#u probably were looking for a fluff and i just had to go and sin :-(

[4kozy]

‘25 bonnie and clyde

manon. ( without you, i got nothing to lose )

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pairing | manon x fem!reader

tw 🥏 | violence, blood, angst, implied mental illness, major character death, slight nsfw, fluff that may rot ur teeth or make u feel even more terrified, mentions of suicidal ideation/suicide, food mentions, light mention of drug use. ( not proofread )

genre + wc | angst, fluff + ( 8.5k? 8.6k? )

syn | manon never expected to be on the run with her bestfriend–but here she is anyway, in far too deep; far too in love; far too insane to stop herself from seeing this all the way through. a.k.a, your life on the run with manon bannerman.

an | lost motivation on this half way through, so ignore the rushing at the end… i love u manon…

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

Manon once told you that you could come over anytime: she’d always be there for you.

You were sure that it applied to now: banging on her door, in the cold, covered in blood, bruises, and raindrops. You needed her now more than you ever had before, and to be fair, she was your best friend after all. And it isn’t like you had any other option, given the state you were in.

There’s a muffled yell of “I’m coming, I’m coming,” from inside.

You take a glance around you, the world still and quiet, despite what had just taken place.

Despite what you had just taken: a life.

A life, that while kept you alive, probably wasn’t a good thing for the people that knew the guy–oh, and him too. It definitely wasn’t a good thing for the dead man.

A life: and you were covered in it. Covered in a man’s blood. Blood that was once very warm; now freezing against your skin.

You hear a flurry of stomps heading towards you from behind the door, and it swings open, revealing an extremely tired Manon.

“Whoever the fuck you are, it’s really fucking weird to do that shit at–“ she pauses, wide-eyed.

Manon’s always had the kind of eyes that knew more than they let on. The kind that observed, no, analyzed everything thoroughly with a doe-like gaze that made it seemed innocent.

And this is anything but. She’s looking at you like you’re the every bit of evil you believe you are, seeing through you completely. Seeing all your sins, like she’s some saint, and you’re the one she’s purifying with that stare of hers.

You don’t look away; you’re unable to.

“Get the hell in here, and hurry up,” she says.

You listen.

━ ★

You sit in silence in her dining room, as she’s in her bathroom looking for first aid.

It’s the same as always. That lonely light hanging over the table; the antique table you two thrifted when she first moved in; the flowers, the dozen-count box of half eaten donuts: it’s all so familiar. If you could pretend the blood-soaked bag wasn’t in the corner, it’d fill your heart with fondness.

Now you’re sitting and feeling as though you’re dirtying the atmosphere just by being here.

She walks in after what feels like forever.

“Take them off,” Manon whispers gently.

She’s got her kit in her hand, while she looks at you expectantly. It takes no further elaboration. You let your leather jacket fall to the floor with a heavy thud and clack, and take off your bloody shirt.

She doesn’t say anything else after that, choosing to instead pull up a chair and get to work. Manon knows it’s not enough for you: the way you were limping, she assumed you sprained your ankle and both your eyes were swollen. Knots and lumps were forming on you like bug bites, your nose was leaking like a faucet, and cuts were littered all over you–you needed serious medical attention. Not the kind that you could get just anywhere.

But worryingly, for whatever reason, you were too scared to go. Or maybe you were too stupid.

She lifts your right arm gently, but you snatch it back in fear. It’s definitely the latter. Her hand balls up in annoyance.

She raises her eyebrow at you, as if to say, are you serious?

“It’s gonna hurt, Manz!” you say, looking at her for mercy, but she doesn’t look the slightest bit moved.

Her eyebrows knit together in irritation. “Have I hurt you before?”

You don’t answer verbally, resorting to a lift of your head and a sneer; keeping your own arm hostage.

“I promise you’ll be okay,” she groans. “Now come here.”

Your eyes dart back and forth, from your arm to her hands, which curiously enough, have loosened from a fist to an open palm.

You begrudgingly surrender and grimace when she begins to disinfect the open wounds.

It reminds her of the times she patched you up before. The first time she’d ever done it was when you were 5. You had scraped your knee playing tag, and she had to sneak you in as best she could, trying not to get in trouble. You were snotting everywhere, shaking, and wailing like a siren when she sauntered up to you and stuffed half a cookie in your mouth.

Here, she said. Your half, my half. She took your cookie-induced silence to her full advantage, placing the crayon themed bandage over the red and giving it a tiny kiss afterwards.

The other times she’d done it? You were just clumsy at work. But she still took it seriously anyway, each incident like a way she showed she cared.

She still does care, even now. Even when there’s disappointment lingering behind eyes that show worry.

As the time passes, you can feel her irritation growing.

You audibly swallow, the need to apologize starting to force its way through your sense of reason, because of course, Manon feels the need to take care of you–pity you, as if you two were still those naïve kids who had too many ideas, and not enough sense.

She snaps her head up at the noise. “Don’t.”

Usually, you had better judgement, obviously she doesn’t want to hear you, but the warning falls on deaf ears.

“Manz, I–“ you start.

She cuts you off a glare. “Hush. I’m working.”

You wince when she rubs alcohol a little too hard on a particularly deep cut on your arm, but you continue. “I’m sorry,” you say.

“If you were sorry, you would’ve put this off until morning, Yn,” she sucks in a breath, clearly trying to keep her cool. “You know I’ve got work tomorrow. It’s 2 in the damn morning.”

“I didn’t mean to do this to you, Manz, I just–“

“You’re always doing this,” she interrupts. “I told you to hush. You can be sorry when you’re done looking it.”

You stay quiet. She’s pissed, as anyone else would be, and the point was made.

She was angry. In fact, you’d be terrified if she wasn’t. But Manon was a lot of things, and loud and angry wasn’t one of them. Most of the time.

She was always expressive in subtle ways. Her face could speak more than necessary, without a word ever leaving her lips. Though, she definitely could’ve been screaming at you in this moment, she wasn’t.

She didn’t need to. You could feel it. Could feel it in the way that she almost threw the bottle of rubbing alcohol every time she was putting it down. Feel it when she grumbled under her breath, and the weight of guilt began to crush you with every single word and without reservation.

But you could also feel the hesitation in her fingertips, like the gentle touches were little reminders of her attentiveness, her intrinsic need to keep you safe, even when she was trying to make you feel the tiniest bit hurt.

You could feel it when she was cleaning you up, taking care of you, and not once asking about what happened. She didn’t need an explanation–she didn’t even need a hello. She saw you, and that was all she needed.

And even though she was pretty harsh with you, you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

She takes your other arm, dropping the bloody tissue to the floor, and spends the next thirty minutes cleaning that one too.

It’s only when she looks up that you notice it. Her eyes are red and glossy. Your chest tightens; it’s suddenly so much harder to breathe in here.

“Manz, I’m sorry.” There’s pathetic tone in your voice.

“Look at me,” Manon says, grabbing your jaw and your attention. She moves you around gently, examining you as if she’d never seen you before, her fingertips like fire, making you burn hot. “You look like shit, girl. Be sorry to yourself.”

She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, forgiving. Kind. Subtle. All the things that make you feel nervous, all the things you weren’t anymore, before handing you more tissues for your nose and walking away to get something cold for your eyes.

“You’re crashing at mine tonight.”

You can’t help but release a choked sob, a gut wrenching feeling taking over you as you cry like you’ve never cried before.

━ ★

You wake up the next morning on the couch with peas on your face, in her clothes, and in confusion. You’re in a daze trying to recall the events of last night, them feeling more like a nightmare than reality.

Checking the time, 10:57, you figured Manon was already at work, so you got up with a yawn and struggled to the kitchen to make yourself something eat–until you see the note stuck on the fridge.

food is in here if you want it! yk i can’t cook so don’t talk shit if you CHOOSE to eat it:( i love you, rest well - manz ( who else would it be )

A smile grows on your face with the words you read. It was just like her to be a big baby in a written note. You take the plate out and heat it up.

It’s not very good, admittedly.

Okay, it’s bad. Really bad.

In your relationship, she was more of the eater; you were her chef, if you could say that. But the thought counts, you figure, lifting the fork to your mouth for another bite of burnt eggs. It was definitely thoughtful!

You laugh to yourself, thinking of ways you could make fun of her for this as you cut on the TV.

And then your blood runs cold.

Right on the screen is the man from last night, and reporters swarming the crime scene.

You can’t hear anything anymore, and you can’t even pretend to. All you can hear is blood pounding your ears; you feel dizzy–but curiously, you can’t think about anything but Manon. How she would react, what she would do to you, how you wouldn’t ever see her again…

You don’t know what to do.

It’s no secret anymore, no hushed meeting in the dark of morning: they’d know it was you without a doubt. You’d be sent to prison for life if you were lucky, and if you weren’t? You’d end up dead.

It’s not like you meant to either! One moment, you’re walking home, trying to navigate dark alleyways and claustrophobic spaces. Trying to ignore a man following behind you. Trying to ignore the way your chest is pounding and the way air just can’t seem to stay inside you, hurriedly escaping while you hopelessly try to keep it in, to no avail. Trying to ignore the fact that your legs are moving faster than your rationale.

The next moment, he’s pressing forward; a glinting dark object in his right hand, and his left hand coming straight for you. He steps on your left leg, knocking you to the ground with a hard punch. And it’s in this moment that you realize it.

In a fight or flight situation, you fight.

He’s on top of you: gun to your face like he’s got something to prove, demanding that you hand over your bag, and you snap. In an instant, you rocket your fist straight into his jaw, and you don’t even give him the chance to reel back, rocking your hips upwards so that you can turn over, knocking the weapon out of his hands in the process.

You’re possessed. You’ve never moved like this before, ever. Like there’s a desire–beating, thrumming, alive; it’s underneath your skin, yelling at you to live by any means necessary. You kick; bite; scratch, becoming animalistic in the moment.

He’s reminding you that he’s also just as desperate–fists flying just as furiously as yours, and just as strong, if not stronger. He’s clawing at you, leaving deep marks, as if the cracked asphalt beneath you isn’t do that as well, while you two toss and turn, nearly dancing around each other.

But he gets the upper hand at some point, and his hands shoot towards your neck, squeezing every bit of essence out of your body. You can’t reach his face anymore, the first mistake he made already teaching him enough. You don’t even think he can feel your nails digging into skin–the adrenaline making you both turn into something you probably weren’t.

And you swear, under any other circumstance, you’d hesitate–but you knew full well that only one of you were going to leave this place when you first punched him, and you also knew that you weren’t ready to die today. And so you reach. Reach like there’s nothing else you can do–nowhere else you can go. All you could think about then was getting home, wanting nothing more than restart or rewind or whatever the fuck could get you out of there.

There’s a grin of relief on his face when he sees your eyes flutter.

Then there’s two shots. Fired unceremoniously, like there was no thought behind them. Like there was no question: they were destined to happen.

And then a third for good measure.

And you’re winded; heaving and ears ringing like fireworks had gone off in your face. He crumples on top of you, hands loose and limp. His warmth is leaking onto your hands, and your clothes, and you can’t think–hell, you can barely feel anything, but he’s dead, it’s over, and you’re alive.

You’re alive.

But there’s a part of you trapped there, it’s grave now stuck in a dingy, unsanitary, and lonely alley, to be trampled by others who can’t rewrite their fate quite as well as you did yours.

━ ★

The doorknob wiggles and Manon bursts in, bag of groceries in hand. You struggle to get up from the couch, pain in your ankle making every step hell.

“I bought all this hoping you could make something with it. Not sure if you can put this in anything, but yeah!” she says, shaking the bag with a fresh Maine Lobster, humming to herself.

“I’ve gotta go,” you mumble, hobbling up to her.

“Not like that, you aren’t,” she glances to your ankle. “You’re staying here, where you should be getting better,” she says, with an authoritative tone.

“Manon, I have to–“

“Can you make something with the lobster or not?” she whines, throwing the bags to the table. “It was hella expensive.”

You nod, a silent acknowledgment that you can, but you don’t make any effort to move, instead crossing your arms.

She dramatically rolls her eyes. “What?”

“I told you that I can’t stay and you aren’t listening,” you reply sharply.

“You can’t fucking walk either?”

“Manon? Have you even seen the news? About that guy?”

“Yeah, I have!” she answers, too casually for your liking. “That shit was brutal–I mean, It was–“

“It was me!” you confess shakily. You’re ashamed, and it burns.

Admitting it out loud burns unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s hot. Constricting. You can’t breathe; you’re not sure you want to.

She blinks, an unreadable expression making its way onto her features, with unreadable body language to emphasize it as she backs up from you with a sigh.

“I know,” she says quietly, as if saying it with a lower volume would make the gravity of the situation disappear.

“You know? You… knew?” you gape.

“Put it together when I saw the news,” Manon pauses. “I didn’t say anything to you because you didn’t say anything to me.”

Manon knows fucking everything. She could recite everything about you like she was reading a book–like she was the book: the encyclopedia of all things Yn.

And of course, she never said anything.

She looks up at you, as her eyes bulge with wetness. “You want to leave? Then fine, but I’m going with you.”

“No, you–“

“Stop trying to tell me what to do,” she says loudly. “I was gonna come anyway.”

“But I’m not turning myself in!“

“I promised you, didn’t I?”

Your teeth grind against each other as you answer. “You did.”

“Then stop trying to act all tough and shit–you’re my best friend,” she points between you and her. “So act like it.”

Manon brings you into a tight embrace, sniffling into your chest. You wrap your arms around her, but you bite back the urge to strangle her just a bit.

━ ★

You poke your head out of the driver’s window. “Do you have everything?”

Manon stares at you, tossing her duffel in the backseat, and closing the door.

“I’ve got everything that matters,” she responds simply.

The passenger seat door opens, and Manon slides in with a deep breath.

You’ve got the leather jacket on, her clothes peeking out from under it. Your hands are trembling around the steering wheel, eyes still as you sprint deep into your thoughts.

Manon’s a little shaky–to be expected when you leave your world behind for your criminal best friend, who just yesterday was at your doorstep, looking like a disgruntled serial killer, who is now driving your car like an outlaw, running from the cops, but more than anything, she’s nervous for you.

God, she could only imagine what you’re thinking right now, being the one to go through that, and instead of imagining, she really wishes you would say it.

“Yn..?” you don’t answer.

She says it again, louder this time.

“…Huh?”

She wants so badly to ask to you, What happened? followed by a, Why don’t you wanna talk about it? and finished with a, Do you not trust me?

“Nothing… you were spacing out, is all,” Manon doesn’t pry.

“Thanks. You wanna go now?” you ask.

She nods. “I’m ready,” though you’re not sure she is, by the quiet fear lurking in her tone.

You side eye her, before nodding forward, gesturing to the fact that you finally pressed on the gas.

Once she gets settled, she kicks her feet up on the dashboard, pops in her airpods, and watches Steven Universe, even when she’s not sure that you won’t send her car wrapping around a pole.

━ ★

You’ve been driving for hours. Manon’s asleep.

To be fair, you don’t know where exactly you’re going, you just wanted to leave.

Now, there’s no motel in sight, nobody for miles, not that you’d want to see them, and your gps isn’t working–fucking great.

It’s dark as hell, headlamps more like flashlights in the all-consuming night. You make the executive decision to pull onto a darkened street, before blocking the windows and locking the doors, hoping to sleep tonight.

You don’t.

━ ★

“You know, waffle house is so much better in the middle of nowhere,” Manon says, mid-bite. “Do you want some?”

You weren’t particularly in the mood to eat, last night’s nightmare making you feel too queasy and paranoid. “No, I don’t want your peanut butter waffles.”

Manon drops her fork dramatically, placing her hand to her chest. “You said it like you have a problem with my order… like I’m not the one paying…” she says it with a funky British accent, sighing when you look at her like she’s crazy.

“That’s ‘cause peanut butter waffles are gross,” you say matter-of-factly. “They probably stick to your mouth 10 times more than normal peanut butter and syrup waffles do seperate.”

Her mouth drops. You’re a traitor. “You’ve never even had one before, liar!”

“Don’t need to. I know they’re gross,” you say, punctuating your statement with a pointed look and cross of your arms.

“What’s next…? You don’t like bojangles biscuits either?” she asks, shocked.

You hum, sipping your coffee. “They’re dry as hell.”

Her mouth drops even lower, the accent getting heavier by the second. “Cannot believe you right now.”

She’s quiet after a dramatic sigh, continuing to eat her waffles and bacon.

You chuckle softly: you’re appreciative of her attempts to be normal. Like going to diners in Nowhere, Nowhereland is a normal Tuesday morning after murdering a man ( in self defense ) for you two.

And in all honesty, it feels normal enough. Well, the ambience of the waffle house is as normal as it can be. There’s a bustling about the place: truckers and workers making light conversation; music, Human Nature by Micheal Jackson, playing on the jukebox; broken lights flickering near the hallway to the bathrooms; grease stains everywhere, along with it’s odd smell. It felt natural.

It made you sort of uneasy, in the way that only familiar things tend to do. Especially when you feel the eyes on you. Everyone’s in the know, except for you two. You two are outsiders. Outsiders are suspicious; they get caught; they–

“Hey!” Manon interrupts your thoughts. “Try it. I won’t have you knocking on peak if you’ve never had it before.”

You give her a look of disgust. “I’m not trying sh–“

Your mouth is filled with sticky peanut-buttery goodness. Your eyes widen, as a smirk grows on Manon’s face.

“See,” she laughs. “I told you it was peak!”

You feign disgust almost immediately, and refusing to let her get the last word, you gulp down the rest of your coffee. “That was so nasty, bitch…”

“Yeah, okay.”

When you leave, you take two coffees to-go. And two orders of peanut-butter waffles, one for you and her.

━ ★

You’re focused on the road when the thought pops into your head.

You’ve ruined your life, not that much was going on anyway, but it still hurt. You ruined Manon’s life, who had big things coming for her: modeling gigs, photoshoots, interviews with agencies–things that screamed, hey, I made it. And she threw it all away for you.

Your hands tighten on the wheel until your fingers go numb.

“Hey, breathe.”

And the devil reveals herself beside you, like a bad memory that won’t leave your mind.

Manon tries to rub comforting circles into your leg, moving your jacket as you shout a panicked, “Wait!”

“What the fuck is that.”

Your jaw clenches as you try to avoid looking at her. Manon’s fingers are tracing your pockets, a rough outline of something sinister living there.

“I asked you a question.”

You mumble the answer, not wanting to start anything.

“What was that?” she says, eyes narrowing in skepticism.

“A gun…”

There’s a look on her face that speaks volumes. Says more than a thousand things. “A what?”

“A–“

“You brought a damn gun with you?!” she screams at you, scolds you, more like, as if you’ve lost your mind. Part of you thinks you have.

“To be safe!” you retort, glancing at her with worry.

Oh, you’re in huge trouble.

“And you had that in my house?! Is that the same–”

You cut her off with a shameful, downcast look. “Yes.”

She glares at you, huffing indignantly before turning the radio up to obnoxious volume levels.

The radio speaks.

On the hunt for a suspect identified to be Yn Ln. Cameras around area of incident placing the young woman at the scene of the crime, DNA evidence further incriminating the individual. If you have any information, ple–

That’s why we have the gun, you want to say. Your jaw wrenches shut. ‘Cause people don’t talk when they’re dead, you’d say right after, turning your gaze to meet her watery eyes. ‘Cause I can keep running with you if there’s nothing in our way, you want to confess.

But nothing leaves your lips.

The radio doesn’t speak anymore, Manon choosing to turn it off and turn away to sleep ( or more accurately, sulk with her eyes closed. )

━ ★

You finally find a motel by the end of the night, and you’re hopeful that rest will come to you for the first time in 5 days.

It won’t.

Not when you enter the room and realize there’s only one bed, and Manon is still pissed off.

She shoulder-checks you when she walks by, tossing her stuff onto the bed and gruffly mumbling about taking a shower first.

By the time she gets back, you’re already in bed, pretending to be asleep.

You know you can’t. You don’t ever sleep when she’s upset with you.

Your eyes are closed, but you can feel the bed dip as she slides into it, feel the jolt of the bed as she tries her best to turn off the light, feel when she’s turning away. You can hear her hushed whispers, her shifting around, and then there it is–a hiccup.

Her back is turned to you, so you risk opening your eyes.

Her back is moving with a sharp rise and slow fall: she’s crying. And you’ve made her cry too: great going.

You want to press your fingers against her. Tell her you’re sorry for scaring her, sorry for everything.

But you don’t.

You just close your eyes again.

A moment passes before you feel the bed shift and creak beneath her movements. A gentle hand cups your face. A sniffle rocks your spirit. You’re trying your hardest not to move or breathe, scared that like a deer, she’ll run away from you like earlier.

Heat fans across the bottom half of your face. “I’m sorry for being an asshole,” and it’s so quiet that it might as well have been the broken fan in corner, wheezing and rasping to life when it wanted.

“You mean everything to me. I just hate when you act like that… like you know what any of this means,” she pauses, only to hold back a sob. “You don’t. I don’t. But we’re supposed to not know, together.”

You hold back everything that’s threatening to come spilling out.

“I’m sorry,” she lets out a sorry chuckle. “I’m just scared of what’s next. I’m trying hard not to be, though.”

“You’re probably way more terrified than I am.”

When she falls asleep, you hold her hand, hoping that in the morning, when she wakes up, she won’t let go.

━ ★

The morning after, you don’t mention it. You don’t even look at her.

You just take her hand in yours when you get into the car again; big feelings lingering behind the smallest physical intimacy.

━ ★

You stand in the mirror with effort, deadpanning at your reflection. “This is really unflattering.”

Manon smirks, holding up 2 different skirts for you to try. “You say unflattering–I say your ass looks amazing in those jeans.”

“Why do we even have to do this?” you groan.

“You should know better than anyone that you need to change up that appearance,” her voice gets suddenly ominous. “Anyways, that jacket has been fugly, babe, you desperately need a wardrobe change.”

You roll your eyes. She’s right, unfortunately. You’d draw too much attention in it. It was insane how nobody called you out before.

“Okay, fine, Manz. We’ll do a makeover. But don’t call Lucy fugly again. She’s an acquired taste.”

You let Manon forcibly take you around on a mind-numbing shopping spree. It was torture: for hours you tried on the most egregious displays of fashion you’d ever had the displeasure of wearin–

“Girl,” she says, taking pictures of you from the bench. “Smile, it’s literally just baggy jeans and a white t-shirt. It makes your muscles look really good.”

You feel warm all over at the compliment but you decide to be stubborn anyway. “Manz,” you whine, letting her name come to a long drawl. “We’ve been at this dumb store for hours, I genuinely can’t think of a worse way to spend our time.”

