you to see exactly what you were dressed in. Is this what you normally wear to bed? Levi hadn't ever seen anything like it in real life. The way the fabric highlights all of your best features, putting just the right amount of emphasis on how perfect your curves were...he could have sworn you were drawn by his favorite manga artist. His eyes roamed your body up and down, his face heating up as rapidly as his heart rate is rising. 'OH FUCK, I'm staring aren't I?! She probably hates me, I'm so gross, such a worthless perv, I need to stop staring WHATTHEFUCKDOIDO?!?' he panics internally, his hands starting to tremble. He tilts his head down to focus on the floor, when he finally processes that his tail has been autonomously wrapped around your waist the entire time. "I'M SO SORRY," he half shouts at you, as he starts to unravel his tail.

Suddenly, Levi takes pause, as he hears you gently call out his name, one of your hands resting on his tail while the other reaches out to stroke his cheek. "Levi...whatever you're thinking right now...stop," you reassured him. Before he could hide his face from you, you leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft but loving kiss. At first, Levi just stands there frozen in shock but after a moment he kisses you back. He's still unsure of what to do with himself - he doesn't want to ruin this moment - but he doesn't want it to end either, so he stands with his hands awkwardly at his sides and pours every ounce of love of passion he can into the kiss. While he may not know what to do with his hands, his tail seemed to enjoy exploring your body, causing you to let out a tiny soft moan when it makes its way around the top of your thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, continuing the kiss as you press your body against his.

After a few more moments, the two of you pull away from each other, both trying to catch your breaths. Before Leviathan could even muster a response, you grab his hand, the sweetest of smiles plastered across your face. "Come on, let's go to your room, Levia-chan. I can think of a few ways for us to kill time until your merch drop launches," you said as you start pulling him towards the door. Suddenly you weren't tired, and Levi didn't care about the snacks - with you, he may even end up forgetting about the merch drop.

Before you had even thought of grabbing a snack from the kitchen, Satan had already made his way down there and was rifling his way through the fridge looking for something suitable to feed his secret kitten friend out in the garden. Earlier in the night, Satan came outside to the garden in order to calm down and let his inner rage subside. He had wanted to spend the remainder of his evening with you curled up in his lap as he reads to you, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, as the two of you ignore the world for each other and a great plotline - there was no other way he'd rather spend his evening. But of course, his insufferable eldest brother had to stick his prideful nose in where it didn't belong and drag you away, just as he was asking you to join him after dinner. It was almost as if the Avatar of Pride has an extra sense for when Satan wanted alone time with you, always interfering and coming up with some smug excuse as to why you need to be stolen away right when Satan needs you. That pompous ass was always going out of his way to stoke the flames of Satan's wrath on purpose! 'One day he'll get back at that bastard, he'll put him right in his place!'

Satan continued pacing in circles in the garden, his demon form on full display as rage flows through him like an ice river through one of the lower pits of hell. He wasn't doing the best job at calming himself down at first, you not being there to help ground him, so it was taking a bit longer than normal. It was always so much easier to calm himself with you there - just a few simple words or a quick hug usually doing the trick. But for now he was alone, and he was drawing a blank on what he else should do. He completed one more pace around the garden before, before letting out an annoyed huff and sat himself down on the nearest bench. As he was about to pull out his DDD to text you to see where you were, he hears a rustling in the bushes. His emerald eyes scan the area, no signs of life immediately apparently, before he sees a pair of glowing eyes peer out at him from underneath one of the bushes. A small smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him who the eyes belong to - one of his stray feline friends that likes to wander through every now and then. He pushes himself up off the bench and slowly crosses over towards the cat, holding out his hand as he tries to coax it out of the bush. The cat immediately starts to back into the bush, shaking it's head at Satan, causing him to take pause. He chuckles to himself as he comes to the realization of what she is asking for - the cat wants a treat.

Satan straightens himself up, making his way back into the House to find some cat friendly snacks in the kitchen. When he arrives there, he is alone, and makes a beeline straight for the fridge. It was usually wishful thinking for anyone in the House of Lamentation to try to hide food in the kitchen, but sometimes Satan was able to get away with it for the sake of his kitten buddies. Crouching down to open the bottom drawer, Satan reaches in to pull out some of the Devildom cat treats he had stashed back behind the drawer. Setting the pouch of treats on the counter, he opens up one of the cupboards and pours what is left of the treats onto a saucer, before tossing the empty wrapper in the trash and making his way towards the kitchen door. Little did he expect in all of this, you came walking through the door at the same time, neither of you really paying attention. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you quite literally run into each other, the saucer of meaty cat treats smooshing against Satan's chest and then dropping to the floor. Satan can feel his wrath rising inside him once again, drenching him like an ice cold shower, his aura turning dark as his demon form makes an appearance once again. He hasn't even looked up to see who caused the collision, assuming one of his brothers is to blame yet again, his jaw clenching as his mind races to formulate it's retaliation.

His glowing green eyes finally lift to see exactly who the guilty party is, only for his eyes to meet yours instead. You begin to stammer out a stream of apologies, but seeing you immediately calms the inner turmoil of his mind, the storm suddenly calm within him.

His gazes roams over you for a moment, Satan suddenly finding himself speechless as he takes in exactly how breathtaking you look in such casual attire. The way straps of your tank top accentuate your collar bones, giving way to how the fabric hugs your perfect chest...Satan suddenly couldn't remember what he was mad about in any point in the day. He couldn't even bother to care why he was in the kitchen in the first place. He gently takes one of your hands with both of his, raising it to his lips to press a kiss into your knuckles. A warm smile spreads across his face as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer into him. One of his hands moves to rub the small of your back as the other tilts your chin upwards to him. He holds your gaze for a moment, adoration apparent in his eyes, before he leans in to share a passionate kiss with you.

The moment his lips caress your own, your heartbeat goes through the roof, and you can't help but to lean into him and melt into his touch. His hand on your chin moves to hold the back of your neck, his tongue brushing your bottom lip, asking for more. Your hands find themselves on his chest as your lips back, your tongues clashing together in a desperate bid to feel more of each other. Your hands slide down his chest and abs, lightly tugging at his belt when you get to his waist. He chuckles into the kiss before nipping at your bottom lip with one of his fangs, grabbing your hips with both hands as he slows the pace of the kiss.

Eventually he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. "You always know how to make me feel better, kitten," he said as you slide your hands up his front and lace them behind his neck. "What do you say we retreat to my room to continue this encounter?" he leans in to steal one more kiss from you lips before taking you by the hand and pulling you up to his room.

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