“We’re in Denver, baby, which I’m not even sure we had to come this far, but I digress, ” she argues. “This is the land of bad decisions, like even the name is bad, and we’ve only been here for an hour.”

You grimace. “An hour spent is an hour lost, to this.”

Manon raises her eyebrows at you. “Fine then,” she says.

You have half a mind to stand on what you said, but Manon doesn’t even half-stand up before you take it back. “Wait–no. I’ll… I, uhhh, I love it!”

Against your will entirely, you start posing in front of her, ignoring the throb in your ankle, hyping yourself up like how you thought she would. You are eating, girl, is not something you thought you’d be saying in an Old Navy in Denver, Colorado.

She bites her lip. Air flies through her nose. And she doubles over, laughing so hard she falls to the ground. You can’t help but laugh right along with her.

“So you’re buying this, right?” you ask.

“Nope. You are.”

You’re at the register when you realize she’s very much so serious about not paying.

“That’s 157.63. Cash or card?”

You stammer like an idiot. You don’t have shit on you. “Give me a minute,” you smile, jaw tense.

You pull Manon over to the side, trying to make things quick as a line starts forming behind you. “I don’t have anything, Manz,” you say quickly.

“Girl, neither do I, if you want some gas money and something to eat tonight,” she replies. You really really do want gas money and something to eat.

“Fuck!” you curse, leg bouncing as you come up with a plan. “You trust me?”

“‘Course I do. What’re we doing?”

“This.” You drag her back over to the cashier, and Manon waits for something to happen.

But nothing does.

At least, until–

“Lady,” the cashier says, checking her nails. “There’s a line, I need to–“

You scream. “I can’t believe you!”

Manon is frozen for a second, looking between you and the poor girl who’s supposed to be ringing you up. She melts when you yell again.

“You’re such a bitch,” you stop to read her nametag. “…Casey! My boyfriend? My fucking boyfriend? You’re supposed to be my bestfriend,” you bury your head in Manon’s chest, hoping to God she sells it.

Manon ignores the way her eyebrow twitches when you mention having a boyfriend, or another bestfriend, deciding to help you out just this once. “Casey, I can’t fucking believe you. You’re just a whore–a stupid whore!” she growls, throwing outfit number 4 over the counter at Casey’s head.

Casey’s both dumbfounded and pissed, not knowing what to do but stammer out a pathetic “What?”

The customers are backing away, recording and standing there shocked.

You lift your teary face up to scream at her again. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

You lunge at her, Casey’s yelling for security, and Manon’s using all her strength to hold you back without cracking up. The bystanders are being bystanders.

You’re hollering and hurling obscenities like candy at parades, and Manon knows better than to laugh. She’s determined to finish your improv strong.

Casey runs to the backroom, only for a second, but the damage is already done. You snatch your bags from behind the counter, and attempt to run away, but it’s not very effective with the whole sprained ankle business.

Manon scoops you up with a grunt of effort and a determination you rarely see her have. She hates running.

She’s doing it for you.

You feel hot again; you push it down with a smile and kiss to her cheek.

You two ( Manon ) run all the way back to car, and speed off, you cackling the whole way through.

━ ★

So you killed a man, ran from the law, and stole 160 dollars worth of clothes. All in the span of nine days.

You are becoming a bonafide criminal genius; Manon, your partner in crime.

Her phone is plugged into the car, playing music from your shared playlist, you finally allowing her to drive you after nine days of If you touch that wheel, I’ll throw you in the backseat.

You guys are singing to Drunk in Love, well, Manon is. You’re ad-libbing as best you can, the talent of a singer not being given to you, but still wanting to enjoy something with Manon.

It makes you think about another thing that’s been on your mind. Her.

Manon looks gorgeous all the time, even more so when she’s like this. Smiling and genuine. Her side profile is highlighted by the sun that’s not blocked by her visor. You can see everything, from the mole on her chin, to the sunspots dotting her cheeks. You want to absorb everything, take it in like you’re a flower, and she’s the sun.

“You’re staring,” she grins, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I love it when you look at me like that,” her grin gets wider.

“Like?”

“Like you need me. It’s sweet.”

You open your mouth to say something snarky, but nothing comes out, so you turn in faux irritation.

She giggles at your reaction before placing her attention back on the road.

You’re starting to learn how much she means to you, and not in the way you’ve grown so accustomed to. Featherlight touches were starting to feel like needles in your skin, going so deep, you could feel it in your nerves. Every compliment that would make you roll your eyes so far back they’d disappear before are now making you heat up. You were beginning the crush phase of horny teenage boy and you didn’t even realize.

On one hand, yeah, it’d be great to kiss Manon, the way you imagine yourself doing in your dreams at night or during the day, when you think it’s not obvious. On the other, there was too much going on right now. Too much to think about, and too much to deal with.

You’re starting to get scared of it. Of her.

━ ★

It’s a quiet morning in a new motel.

Well, it was.

“Oh my god!” Manon shrieks.

You drop your toothbrush in the dirty motel sink, rushing to her aid. “What’s wrong?!”

She drops to her knees, clutching her wallet like it’s her long lost child. “I’m BROKE. That’s what’s wrong,” she sobs, before adding, “We’re broke.”

You cry with her.

━ ★

“Do you trust me?” you ask Manon, pulling a black shirt over your head.

“Not sure… This seems really dumb,” she answers honestly.

In her defense, this is quite possibly the dumbest thing you’ve done since the clothes incident yesterday, but then again, you’re broke. There’s not much to go around.

You peer at her through the poorly-cut holes in your makeshift mask. “It’s not like we have anything else,” you argue.

You step out of the car, and open the door for her.

You stagger into the gas station, and whistle with the gun in the air. People start screaming, as expected. Manon flinches a bit, the gun reminding her of her previous freakout, but stands still as she can by the door, hands in her pockets to make everyone think she’s armed too.

“I want everyone to shut the hell up and get the hell down!” you shout.

They comply, terror etched onto their faces.

“We have to make this quick, babe!” Manon shouts, looking outside the glass doors.

“I know, I know,” you grit. You roll up to the cashier, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I need all the money in the register, please.”

“Okay, okay,” he splutters. “P–Please don’t shoot me!”

You gawk at him, I didn’t even do anything yet, you have half a mind to say. “Can you just… get the damn money?”

“Okay!” he whimpers, pressing buttons behind the counter.

You tap your foot impatiently, hand on your hip as you wait for the boy to get his life together. It’s been at least 10 minutes. You’re sure that if the tables were turned, you’d be acting with a little more…urgency.

“Can you hurry–“

“NO, DON’T!”

You stare at him in disbelief, pausing to turn to Manon. “I literally didn’t even do anything?!” you wave your hands around wildly, gun swinging like a hollow threat. “I’m just talking to him??”

Manon shrugs her shoulders, looking at you with big eyes. “I don’t know. We really need to hurry this up, like now, though.”

You gawk at her too. “I’m trying! He’s being so difficult…” you groan, index and ring finger rubbing your temple.

The boy is still fumbling with keys and buttons, tears streaming down like waterfalls on his face.

“Look–Why are you crying? I haven’t even…?!” you scream in frustration, the boy clearly not operating with haste. “Stop CRYING, and give me the money, please,” you beg.

The people on the ground, once crying in fear, are now confused, looking up and–just like before–recording.

He finally throws the money at you after entirely too long with a trembling, “Here!”

“You know, kid. Taking your time gets you killed. It’s important to do as told first, and cry later. Lives are at stake when you aren’t aware. Don’t do it,” you scoop up the money and hobble away as fast as you can.

“Oh, get snacks too, love,” you tell Manon.

You got out of the gas station 20 minutes laterwith a handful of takis and plenty of cash. This isn’t the last robbery you guys commit, either.

━ ★

The next night, you two are on the news. Manon’s fast asleep right next to you, despite this motel having two beds.

Two viral recordings of some of the strangest robberies we’ve ever seen, they said. Two women in the first video, staging an argument to get out of an Old Navy, and the same two are suspected of being the gas station robbers lecturing on how to be robbed?, they said.

You’re quiet with fear, desperately praying they don’t identify you; that they can’t identify yet.

The blurry quality makes it hard to identify them, but we will keep a close eye on them, they said.

You breathe a heavy sigh of pure relief.

━ ★

A week and some change of running away from your problems, and you’re sure this is the hardest thing you’ve done by far.

You stare blankly ahead, watching Manon take her turn of driving.

It’s dark.

You’d been riding for almost ten hours straight.

You’re antsy.

You’ve been trying this whole time not to be a hornball; not to make this weirder than it is. It’s one thing to kill a guy: you did that in self-defense, but like an idiot, you ran instead of telling the truth. It’s one thing to rob a store: you needed the clothes. It’s one more thing to rob a gas station: you needed the cash.

But it’s an entirely different thing to be attracted to your friend, your bestfriend, who’s doing nothing but making things hard for you.

If you didn’t know her like the back of your hand, you’d say it’s all friendly–a coincidence. But you know better.

Everything this seductress does is intentional, deliberate. Like how she’s driving one-handed, jawline illuminated by the LEDs, hand on your thigh–not because she wanted to pounce on you–but just because she craved the intimacy with you.

She craved the intimacy with you.

“Pull over.”

“What?” she asks, turning off at the exit. “We’re like 10 miles from the motel. It can’t wait?”

“Pull over, Manz,” you urge, grabbing her by her shirt and kissing her hard.

She gapes at you before the biggest smile finds its way on her face… until she frowns.“Hey! Don’t do that while I’m–“

You roll your eyes for what seems like the millionth time during this journey. “Nobody’s out here, Meret. Are you gonna pull over and fuck me or what?”

And normally, you’d be cowardly, God, you wouldn’t have even brought anything up, but it was like you were drowning in your physical attraction.

She’s off the road with a vigor that you’ve never seen anyone pull over with, kissing you again with urgency and need.

She grins breathlessly. “I plan on it.”

Somehow, you two end up in the backseat, going at each other like you’ll die if you don’t.

You swing your leg over her lap, pulling away from her to take off your shirt, and she honest-to-god whines, like she can’t be without you for a second. You smile.

Manon doesn’t waste anymore time, rushing forward to kiss you. It’s messy, borderline gross–the way she licks into your mouth, the way your breath mixes with hers as the heat starts making you feel dizzy. It’s needy, desperate, uncomposed. The way you two could be with each other.

You can feel her palming your breast through the fabric of your bra; feel her warm and without the barrier of friendship in the way; feel her heart rate speeding up as her unoccupied hand finds purchase on your hip, making you grind against her.

She mouths on your neck, leaving soft kisses and harsh bites like a crumb trail of where she’s been.

You can’t help but roll your head back.

But at her insistent, “Look at me, please,” you comply, mouth already becoming kiss swollen as she presses forward to capture your lips once again.

━ ★

You’re in a daze.

Not like when you’d defended yourself at the expense of another life. Not like when you ignore everything like this is normal, and you two are normal, average, everyday people.

This daze is extremely different.

“You good?” Manon murmurs, like the air’s been snatched from her lungs.

You turn your head lazily, meeting her eyes. “Are you? I just ate you out… like, 3 minutes ago.“

“With that weak head? Don’t make me laugh,” she jokes.

“Yeah, yeah. You came twice, loser,” you sit up, giggling at her antics. “Now drive me to that motel.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. “I just–“

“I thought it was weak head, baby,” you mock, rolling your eyes again.

“I was lyinggggg, you know that!” she whines, grabbing your arm. “I’m tired… I don’t wanna drive,” she pouts. “I really don’t see how you drove that long with that leg.”

You shrug, rolling your shoulders before you climb into the front seat. “I felt like I owed you for this. I still do.”

“I chose to come along, Yn,” Manon says quietly. “You never had to ask. I made up my mind when I met you–I’d go anywhere you go.”

You freeze at her confession, if only for a moment. “I owed you for leaving everything behind. Making you give it all up because I was selfish,” you swallow thickly. “Owed it to you for being my distraction from everything I’ve done. I’m not sure I would’ve made it this far without you.”

Manon doesn’t look at you. Only speaks. “I would’ve never let you do this alone. I love you,” and she says it like it’s so simple–like this is something she would’ve chosen to do in every other life.

“I didn’t know you loved me that long,” you chance to say.

The bravado of horny drunken babble had escaped you, turning you into the coward you were by nature again.

“You didn’t need to,” she breathes. “As long as you felt it. Did you?”

“Did I?” you repeat, confused.

“Feel it,” she answers softly.

You start driving again. “Yeah, I did.”

She smiles.

You two sleep in all day.

━ ★

You burst into the motel room in a panic that night, grabbing your stuff and rummaging around like a junkie.

“We have to go,” you grit out, jaw clenched, eyes watery. “Now.”

She doesn’t say a word, nor does she question. She silently packs her things up and you two take off, trying to get as far away from Stillnowhere, Nowhereland.

What was supposed to be your run for dinner tonight ended up being your second and third murder.

You pull over, breaking down in her arms.

“I’m a bad bad person. Fuck, I’m horrible,” you stammer, holding your chest as you try to breathe with what little you have left. “I killed her–she didn’t even…S-she wasn’t even–I just–“

You can’t even speak.

You had pulled into another dingy diner with barely anyone inside, and it was pitch black outside–the atmosphere was beginning to shake you up.

And then it happened.

A man–bigger than you, bulkier than you, towering over you in every way possible walked in.

The woman takes your order.

Then his.

He’s staring at you, with something in his eyes you’d seen before. Something that shakes you to your core: His eyes.

Eyes of a predator, certain he’d find prey tonight.

But you know who you are.

You’re a person who yearns to live: whether it be for someone else, or yourself, that desire would burn, and scorch the ground to hell itself before the fire was put out.

He shadows you in the restaurant, until the woman hands you the bag. She looks at your predicament with an almost tepid expression, before looking down, reading you the cost of your order.

You book it when you lose eye contact. And you didn’t want to–you didn’t want to steal again, or kill again, or even blink wrong again; something was just nipping at you, telling you, get out, get out, get out.

You’re outside. Halfway to the car you parked in the dollar tree lot because of your paranoia,

And it happens.

He grabs you. Nails-cutting-into-your-skin until-you’re-bleeding grabs you.

And unlike the first time, where you waited until fate looked you in the eyes, and tried to end you–you just shot.

You pulled out this gun, that had gotten you into all of this mess, that was somehow magnetized towards your very being, and shot.

No warnings.

No fighting for life.

Just shot. Like it was part of your body. Like it was part of you.

And that lady, bless her soul, went chasing after her money, and witnessed the whole thing.

And dead people can’t talk.

━ ★

It’s over, and you know it.

The viral video suspects shown 2 weeks ago have been identified, well at least one, finally. Yn Ln, suspect of three other murders: One in L.A, Two in rural Houston, Texas. She is also wanted for several other robberies, they said.

Manon is quiet. You haven’t left the new motel in a week–but you know they’ll find you.

But you can think of one way this ends for the both of you.

One way you can make this work.

━ ★

You’re speeding down the freeway, law finally catching up to you. Windows rolled down: you feel free, like you’ve never felt before, swerving through cars too stubborn to move for you.

Helicopters screech above you–the manhunt for current serial killer and robber finally coming to a poignant conclusion.

Manon’s unable to speak. There’s nothing to say, though it’s not like she’d be able to, with you screaming with joy and laughing like nothing’s wrong.

“Manon!” you yell, over wind whipping through the car.

She’s sitting there. Wide-eyed. Teary. Doesn’t make any move to answer.

“Manon!” you yell once again, this time much louder.

She snaps her head towards you. “What,” she hisses.

“Can you scream with me?!”

She looks at you with shock.

You scream once, yelling out something along the lines of, Fuck you, coppers! like what you used to see in the crime movies you and Manon would watch without your parent’s permission. You’re beaming.

You glance at her–a pleading flicker in your features: eyes, nose, mouth… everything begging her to just go along with it.

She can’t resist it.

It lurches out of her mouth before she can even bite it back down.

You both can’t stop laughing.

“Manz, do you trust me?!” you yell, after a moment’s passed.

“Why? Are you gonna do something stupid again?!”

You roll the windows up. “Manz. Do. you. trust. me?” you say seriously, making her take pause.

She answers without thinking. “Yeah, I do.”

You brake so hard, she feels her brain shake. “What the–“

You cut her off with a soft press to her lips. “I was a coward before,” you take a deep breath. “That’s how I got us into this mess. But I know how to get us out too. I won’t be afraid, so you better not be either.”

“I won’t be–what the fuck are you planning?” she asks with fear lacing her voice.

“Don’t ask questions,” you sternly reply. “Do you trust me?”

Manon trusts you. More than she’s ever trusted anyone before. More than she could ever describe. More than she could ever say out loud.

But she doesn’t need to.

Her face says it all.

She is scared. She’s terrified. But she does trust you, and that’s good enough.

You kiss her one last time.

“Close your eyes, okay?” she listens, and you rub her shoulder reassuringly. You grab your gun. “When I grab you, fight me like you mean it. Because I definitely will.”

You shoot yourself in the leg.

She can’t even scream.

“Yn Ln! Exit the vehicle with your hands in the air.”

That’s when you and Manon go tumbling out of the passenger side door, her horrified shrieks and sobs filling the freeway with terror.

You put her in a headlock, the gun to her head threateningly, before mumbling a quiet, Improv, baby, in her ear.

You can’t feel your leg bleeding out. You can’t feel anything but her.

“Back off!” you shout, tightening your grip on her. “Back off, or I’ll fucking kill her.”

You hear a radioed, “hostage situation” and you smile.

It’s working.

And Manon’s a damn good actor.

She’s begging for help, and though it’s for you, nobody else can tell. It’s genuine. Nobody else can tell. You smile harder.

“Just put the gun, down, Yn!” An officer says through a megaphone. “Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

“This bitch…” you cringe at your own performance, “This bitch shot me! She’s not fucking walking away.”

“Stop!” she screams. “Cut it out, l–let me go, you don’t need to–“

You whisper a hushed, love you. I love you. And I’m sorry.

“You’re not getting out of this, Yn. You can leave this peacefully. You escaped before but it won’t be happening again. Surrender.” The officer says again, sternly.

Then she turns to look at you one last time. Teary, but with those same eyes she had all her life. As if she’s some saint, purifying you for all your sins, all your mistakes, all your–well, everything.

She’s your saint.

Her eyes, ever expressive, say all that they need to. I love you, you don’t need to this, we’re in this together, I love you, I love you, I love you.

You ask her one final time.

“Do you trust me?”

“Y–Yes, I do.” she sobs aloud.

“Then run. I’m the monster they think I am,” you swallow. “That’s what I need you to act like this time. Run, and don’t stop for any reason. And don’t turn around, okay?” your fingers graze her shoulders, a final reassurance.

You push her forward, and she doesn’t stop. Your lips weakly curve upward, pleased. And she doesn’t stop.

Not even when she’s crying so hard she can’t see.

Not even when a single shot rings behind her.

━ ★

“And on today’s segment of Survival, Meret Manon Bannerman–Kidnapped by crazed serial killer, Yn Ln,” the computerized voice announces.

The reporter looks dead into the camera for five seconds before speaking. “It’s been 6 months since Meret’s horrifying ordeal. 3 weeks of traveling across state lines and being subjected to horrors we haven’t had the pleasure of imagining until now,” she pauses for dramatic effect. “Now, she quells our morbid curiosity, and tells us everything that happened…”

Manon walks in. Face hardened, body trembling: clearly not ready.

She spins a long fabricated tale: practiced for months after she lost you. Practiced because it was all she could bring herself to do. Because that’s what you told her to do, and she trusted you–hell, she still does.

But when she gets home, she stares at your picture. White tee, baggy jeans. Posing because you wanted her to stay. Smiling. Laughing.

Happy. With her.

And she’s just hoping that in the next life, you can both start over. Rewind. Restart. Whatever is she has to do to see you again.

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

[oliwrites]

could u pls do a sex pollen/potion with loki but the reader and loki are like bsfs in love and they don’t realize it until like afterward??? thank u and i hope ur doing well🫶

Freyja’s Flower

pairing: loki x fem!reader

genre: 90% smut 10% fluff

summary: you are observing a foreign flower from alfheim, but when you’re about to finish up for the night, the flower emits a powder in your face

warnings: SMUT! (18+), sex pollen, masturbation (f), unprotected piv (wrap it if you tap it), dirty dirty thoughts, mutual pining, loki being a smartass

A/N: here is my official attempt on a sex pollen fic! i hope you all enjoy! if you don’t please don’t tell me bc i probably won’t care (sorry not sorry)

word count: 2.5k

You were currently occupying Bruce’s lab while the rest of the Avengers went out on another mission. Bruce had told you to continue the research and observations on the foreign plants you and the team collected on the last mission. Loki, your best friend, was sitting on a table behind you and pestering the living shit out of you.

“Loki if you don’t shut the fuck up in the next 2 seconds, I swear I will sew your mouth shut,” You grumbled, trying to translate the Old Nordic written out on the page.

Your eyes scanned page 64 of Nordic Flowers once more:

Blomst av Begjær (Freyja’s Blomst)

Blomsten av Begjær, eller som mer kjent som Freyja’s Blomst. Er en blomst som produserer en pollen som spirer ut når blomsten føler seg i fare. Når blomsten kommer i kontakt med en person, kan personen begynne å føle feberish, svimmel og spent. Blomsten finnes vanligvis i Alfheims felt og har en oransje for å rosa fargetone på kronbladene og en gul stamme.

“Lokes, care to translate this for me?” You spoke up after giving up on attempting to translate the page.

“I thought you wanted me to stay quiet,” Loki quipped back, not getting off the table and assisting you with your research.

“Loki help me before I kick your ass,” You spat. You heard Loki snicker behind you before getting up and reading the page over your shoulder.

You couldn’t help but blush at the close distance between you and the Nordic God. You would never admit it, but you had fallen in love with him about 2 years back when he took care of you when you were ill. He was a true gentleman and a good friend. Not to mention that he’s good looking too.

He has long, wavy black hair that reached his clavicles, alabaster skin with beautiful green eyes that occasionally had a twinge of gray. His nose was long and defined and had cheekbones so sharp, that you were convinced you could cut yourself on them if you weren’t careful. His thin, pink lips were always curled up into a mischievous smirk, which showed off his perfectly straight and pearly white teeth.

His body was lean, but had a pop of muscle. His triceps always bulged out and strained against the sleeves of any of his shirts. His pectorals were defined and his abs were chiseled to perfection. Your mouth always watered when his gym shirt would stick to his torso from the sweat, because you could see every inch of muscle on that man.

He hummed behind you, bringing you back to reality. He observed the page and you watched as his piercing green eyes flicked among the words written on the page. You then dragged your attention to his pink lips, which he was currently wetting with his tongue. You felt a shiver go down your spine as you thought of the sinful things that his tongue could do to you.

“What the actual fuck, dude. He’s my best friend. Snap out of it!” You thought to yourself, shaking away all of unspeakable thoughts as Loki cleared his throat.

“Nothing important, love. It was just explaining what the flower looks like and where you can find it,” Loki smiled softly, moving a piece of hair out of your face.

“What’s the name of it?” You asked, trying to ignore the blush creeping up on your face as his soft fingertips grazed your cheek.

“Freyja‘a Flower,” Loki replied simply, “but I think you can do more research on Freyja and her flower tomorrow, it’s getting late and you need your beauty sleep,” Loki continued, pinning you to the lab desk, just to close the book behind you and look you deep in the eyes.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might just have to rip your clothes off, Laufeyson,” You thought to yourself, blushing at your own thoughts.

You tried reaching behind you to grab the book and shuffle away to your room for the night and scream into your pillow for having such an infernal crush on your best friend. However, you miscalculated where you placed the book and accidentally knocked the glass dome Bruce kept the flower in down onto the ground, shattering the glass around it. Loki jumped at the noise, unpinning you from the lab bench to observe what occurred.

“Shit!” You screeched, bending down and grabbing the flower, trying to avoid the thorns that sprouted from the stem.

But before you could place the flower down back on the table. A pink powder like substance sprayed out and puffed in your face. The powder took you by surprise and you began to fall back on ‘impact’ but was quickly caught by the raven haired man behind you.

“Careful, darling girl. Let’s clean you up and get you to bed,” Loki smiled, before taking your hand in his and walking you back to your room.

“Thank you, Loki, but I can walk myself,” You told him, raising an eyebrow.

“I know you can, but I just want to assure myself that you clean up fully. We don’t know what that powder stuff is,” Loki replied, opening the door to your room.

You walked in, Loki following after you. He closed the door and turned back to you. He eyed your blue turtleneck, which was now dusted over with the same pink that matched your face.

“May I?” Loki asked gripping onto the hem of your shirt. You looked up at him, nodding slightly, allowing him to remove your shirt, leaving you in your white bra and black jeans.

Why am I feeling dizzy? Why is it so hot? My room was never this hot before… What is going on?

Thoughts and concerns raced through your mind but was quickly stopped when you were placed on your sink with a warm, damp towel wiping away the pink powder.

“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” You asked warily, grabbing the hand that was being used to wipe your face off.

“It is just you, darling. Perhaps try sleeping in less layers tonight, maybe keep a window open for a cool breeze,” Loki suggested as he shook his hand free and continued to clean you up.

“He’s so gentle. I wonder how gentle he’d be while cleaning up his cum from my— what the fuck??” You began thinking to yourself again. You were shocked at the sudden change in thought. Hell, you were concerned as to why Loki wiping your face off was turning you on so much.

“Gods, I just want him to ram into me until I can’t walk for a week. I don’t know why I can’t just get the courage to jump his bones already,” You thought to yourself, accepting the fact that you’re gonna have dirty thoughts about him.

Once Loki finished cleaning you up, you jumped down from the sink and walked into your bedroom. You cracked open a window to let the night breeze sift into your room and you began to take your pants off.

You didn’t notice Loki’s gaze at your ass as you bent down to take your pants off. He noticed the way your ass curved perfectly or how your underwear covered up too much of you, based on his own personal opinion.

You unclipped your bra, turned around and playfully threw it at Loki, expecting him to dodge away in disgust, like the other men in the Avengers do (based off of what their wives say), but instead he caught it and shoved it in his pocket with a wink.

“I want that back,” You laughed seductively, walking toward your bed, with a little more sway to your hips. You crawled onto your plush mattress on all fours, displaying your ass to the god behind you. Playing with fire, you nonchalantly wiggled your ass before turning around to reveal your perky breasts to him.

“I— uh.. yeah sure we’ll talk… good night,” Loki stuttered with a red blush plastering his cheeks. You giggled as he swiftly turned around and bolted out the door.

**

Fuck. It was so hot. It felt like you were on fire. The window being opened didn’t help, and neither did removing all blankets from your bed.

Along with the fiery feeling that stretched across your skin, you felt a sharp arousal piercing throughout your body. Your body was aching to be touched, your slickness soaking through your panties and down your thighs. What is going on?

You huffed out a breath and wet your fingers with your saliva, trailing them down your body. Your fingertips barely brushed your clit and you let out a loud moan. You began slowly rubbing the sensitive nub, moaning out to the ceiling of your bedroom.

Your fingers traveled from your nub to your soaking entrance. You dipped in your two fingers and started at a slow and steady pace.

“Fuck… Loki…” You moaned out, ignoring the fact that you just moaned out your best friend's name. Your free hand moved up and tweaked your nipples, causing you to arch your back.

You pictured that your hands were Loki’s. His tongue traveling down your stomach and to your opening. He’s praising you for being such a good girl, his good girl. He removed his fingers and replaced it with his cock, thrusting into you hastily. He wasted no time to adjust to you as he began to pound into your channel.

You sped up your fingers movement, feeling the tight coil begin to form. You’re almost there.

You began picturing the dirty things he would say to you. How you were his and his alone. How you please him so well. How he loves how tight you were around his cock. How he was gonna cum deep inside you and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

As that last thought coursed through your mind, you released all over your fingers with a shriek. Your hips bucked against your hand as you continued your movements, riding out your high.

Once you came down from your high, you removed your fingers from your core and got up. You elected to take a cool shower and remove all hints of arousal from your body.

After washing yourself and getting out of the shower, a wave of dizziness hit you and you fell to the ground. Heat radiated throughout your body once more and your arousal returned, however this time it was more painful.

“Fuck!” You groaned out in pain and pleasure, you buckled down to the ground from the sudden sharp pain that went through your body, “I need Loki, he’ll know what to do,” You spoke to yourself before grabbing onto the sink and pulling yourself up.

**

“Loki?” You asked, knocking on his bedroom door. He didn’t answer, so you just walked in, “Loki? I need you to wake up,” I said louder after I closed the door behind me.

“May I be of assistance to you?” Loki asked seductively, leaning up on his elbows laying in bed.

“I need your help…” You say weakly, walking over to his bed, slick wetness gushing out of you as you see your best friend shirtless.

“Let me assume that you’re feeling hot, dizzy, and hot and bothered?” Loki asked, his signature smirk appearing on his face.

“How did you know that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms.

“Those are the effects of the flower of lust. Or as I told you, Freyja’s Flower,” he smirked, “I perhaps stretched the truth and said that I knew not of the results of the flower’s powder,” Loki continued.

“Why?” Is all you could say, sitting down on his bed to prevent your knees from buckling beneath you from just the sound of his silky voice.

“Are you really so blind?” Loki asked before smashing his lips to yours. You crawled on top of his lap and grinded on top of the erection that was covered by his duvet.

Loki reached up under your shirt and tweaked at your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He took that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, quickly asserting his dominance in the kiss. You grinded deeper to gather more friction.

“Loki… I need you…” You mustered out in a broken moan in between your kiss, your nails raking down his back.

“That you do,” Loki smirked, almost evilly before guiding your hips up and removing the now soaked duvet up and revealing his erection. He took no time on aligning himself and you took even lesser than no time to sink down on him, rellishing at the stretch your pussy had to do to accommodate his size.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” you moan into his neck, bouncing up and down on his cock at a quick pace. He kissed you feverishly to the point where you didn’t even realize he had flipped you over and began ramming into you.

“You’re so… tight, ahh… faen, just like that,” he groaned into your neck, bringing his hand down and toying with your clit. Your back arched at the feeling and you let out an almost pornographic moan as you felt that familiar pressure build up in your core.

“Fuck! Loki! M’close!” You moaned out, biting down on his neck, leaning multiple different hickeys.

“Cum around me, darling… show me how much you— ahh— enjoy the feeling of my cock,” Loki moaned out, sucking air through his teeth as he felt you tighten around him once more, releasing all over him. He followed soon after, spilling his release inside of you.

“Loki…” You groaned out into his neck.

“I’ll be right back, just lay here and recover,” Loki spoke softly before getting up and going into his en-suite bathroom.

A few minutes later, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth, a glass of water, and some grapes and nuts he had conjured up.

“This’ll sting a bit, my love, just relax,” Loki told you, before dabbing the washcloth on your used hold. You winced in pain from the sensitivity, “I know, I’m sorry,” He apologized while continuing to clean you up.

When he finished he magicked away the cloth and picked up the glass of water and the bowl of nuts and grapes.

“Here, eat and drink,” Loki said, handing you the food and drink. You quickly gulped down the water and began picking and eating at the Asgardian candy.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Freyja’s Flower?” You ask eventually, continuing to eat on the food given to you.

“I've wanted to be with you like that for a while now, and I didn’t know the right way of approaching those feelings, so I just did what my mind told me to do, which was to trick you,” Loki sighed, his head hanging down in shame.

“Loki, I’ve wanted the same thing for a while too, but next time instead of making me unbearably horny, just tell me, okay?” You reassured, tilting his chin up so he could look at you.

“Will you please do me the honor and allow me to court you?” Loki asked shyly, a faint pink blush appearing on his cheeks.

“I would love nothing more,”

[lowcosmic]

LETS GO REQUESTS R OPEN!!! can u plz make a oneshot out of rantaro w/ this song :3

youtu.be/El0AfTkxfyM?si=RoGYqdzonyQUrUWl

-🌐

—— killshot .

— 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : you’re in love with rantaro amami , so much that you feel his simple presence isn’t enough and that your heart can’t take the overwhelming need anymore.

— 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 : fluff

— 𝙘𝙬 : none

— 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 : a songfic of the song killshot !! ahh this was so bad i’m sorry

Something chronic Bit demonic  I been on the late shift All alone, staring at my phone

↳ you , as a part time worker with not many customers , decided to kill time by browsing on your phone. just as you were skimming through a certain classmate’s posts , that very person opened the door to come inside.

→ rantaro amami. your favored classmate and best friend. but you wouldn’t mind taking it further with him , he was that charismatic.

Sin and tonic Stupid promise Something like a death wish  All alone, stare into my soul

→ “ ah , hey! i had some free time , so i decided to visit. ” he smiled softly , walking over to you.

→ “ at nine o’ clock? ha , how flattering. ” you offered a smile back. “ i’m practically starving , so … wanna eat? ”

→ rantaro chuckled and agreed , stating that was the other reason why he was here.

→ you both sat down at a booth , eating away and talking by bits and pieces. you met his eye a few times before your face heated up , causing you to look away. but he definitely saw , sending a few subtle flirtatious remarks and gestures to you.

→ he was going to be the death of you.

If I wanna stay alive You should never cross my mind Yeah I knew it  I been through it

→ he was different from all the others you’d fallen for. he was caring. he was kind. and you’d be so distraught if anything were to happen to him. he occupied your thoughts , much like a schoolgirl crush.

→ it was obvious to everyone else that there was chemistry between you both. but did he notice? being the person he’s known as , he probably did. but he sure didn’t say anything about it.

If I fall in every time Wicked love will leave me blind Yeah I knew it  I been through it

Oh god Can you make my heart stop Hit me with your kill shot baby I mean it so serious ( repeats again )

→ “ do … you mind if i sit next to you? it’ll be easier to talk … ” when he slid next to you after your consent , you found it harder to talk normally with him so close by. and it didn’t help that he kept brushing his hand against yours or staring so deeply at you.

→ you just wished he could kiss you already.

Stolen nectar Misadventure Something like a death kiss Growing cold, under your control

Knowing better Twisted pleasure Got me feeling breathless  Growing cold, will you let me go?

→ “ oh , it’s getting late … ” you had muttered. rantaro simply put his hand over yours.

→ you curled your hand with his , savoring the contact. “ do you want me to go? ” he asked.

→ “ no , ” you simply replied , letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

→ “ it’s an … unconventional place to say this , but … ”

If I wanna stay alive You should never cross my mind Yeah I knew it  I been through it

If I fall in every time Wicked love will leave me blind Yeah I knew it  I been through it

→ your heart swelled with excitement , opening your ears fully to whatever he was about to say.

→ “ i like you. a lot. do you want to be my girlfriend? ” he finished. it was one of the few times where you’d seen something related to anxiety in his eyes.

→ you wrapped your arms around him , hugging him before moving your head to kiss him.

Oh god Can you make my heart stop Hit me with your kill shot baby I mean it so serious God Can you make my heart stop Honey with your kill shot baby I mean it so serious

Come and get that honey Sweeter than I ever knew  Tell me that you love me Love me till my lips turn blue

��� thankfully , no one walked in on you two kissing. you mumbled against his lips a small “ i love you , ” before diving in again till the both of you could barely breathe in the suffocating air.

→ he’d wrapped his arms around your waist , pulling you closer.

Oo ooo ooo ooo  Walk into my bed like How long Got you in my head like  How long, how long

→ “ we … we should get going , huh? ” you panted out afterwards. it was raining outside , and your house was a far way off. rantaro offered for you to stay at his , and you happily accepted.

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[delcakoo]

stupefy ‧₊˚ ⚡︎𓈒 p.js

for the anon who requested ravenclaw reader getting locked in a closer w slytherin jay, hope u find this :c

SUMMARY ! playing spin the bottle with your brother and his troublemaking companions results in you getting locked in a closet with his best friend, who seems to have noticed your staring throughout the night.

PAIRING ! slytherin!jay x ravenclaw!f!reader

WC ! 1.4K

GENRE ! sprinkle of fluff (?), slight suggestive, implied sexual themes from hee’s friends

WARNINGS ! making out, jay pulls your tie (so rude smh), he’s only cocky for a bit then he’s a blushy loser, mc is teased for being ravenclaw, hees being a terrible brother + his friends are just as bad

a/n: WHY DO I ALWAYS DELETE ASKS I FEEL SO BAD :c take this tiny jay fic cuz of anon’s indulging in my slytherin jay antics grhrgehbrgh

“YOUR TURN, Y/N!”

instead of being asleep like the rest of your nerdy house was, you were down in the potions room playing spin the bottle with the slytherins — or more specifically, your older brother heeseung and his annoyingly loud friends.

you've come to know a few of them quite well, especially one named park jay. it was as if the boy was sculpted by a greek god; perfect pointy nose and jawline sharper than a snake’s fang, cat-like eyes always seemingly harsh enough to pierce right into your very soul.

you were almost in a trance side-eyeing him half the night, but the sound of your name makes your head snap up, nervously adjusting your glasses, "h-huh?

“aw, look at the lil' raven," a girl named karina hisses in amusement, "it's your turn, cutie. don't be shy." you'd think heeseung, being your older brother and all, would stand up for you by now and tell his friends to play nice. but the slytherin male only smirked just as evilly as the rest of his housemates, staring down at you through his wavy black bangs without a hint of empathy. it really was a wonder how the two of you were even related.

as you gulp and move to grab the bottle, you feel jay's gaze sharpen on you even further.

please, please, anybody but him. you doubt you'd survive being in the supply closet with jay for more than a minute, any more than that and you'd probably faint on the spot.

with a last shaky breath you release the bottle, everyone turning silent as the glass quietly spins and spins. before you know it, the bottle begins slowing down. it goes past everyone at the table: first sunghoon.. karina…. heeseung.. yeonjun..

you freeze.

the bottle stops, and in utter horror, you look up to see the face of park jay smirking down at you, mischief evident in his shimmering pupils. of course your luck had to fall down the drain at the worst times, it was all too predictable. karina cackles, “yah, isn’t this too mean? jay, go easy on her!”

you desperately look at your big brother, who you always looked up to for help, but the emotionless boy is already pushing you towards the supply closet with a sinful grin, sunghoon doing the same to jay next to you. “w— hold on, hee i don’t want—“

“have fun!” slam.

you continue staring at the locked door, dumbstruck as the voices of the other slytherin’s slowly fade away. in one hopeless attempt of desperation, you reach up to test the handle a few times. the last source of light illuminating the room full of strange ingredients and liquids was a single hanging lantern, only increasing the dreadful mood.

“sunghoon has the key,” a raspy voice provides. you turn, eyes finally locking with jay’s as he perchs up against the wall, arms crossed calmly. you weren’t sure what it is you were expecting from this unlucky scenario, but it definitely wasn’t the usually wreckless slytherin maintaining a respectful distance from you.

though you notice that unlike your brother, his gaze reflected genuine emotion; a hint of pity showing through his pupils as you glue yourself to the ground anxiously. he looks even more perfect up close despite his untucked shirt and loose green tie, black cloak almost falling off on one side.

it’s tranquil for another moment before jay speaks up again, running ring-attired fingers through his raven bangs. “why were you staring at me?”

your mind blanks, unprepared for such a sudden call out. “i.. i wasn’t.. i didn’t stare at you,” you mumble pathetically.

the slytherin looks at you again with a knowing simper. you swear he whispered ‘cute’ under his breath, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it before he replied, “during spin the bottle,” jay refers. “don’t think i didn’t notice. your little glasses don’t hide anything.” with no response, you tilt your head down in shame and embarrassment.

suddenly, the boy pushes off the wall, stalking towards you ever so slowly. when you try to step back in response, a shelf full of potions nearly tips over as your back stabs into it.

you gasp at the contact, facing forward again to see jay right up in your space, hands pinning your sides in with a brow raised. “do you have a crush on me or something?”

you choke in horror, “what!? no!” he brings his face even closer to yours, watching for a reaction. when you don’t bother making an effort to escape or even turn your head away, he chuckles, small fangs poking through his pink lips as he realises you want this just as much as him.

before you can process it, the boy has taken your perfectly done blue tie through his fingers, rubbing down the material leisurely. “tsk tsk tsk.. little ravenclaws like you shouldn’t lie, could get you in trouble.” he suddenly yanks your tie harshly, grasping the material as you’re tugged towards him with a yelp, lips centimetres from his plump ones. “i can feel your heart racing,” he snickers.

you aren’t sure how you haven’t passed out yet; he was undeniably stunning up close, black bangs covering bits of his eyes, tongue poking out to moisten his chapped lips as he holds you against the shelf.

with a breathy exhale, you slowly reach a hand up to place against his own defined torso, grinning at the feeling of his own heart beating rapidly out of his chest. ”i can feel yours too,” you fire back teasingly.

at that, his smug expression staggers for a moment, processing your boldness in surprise. then, he smiles, reaching up to push a loose hair strand behind your ear. “caught me there.”

your smile grows a fraction. “jay,” you mutter, glancing at the locked door. the slytherin hums in acknowledgment, the sharp tip of his nose poking your own. “can you..”

he waits, “can i what, princess?”

you swallow, fingers wrapping all the way around the large wrist that’s calmly raking through your hair. “kiss me?”

jay’s cocky smirk returns, tilting his head evilly, “what’s the magic word? c’mon, ravenclaw’s should know all their manners,” he taunts.

your jaw ticks in irritation. instead of doing as the taller boy asks, you don’t think twice before switching your positions, pressing him into the shelf while kissing him just as you please.

jay groans in alarm at the feeling of your soft lips moving against his, visibly having an inner debate on teaching you a lesson or letting you have your fun. it seems he chooses the second option, allowing your hands to roam into his jet black roots while gently cupping your cheek as if you were a vase; broken into pieces if he touched you any rougher.

after a couple minutes more, you separate for air, staring at each other with glazed out irises. it was clear who had more experience; jay breathing half steadily while you nearly pant your lungs out, lifting a hand to wipe your steamed up glasses.

“do you think your brother’s gonna beat me up?” he suddenly asks, though not looking scared in the slightest.

you scoff in amusement, “no, he doesn’t care about me. he’s the one who pushed me in here, remember?” feeling irritated by the mere thought of heeseung, you step closer again to kiss him and distract the both of you, right when a lock clicking reaches your ears.

the closet is aggressively jerked open, a flood of light shining into the storage room. “time’s up, jay! get off the poor thing—“

everyone peeping into the closet pauses in confusion, taking in the sight of you caging a boy much bigger than you against a shelf, lips swollen and hair a mess as jay blushes in humiliation, pushing you off of him.

first sunghoon giggles, then heeseung begins to cackle, before they’re all laughing, grabbing jay’s shoulders and pushing him around, pinching his red cheeks and ruffling his hair even further. “getting pushed around by hee’s little sister? a ravenclaw, really bro?” yeonjun snickers playfully.

with that, the group of slytherin’s begin to walk off without sparing you another glance, much too preoccupied teasing the black haired boy. you begin to chuckle for a moment, feeling proud of yourself until through the midst of the chaos, jay meets your eyes furiously.

he rudely points at you, then raises it to his neck, making a cut throat motion.

you had a terrible feeling this wouldn’t be your last encounter with your brother’s best friend.

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated and motivating <3

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

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[strangesmouth]

Brewing Coffee

REQUEST} GRUMPY Stephen walking around in a robe that’s really Cloaky in disguise with the eye of agamotto hanging over his bare chest while he makes his coffee. 

PAIRING} Stephen Strange x Female!Reader

WARNINGS} Fluff, smut. 

WORD COUNT} 2,571

-} Request for maria- @/azirastrange on twt thank u for leaving me this idea 

-}he is a sinful piece of human, gif owner, thank u

“Mmm. Good morning, Stephen.” You hummed awake as he squeezed you tightly and kissed your forehead. He let go of you before lifting the covers to sit up and put his feet on the floor. He had his head in his hands, trying to gather the courage to get up and face the day. Trying to get up to make coffee before showering. 

“Good morning, my darling. How did you sleep?” He asked as loudly as he could. His voice was gravelly and deep. You could feel the vibrations of his voice in your core. 

“I slept okay, given I wasn’t allowed to sleep for half the night,” You murmured. “I was so tired by the time we finally got to bed. There were a lot of movies.” 

“Let me go make us some coffee then, my love.” He tried to get up as soon as possible. 

“Don’t leave, yet. It’s only 7 am. Don’t go, Stephen. Cuddle with me, please. Keep me warm.” You pleaded. “We’ve been having such a great nap. Come on.” 

“I wish I could. I have to get up.” He muttered groggily. 

“Why?” You whined. Laid comfortably, and warmly in between the mattress and the sheets. 

“I have to go get stuff done today.” He persisted, and he got up and walked towards the rack where both of your robes were and pulled his on. 

“No. Stay with me, today” You murmured sweetly. 

“I wish I could. Let me go make us some coffee, my darling. Stay here, stay warm. I’ll be back.” He leaned over your side of the bed and pecked your cheek while you tried to scooch even closer to his side, where the bed was warm and smelled like him. You were probably just taking up the entire bed at this point. “You’re so goofy. I’ll be back with coffee, my love.” He whispered. 

“Okay, Stephen. Don’t take too long.” You managed to mutter through the comfort and warmth that was soothing you back into your sleep. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He whispered to himself as he left the room with his red robe. 

He knew it was kind of stupid to turn Cloaky into a robe, but he did it so he wouldn’t be so cold in the mornings. He loved the idea of it, his little secret helper whenever he needed it. As he got to the kitchen, he sighed and walked up to the counter to begin making your guys’ coffee. He rinsed out the french press while yawning and pulled out the  coffee grinds to put into the french press. He then boiled some water and poured it into the press. He let the coffee steep for a few minutes as he gathered two mugs, some creamer, and some sugar. 

You walked out into the kitchen right before he was going to strain the coffee. 

“I thought you were still tired and in bed, my love.” He stated as he finished straining the grounds. He looked up at you and saw you completely wrapped up in the comforter that covers the bed you two shared. 

“It was getting too cold in there all alone. Plus, I thought I heard you tell me you weren’t gonna take too long.” You mumbled into the blanket that covers your frame.

“It takes a maximum of ten minutes to make coffee, my love.” He chuckles. You noticed something on his chest. 

“I was hoping you’d aim for five.” You confessed as you leaned up against the counter near him to watch him finish making your cup of coffee. 

“What are you wearing?” You asked, pointing to your own chest so he could tell you what was on his chest. 

“My robe…” He seems reluctant to finish the sentence. 

“No, on your chest. I can see the bulge of it from behind your robe.” You questioned. 

“The eye?” He answers. “More sugar?” He continued, you nodded your head. 

“Wait, are you wearing the Eye of Agamotto naked?” You realized as he slid your mug over to you. You picked it up and felt the warmth of the mug against your skin. 

“YN-” 

“Oh my god you are!” You were definitely awake now, and not a drop of caffeine had to hit your lips. 

“Oh, leave me alone.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m supposed to protect it.” He continues. 

“With your dick?” You asked as you took a small sip of your coffee, and his face lit up red. He started to walk away. “Oh! Come on, Stephen! Let me see it!” You joked with him

“YN, No.” He seemed too stern for the Stephen you knew existed. 

“Stephen, please just show me.” You pleaded and laughed as you tried to block him from leaving the kitchen. 

“Will you let me pass you if I show you my chest?” He offers, now looking just slightly annoyed that he couldn’t go back to the bedroom and find you cuddled up to his pillow in his spot. 

“Better yet, Strange, I'll lead the way.” You dealt. 

“Deal.” He huffed, and he began to take his robe off, he swung it around and cloaky was revealed. The cloak reallocated itself around Stephen’s shoulders and you can now clearly see the Eye of Agamotto laid upon his bare chest. You try not to let your eyes wander down his abdomen but you couldn’t help it. 

“That isn’t what we agreed to look at, is it?” Stephen furrowed his brows at you. 

“No, it’s not. But it’s so distracting, I can’t contain it.” You said as you walked over to him and pecked him on the cheek. You leaned into his ear, and whispered, “Although now I see something I’m much more enthusiastic and interested in.” And walked away from him and to the room you’d both been sharing.

“Deal’s a deal, Strange.” You dropped the blanket at the door, revealing that you weren’t wearing anything but some underwear. He didn’t even realize that he was drooling at the sight or what was happening until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

“YN, come here!” You can hear Stephen yell for you while he hurries as quickly as possible to get to you. 

You were sitting on the bed, your chest was now covered with a pillow. “Oh…” Stephen exhales. 

“What, my darling?” You beckoned as he gets a good look at you from the door. 

“You little-” He walked over to you with a cocky smile, pushed your back so it was flush with the mattress, and straddled your waist. 

“What’s on your mind, Stephen?” You asked as he sat on top of you for a moment to stare at your beauty. 

“You. Just you.” He took a deep breath and kissed you. 

“What about me?” You inquired further. 

“Everything about you.” He answered. 

“How sweet.” You smiled at him warmly. Your hand slid up his abs and rested on one side of his chest. 

“Come here, please.” He said as he wrapped his right hand so that it was gently holding your head. He continued to leave love bites all over your lips, jaw and neck. He invokes some tired grunts of pleasure from you. 

“Stephen, that cloak is not staying on.” You exasperated through his kisses.

“Why not? Would it be different if I was straddling you in the robe?” He asked. 

“No, not unless the robe wasn’t red.” You confessed with a bright smile. 

“Okay, the cloak comes off.” Stephen agrees. He grabs the neck of it and throws it off. The cloak stays where Stephen had thrown it, and it doesn’t move. 

“You heard YN, there’s no room for you in here.” The cloak doesn’t have a face, but by the way the cloak storms out of the room and slams the door shut behind it, you can tell it was mad. 

“And there goes the grumpy.” You whispered when the door shut. Stephen laughed and rolled over onto his back, pulling you on top of him. A perfect opportunity for Stephen to remove the pillow from in between you two. It was a swift movement. You were kind of caught off guard by it. You exhaled when you finally settled on top of him. 

“I like it this way a lot more.” He said. “I can tell you do as well.” 

“Can’t argue with that comment.” You confirmed. 

He pulled you in for another kiss and you let yourself puddle on top of him. His skin was warm and soft. You held onto him by letting your fingers travel to his waist and letting your hand rest there. 

“Mmm, Stephen. You taste like coffee.” You pulled away from his lips.

“That check’s out, doesn’t it, my love?” He asked you and tried to pull you into another kiss. You don’t budge. He let out a noise that signaled that he was annoyed with this action. 

“It does check out. I watched you make my coffee with your cloak disguised as a robe, and the Eye of Agamotto around your neck. It’s a view I’ll never be able to get out of my head, and yet, I don’t think I want to.” You teased him by lowering to kiss him, and moving quickly to kiss his jaw instead. He moaned at the sudden feeling of your warm, wet lips touching his skin.

“I don’t think I want you to, either.” He joked, and you giggled against his neck. “Do you like these underwear?” He asked you. 

“Um, they do their job, but not really, why?” You tried to get an answer before he did anything.

Stephen stood up, and placed you on your feet. Confused at the gesture, you tap his forearm for an explanation. He looked up at your puzzled face and whispered, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, my love.” He responded. This did not ease the burning questions in your head.

“Relax, my love. If you do not like these underwear, then why do you wear them?” He questioned. He crouched down so that he was eye level with your stomach. He hooked both of his first two fingers into the front band of your panties, and he ripped them off. “Can I have some fun with you before I have to go do my job?” He requested, your face was burning hot. You didn’t even hear his question, he saw your dazed smile, stood back up and leaned into your ear. 

“I’m going to lay you down on the bed now.” He said.

“Yeah… O-okay…” You could barely get yourself to speak, let alone move. 

Stephen picked you up and brought you to the edge of the bed. He spit in his hand and played with himself before he lined himself up at your entrance. He slipped inside you and all you could manage to do was shudder under his body. Your shoulders lifted off the bed to try and sit up to kiss him in a desperate haze of whines and breathy moans. He obliged happily and met his soft lips with yours. Your moans turned into hums into his mouth as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. You knew he was tired, but the feeling turned some switch on inside of you. 

Now, all you could focus on was the intense feeling in your body. Essentially every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. Your fingertips were already leaving red marks down his back, but you didn’t care. You knew he could take a few tiny scratches. 

“You look and feel fucking delicious right now.” He whispered into your ear as he continued his slow pace. 

His words send an unexpected shock to your core. Your torso twitched under him as he continued to sloppily chase his release. You felt tension building so quickly, you could barely utter a word before you realized you had just come undone. Once he was done, and slumped on top of you for a second, he caught his breath. 

“God, you’re perfect. So perfect.” He slipped his hand in between your bodies and massaged you gently. You bucked your hips in response, and he sighed. 

“Just lay there. Relax.” He cooed at you. His fingers bagan to massage your folds. You let the feeling of his warm hands take over. He was on top of you, anyway. He was going to be leaving soon. Those thoughts rang in your head right before he started to insert his digits inside of you. It made the tension start to build almost immediately, once again. He was working slowly but diligently, letting the pace of your breath decide his. Feeling you tighten around his digits alone, it drove him crazy. 

“Fuck-” You were trying to hold in as much as you could, now you were breathing heavy for him. Your eyes closed tightly, a big difference from the haze he previously had you directly on. Something changed, a sense of urgency in his pace had erupted. Like he needed to feel you unwind on his hand. Like he wanted you to scream on his hand. 

You opened your eyes to see if you were right about his change in pace, and his eyes were right there, staring straight at you. 

“I’ve got you, my love. Be a good girl. Feel my hand pound into you until you cum.” He said in the sweetest tone he possibly could without being snarky or cocky. You could tell he resisted from teasing you when you were in this dazed state. He remembered an instance in this moment, where you said that “That looks like it is the perfect way to start a morning,” while you two were curled up on the couch watching a romantic comedy with the two love interests waking up in a gorgeous messy bed, your choice of course, but he didn’t mind a single bit for you. 

You groaned at his words alone, letting the nerve feeling in your stomach light up. You could barely breathe, but that didn’t stop you from taking deep breaths as Stephen stood up at the end of the bed to ride you through your release as closely as possible. Letting you scratch his shoulders and arms up as he guided you. You could only see white stars at this point as he slowed to a stop, pulled his digits out of you, and got closer to your face to whisper a few words, “You deserve to wake up this way all the time. I have to get ready now, would you like me to draw you a bath before I leave?” He asked sweetly while leaving kisses on your jaw and hickies over the base of your neck. 

You groaned in post-sex pleasure, remembering the real world exists. “Yes, please.” You muttered. You saw his smile before he pulled away. 

“Of course my love.” He answered, and he came back after getting dressed, and told you your bath was ready. 

“Towel and everything is in there, my darling. Have a good day.” He beamed before leaving to go do his job. 

“He will be back…” You babbled, and you took your bath. 

[rcksmith]

Geniuses — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Hi! I am just the annon that recently sent the request 3,11,16 and 22. You asked what I wanted, I forgot to put that I got them from the “fluff” prompt list. I am so sorry!! And don’t worry! It’s not your fault I didn’t see the list 😂😂 but thank you so much! I really like your fics and your writing style so much! 🥺🥺💖💖”

Fluff prompts:

3“You’re staring again.”

11. “Wow- you look…amazing.”

16. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.” 16. “I heard that!” 1 .“You were supposed to!”

22. “well the probability of that is 0, but you go ahead”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Haha love, it’s okay💖💖 i hope you like, because I really like to writing tis. Thank you for resquest. Love u❤️

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: nothing, just bad words and fluff.

(gif not mine)

— — — — —

It was fun to think that Five never had an equal opponent, someone as smart, canny, sarcastic and ironic as he. Five Hargreeves was always used to being the smartest person in the room, always being the one with the quickest response on the tip of his tongue.

And, well, it was fun to think that it all went up in the air when you showed up.

You were cruelly intelligent, able to correct errors in Five's math equations, sarcastic and always had a cheeky smile on your face. You weren't used to being underneath, which is why when Five wanted to show that he was better than you, well, you wouldn't give up.

But unlike the time traveler, you didn't have super powers, you weren't extraordinary, you didn't have any skills, but that didn't stop you from being equal to him in every other way.

Whenever Five wanted to come out on top with the argument that he had powers and you didn’t, you raised an eyebrow, looked at him as if he had made a basic math mistake, and said: “I don’t need powers, I’m a genius, you should try to be one too.” And it made him furious, and, truth be told, you just liked to tease him too.

But just as the two of you had personality differences, the ability to handle emotions and people well was different from Five. You were kind, funny and wanted to make people comfortable around you. Being a genius didn't mean you shouldn't be a nice person, and Five usually forgot about it.

As you and Five spent more time together, it became clear that you two were no longer able to stay away from each other. Five liked (secretly) to have someone to really talk to. Someone that understood and followed his line of reasoning, that understood the equations he did, and that considered him a genius instead of crazy with some reasoning.

Being with you was like, for Five, meeting another human being in a dog-only world, and when he kind of told you that in other words, you laughed out loud and said: “Or how to find an equal sign in an equation.” And that's when he felt his heart pounding for you.

Five remembered when you beat him in chess for the first time, no one had ever done it before, and he agreed to play with the full awareness that he was going to win again. Well, that is not what happened.

When you checkmate his king, Five was stunned. He leaned over the board, looking at the pieces as if they had created a head. And you laughed, leaned back in your chair in a victorious smile.

“This is impossible.”

“it's actually just intelligence, why don't you use it now and then?” You were kidding, it was obvious, you couldn't stand hurting people and Five knew it. The dynamics of the two of you who were exchanging barbs.

“You must have stolen or something, this is very much your style” He returned, eyes on you as you laughed “Let's play again and I will give you a the most brutal defeat.”

“Well the probability of that is 0, but you go ahead” You accepted, first because you wanted to show that you would beat him as many times as possible, and second because there was nothing you liked more than spending time with Five.

The matches started, and you won every time. And when the sunset and the breeze was cold, you and Five looked at each other, with the peach rays of the sun illuminating their faces, and the mutual smile they gave out sweetly.

He were really enjoy the game and you knew that, and he knew you not just want the victory. You two know Just more matches would make you spend more time together. And... Five didn't remember if anyone ever really engaged in a game just to want to be around him.

But things really got more real and serious when Vayna asked you to go to one of her violin performances too. And, well, you wore a long, red dress, firm in all the right places, and Five couldn't get his eyes off you just one second.

It was as if, when he saw you, all the equations in his life had been solved. And a single thought rang in his mind: “I want her”

And the certainty of that was absolute. He wanted you as an overwhelming force, which shook his whole body. He needed you like needed oxygen. And there was no way to deny that anymore.

But it all happened in a fraction of a second, and you had just chosen that moment to approach him and ask:

“So, how am I look? Are you going to make a little joke about berries or something?” You laughed.

But Five could think of nothing but that if there were the personification of sin and perfection, it would be you. He looked at you as a whole, a fucking beautiful woman with a fucking brilliant mind. You are incredible and he had no other adjectives for you.

“Wow- you look… amazing.” You felt all the intensity and truth in that sentence, and your heart pounded in your chest.

For, truth be revealed, you had dressed up for him. Because wanted him to think you were beautiful. Because you thinking him were a young God with all the vigor and beauty.

Five really wanted to focus on anything but you. Not In the swing of your body, in the outline of your lips, in how he wanted to put you out of that dress. He really tried. But his eyes were always drawn to you at the end of the effort, as if you were the only thing worth seeing.

“You’re staring again.” Luther whispered in his right ear, while Five kept his eyes on you for a moment that seemed to him seconds, but to Luther it was hours.

But who could blame him? You looked like a mirage, too beautiful to be true. And Five wanted to record every detail of it in memory.

“Take care of your life!” He replied, taking his eyes off you.

After that night, Five already knew that he could no longer keep his hands off you. He couldn't just look at you anymore when the hunger to touch you started to hurt physically. As soon as you got back to the mansion, he grabbed you by the wrist, in a strong, firm grip, and pulled you with him as he climbed the stairs towards his own room.

Five needed you. A kiss, a caress, a body-to-body contact, anything, he just needed it. And it had to be now, he not wait for you to go home and come back later, he couldn't wait days...damn it! He couldn't wait seconds!

Then he knocked and locked the door behind you when you entered the his room.

“What the hell?” You rubbed your wrist that he must not have measured how much firmly him hold you “You're acting like a nut and I thin ...”

But Five didn't give you time to continue. He couldn't give you time. He could not explain something that for him was still a mess. So he showed you.

Five came to you in big, determined steps, and he fit your face in his hands before tilting and sticking his lips to yours. And then the world seemed to make sense for the first time.

Everything was suspended. The people, the rotation of the earth, the wind, the noise of the streets. Everything went into a black hole and was no longer important. The only thing that really mattered was you. And Five kissed you until the oxygen was strictly necessary.

“I have been waiting for this for some time.” You confessed, and Five blew out a low laugh, answering you with another kiss that ended up taking you to a bed and messy sheets.

After that night, Five became more attached to you, and the relationship grew stronger over the weeks.

“You know this is wrong, right?” You said as you took a look at the equations he had made that afternoon.

Five looked at you with a frown, irritation in his eyes, but you were trying to contain your laughter.

“You have nothing else to do no?”

“Besides seeing your accounts wrong? No.” You had fun, taking one of the white chalk Five was using and erasing an equation from it, redoing it in the right way.

You could feel his gaze on your back, but you did your best not to laugh and return the chalk complacently.

“Now it's right.”

Five looked at the account you redid, and gave you an expression of so few friends that you couldn't control your laughter anymore.

And his expression closed even more. You shook your head and were already on your way to the door when when you heard him mumbling:

“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

Then you laughed even harder and turned to Five, who had been doing his math again on the walls of his room.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!” He countered without even waiting a second, and then you came back towards him, the laughter still present in your voice, your eyes full of play and love.

You put your arms behind his waist, still with the remnants of laughter coming from yours lips, and leaned your head against his broad back.

Five felt and heard your laughter, and then controlled himself not to laugh too, before giving yours hands that were hugging his waist a few gentle pats.

“You are unbearable.” You mumbled, but full of love overflowing with the words “But I love you.”

Then Five laugh came and he exchanged pats for an affectionate affection on yours hand, signaling that he also found you unbearable, but that he loves you.

[lunaekalenda]

y/n and levi are having an argument and he says somethin hurtful to them like “you’re a burden to me, get out!” In his office after they try to tell levi to relax a bit. They get really hurt and Levi regrets it so bad he tears up. Levi tried to like make it up for them but they keep avoiding Levi and lookin away cuz they are nervous but levi finally caught them in some room and he expresses his feelings to them and how bad they want them back (their y/n starts sobbing and Levi panics and hold them close)🥺 omg I love ur writing so I would appreciate if u would write this!! (Some fluff moments pls 😭❤️) have a great day!!

okay! thank you so much for your words omg! i hope you like it! <3

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ levi x reader

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Levi was working.

Again.

His gaze was fixed on the documents he had in front of him, his fingertips passing pages quick, searching something. He cursed on low voice, searching some more papers around, when you entered his office. You had a glass of water with you, and a couple pieces of fruit. He has been there working for a long time now.

"Levi." you whisper. You don't know if he didn't hear you or if he is ignoring you, but knowing Levi's caring personality, he's probably so centered on the documents he hasn't heard you. You leave the glass and the fruit plate in the little table he has near his desk, before going next to him. His eyes look at you quietly on a side-look, but he keeps analyzing all those documents.

"Shouldn't you rest a bit?" you ask. He sighs but keeps looking at the documents. "You've been here all day, Levi..." your tone is now more concerned. But he coldly turns around, his chair making unpleasant noises. His grey eyes meet yours, coldly.

"I don't need to rest." he says.

"You're human. You need to."

"I don't need to." his voice is now higher. "Please, leave."

You know his words are full of tiredness and work problems probably. But, having problems with work isn't a problem with you.

"Levi, you..."

"Just get the fuck out and stop disturbing." he says. His words, followed by his cold and sharp grey gaze, made your eyes teary. You left the studio, even when you heard his tired voice calling you on a whisper. You closed the door and closed yourself on your room. Levi is static on his chair, his body half turned, as if he is still talking to you. Then, he puts both arms on the desk, his hands supporting his head. He feels how his vision gets blurred and a couple tears fall on the documents. "What have I done." he says for himself. He hurted you. He knows he did. He wasn't at his best moment and he payed it with you. It was bad, he made things wrong. He knows it. He's about to get up and talk to you when he hears the main door. He stands up quickly and looks to the corridor. No one. Then, your bedroom. On your shared bed is a little note. He takes it, fearing the worst.

"I'll be at Hange's to not disturb you. Coming back for dinner." Damn. He curses, he's so angry with himself for hurting you. For hurting the most important person he has. He knew you'll be back for dinner, so he tried to calm himself during that time he had left, wiping his tears and relaxing his breath. It was darker outside when he listened the main door again.

Bold of him to assume you were going to check on him after what he said. He listened your quick steps towards the living. He needed to apologize now. He left his studio and searched you. You were on the living room. Your hands on both sides of your body and your head looking a picture of you two on a shelf. His hand tried to reach yours, but you moved nervously to the bedroom. His fingers felt how yours left, leaving him with a huge abism inside. He followed you quietly to the room. You were now next to the bed.

"Sorry." his voice was the only sound between the four walls. "I hurt you and I'm so sorry, baby." he says. His gaze is searching yours. He doesn't know if it is correct to reach you, but he does it, extremely cautious with his movements. His hand takes your chin softly, making tou look at him.

Just the sight of your beautiful eyes dropping tears makes his heart break into a million pieces. Your breath is irregular and you see his face blurred because of tears. His hand moves to your cheek, caressing it quietly. "I felt so bad, baby. I'm so sorry. You know I'm so bad at it. I'm not trying to excuse what I said to you or trying to convince you it didn't hurt that much, because I understand I really hurt you. I'm sorry." His voice started to be unstable because of his little crying sounds. "I failed you. Even when i promised to protect you from anything that could be hurtful. I-..." He was destroyed. The way he let his head fall on your shoulder, how his breath started to be irregular and his tears where watering your t-shirt. "You didn't deserve me to treat you like that. I was stressed because of work, and I couldn't manage my feelings."

"I was also getting kinda repetitive with..." he raises his head to look into your eyes.

"No. I don't care if you told me to sleep one, five or a hundred times. I'll be thankful all of them. Because I understand you just wanted me to relax, you knew tiredness will only be bad for me. And it also ended being bad for you, sorry." His hand keeps caressing your cheek while yours are stuck on his waist. "I love you. I love you so much and I care for you more than even for myself. I didn't mean to say that. Sorry." You start to cry again. His grey eyes looked at yours, full of regrets, and holding you closer to him, he lets his lips meet the top of your head. His hands move up and down your back. "When I'm with you I feel like home, wherever we are. It's strange because I've never felt like that. To return to someone with such a hurry. To want so bad to hug and treasure someone as I do with you." his words were his honest feelings. He usually doesn't speak about his feelings, how he feels towards you. You keep hearing him, his heartbeat going faster under your cheek. "I love you more than words can reach, and I didn't know those words I said would hurt you that much. I'm sorry, baby."

"No problem" you say, quietly. His hands stop massaging your back to pull you far from his chest. He looks at you, his intense eyes fixed on yours, searching a feeling of pain. You smile quietly at him, your hands covering his in a sweet caress.

"But I did hurt you." He says. You nod.

"You did, but you're being honest. Also, I understand you were tired and stressed."

"That's not an excuse to treat you like that."

"It was an unlucky mess of things." you let out a little laugh. He does the same. "Levi." you call him. His eyes look at you directly again. "I love you. So much. And I care for you a lot. So you should take a nap before keep working."

"You're okay?" he asks. You nod. "Sure?"

"Sure, Levi."

"I promise you I'll be better, I'll manage my feelings better. I'll never hurt you again." his grey irises were still regretting all he said, all the time he kept thinking about you. You smile at him. He always, always, keeps his promises. You reach his lips with yours, as if you were trying to say him that you trust him and you know he'll be better. You part for air, his handsome face between your hands now.

"Failing is not a sin." you say, on a whisper. The scene is so intimate, an empty bedroom with the moonlight being the only source of light; your bodies together, tangled as if they were one; and the only sound of the wind blowing outside. He nods.

"But I'll never forgive myself for making you feel bad."

"It's okay, love. You apologized. It's fine. Now, should we sit here and rest a little? I'm tired. I helped Hange all afternoon." Levi nods and opens your side of the bed for you, before entering in his. His hands are warm on your waist and his body is against yours. You turn around to face him, thinking he has his eyes closed on a trial to sleep. His gaze finds yours. "Aren't you sleeping?" you whisper. He negates. You lean closer to him. His lips are calling you, you're so tempted to kiss him after all the afternoon apart.

Luckily, he thinks the same.

Your body melts against his when he kiss you slowly, a perfect compass for you two. He's telling you how much he loves you, how bad he needs you and how afraid he is to lose you because of his words. You kiss him back, telling him you're still there.

With him.

[luxekook]

okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong​

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn​

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga​ UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you. 

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity. 

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice. 

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests. 

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote. 

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face. 

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.” 

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”. 

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar. 

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant. 

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it. 

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place. 

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?” 

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—” 

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably. 

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me). 

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside. 

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection. 

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia. 

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”. 

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”. 

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction? 

God, you had prayed it was the last. 

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter. 

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you. 

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly. 

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry. 

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck. 

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains. 

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point. 

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth. 

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people. 

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon. 

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.” 

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance  between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. 

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™. 

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe�� me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks. 

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with. 

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens. 

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened. 

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours. 

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses. 

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired. 

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)! 

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently. 

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down. 

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?” 

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter. 

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do. 

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care. 

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you). 

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. 

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch. 

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.” 

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.” 

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”. 

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk. 

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between. 

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.” 

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making. 

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day. 

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud. 

“Yoongi.” 

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length. 

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?” 

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels. 

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!” 

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming. 

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now. 

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him. 

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs. 

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly. 

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?” 

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

[12tardis]

That's My Jumper (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: s m u t under the cut

Requested: yes! Lovely anon asked for a part 2 to That’s My Shirt with some s m u t but not too explicit with lots of fluff. I REALLY hope this is okay! Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Summary: The Part 2 to That’s My Shirt. You know Newt has a thing for you in his clothes so you decide to pull out the big guns. Enter Theseus who rudely interrupts you two, making a very cranky impatient Newt and unbeknownst to you Theseus sends Newt some inspiration in the form of a book. What happens when you find said book? Lots of flustered and shy Newt in the lead up

A/N: this is my first time writing s m u t so I’m scared and will probably hide away for a bit after this. I hope I haven’t tarnished Newt’s sweet image for anyone BUT CAN I JUST SAY- I reckon. Newt would ABSOLUTELY be a complete Hufflepuff in the bedroom: HARD-working , dedicated and patient. he would absolutely make you fall apart and then put you back together with so many tender cuddles and kisses you would just 💕 *chef kiss* Seriously though I’m S.C.A.R.E.D

Words: a whopping 5,522 (I’m tellin ya Newt doesn’t rush. But also the first like 3000 are fluff)

 It had been a couple of weeks since you’d discovered Newt’s fixation with you in his clothing. You’d learnt of this particular turn on of his when you’d worn one of his shirts to work and had come home to find a rather handsy riled up boyfriend.

 There had been a couple more heated make out sessions since then and a few lingering touches here and there but for the most part, everything remained the same despite your many attempts to engage Newt in some private time.

 To be completely fair though you had both been incredibly busy for the past few weeks. You were working extra hours in the shop to cover for an absent co-worker and Newt had been running himself ragged, tending to some rather high maintenance baby Niffler’s.

 Today finally marked a weekend that the two of you had nothing marked into your schedules, of course Newt still needed to tend to his creatures but at least you could help him. You woke to find that Newt had already risen before you and he was presumably in his case so you rolled out of bed, smiling to yourself when you spotted his favourite jumper discarded on his dresser.

 Newt walked into the kitchen where he could hear you tinkering around not long after, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head when he saw you. You were wearing one of his sweaters and nothing else. He swallowed thickly and stood frozen on the spot as he took in the way the soft knit just barely skimmed to your mid-thigh and you had rolled the sleeves up a dozen times so you could fix breakfast.

 You had let the jumper fall to one side, exposing one of your shoulders completely. “Merlin, help me,” he whispered to himself. You looked like absolute sin and he felt a hot flush spreading as his own shirt felt suddenly too tight around his neck.

 It was the way that you shimmied your hips along to the music you had playing that was the final straw for Newt. And he found himself crossing the kitchen in a few strides, gripping your hips from behind and pressing a series of kisses to your shoulder.

 You yelped in surprise, dropping your wand onto the counter as your hands flew up “Newt! You can’t sneak up on me like that!” you gasped but you leant back into him with a small hum of approval at the new found attention he was lavishing on you.

  Newt kissed his way up from your shoulder, along your neck and to your jaw “couldn’t help it,” he murmured into your ear before he spun you around in his arms, gripping your waist this time as he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

 You sighed against his lips softly as your hands found their way to his hair and you gave an experimental tug oh his auburn locks, shivering at the deep groan he emitted in response.

 “Newt!”, you gasped when he suddenly lifted you by the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the kitchen counter and moving to stand between your legs before attacking your exposed neck and shoulder with open mouthed kisses, “you’re. wearing. my. jumper”, he grit out lowly between kisses before he grazed his teeth against one particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

 You couldn’t hold back your moan when you felt Newt nipping at your skin, tipping your head back against the kitchen cabinet behind you to give him better access to your neck. “Goodness, Newt”, you whimpered, knowing he was definitely leaving marks behind in his wake.

 Newt paused in his actions, looking up at you quickly when he heard your remark, his thumb rubbing in small circles on your waist “is this okay my angel?” he breathed, looking at you with big eyes.

 You took in the concern in his eyes, feeling nothing but love for the man in front of you seeing him go from needy and commanding to gentle and caring in a matter of seconds. It only fuelled your desire to know that he cared for your wellbeing and comfort so much. “Yes”, you managed to whisper before you tugged him forward by his suspenders, your lips crashing to his messily.

 Newt groaned into the kiss when you pried his lips open with your own and delved your tongue into his mouth. Before you knew it he had worked a hand underneath the fabric of the jumper and was caressing the soft skin of your back as his other hand fell to your knee. You whimpered quietly and arched into his touches, jerking back from the kiss when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “No no no just ignore it,” he breathed out, pressing his lips back to the marks on your neck that he’d just made and you melted back into his arms before the doorbell rang again. You pushed him back firmly with your hands on his chest, ignoring the whine of frustration he let out and twisting out of his arms “I need pants”, you giggled, racing from the room.

 Newt tried to catch you but you were too fast so he huffed to himself, stomping to the front door ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind for rudely interrupting. He flung the door open, running his mouth before he even stopped to think.

 “Theseus, what do you want?”

 Theseus raised his eyebrows as he looked back at his younger brother, taking a few moments to stare back at him dumbly because - did Newt really just use a rude tone with him? “Uh...yeah good to see you too, little brother”, Theseus murmured slowly.

 Newt scratched at the back of his neck and looked back at Theseus’ awkwardly when he realised how blunt he’d just been “sorry...I was just...a little preoccupied” he murmured, scrounging for his words as he stepped aside “do come in.”

 Theseus frowned at Newt’s cagey behaviour, taking in his dishevelled appearance, noticing his crinkled shirt and his hair that was tousled more than usual. He had at least a dozen questions but they all died on his lips when he spotted you wandering into the room, waving happily at him.

 Suddenly everything clicked into place as his eyes honed in on the obvious love bites decorating your neck. Your hair was tousled too and was that Newt’s jumper you were wearing?

 “Ohhhhhhhhh I seeeeee,” Theseus crooned, looking back at his brother with a wide grin and wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

Newt immediately went rigid, standing a little taller because he knew that tone was never a good one. “What? What do you see?” he sighed, his patience once again wearing thin.

 “I’m interrupting your INTIMATE time”, Theseus whispered with a shit eating grin when Newt flushed darkly and began to shake his head violently “no I- we haven’t...you have the wrong idea!” he sputtered and Theseus raised an eyebrow in response “what? You haven’t?” he said with a scandalised expression.

 Newt huffed in embarrassment, only growing more flustered “Theseus, shut up or I swear I will hex y-“, he immediately shut his mouth when you sauntered over to them obliviously, hugging Theseus warmly in greeting before you curled your arm around Newt’s waist. “Theseus! I’m so happy to see you. I was just starting to prepare breakfast, won’t you join us?”

 And Theseus looked back at you with a bright smile, nodding quickly as he shrugged his coat off “Yes, I think I will.” he said before he tossed the coat at Newt, chuckling quietly at the scowl he sent back at him. “I hope I’m not intruding on you two lovebirds”, he added with a wink in Newt’s direction.

                                 *     *     *     *     *     *

Newt legged it to the bedroom when he heard your loud shriek a few hours later, looking at you frantically and letting out a deep breath when he saw you standing in front of the mirror.

 “NEWT you didn’t tell me I had all these hickeys on display all through breakfast!” you cried, tracing your fingertips over the marks.

 Newt let out a sigh, smiling crookedly as he wound his arms around you from behind again, hooking his chin over your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen Theseus littered with them plenty of times before?” he offered in a lame attempt to quell your embarrassment.

 “Gee thanks that’s makes it all better, Newt”, you scoffed as you rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stay angry long when he was looking back at you with his puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me Newton Scamander,” you sighed with a fond smile, turning around in his arms and tucking your face into his neck. 

 And then it was Newt’s turn to be humiliated the next day when Theseus’ owl dropped a parcel for him and he opened it to find a rather well known erotic novel. Newt gasped and quickly tucked it away, double checking he was alone before he peeked into the cover seeing his brother had inscribed it to him.

 Newt,

 This book basically taught me everything I know. Use it wisely.

And you’re welcome.

 -T.S

 Newt stared at the inscription for a few minutes, peeking over his shoulder before he curiously flicked through the book, his cheeks turning beet red and his eyes widening. “Merlin, no” he breathed, quickly stashing the book away thanking the stars that you were at work.                                   *     *    *     *     *     *

A few days later you wandered into Newt’s study where he was hunched over scribbling away in his journal. It was obvious he’d been working hard all day. “Honey, did you remember to eat today?”, you sighed, coming up behind him and gently running your fingers through his hair as you curled your other arm around his shoulders. You already knew the answer because you could see he hadn’t touched any of the food in the pantry or the fridge.

 Newt smiled immediately when he heard you, leaning back into your arms and peering up at you “oh I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even hear you get in,” he said, quickly getting to his feet, taking your hands into his own and smiling apologetically at you “I got a little carried away writing. How was your day?” He gently cupped your cheek in his palm before he made to move towards the kitchen “let me fix you some tea.”

 “Get back here”, you laughed as you caught him by the back of his shirt, tugging him back towards you where you spun him around to face you and curled both of your arms around his neck “where’s my kisses?” you pouted slightly up at him.

 Newt let out a noise of surprise when you hoisted him back, looking down at you with an adoring smile at your expression “oh how rude of me”, he grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle and tender kiss, his hands framing your waist.

 You let out a happy hum against his lips, breaking apart from him for air eventually and pressing a few kisses down the line of his jaw as you took his hands again. You tipped your head aside when you felt his lips brushing against the fading marks on your neck “Wait what is that?”

 You reached behind him, plucking the book Theseus had sent from the bookcase “goodness when did you get this?” and Newt felt his stomach drop and he blushed a deep pink “it’s not mine!” He barked, snatching the book from you quickly “Theseus sent it- I didn’t ask him to! He said- well he said it was a good place for me to learn. I swear to you I-I didn’t buy it!” He stammered, looking back at you desperately as he opened the book to show you Theseus’ handwriting.

 “Newt honey relax. Breathe!”, you cut in when you saw how worked up he was getting, cupping his face firmly in your hands and looking him in the eyes “My love I’m not upset. I believe you, it seems exactly the sort of thing your brother would do,” you said rolling your eyes fondly.

 “But even if you did buy it yourself I wouldn’t be angry.”

 Newt looked back at you with wide eyes, feeling a flood of relief to know you weren’t upset with him “you’re not angry?” He repeated, looking at you still somewhat anxiously and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorably flustered he was “no of course not. I know we’re learning a lot of new things together and I want you to be comfortable so if reading this“, you took the book from his hand and held up up between you both “helps you feel confident then I’m completely on board.”

 Newt bit his lip when you pried the book from his grasp, shaking his head and taking it back from you “even so, it’s not mine and I’m not taking any advice from my brother,” he turned around to shove the book into his desk drawer but he realised his mistake when you spotted the other book he had stashed away there. The book he actually had been studying.

 You snatched the book up, your mouth dropping open when you realised it was a muggle book on human arousal and anatomy and now it was your turn to grow flustered. “W-What’s this one?”, you squeaked out.

 Newt quickly took the book and set it down on his desk, taking your hands in his own as yet another blush flooded his cheeks “well, when Theseus did send me that book I couldn’t help but think doing a little research- some proper research wouldn’t hurt” he explained slowly, watching you closely and noting the way your eyes had darkened ever so slightly.

 “I wanted to know how to make you feel good, to know how to make you comfortable and to make sure you enjoy our time together. So I got this from a muggle store a few days ago,” he murmured, looking back at you shyly now because you were staring at him with a new intensity.

 You bit down on your lip hard as you grappled with the fact that your sweet, caring and innocent boyfriend had gone out of his way to buy such a book. In a public setting at that! And all for your benefit. You couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in your stomach, imagining Newt studying the book while you were at work.

“Did you...have you read a lot?”, you asked eventually.

 And Newt smiled sheepishly back at you, nodding slowly as he scratched at the back of his neck, willing the ground to swallow him whole now. “Y/N it’s not...I love you. And I love our time together, and I only ever want you to be comfortable. And if we’re never ready to take anything further then that’s completely fine with me. I can die happy just getting to spend my days with you,” he said honestly, beginning to ramble on nervously again.

 “I just-I thought perhaps over the past few weeks that we were headed in that direction. I’m so sorry if I had the wrong idea. I would never ever push you to do anything you didn’t want to do I w-“

 You cut him off with a gentle kiss, gripping him by his shirt collar and pulling back with coy smile “Relax, my love,” you murmured, tangling your fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp like you knew always calmed him down “we are most definitely headed in that direction.”

                         *     *     *     *     *     *

You could tell Newt was reluctant to touch you or kiss you anything beyond short and sweet over the next few days, obviously still nervous he had overstepped his boundaries. You weren’t sure how many different ways you could tell him you weren’t upset with him.

 You had been trying coax him along, attempting to deepen your kisses each time he would actually touch you but you were left increasingly frustrated when he would pull away from you, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple before he would retreat into his case. You were going to have to persuade him another way.

 Newt was sat in his study, reading over his notes but his mind was fixated on you. He felt guilty because it was the weekend and he should have been spending quality time with you but he was too ashamed to even be around you after that episode a few days ago. He loved and cherished you more than you could ever know and he was angry with himself thinking he may have lead you to feel uncomfortable.

 Of course all he had to do was actually listen to a word you had said to him, but he was too busy being caught up in his own mind like he always was when it came to you. He had just built the resolve to go and talk to you and apologise properly as he pushed back from his desk and turned to the door. But his mind went completely blank when he saw you.

 You’d been standing in the doorway behind him for some time now, wearing his shirt. The same shirt that had started this whole thing all those weeks ago but this time you wore the shirt with nothing else but your lingerie. You were fidgeting with the cuffs self-consciously as you debated running away and ditching your plan altogether but when you saw the ravenous expression on Newt’s face you felt your confidence build.

 “Y/N”, he choked out as you slowly sauntered over to him and he was gaping at you, not quite knowing where to look as he took you in. His palms were itching to touch you as he took in the way the hem of the shirt grazed the top of your thighs and he felt his mouth run dry as his eyes trailed down from your face to your chest, seeing how you’d left most of the buttons undone, allowing him to see the most tantalising strip of skin. He was definitely sweating now.

 His reactions only spurred you on and you gripped his shoulders as you slowly straddled him on his chair, sucking in a breath when you noticed how dark his eyes had turned.

“Y/N...Merlin my darling you look absolutely incredible. Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed, his hands coming to rest on your hips and you realised he was obviously trying not to stare at your body and holding himself back from touching you like he really wanted to. That wouldn’t do.

  You took his hands in your own, pushing down your own nerves as you pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss, guiding his hands up to your breasts. Newt groaned against your lips, cupping your breasts firmly in his large hands, a shiver running down his spine when you moaned in response and arched into him.

 Newt was quick to take the opportunity to delve his tongue into your mouth, his tongue brushing with yours. And when you broke apart from him for air he tucked his face to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin, nipping at your flesh before he soothed his tongue over the same spot. “Newt”, you gasped out, gripping his shoulders tightly.

 Newt closed his eyes tightly as he skimmed one hand down to rest on your thigh, his fingertips teasing at your inner thigh “tell me what you want, Y/N” he murmured eventually, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest only causing you to feel even more worked up. “I need to hear your words, angel” he said right into your ear when you still didn’t answer him.

 You gripped his shoulders tightly as you let out a quiet whimper at his tone. Your heart was racing wildly in your chest as you felt simultaneously shy and turned on all at once. You forced yourself to look at him despite how shy you suddenly felt “I want you...to show me what you learnt from that book”, you said, rocking your hips down against his experimentally and biting back a moan when you felt his tell-tale hardness against you through his pants.

 Newt gritted his teeth from the pleasure that rippled through him, gripping your hips firmly in his hands to still you. He didn’t allow himself to get carried away just yet as he fixed you with a serious expression. “Darling girl, are you sure? You know your comfort is all that matters to me. I will wait my whole life if I need to”, he murmured, pushing his arousal aside for the time being to make sure you were entirely confident in your decision.

 “I’m sure Newt. I’ve been sure all week but you would barely look at me,” you sighed, moving to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead to his “I love you and I know I’m always safe in your hands. If you’re comfortable, I want you to show me all the new things you’ve learnt.”

 Newt nodded and cupped your cheek gently, looking back at you “I love you. So very much.”, he whispered before he stood up, hoisting you up in his arms by the backs of your thighs in one fluid motion, the mood immediately shifting back to one of passion and lust.

 He carried you through the flat easily, shoving the bedroom door open and then laying you down on the bed, wasting no time in lowering himself over you, pinning you down and looking at you with the same ravenous expression from earlier “you have no idea how utterly sinful you look right now”, he breathed out as he slowly skimmed his hands down your waist to your thighs again.

 He captured your lips in a deep kiss, rolling his hips down against yours with a low groan as he gripped the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss to look up at you in question “angel, do you want to keep this on?” he practically purred out, nipping at your earlobe as he tugged at the fabric of the hem teasingly.

 You gasped when you felt his teeth against you, your hips bucking up on their own accord, drawing another groan from him “k-keep it on. But...but keep going” you stuttered, parting your legs for him as you felt the heat building between them.

 Newt nodded and began to trail kisses down your neck and down the valley of your breasts, stopping occasionally as he muttered sweet words at you “so gorgeous for me...so beautiful and stunning. Can you feel what you do to me?” he murmured, rocking his hips against yours, grinding his hard bulge against your mound, relishing the noises of pleasure you made in response.

 You had to admit you were taken aback by how vocal and chatty he was being but you couldn’t get enough of it, knowing you could work yourself up into a frenzy just listening to him talk. He was busy peppering your bra clad cleavage with kisses as he slowly trailed a hand up under the hem of the shirt, his fingertips barely brushing the edge of your panties before he paused to peer up at you again “May I?”

 Your lips parted with a small gasp as you felt his hand slip between your legs and you nodded quickly, looking down at him desperately when he didn’t move his hand any further “angel, I need to hear you”, he repeated his sentiment from earlier but this time much firmer, causing you to bite your lip and whimper quietly.

 “Yes Newt, please touch me,” you felt your cheeks warm at your wanton tone but Newt simply pressed another set of kisses down your throat as he cupped your warm mound over your panties in one swift movement, his cock jerking in his slacks at the wetness he felt on his palm.

 You let out another gasp as you arched your hips up into his touch, tugging him up by his shirt and kissing him deeply. Newt felt like a man possessed with every beautiful noise you let out and he kissed you back eagerly as he began to rub over your mound slowly but firmly, his fingertips teasing at the edge of your panties with each pass.

 He paused again when his fingertips found their way into the top band of your panties and you nodded wildly before he could question you again “Yes Newt please!”, your pleading turning into a breathy moan when he slipped his hand into your panties quickly, rubbing his fingers over your wet slit as he sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck.

 His hand delved lower between your thighs until his long pointer finger was running over your entrance and he used his thumb to rub at the small nub between your folds experimentally, pleased with himself when you cried out and jerked against him in pleasure “Merlin, Newt! Do that again”

 He hummed against your shoulder in concentration as he worked on repeating the same motion, rubbing you clit in small circles while focusing on each and every sound you were making, making a mental note of what you enjoyed.

 “You’re so beautiful my angel”, Newt murmured, looking up at you and trying to commit your expression of pleasure to his memory. He was truly a man possessed now as he dedicated himself to drawing those incredible sounds from you, skimming his other hand up and down your body slowly, noting every single area of sensitive skin that had you gasping or arching into his touch.

 “Do you want my mouth on you, darling?”

 You looked back at him with big eyes, swallowing thickly “I don’t...know what you mean”

 Newt smiled against your shoulder, propping himself up on his elbows to gaze down at you “I’ll show you but remember. You’re in control here my love”, he murmured seriously, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips “you’re the one in control here. Anything you don’t like, or even not sure about- you tell me and I’ll stop okay?”

 He waited for your affirmation before he began to trail kisses down your body, looking up at you when his face was finally nestled between your legs and he held your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh causing you to shiver, your hands bunching into the sheets below you in anticipation.

 Newt kissed over your thighs, sucking a few little marks to your soft skin as he hooked his fingers in the waist band of your panties, slowly peeling them down and off of you, letting out a breath at the sight of your wet slit. “Y/N, you are perfect”, he whispered, reaching up to take one of your hands, threading his fingers with yours as he slowly lowered his mouth to your pulsing mound, licking a broad stripe up your centre and closing his eyes when you bucked your hips in response.

 “NEWT!”, you were panting now as you gripped his hand in your own, your other hand flying to weave into his hair on its own accord and you cried out when he hummed against you in response.

 He used his tongue to stimulate your throbbing clit as he slowly sunk a finger inside you, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of your velvet walls accommodating him, your muscles clamping down on his one digit. “Y/N,” he whispered, grinding his own hips into the bed while you threw your head back in pleasure, feeling completely overwhelmed from the pleasure your boyfriend was bringing you.

 “Baby, tell me how that feels?” he looked up at you as he crooked the finger inside of you, taking in the way you gasped and whined when he rubbed over a particular spot inside you. You were too far gone in your pleasure to string a coherent sentence together so he relied on your little gasps and moans to make sure you were enjoying what he was doing.

 He carefully worked a second finger inside you, completely entranced watching you accommodate the extra intrusion. And once both fingers were buried inside you he sealed his lips around your clit, sucking and then groaning loudly against you when you tugged on his hair in response, rolling your hips up against him

 “Newt, oh my stars Newt!”

 He continued to work thrust his fingers inside of you, making sure to pass over that spot on each stroke and when he thought you were close to your release he moved back up your body. He tucked his face of your shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss to your delicate skin, holding you close against him as he worked his fingers even faster and deeper inside of you, his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles.

 “Let go for me, angel. Let yourself go”, he murmured lowly into your ear, watching you in rapt concentration as you tensed up not a moment later, crying out loudly as you clenched around his fingers rhythmically. “That’s it, darling girl. Just like that.”

 Newt skimmed his lips over your love bites as he rubbed you through your release, carefully working his fingers free and holding you close, his hands soothing over your back as you worked through the aftershocks.

 He pressed kiss after kiss to your head, once again murmuring sweet nothings to you and you melted in his arms, your body going completely lax.

 “Oh, darling you don’t have to”, he murmured, gripping your wrist when you worked your hand down his body.

 “But I want to Newt, I wanna make you feel good too,” you said honestly as you continued to trail your hand down to the button of his pants.

 Newt shook his head, taking your hand and lifting it to his mouth to brush his lips over it “this was about you, angel,” he murmured, smiling sheepishly at you a moment later “besides I already...uh...”, he trailed off with a blush, cringing slightly at the sticky sensation he now noticed in his pants.

 “You...oh!”, you breathed with wide eyes when you finally understood what he’d meant, pressing your lips to his in a soft and reassuring kiss, a little flattered by the notion anyway. “Well, I’d like to read that book of yours. So I can know how to make you feel good.”

 Newt blushed even more at the images that he conjured up then, pressing another series of gentle kisses to your jaw “I somehow think you won’t be needing it,” he smiled, holding his hands up at the look you shot him in response “okay okay if it will make you happy then of course! I’m just saying you always make me feel good anyway,” he murmured as he slowly sat up to go and clean himself up.

 You sat up with him, cupping his cheek in your palm as you looked back at him lovingly “that was incredible. You were incredible. I’ve never felt so much...so good before,” and you smiled adoringly when he smiled widely back at you in pride, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips “I love you”, he murmured as he got up to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

 You watched him wander off, laying back on the bed with a blissed out smile “you should you know?” you called out after him.

 And Newt glanced back over his shoulder at you in confusion before he stepped into the en-suite “should what?”

 “You should thank your brother!”, you shouted to him, giggling at the noise of shock he let out in response.

 “I will do no such thing! He is to know nothing about any of this. Ever”, he muttered and he was back your side on a flash, clambering back into the bed and wrapping his arms around you, tugging the blankets up around you both before he relaxed.

 “He is the one that got you this shirt though”, you teased after a moment, giggling again at the dark expression that crossed Newt’s face.

 “Y/N! I don’t want to hear you mention my brother again in our bed.” he huffed out, scowling at you when you continued to laugh.

 “You’re just so cute when you’re jealous”, you cooed, skimming your fingertips through his hair soothingly.

 “I’m NOT jealous. I’m just territorial.” he said simply as he skimmed his thumb over some of the marks he’d made on your neck. And he smiled when it was your turn to grow flustered.

 “I mean that in the sense that you are my pride and my heart- not an item to be owned,” he murmured and you looked back at him, shaking your head as your felt your heart somehow fill with even more love for this man that never seemed to stop taking your breath away. PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS! 

 -MASTERLIST HERE- 

[smoochkooks]

—golden boy (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, disney hercules au, meg!oc, hercules!jk

⟶ summary: jungkook finally has you all to himself. and oh, is he going to cherish the moment wholeheartedly.

⟶  word count: 2.7k

⟶ warnings: virgin!jk, switch!jk if you squint, exhibitionism (they do it outdoors but it’s ancient greece so it’s not even surprising), soft to kinda rough sex, heavy petting, oral (f receiving), slight dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, jk in a man bun, pegasus cockblocking his partner in crime

a/n: i got cherry vodka drunk and wrote this in two hours. it’s jorny hours so please forgive me for the sins you’re about to read with your very own eyes. hercules is one of my favorite childhood disney movies and watching it today i just couldn’t stop imagining jk as the greek god. if you see any mistakes - please ignore them. it’s almost 2am. enjoy!! xx ps. I had some major difficulties with posting this one so if you were one of the first people to read it and sth was off: read it again now thank u

Jungkook thinks you're the most beautiful person in the whole world. 

He hasn't seen many goddesses in his life (hell, he's sure of it, judging by the short period of time he spent on Olympus as a newborn baby-god) but he's positive you would make his aunt Aphrodite jealous. You’re the epitome of his perfection, a walking daydream, his muse and an object of desire.

He could die happily staring at you, though it's impossible due to the fact he's very much immortal. He could travel back to Hades and fight every titan that rots in the pits of Tartarus, just to see you batting your long eyelashes at him or hear you call him ‘golden boy’ again. You quite literally have him wrapped around your finger, not even his father Zeus, the most powerful god in the entire universe managed to convince him to stay on Olympus and bask in the glory with the rest of his family.  

Jungkook chose to live his life with you, on Earth, and there's not a single smudge of doubt or regret clouding his brain. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms and kiss stupidi just like right now when it’s dark out and you’re sitting comfortably on the ground near a small pond.  

“You saved me once again, golden boy,” you murmur, fingers lazily threading through the dark locks on his neck. It almost makes him purr into your mouth.

“You weren't really in trouble the first time.” He bites your lip in return, eliciting a giggle from you.

“But am I not your favorite damsel in distress, Jungkookie?” You place your palm on his rock-hard chest and push, until he's laying flat on the grass, the starry sky above reflecting in his black orbs. “You're my hero, you know that, right?” you whisper, straddling his lap.  

Jungkook's been to Olympus and knows what heaven looks like but this: you above him, your hair cascading down your shoulders, dress bunching up around your waist and revealing smooth expanses of honey skin– is incomparable. It's sweet ambrosia on his tongue, the finest of all tastes, the greatest feeling in the world.  

“Am I?” he asks just to hear you say it once again. Instead of responding verbally you lean down to kiss him, your lips molding perfectly together. He groans into your mouth, two calloused palms itching to touch the bare skin of your thighs. Growing bolder, his hands reach further, cupping your asscheeks and pulling you even closer to him. 

You smirk into his mouth. “Someone's eager,” you tease but give in anyway, brushing your core over the hard length beneath his tunic.  

Jungkook all but moans at that and you relish in the sounds he makes, repeating the movement and slowly grinding yourself on his cock. His face twitches in pure ecstasy and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life– the son of Zeus being at your mercy, helpless to the pleasure you're giving him. “You're going to be the death of me,” he sighs, angling your head to kiss you again. You don't hesitate to oblige, accepting the tongue he slithers inside with a whimper of your own. 

“Thank gods you're immortal.” you say in between kisses.

He chuckles lowly, sending shivers down your spine. He bunches the material of your dress in his hands and lifts it off you in one, swift movement. Your nipples harden feeling the soft breeze fanning over your flesh. Looking down, you're met with Jungkook's blown out pupils. He looks so dreamy like this, the most perfect golden boy you’ve ever seen. His lips are swollen from your kisses, hair a little tussled and falling from his bun. A sight for sore eyes, truly.  

“You're so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, his palms engulfing your breasts. You moan when he sucks one of the nipples into his hot mouth, fingers threading through his hair and ready to pull. “My goddess,” he chants, switching to the other breast. He flicks the pebbled bud with his tongue and then bites lightly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I love the sounds you make. Want to hear you moaning for me. Give me more, love, please.”

He places his hands underneath your thighs and lifts you off him, laying you on your back. You don't complain about the change, not when he trails kisses down your chest and stomach, not when you feel his hot breath on your womanhood. He's determined to please you, it seems, so he mouths over your undergarments, alternating between kissing and licking you softly through the material.  

“Take them off,” you mutter, growing impatient. Jungkook looks up, a devilish smirk on his lips. Oh, how many sleepless nights you spent dreaming of him staring at you like that and practically devouring you with his eyes.  

“Won't you beg for me a little, love?” He's too cocky for his own good but you decide to let it slide for now, your urges getting better of you.  

“Please, Jungkookie, make me feel good.” you keen in saccharine sweet voice. He doesn't need to be told twice, ripping the undergarments off your body. “Oh, yes!” you moan when he gives you first, experimental lick up your slick folds. He swirls his tongue over your clit, making you choke out a, “Right there, darling, right there.”  

Jungkook's certain his newfound favourite place in the world is going to be between your thighs. He's already addicted to your taste, to your smell. He lavishes your cunt with passion, devouring you like the finest meal. He loves the sounds you make, love the little whimpers and breathy moans. He wants to listen to them forever. 

He groans into your heat when you pull his hair, pulling away from your pussy with a wet pop. “Do it again,” he rasps against your core and that's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard. You grant his wish, repeating it every time he delivers a toe-curling suck to your sensitive bud. “You're dripping, my love. Is this all for me?” Jungkook asks, lifting his head up enough so you could see his lips and chin glistening in your arousal. He’s getting bolder again but you’re too consumed with your own pleasure to pay mind to it.

“All for you,” you murmur, the pads of your fingers trailing through his locks lightly. He closes his eyes, lets you massage his scalp for a brief moment. “You're doing so good, darling. You're going to make me come.” 

He takes it as a sign to continue, diving right into your cunt. He shows no mercy, bringing you to the edge of release. You wonder how could he possibly be so good at this already but then you remember who exactly your lover is– a son of Zeus can only be either a fast learner or natural.  

With one, final flick of his tongue on your clit the coil in your stomach tightens and you're coming, more slick gushing out of your and coating Jungkook's face in translucent release. He doesn't seem to be bothered though, licking his lips and chin obscenesly and moaning at the taste. Your hole clenches, needing to be filled.

Jungkook discards his tunic and now you have a perfect view of his sturdy muscles, the byproduct of his training with Phil. You almost drool at the sight, running your palms greedily over the wide expanses of his chest. When your finger ever-so-slightly brushes his nipple, you feel him chocking out a tiny moan. Smirking, you repeat the motion.  

“Y/N, love, please don't tease me. I need to be inside you so bad.” he husks when your other hand travels down his abdomen and trails over his aching cock. 

“As you wish, darling.” With shaky limbs you manage to turn him on his backside again. Right when you're about to pulls his undergarments down, you hear something rustling between the trees. You stop abruptly. 

“Did you hear that?” you whisper, squinting your eyes to see better although there's no use for that during the night.  

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Hear what?” he mumbles and props himself on his elbows to look, but then you see it yourself. A glimpse of white fur that can only belong to– 

“That stupid horse!” you shriek, covering your bare breats with your hands.

“What?!” Jungkook yells, equally as shocked as you. He scrambles for his tunic to cover your modest figure. “Pegasus! Get out of here!” The magical creature neighs in response and peeks from between the bushes, looking at you pitifully. 

“Oh gods, he saw me naked!” you wail, mortified, as Jungkook gets up to scold Pegasus. “I'm gonna die from embarrassment!”  

Jungkook angrily gestures to the horse to leave you two alone, standing only in his undergarments. You want to laugh at how absurd this whole situation is. Pegasus nods with his head bowed down. Fulfilling the order, he spreads his wings and flies away somewhere. You hope far, far away from here.

“Hey,” You hear Jungkook's soft voice. He takes your hands in his and uncovers your red face. “We're alone.” he says, smiling apologetically at you.  

“I can't believe your stupid, magical horse almost watched us fuck."

“Keyword: almost.”

You cry out, burying your face in his neck.  “It's not funny!” you huff, punching him in the chest however you know he probably hasn't even felt it. But you did feel pretty much though; it hurts like you've hit a stone.  

Jungkook chuckles, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, rubbing your back soothingly.�� 

You look up to meet his eyes. “Do you?” you repeat with raised eyebrows.  

There it goes again, the damned sly smirk. “I'm still very much hard, love, and I'm afraid it won't go away that easily.”

“Yeah?” you murmur, thoughts about Pegasus and his prying horse eyes showed to the back of your head. “And what are you gonna do about it?” You push him onto his back, fingers grasping the material of his undergarments.  

Jungkook swallows before saying, “I'm gonna fuck you so hard you will never even think of leaving me.”

Biting your lip, you slide his undergarments down his toned legs. His cock is just as perfect as the rest of him–long, curved at the top and flaming red, craving to be touched. Using the precum that has gattered at the tip you smear it along his shaft, watching in awe as his face confronts in pleasure. He lets you play with him for a while like that, drive him to the insanity with your teasing.  

Just when you're about to position yourself over his cock, he stops you. “Have you ever done this before?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.  

“I did. Once,” you answer honestly. “But it didn't mean anything to me.” You slowly sink down on him, welcoming the slightly burning stretch with a satisfied moan.  

Jungkook hisses, digs his fingers into your waist and you're sure he'll leave bruising marks. “And what does this mean?” he asks, almost chokes out feeling your hot canal enveloping his length.  

“Everything,” you breathe out, lifting yourself off him just to slam down hard afterwards. “You mean the world to me.” you say; it’s priactially a whisper. As you're staring into his wide eyes, you can see your love for him reflected in them. It all feels like a dream you don't wanna wake up from.  

“I love you, Y/N,” he confesses and you know he means it. “From the moment I saw you for the first time I knew you would be the one for me.”  

A lonely tear slides down your cheeks and he catches it with his thumb. “I love you too, Jungkook.” you murmur.  

He smiles like a fool, opens his mouth to say more but you shut him up with a kiss and your hips establishing a steady rhythm on his cock. You pull away from his lips, saliva dribbling down both of your chins but you don't care, bouncing on him like your life depends on it. Maybe it does a little.  

“So good,” you whimper, the tip of his cock almost hitting your cervix with every stroke.  

Underneath you Jungkook looks like he might die right here and there, his chest sweaty and heaving with every breath he takes. He has a vice grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his cock. To your surprise you find yourself liking that side of him, the rough touch of his hands on your skin. You wonder what he's capable of if you push him a little further.  

“Oh, gods!” you keen when his cock brushes past the spot that makes you see stars. He fucks into you just in time for you to add, “Just like that.”  

As much as Jungkook enjoys seeing you bouncing on top of him, he grows tired of just laying still and taking it. In one, swift motion, he flips you onto your back. You squel after the sudden change of positions but that quickly morphs into a loud moan as he rams his cock inside your cunt.

He picks up the pace, making you feel every inch of him. He stares down where your body ends and his begins, watching his cock disappearing in your hole. You urge him to look at you instead, pull him down to leave a messy kiss on his lips. “Shit, you're so perfect,” he marvels, palms squeezing every part of your body he could reach. “Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl,” he spits, leaning to suck a mark on your neck. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I love it. Love your cock,” you say over the slapping sounds of your skin meeting his. “You're so good to me Jungkookie, so good.” As you feel another, powerful orgasm approaching, you slip your fingers down your body to toy with your clit.  

Jungkook catches it and snatches your hand away, replacing with his own. He rubs your sensitive bud fast and hard, making you cry out his name in a broken moan. “Are you gonna come for me, love? I want you to cream my cock like a good girl.” he rasps, slithering himself inside you with enough force to knock the breath out of your lungs. 

“Yes, yes!” you chant, feeling your cunt spasming around his length. He curses, fucking you through your high. “Kiss me, Jungkookie–please,” you nearly sob and he obliges right away, plunging his tongue inside your mouth to dance with yours. It's messy and wet but you're relishing in it.  

He pants against your mouth, his pace getting sloppy. “I'm not gonna last longer,” he stammers out. “Your pussy feels too good, I'm–”

“Shh,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “It's okay. You did so good, darling.” He moans at the praise, leans down to bury his face in your neck. 

“Oh gods, I'm gonna–ah, shit,” he groans, thrusts into your cunt a few more times and then he comes, spilling himself inside. “I love you, I love you.” he repeats, breathing heavily down your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, smiling to yourself. “And I love you.” you respond. “But please, for the love of Zeus, get off me or you'll suffocate me.”

Jungkook chuckles, lifting himself off your body. He props himself on his hand and stares down at you. You’ve never felt so happy. It’s right here, with him, that you feel the most acomplished. You wish to make it last forever. He places a kiss on your mouth, a sweet, quick peck before he crashes his body next to yours.

He pulls you to his side and you could feel his heart beating underneath the palm you placed on his chest. It beats with the love he has for you. 

“When do you think you will be able to go again?” you ask.

Jungkook cocks his head. “What? Are you proposing a round two?”

“Not exactly,” you quip, your nail ever so slightly brushing over his nipple. “Want you in my mouth this time.”

“You little minx.”

You smirk. If his already semi-hard cock is anything to go by, you have a long night ahead of yourself.

[writteninsunshine]

Long Brooding Over Those Lost Pleasures Exaggerates Their Charm And Sweetness - Fizzarolli/Asmodeus - SFWish

Title: Long Brooding Over Those Lost Pleasures Exaggerates Their Charm And Sweetness

Author: Keith

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Setting: Ozzie’s House

Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie

Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1223

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Gift for Sin

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Mpreg, Male Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Both Lovers Are Pregnant, Nesting, Egg-Laying, Insomnia, Fluff, I Exaggerate Ozzie’s Roostery Bits

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything!

Summary: What in the seven layers was he doing?

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a Helluva Boss Tumblr, too! Tumblr is Gimme-A-Thrust! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr!

This is a gift for my friend @charsawdeath! I wanted to help cheer them up, and I thought one of our conversations was really cute, so I wanted to give this a try! It’ll be the first thing I finish for them, though I have a couple of trades that I owe, too! Regardless, I hope this helps put you in better spirits, Sin. You deserve it ; u;

Helluva Boss Fic Masterlist

Long Brooding Over Those Lost Pleasures Exaggerates Their Charm And Sweetness

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Groaning softly, Fizzarolli shook his head as he placed it in his hand, pacing in the living room for possibly the eight billionth time. His other hand was pressed to the side of his distended stomach, and he felt something shift and it only made him whine. Following his worn trail around the coffee table, to the entertainment system, behind Ozzie’s armchair, and back again, and again, and again, he had been taking this route for what felt like half of his life. It was such a breath of fresh air to beeline for the armchair instead of the entertainment system that he growled in frustration. This. Wasn’t. Working.

The pregnant imp was so damn tired, but every time he got comfortable the triplets would see to it that that would come to a quick, untimely end. While he wasn’t entirely sure what his thought process had been for wearing himself out, he was hoping it would all work out in the end. In comparison, Ozzie’s pregnancy was going swimmingly, from what he could see, even if he’d had his issues. Fizzy figured a lot of it had to do with the fact that Ozzie probably had much smaller babies, whereas he was smuggling a couple of bowling balls under his shirt at the best of times.

Sure, Ozzie had said something about eggs, but at least eggs didn’t punch you in the bladder. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t love the three little darlings growing inside of him, but he’d do anything to catch a break.

With another irritated grunt, he glared at his stomach for a moment, mumbling a few half-formed words before he sighed, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” He promised, “But if you three don’t let me sleep, I’ll–” Yelping suddenly as he was lifted by the back of his shirt, Fizzarolli clung to it tightly so he wouldn’t drop to the floor. Shooting a scowl up at his lover’s chin, he huffed, wrapping his arms around the back of Ozzie’s neck instead of letting the threat of slipping out of his shirt stay over his head, “What the shit bagels are you doing?”

“Temper, Baby, you’re gonna be a mama soon,” Ozzie chuckled, and Fizz took note of how the elder demon was walking on all fours, his large hands splayed over the wood beneath them. His dainty little talons took only to the toes in the back, and he’d had his lover’s nightshirt clutched in his beak. Without having to carry him like that anymore, though, he spoke freely despite Fizzarolli’s clearly spoiled mood, “Now, now, don’t look at me like that. I’m helping.”

“You don’t think you coulda done that, I dunno, a few months ago?” Fizzarolli groused, chittering with a dramatic growl. They were both lucky he didn’t deign to cross his arms out of reflex, but he did bring his legs up more and crossed them against his belly to take some of the strain off of the rest of his body.

“I’ve been helping, you’re just in a shit mood, and I can fix that.”

“No. No sex right now, I’m not rewarding this behavior.”

“Who said it had to be sex, Baby?” Ozzie tutted at him playfully, and Fizz pouted at their bedroom door. When he pushed it open with his foot for both of them, what he saw on the bed took him a little by surprise, and his head tilted.

“Uhhh… I mean… Usually, I’d say it’s kinda… Your thing, but… Ozzie?”

“Yeah, Baby?” The King didn’t stop walking except to kick the door shut behind them, lumbering into their bedroom and towards the bed.

“What am I looking at right now?” 

The sheet, the thinner blankets used for quick clean-ups, and the thick downy comforter that Ozzie refused to not have on his bed had been more or less wound together in a large, open ‘O’ in the center of the bed. Every pillow in the bedroom, and what looked like maybe even every pillow in the house lay inside it, the mattress only an afterthought. Ozzie had a nice-ass, huge-ass bed, and Fizzarolli was never one to hate on it. It was comfortable no matter how much he wound into a pretzel, and he never really needed it to be made better.

“Nest.” The simple explanation still didn’t exactly tell him anything, and Fizz pouted up at his lover as he climbed onto the bed. Notably, he was still walking like a small dog carrying a toy too large in its mouth, and when he finally came to a stop over the nest he’d built, he lowered his chest towards the pillows until Fizzarolli could let go. Guiding him to lay down in the center of the nest where there was a purposeful divot made for him, Ozzie purred. With him laid out on his side, Ozzie fluffed the fabric around him, covering him somewhat as he clucked softly for him.

Fizzarolli had heard that the Sins could be pretty feral sometimes, instinctual even to a fault, but he’d never actually witnessed it in any of them. Maybe he didn’t know most of them all that well, but he would have thought that he’d have seen Ozzie like this before, at least… But he never had.

“Okay, so, why are you nesting me–”

“Us.” There Ozzie was again with the one-word answers. He cooed quietly, a purr undercutting his breaths and words, and he hummed a little as he draped the soft throw blanket over Fizzarolli’s hips. With a finalized little warble, he crawled forward a little more, settling his body over the nest. From what he could tell, the Sin above him had taken into account his size, how pregnant they both were, and where he was going to put Fizzarolli to make sure it was safe and comfortable.

The steady gunfire of Ozzie’s buk-buk-buk ba-gwaking still confused him, because it wasn’t often that Ozzie acted like this, but… Well, he’d overheard Mammon having a whisper-yelling match with him, and one thing he took away from it was that Ozzie had never been pregnant before, either. Over six thousand years old, and some little imp from the Greed ring had managed to be the first one to get him to actually lay. 

Sometimes he felt so lucky, but right now it was more… Surprise. Ozzie wasn’t usually like this, but as the larger demon settled over him, he still felt pretty irritable.

“Ozz, I can’t sleep if I’m–”

“Shhh.” Ozzie’s one-word responses were starting to get on his nerves, and he’d been about ready to snap at him when the louder purring warbles had started. With the warmth, the softness, the comfort he was wrapped in, combined with the familiar weight of his lover and whatever he was doing with his voicebox, Fizzarolli couldn’t keep his eyelids open. Despite the frustration he’d been feeling, all fight drained out of him as Ozzie more or less sang him to sleep, and he curled against him happily, purring in response. When it cut suddenly, they were both more or less asleep, resting happily against each other.

Now, if only they’d started this sooner, maybe Fizzarolli would have had less of a bad day. He could get used to being nested, even after the babies were born.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: It’s kind of short, I know, but it was easier to get something short done faster. I hope you liked it!

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Nothing But A Fuckboy

(Isaac Lahey x Reader)

Request: I loved the Isaac imagine!! U write so well! I was wondering if u could maybe do another one where he’s a fuck boy but there’s a happy ending.

Word count: 2,509

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of smut

Notes: thank u so much for the compliment!! I love writing for Isaac he’s such a complex bby

———————————————————————

Your eyes narrowed over the plastic cup in your hands as you took a long swig of your drink. You instantly pulled it away with a grimace, the bitter liquid burning your throat as you swallowed it. Someone brushed against your side as they squeezed through the crowd, making you jerk your attention away from Isaac.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was grinding against that girl from your chemistry class was making your stomach twist and you couldn’t decide which one of them you wanted to punch more.

Your eyes flickered over his broad shoulders, partially covered by his favorite scarf, before gliding down to the place where his hands skimmed along her hips. Your jaw tightened as a recent memory flashed through your mind.

A surprised yelp escaped you as Isaac pushed your back against his bedroom wall. His lips attacked yours instantly, and you wasted no time in wrapping around arms around his neck to pull him closer.

For some reason, the two of you kept getting paired together in class, and were supposed to be working on a project right now. This was your third attempt at finishing it, actually, but you always ended up in some variation of tangled limbs instead.

A quiet moan rumbled through your chest as his long fingers gripped your hips and lifted you without effort. Your legs wrapped around him for support, his tongue exploring your mouth in a way that had quickly become familiar.

“Y/N, this is so pathetic.”

You jumped at the sudden presence beside you, your head jerking to the side to glare at your best friend, Lydia, as she stared at you with her glossed lips pursed judgmentally.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” You defended, glancing in his direction again—only to see that he was now gone—before bringing your attention back to her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning closer so that you could hear her over the blaring music. “Just talk to him.”

“Did you somehow forget that I hate his guts?” You scoffed, forcing down another gulp of your drink. If you were going to be at the same party all night, you’d need a little liquid courage to pull you through.

“Did you forget that two days ago?” Lydia’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose expectantly.

You felt your cheeks prickle with heat, regret washing over you for ever telling her about the recent hookup. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. He was bad news. But there was something about his icy blue eyes that drew you in whenever he was near.

Isaac was a lot of things, but a god guy was not one of them. He was mysterious and unobtainable, a dangerous combination for a girl like you. You’d slept with him three times now, and had basically nothing to show for it. The two of you barely spoke at school, aside from chemistry class when you had to do partner work.

“It was a momentary lapse in judgement.” You mumbled, trying to hide the blush overtaking your face with the now half empty cup in your hands.

Lydia’s red lips parted as if she were going to argue, until she seemingly thought better of it and huffed in annoyance instead. “Whatever. Just find something else to do, because you standing here like a creep is seriously ruining the vibe.”

Your jaw dropped in offense at her snide remark, but she twirled around and walked away before you could say anything. You frowned before downing the rest of your drink. You knew she was right. You couldn’t just stand around watching him with other girls all night.

The worst part is that you knew nothing would come of your hookups, but that hadn’t stopped you from being a more than willing participant. You weren’t the kind of girl that usually had casual sex—although you admired those that were—but you just found it utterly impossible to resist Isaac.

You turned around, determined to find one of your other friends that was surely around somewhere, but reeled back as you slammed right into a broad chest. The reminants of your drink splashed out of your cup, coating your white blouse in a dark purple liquid. A jumbled apology died on your lips as your eyes flickered up toward the last face you wanted to see right now.

“Damn, Y/N. I didn’t think I could get you wet that quickly.” Isaac’s lips quirked into the signature smirk that never failed to raise your heartbeat.

Your jaw tightened as your fingers clutched the cup in your hand tight enough to snap the thin plastic. “This is my favorite shirt.”

His hooded eyes trailed down from your face, very obviously lingering on your now visible hot pink bra. The look on his face—the easily recognizable hunger behind his eyes—had another memory snapping to the forefront of your mind.

Isaac’s eyes widened fractionally as you slid the sweater over your head, exposing your favorite bralette. You may or may not have worn it to your study date just incase something like this happened. His long fingers instantly slid beneath the thin, lacy material before pulling it off in one fluid motion.

He let out a tortured groan, his hands moving to cup your exposed breasts. Your head tilted back as a shuddering breath escaped you when he tweaked one of your nipples gently.

“God, these tits. How have I never noticed these before?” He breathed just before closing his lips around your right nipple, expertly lapping at the sensitive bud.

“Okay, asshole.” You quipped, trying and failing to sound upset through your moan of pleasure.

You felt him smirk against you, an involuntary whine leaving you as he pulled back. His eyes, usually ice cold, where blazing with lust as he looked at you, and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I mean,” His attention finally moved back to your angry face. “This is a clothing optional party.”

You glowered at him, completely unamused. This really was your favorite shirt, and it was probably stained forever now. You honestly had no idea what was in the juice the boys had made for this party, but the dark liquid was already becoming one with your shirt. A frown pulled at your lips as you pinched the drenched material and peeled it away from your body.

Your head snapped upward at the feeling of an arm snaking around your shoulders. You barely processed that you were moving before your eyes landed on the side of Isaac’s face as he guided you through his house. You tried protesting, but your words fell on deaf ears, the music way too loud to hear even your own thoughts in this part of the house.

He weaved you through the dense crowd of half naked gyrating bodies until you reached a door just beside the staircase. He practically shoved you inside the small room, slamming the door shut behind him. All noise instantly cut out, leaving the two of you standing in a silent, darkened space.

You barely caught the movement as he reached up and pulled a string attached to a small lightbulb in the ceiling. It swayed as it sparked to life, illuminating the two of you in dim yellow light.

One of your brows quirked as you realized you were standing in his laundry room.

“Come on, off with it.” His slender fingers gestured for you to remove your soiled shirt.

Your lips pulled into a frown, honestly surprised that he cared enough to try and wash it for you. You played with the edge of the thin material between your fingers, hesitating.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, love.” The edge of his lips twitched into a sinful smirk.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled the sticky material over your head, grimacing at the uncomfortable residue it left on your skin. “It’s not that. I just don’t trust you with my favorite shirt. You’ve already ruined it once.”

“Oh no, I’m not doing it.” He scoffed as if the idea of him doing laundry was ridiculous. “I just brought you in here so you could fix it.”

You were about to snap something about him being a sexist pig, but the words got caught in your throat as you saw the way he was looking at you. His tongue languidly swept along his bottom lip as his hooded eyes flickered around your exposed torso. It was almost as if he couldn’t help but appreciate your body while it was right in front of him.

Your heart skipped a beat and you silently cursed yourself for being so responsive to him. He hadn’t even touched you, and yet you felt heat pooling between your legs in anticipation. Your gaze drifted downward as your shirt slipped between your fingers, fluttering down to the concrete floor.

Isaac’s attention flickered up to your face, eyes blazing as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitched as he scooped up the ruined material and gripped both hands around your hips.

“I guess I could help a little...” His eyes never left yours as he took his time leaning forward.

A shudder wracked your body as he placed a gentle kiss just below your navel. His tongue darted out to brush lightly against the skin of your stomach, dragging all the way up to your ribs. Your back arched and one of your hands immediately fisted the curls at the top of his head.

Your quiet gasps were the only sound in the otherwise silent room, as he slowly licked the sticky liquid from your skin. Your core throbbed desperately for attention beneath your mini skirt, but he didn’t seem likely to stop until all traces of your spilled drink were gone.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, you tugged him up by the hair between your fingers. You couldn’t take it anymore. He popped to his feet, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. You didn’t even care about his smugness at this point. You just wanted him.

You stood on the tips of your toes and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He returned the kiss immediately, using the hands that still held your hips to walk you backward until you ran into the washing machine.

Your hands trailed down his sides, eliciting a low moan from him, before you gripped the material of his shirt and yanked it over his head. Your lips separated just long enough for him to get the thing off before reconnecting heatedly.

He slid an arm around your waist and hauled you up on top of the washer. A chill ran up your spine as the chilled metal hit your skin, but the uncomfortable feeling was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as Isaac stepped between your parted legs.

His fingers wrapped around your thighs, squeezing gently before sliding upward slowly. You dragged your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots at the base of his skull. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of your mind, your subconscious was reminding you that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

“Mmm, wait.” Isaac suddenly pulled back, and you blinked a few times to clear away the hazy lust that had overtaken you. “Before we do this, I have a request.”

“Really, Lahey? Right now?” You pouted, wrapping one of the curls at the back of his head around your finger.

“You’re gonna let me take you out.” His eyes flickered between yours, all traces of his usual cockiness gone.

“Wha-what?” You sputtered, pulling back slightly. You honestly weren’t sure if you’d even heard him correctly.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, removing his hands from your thighs to rest against the washer instead. A shiver moved up your spine at the loss of warmth as he stepped back a few inches. You craned your neck up to look into his eyes as he leaned over you.

“If we’re going to continue doing this, I want to take you out.” He said the words slowly, as if they needed to be dumbed down for you to understand.

You scoffed, not appreciating his attempt at a joke. There was no way he was being serious. If there was one thing you knew about Isaac Lahey, it was that he did not do relationships. In all the time you’d known him, he’d never been linked to anyone seriously. He had a few flings, but they never lasted longer than a month or so. And you’d definitely never seen him take anyone out.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” You mused, rolling your eyes when his face fell into a frown. “Absolutely not.”

His brows pinched, as if it were the first time someone had ever told him no. “Why is that?”

“Because, Isaac, this thing we’re doing? It’s just...I mean. Not to be rude, but you’re nothing but a fuckboy. And I have more self-respect than that.”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression completely unreadable before his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. “Meaning a boy you’ve fucked?”

You scoffed, putting a hand against his chest to push him away. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m being serious.” He placed a hand over yours, making you freeze your attempt to get off the washer. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes rounded as they gazed into yours almost pleadingly. “I...like you, Y/N. Let me take you on a real date that doesn’t include school work.”

Your eyes flickered over his face, trying to find any signs of dishonesty. Surprisingly, there were none. He was giving you this look, like this was the most important thing to him right now. Like you were the most important thing.

Despite the quiet doubts ringing in the back of your mind, you found yourself nodding, a slow smile pulling at your lips. You couldn’t deny that you liked the idiot. You had since even before you’d been forced to get to know each other as partners. Once things got physical, you knew you were a goner.

“Okay.” You breathed, your heart soaring at the happiness shining in his eyes as he grinned at you.

“So it’s a date?” He asked, needing that tiny last bit of confirmation.

You chuckled lightly and snaked an arm around his neck to pull him in closer. “It’s a date. Now kiss me already.”

“If you insist.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges, before connecting your lips again.

You kissed him back as if you’d never stopped, your body molding against his like it was made for yours. It was at that moment that you realized you wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here—making out with Isaac in his laundry room—no matter how ridiculous that was.

Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought.

[marrys-dream-world]

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter 11)

Read on AO3

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Notes:  Double update to cheer up a bit! This chapter turned out much longer than I thought it would be, almost double the size of other chapters. No content warning, just fluff! The song "Blueming" by IU, I think this fits this chapter a lot so if you want a song to listen while you read, it's that! Day 11: Voice Mail/Phone calls. @ladynoirjuly

After their last patrol, Ladybug sent Chat Noir a link through their communicators.

[Download this!!] She sent along with it, eagerly waiting for him. 

[As my lady commands : D] He sent back almost immediately. 

That talk had been a bit of an eye-opener to Marinette. She was getting to know Chat Noir more and more each day and she treasured every bit of information she got, jealousy holding it close to chest, hesitating to write it even in her diary. He was a quiet student during class, he had a friend whose name was definitely not Sallie (ugh), his father was distant, his mother and mother-figure were out of reach. He was lonely. All this information was worrying, just not as much as what she learned that night. At that moment, with him shaking in her arms, she made a decision.

Being there for him just as Ladybug wasn't going to cut it anymore. 

This idea wasn't anything new, she had been playing with it in her mind for a while now. So when she sent him a chat room code through her communicator with other instructions and detransformed, she was fairly confident it would work. Picking up her phone, she smiles as she saw that there was already a message.

CN

My lady!! <3 <3 <3

LB

down, Chaton. :)

CN

I'm just mdlaomqnahsbsk

Is it okay, though? Talking like this?

LB

yeah, i've been testing this app with RR and it's fine, there's no way we'll leak our numbers or anything like that to each other. don't worry ;)

CN

This app is to warn each other about attacks and schedule meetings? Are you going to add RR to the chat?

LB

nah, i'll just make one for the 3 of us. this is one for us to talk and stuff, doesn't need to be about job things.  

The "CN is typing…" kept it's place on the screen for enough time for her to start getting worried. 

CN

You don't need to force yourself for my sake, bug. I don't want to bother you. 

Marinette thought about making a joke. The situation, however, didn't seem right for it. 

LB

you never bother me.

His response came almost immediately.

CN

You never texted me before.

LB

guess i'll have to learn what's the maximum amount of cat memes a person can humanely send per day

CN

Is that a challenge, my lady?

LB

;) ;) ;)

just remember to not blow up my phone, we have class

CN

I'll use my powers for good, don't worry : D

Marinette smiled and put down her phone, fixing up her bag for the next day on the chance (certainty) that she would wake up late the next day. When she picked the phone up again, there was a single text:

LB

Thank you, bug. Good night. 

He was absolutely unstoppable after that. Next morning, as she was brushing her teeth, her cell phone pinged with the telling sound from the app and she smiled as she opened the app on her phone. 

CN

Look, look, we can change each other's names.

LB

good to know

You changed "CN" 's name to "Chat-terbox"

Chat-terbox

You know me so well. Soulmates.

Chat-terbox changed your name to "lady of my heart"

lady of my heart

yeah, i should have seen that coming, that's on me. 

oh yeah, gm

Chat-terbox

Good morning <3 <3 <3

Are you in class already?

Marinette froze in place, eyes snapping to the clock. There was only ten minutes before the class started. She bolted, barely noticing if she had on the right shoes or if her jacket matched her pants. So much for being an aspiring designer. Marinette blurred past the kitchen, taking a croissant and a banana and cramming them into her mouth as she ran. She made it to the classroom in the middle of the roll call, not even stopping by the lockers.

“Thanks for joining us, Marinette.” Ms. Bustier said dryly. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She answered, out of breath. Sitting down, she took out her tablet and noticed another message making her phone screen glow. 

Chat-terbox

Is everything okay?

lady of my heart

i made it late in class but the teacher let me in hehehe

i think she's used to it *forehead sweatdrop emoji*

Chat-terbox

Hahaha a friend of mine just did the same thing, you two are twins 

lady of my heart

let me guess… Sallie *eyeroll emoji*

Chat-terbox

I mean, yeah, but why the eyeroll???

lady of my heart

you just talk too much about her, don't you think

Chat-terbox

You sound just like Plagg.

lady of my heart

maybe bc we're right

Chat-terbox

Why does that bother you? Jealous? *eyes emoji*

lady of my heart

as if *kicks u*

Chat-terbox

You kick your partner? You kick his body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for my lady! Jail for my lady for One Thousand Years!

lady of my heart

since my fate is already decided *kicks u again*

Chat-terbox

Nooooooooo

A giggle escaped her mouth.

"Marinette?" Ms. Bustier raised an eyebrow. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"N-no, ma'am." She answered, face heating up. Marinette quietly put her phone away, ignoring Alya's prying eyes. 

She only opened the app again during the break between classes, moving away from a curious Alya to hang by Kim and Alíx. 

Chat-terbox

I'll assume you're actually paying attention to class, which is great. You probably need it to make up all those crazy plans ;)

SM beaten by ninth grade physics 

Hey, boo, did you see this one SM identity theory video making rounds on the internet?

Marinette frowned.

lady of my heart

there's nothing new on the ladyblog

Chat-terbox

Oh, it's not on the Ladyblog, here 

She opened the video as quickly as she could before Ms. Bustier came back, only from the sound to make Kim and Alíx burst out into laughter.

lady of my heart

i opened it in my class I hate u so muuuuuch ughhhhhh

Chat-terbox 

C'mon, boo, it was funny

lady of my heart

>: (

Chat-terbox

: 3

This time, she willingly put her phone away. 

On the next break, she tried to ignore the pinging from her phone. However, curiosity killed the cat(‘s lady).

Chat-terbox

Please don't be mad, my lady, I have written you a lengthy apology to make up for sins

File attachment: apology letter for my beloved.doc

lady of my heart

if it's another rickroll i swear to god i'll END you

Chat-terbox

You can see it's not a video, it's safe to open

Scout's honor

lady of my heart

u were never a scout

Chat-terbox

I could be!!

Please read <3

Sighing deeply, she clicked on the document. He would never shut up if she didn't. It read as:

l would like to offer my sincerest According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible…

She clicked back

Chat-terbox

Did you like it? :3

lady of my heart

…

blocked

Chat-terbox

Boo, noooooooo

After that, Marinette didn’t open the app again no matter how much her phone pinged. She wasn’t mad, not really, just a bit annoyed. Before lunch ended, she would read and answer. But now, she was stuck watching Alya and Nino play Super Penguino and make moon eyes at each other. Adrien wasn’t allowed to join them, as much as he begged his father, and she was feeling pretty bummed about that. She poked around her chicken pasta when she heard her phone playing a familiar song.

kore nani kore nani korenanikorenanikorenanikorenani-

Chat Noir!

"Is everything okay?" Marinette asked as soon as she picked up the phone. Alya and Nino, noticing her worried tone, paused their game to look at her. 

"You picked up!" Chat Noir said, cheery. "I thought you blocked me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there actually something wrong? I'll hang up "

"No, wait!" He yelped. "There's nothing wrong, I just wanted to talk. Are you busy?"

Marinette looked over at Nino and Alya, who were still watching her expectantly. She smiles reassuringly and waved them away, furtively signaling to Alya that it was Chat Noir on the phone. Her friend nodded and bumped her shoulder on Nino's. 

"C'mon, babe, let Marinette talk to her 'friend' by herself." Alya said, leering. 

"Why did you say it like that?" Nino asked, confused. Then, his eyes lit up. "Is it Adrien? Tell him I said hi!"

"No!" Marinette shouted, gaining weird stares from the other patrons.

"No, you aren't busy?" Chat Noir asked on the phone.

"No, it's not Adrien, or no, you won't tell him I said hi?" Nino asked. 

"It's another friend." She said hurriedly before focusing on the phone. "I can talk now, not that busy."

"If you're with your friends, it's okay." He said, rather meekly for her chaton.

"I'm just third-wheeling." Marinette said as Alya and Nino began another round of Super Penguins. "Why did you call? Aren't you having lunch now?"

Chat Noir chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm having lunch at home and I'm all alone, so I thought I could give you a call. Is that too much?"

"No, it's fine." She reassured. "Why are you alone? What about your siblings?"

"What siblings?" He asked, genuinely confused. 

"Uh… the siblings I assumed you had for some reason." She said awkwardly, noticing how out there she sounded the more she spoke. 

"Really? You thought I had siblings? Why?"

"Because you're just like an annoying little brother." She said teasingly, a complete lie.

Chat Noir struck her as a mischievous, but supportive older brother. The kind that sneaked you treats after midnight and comforted you after failing a math test. Not like she could tell him that, though. If he was a little brother, it would be to a stressed older sister that he admired a lot and that found him reliable in return. She dreamed about meeting them sometimes and now it seemed that they would truly stay dreams forever. 

"I would like an older brother or sister." He sighed longingly. "The closest I have is my cousin, but he lives in another country."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's better this way, we would kill each other if we lived together. Everyday I would have to check for poison in my breakfast."

"A true sibling dynamic."

"Yep."

"Hey, why aren't you having lunch with your friends then?" With Sallie, she wanted to tease, but held back for fear of sounding, as Tikki said, bitter. 

"My father would rather I have lunch at home." He said vaguely. "My friends did invite me to go with them to a café, but my father didn't like the idea. He only likes one of them, the rest he says are bad influences."

"Let me guess, the one he likes is Sallie?"

"I can hear you rolling your eyes, but yes."

"Well, if you ever get lonely at lunch, you can call me." Marinette said honestly. "I don't mind it."

"Thank you." Chat Noir said softly.

They spent the rest of lunch talking on the phone, even sending pictures of their food to each other (Chat's limp salad made her take a bunch of mental notes to take him some pastries next patrol). On the way to school, as she walked to the classroom, they kept talking. She could hear Chat getting on a vehicle (a bus?) and when he got to school, she was disappointed he had to hang up. After Marinette clicked the end call button, the first thing she noticed when she looked up was Alya's smug face and Nino's confused one. 

"Wow, does my bro have some competition, dude?" Nino said. "You spent the entire break talking."

"What? No, that was just a friend!"

"Yeah, a friend." Alya sing-songed, making her face heat up.

"Yeah." Marinette said firmly. "There's no competition for anything."

"Who's competing?" A sweet voice asked from behind her and she jumped.

"Adrien!" She shouted, scrambling. "N-nothing hehe."

"Dude!" Nino smiled. "How was your lunch?"

Adrien smiled, brightly. "The best I've ever had."

Marinette felt inclined to agree. 

[voiceless-terror]

hmmmm if u want angsty prompt that goes with a song: jonathan sims + the song "using" by sorority noise. + some of that good jmart. feel free to take it anyway you like! angst that evolves into fluff, full-on angst, lotsa fluff with a smidgen of angst... its up to you!!

Here you are! A bit late, but better late than never. This is a great song, thank you for introducing me! This mostly takes place in the safehouse, with a bit of season four thrown in. Jon/Martin, fluff and angst, learning to love each other. Hope you like!

Eventually, Jon starts sleeping again.

It isn't like he has much of a choice. Collapsing from exhaustion every couple of days isn’t tenable, and of course he’s much more coherent when well-rested. If he’s going to ‘save the world’ or be of any use, he needs to sleep.

It doesn’t stop the guilt he feels every time he wakes from his little hellscapes, his gifted nightmares. It hurts, the way he feels better after watching the torment of others. But he gives into the need like it’s an indulgence instead of a necessity. Not ‘eating’ makes it worse, makes him worse. Perhaps he won’t prey on people when he’s awake if he does it in his dreams. 

He looks better. He no longer wakes to a blanket on his shoulders or a steaming cup of tea at his side. His indulgence has its own consequences, personal as they may be. But if he’s going to help Martin, he’s got to be at his best.

And maybe he enjoys feeling well, despite the terrible cost.

On his last day in the Archives, he kills someone. He doesn’t mean to. Or perhaps he does. It’s not his fault Lukas wouldn’t answer his questions.

On his last day in the Archives, he pulls Martin from the Lonely. Jon takes his hand like it's worthy of reverence. Martin doesn’t smile, but his eyes are blue again, not the hazy grey Jon had gotten used to.

They run away together.

It’s not bliss.

It’s not surprising. Martin and Jon never really knew each other. Seeing and Knowing are not necessarily understanding. There was no slowly building friendship, no will they/won’t they scenario like something out of a sitcom. Just a series of tragedies binding them together in the approximation of love. They’ll get there, but they have to take it one day at a time.

Despite his ever-present need for company (especially after his time in the Lonely), Martin needs space. Jon never noticed this about him, too busy wrapped up in his statements and being bothered by his assistant’s fussing. So watching as Martin goes on solitary walks and leaves the room to read in silence is quite jarring. He needs space as much as Jon needs contact. But Martin wouldn’t know that about him, how could he? He only saw Jon reach out once he was too far gone. Jon wants to take his hand, wants to rest against his chest as Martin reads god-awful poetry. Is it selfish to want? 

He just wants to be worthy of Martin’s sacrifice, that’s all. 

They learn each other’s awkward habits. Jon hums and taps and makes more noise than Martin probably thought possible. Jon leaves drawers open that he will inevitably bump into, and is fine with letting his dishes ‘sit’ in the sink. Martin walks too quietly, has a habit of sneaking up that Jon finds jarring. He leaves windows open and lets in the chill. He’s more prone to sighing than talking.

Jon finds out that Martin is good at cards and really good at lying. Martin finds out that Jon can actually cook a decent meal, when he’s not wrapped up in work.

Sleeping is where they find their truce. Jon can curl up in his arms, Martin can bury his face in Jon’s hair. Jon still dreams his dreams and Martin is still unnaturally cold, but the touches are grounding. They’re each lost in their own separate ways. But they’re lost with each other.

Still, it’s a delicate balance. Martin and Jon walk on eggshells, each trying desperately to please the other. Jon tries to be what Martin needs him to be, but he feels like he’s doing it wrong.

He doesn’t feel like himself.

_______

Jon smokes outside.

Martin doesn’t like the smell, and Jon won’t fault him for that. But the bite of the cigarette reminds him that he’s human, in some small way. That he has petty needs and vices. A moment’s pleasure, fleeting and simple. A sin with only himself as the victim.

It feels like a choice, but Jon doesn’t think it is.

“Nasty habit.”

Jon startles at the voice- Martin, of course. Quiet and unassuming as he takes his place beside him. His nose is wrinkled.

“I’m sorry-” he begins, stubbing out the cigarette but Martin cuts him off.

“No, it's fine,” he shrugs, digging his feet into the dirt. “You should be able to do as you please. After all you’ve done for me-”

“Martin-”

“No,” Martin says firmly, looking intensely at the ground. “I never really thanked you for that, you know? For getting me out of the Lonely. You saved me.”

Jon leans his head on Martin’s shoulder, hoping the contact is welcome. Martin doesn’t tense. “You spent months in Peter Lukas’s hold. Months trying to save us. I- I never want you to feel like you have to do that again. I know I haven’t always been the best company-” he lets out a chuckle, one that Martin weakly returns. “-but I’d like for us to do this properly, you know? Without all the-the ‘spooky interference,’ as it were.”

“You said spooky!” Martin’s grin widens in delight. Jon returns it.

“Just for you.”

Martin’s face is a lovely shade of red as he turns from him shyly. “What- what do you mean, ‘properly’?”

Jon hesitates, unsure of how much he wants to divulge. How much Martin wants to hear. But it’s been building up for so long- all the tiny things Martin does that he likes, that he loves. All the things he wants to share with him. But also everything he’s been holding back, everything that makes Jon himself. Everything that makes life worth living.

So he speaks.

“I-I want us to stop sacrificing for each other,” he stutters out. It’s his turn to look at the ground. “That- that can’t be all love is, right? I want to buy you flowers. I want to talk to you about your poetry. I want to complain about the songs on the radio that you always listen to.” He hazards a look at Martin’s face- he’s staring at him with unreadable eyes. Jon can’t look away. “I want- I want to buy you dinner and tell you jokes you won’t laugh at. I want to keep waking up to your face for as long as I can.” He takes a deep breath, willing his voice not to shake. “But I don’t want to live just for you. I want to have things of my own. I want to feel like a person again. Choose things. Enjoy them. And I want you to have that too.”

There’s silence. Martin’s eyes have that bright, incredulous look to them, as if Jon’s said something particularly unbelievable. Perhaps he said too much.

“You- you love me?”

Jon pauses, his brow furrowing. “I mean, yes. Obviously.”

Martin barks out a laugh that manages to be both snarky and joyous. “You never said, you dolt!”

“N-No, I swear I did-”

“You didn’t!”

They stare at each other, Jon attempting to catalogue every one of their exchanges thus far (the Eye is occasionally useful for such things).

He hadn’t, it turns out.

“Fuck.”

Jon can’t help but match the laughter that Martin’s currently choking out. It takes them several minutes to get it under control, but by the end of it Martin’s got an arm around his shoulders and a hand in his. “I’d like that too, you know,” Martin says softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Jon’s shoulder. “I really would.” Something in Jon’s chest warms at the words.

Martin’s taste in music never improves. Jon never gets the hang of doing the dishes. They bicker. A lot. Jon buys Martin dinner and tells him jokes he doesn’t laugh at. Martin goes on his walks. Sometimes he brings Jon along. 

And one time, he leaves Jon behind. Promises to tell him if he sees any good cows. And Jon just smiles, gentle and in love. 

The tape recorder clicks on.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673300

[biletdoux]

x marks the spot | x.dj

Member | xiaojun (nct) + gender neutral!reader Rating | g Genre + Tropes | childhood friends to lovers!au, idol!xiaojun, romance (fluff) Warning(s) | none, unless you consider badly written fluff something to be wary of lol Length | 5.1k+ Prompts | “Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you.” - Mariah Carey (All I Want for Christmas is You) + “I should be playin’ in the winter snow, I’ma be here under the mistletoe.” - Justin Bieber (Mistletoe) Playlist | All I Want for Christmas is You - Mariah Carey // Mistletoe - Justin Bieber  // My Everything - NCT U

Summary | You were five years old when you met your best friend.

(Or; the cycle of waiting and wanting between you and Xiaojun throughout the years.)

Note: For the Walking in a Winter Wonderland Collab hosted by @suh-insane​ and @neocitybynight​! Merry Christmas and have a happy holiday season, everyone <333 let me know what you think!

yo,,, fluff is so hard to write, so mad respect to all the fluff writers out there. 

“Hey—”

You were five years old and had a knack for stating the obvious.

“You’re not Chengxiao!” Your voice was loud and annoying, the shrill ring of it reverberated throughout the open roof. Your index finger, straight and stern, was aimed right at his face in accusation, as if it was a sin to not adhere to your expectations. “Chengxiao was supposed to be here, not you!”

The boy who was indeed not Chengxiao, as you so clearly pointed out, sniffled even louder as he clutched at his toy buccaneer sword. All around you, drying linens and laundry swayed gently in the summer breeze to the sound of his soft sniveling, before he broke out into an all out sob.

You were five years old and also insensitive in the way that five year olds were. 

“Uhm,” you faltered, your pointer finger recoiled back just ever so slightly as his cries continued. 

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be playing hide-and-seek with your building friends and maybe grab a popsicle down the street later once you all tired out. You lost the rock-paper-scissors between everyone and had to be the first seeker. You counted all the way to 100 without even peeking once, even though you were tempted many times when you heard the occasional giggle and scattered footsteps.

Chunyang was always the easiest to find between the three of you. He was also five like you and he always hid on the sixth floor of your shared building, usually behind the large potted plants near the stairway. You actually found him behind the leaky plumbing pipes at the end of the hall, but he was still on the sixth floor nonetheless. 

Chengxiao was different. She was seven years old, two whole years older than you and Chunyang, and she was also much smarter than the two of you. It was always difficult to find Chengxiao because she was more tricky and clever than your one-track minded five year old brain. 

When you found Chunyang, the two of you agreed to split up and search for Chengxiao separately, the first one to find her gets the ultimate bragging rights for the rest of their life. When you shook on the deal, Chunyang immediately took off for the stairs, clumsily bounding down the steps with as much grace as a five year old could muster, which left you with only one option remaining; climbing the flight of stairs to the roof. 

The roof was large and vast, filled with a sea of linen and mismatched laundry drying in the wind. The sun was at its peak in the sky as you started your searching, scouring near and wide for Chengxiao. When you nearly lost hope, you noticed a pair of white sneakers belonging to a person hidden behind a billowing bed sheet. You rushed toward it with all your might, already tasting how a sweet a lifetime of bragging to Chunyang would taste on your lips, but as soon as you yanked back the cloth, your mouth immediately turned sour at the sight of a boy with brown hair and teary eyes. 

Your tone was harsher than you intended, so here you were stuck with a blubbering boy and your lifetime bragging rights out the window. 

“Hey,” you tried again. You were five years old and not very good at comforting people. “My mom says children who cry won’t get any candy until they stop.” 

Unsurprisingly, his cries did not cease and you were scandalized by it. The possibility of no candy left you in shock and awe, so why wasn’t he feeling the same as you?

“Who, hic, cares about candy, hic,” he started, every few words out of his mouth was staccatoed by an uncontrollable hiccup.  “If I can’t see, hic, my friends!” 

“Huh?” you tilted your head to the side. “Why can’t you see your friends anymore?” 

It took a few seconds of blubbered hiccups before the boy answered, “cause we moved far away from them!”

You absorbed his words in quiet consideration. How would candy taste if you had to move away from Chengxiao and Chunyang? Not very good, but… 

“Why don’t you make new friends?” 

“I don’t want new friends! I want, hic, to go back to my old home!” Indignant, he lashed back. “I want to go back, hic, and play pirates with my old friends.” 

“I’ll play pirates with you,” you offered. You didn’t think much about the rest of the words that escaped your mouth either. “I’ll be your friend. I want to be your friend.”

The boy was significantly calmer after shouting out his frustrations. He wiped at his tears and for the first time you had a good look at his brown eyes. You didn’t know it at the time, but the boy, like you, was also five years old, and five year olds calmed down as easily as they lost their temper.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, tone soft and quiet. “Would you really, hic, be my friend?” 

Your smile was brighter than the summer sun that day. “Yeah, of course!”

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Yeah, and I can also show you my friends right now too. We’re playing hide-and-seek.” You grabbed his free hand, the one not holding the toy sword, as you tugged him to get off the roof. He followed obediently without a word. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” You asked over your shoulders, your voice ringing through the roof.

“My name is Xiao Dejun.”

You were five years old when you met your best friend. 

--

The air was crisp with the sharp, but refreshing sting of sea salt as the waves crashed onto the side of your ship. You climbed out onto the main deck to check on the progress of the voyage. The waters were steady and your trusty sea vessel rocked to the rhythm of the ocean. There were no clouds in the sky this far out into the sea and the sunlight blinded your eyes, but you didn’t need to see it to know that the treasure was straight ahead. You took another deep breath to savor the thought of future riches before you turned around to go look for your first mate. 

You traveled the expanse of the main deck before reaching the weathered ratlines. The rope felt coarse to the touch as you climbed all the way up to the crow’s nest. Once you made it, there he was, standing and staring out to the wide ocean, probably lost in thought about gold and jewels. 

“First mate Xiaojun.” you called. 

He turned his head and smiled. “Hey, I was waiting for you.”

You fully climb into the crow’s nest and settle beside him. “We’re about to find the secret buried treasure.” 

“Yes, captain,” he nodded his head in agreement.

“What do you want to do with you half?”

“Hm…” Xiaojun was contemplative. “I’ll need to buy another sword. Mine is getting rusty. What about you?”

“I would like to—”

“Class! Recess is over.” Your teacher, Mrs. Huang, interrupted you before you could finish. “It’s time to head back now.” 

And suddenly your trusty sea vessel was no longer a ship, but actually a small corner of the large school playground. The tethered and hardened ratlines melted away to reveal the metal ladders of the play area and the crow’s nest was the slide tower. The sun, however, remained as bright as ever.

Your first mate looked at you and a mischievous glint crossed his eyes. “I’ll race you to the classroom!” He hollered as he threw himself down the slide and took off running as soon as his feet hit the ground. You were not far behind him as you shrieked for him to slow down. 

You were eight years old and you kept your promise to him about playing pirates. 

The two of you became the best of friends shortly after your encounter on the roof. You grew close to him exceptionally fast when you learned he and his family had moved to the same floor as you and your family. Chengxiao and Chunyang liked him well enough and your tight trio grew to accept a fourth corner. 

When school rolled around, you were delighted to find out he was also enrolled in the same school as you and even was in the same class. Since then, the two of you had been inseparable. 

He beat you to the classroom by a few steps and his smile was dazzling as he gloated to your face. You sneered back at him as you watched his fringe stick to his forehead from sweat. 

“I only lost cause you cheated.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” 

You both sat down in your assigned classroom seating, with him exactly one seat behind you. Mrs. Huang announced it was independent study time, so everyone quietly pulled out their books.

When you pulled out yours, you realized you had broken your pencil and had nothing to write with. You pushed your chair back and leaned over on his desk. 

“Hey Xiaojun, can I borrow a pencil?”

He was still Dejun then, but he was always Xiaojun to you.

He looked annoyed, but went to rummage for his pencil pouch in his backpack anyway. “Don’t call me that unless we’re playing. How many times have I told you to call me Dejun? That’s my name so use it.” 

“But I don’t want to,” you huffed.

“And why is that?” Xiaojun found a suitable pencil and handed it over to you. 

“Because,” you took the writing utensil from his outstretched hand. “You’ll always be my first mate Xiaojun no matter what.” 

You returned back to your desk before you could notice the blush that colored his cheeks and you didn’t turn back to him again for the remainder of the independent study time. You didn’t realize it at the time, but Xiaojun never bothered to correct his name ever since. 

You were eight years old when you became someone special to Xiaojun. 

--

You felt hot and sticky.

Summers in Guangdong were hot and humid in ways that left you gasping for air as if you had been trudging through a thick wall of sludge. The heat was heavy and thick, reminiscent of an unpleasant weighted blanket that wrapped around you at all the wrong times and places. During the summer, the Guangdong sun was angry, and you felt as though its wrath was personal from how intensely the rays would beat down on your back as you hopped from one stall to another. Nonetheless, you were not deterred because you came here on a mission.

You were thirteen years old and wanted to do whatever it took to find your best friend the perfect birthday present. 

You prepared for August 9th tirelessly with impressive care and consideration. You had been casually asking questions and fishing for hints months before the fated date to figure out the most perfect and surefire gift for Xiaojun. When you realized he wanted a new controller for his PlayStation because the ‘X’ on his current one wasn’t working half the times, you knew you had to get him a new one. And so, you started to plan.

Step one was complete. You figured out what Xiaojun wanted, but now step two was in the way. How were you going to get it for him? You were thirteen years old and you had no money. You couldn’t ask your parents for money because then that would mean your parents actually got Xiaojun the present and not you, even though it was your idea. After thinking long and hard, you decided to carefully siphon a small portion of your lunch money each day until you had enough to purchase the controller. Even though the lunch money was from your parents, the money was given to you, so now it’s your money and not your parents’ anymore and you had to work hard to save it, so using this money to buy Xiaojun the gift will be really meaningful.

You were thirteen years old and your logic was a bit off, but your heart was in the right place. 

After months of saving, you finally had enough and couldn’t be happier. You had everything set and just needed to find the time to go out to the electronics store. You were so giddy that you nearly let the big surprise slip one day when you were over at his house. 

It was two days before his birthday and Xiaojun was just at your house yesterday, which meant that today, the two of you would go back to his. Xiaojun’s mother was already used to this and prepared pre-cut slices of fruit for the two of you before the front door even opened. The two of you bowed in thanks before greedily grabbing the plate of fruit before barreling to his room with a large slam of his bedroom door. 

You were laying on his bed munching on an apple slice in your hands and Xiaojun was at his desk on his rolling computer chair with an orange slice in his. Outside of his window, the hustle and bustle of a Guangdong afternoon can be heard, but the noise was far away for you and Xiaojun were in your own quiet little bubble. 

When he finished his orange slice, Xiaojun suddenly perked up. “Hey, you want to see something?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He stood up and walked over to his closet to grab a box. Inside, he pulled out two new PlayStation controllers, still in the factory wrapping and all, and your heart dropped. 

“My parents got this for my birthday. They gave it to me early cause I did really well on my exams and they knew my current controller sucks,” he explained. “Want to play that new game? It’ll be so nice to finally have a working ‘X’ button.” 

You felt nauseated and suddenly had to go. You were thirteen years old and you were a little dramatic. 

You never gave Xiaojun a proper explanation for leaving so suddenly that day, but you had bigger problems to deal with. What were you going to do now? Step one was now out the window, but at least you still had the money you saved up, so maybe you can still make this work. It would still be okay because you had one full day tomorrow to go out and shop for his gift. Except that when you returned home, your mom informed you that your extra tutoring classes would be doubled tomorrow because your teacher will be out of town and can’t teach for the next few days. Great.

So that’s how you found yourself here, at the local street market standing under the blazing sun in your tutoring school uniform. It was summer break and your parents signed you up for additional morning classes. By the time you were let off, you’d only have an hour to shop for a gift, until it was time to go to Xiaojun’s party. 

Originally, you thought one hour should be more than enough, but as you drifted from one stall to another, you realized no one had anything just right for Xiaojun and you already promised yourself you were going to get something perfect for him, and you didn't break your promises. By the time you found something perfect for him, you didn’t realize 55 minutes had passed. When you checked the time, your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. You were definitely going to be late. You paid the stall lady and barely waited for change as you made a mad dash toward Xiaojun’s apartment.

When you arrived, Xiaojun’s mother greeted you warmly and let you in. “He was waiting for you. He refused to start without you.”

Xiaojun had a small party with only close friends and you were the last to arrive. You felt embarrassed initially, but that was soon forgotten when the party started. 

When it was time to open the presents, Xiaojun saved yours for last, in fact, he didn’t open it until all the guests left and it was only the two of you with his parents cleaning the aftermath of the party in the background. 

He carefully pulled apart the hastily wrapped box and you held your breath in anticipation. He held up the keychain in the air to show the leather strap next to a metal charm in the shape of a ship’s helm. Xiaojun said nothing for a whole minute and suddenly you started to doubt yourself. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I love it.” 

His smile made your breath hitch.

You were thirteen years old when your heart started to feel lopsided in ways it had never had before.

--

The paper sitting in front of you was due soon and yet it was still there on your desk, unfinished, as if it were mocking you. You felt annoyed, but you knew at the end of the day this was your fault and only you could fix this, but no matter how hard you grasped your pen, you could not urge words of ink to spill out and fill the page. You were not sure how long you stared at the page, but you knew you had to do something about it. 

You were seventeen years old and you were lost.

With an indignant huff, you grabbed the sheet of paper and marched all the way to Xiaojun’s apartment. Xiaojun’s parents were out, so it was Xiaojun himself who let you in. He was surprised to see you, but welcomed you warmly, glad to see you face.

“Hey,” he already started to make his way back to his room after shutting the front door, not even bothering to look back to see if you were going to follow because he knew you were. “What’s up?” 

Immediately after entering Xiaojun’s room, you plopped yourself face down onto his pillow while holding up the white sheet of paper in the air. “This is killing me,” you groaned.

Xiaojun chuckled before taking hold of the paper. His eyes widened when he read its content. “You haven’t filled it out yet?” 

This sheet of paper was going to determine your whole future. This sheet was going to be your priority list of which colleges you wanted to apply for and which major you were going to study, so your teacher could help narrow it down for you and give you some career counseling. 

“I don’t know what to put,” you whined. “Help me, Xiaojun.”

“Okay, okay, do you know what school or major you’re interested in?” 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair point. Uhm. What’s the best school you think you can get in?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some local university?” 

“Okay… and major?” 

“I don’t know, whatever department is easiest to get into I guess.” 

Xiaojun gave you a pointed look. “Come on, take this seriously.” 

You were seventeen years old and you were frustrated. 

“I don’t know, Xiaojun! I really don’t have any clue whatsoever and everyone around me is so disappointed because I have no direction, but trust me, I can guarantee you that I’m much more disappointed than everyone around me.” 

Xiaojun’s eyes softened and he moved to sit on his bed near your defeated figure. He rubbed your back gently and his tone was sincere. “I’m not disappointed in you. I could never be disappointed in you.”

You looked up at him before opening your arms wide open for a hug, which Xiaojun granted easily. The two of you laid there in easy comfort despite the impending unknown future that loomed overhead, casting a shadow of doubt in its wake. When you were with Xiaojun, none of that mattered. 

After a while, your head perked up from its place on top of Xiaojun’s arms as you looked at him. “Wait, what about you? Did you fill it out? What do you want to be?” 

Xiaojun laughed, “yeah, I did.” 

You waited expectantly, but he said nothing. You grew annoyed. “Well? What’d you put?”

Xiaojun looked at you. His eyes were soft and warm, but you could see some faint traces of hesitation, like a surface of still water had been disturbed. The pit of your stomach dropped and you felt your throat go dry with nervous tension.

“I want to be a singer.” 

You punched him lightly. “You scared me, cause you got all serious for a second.” You laughed out loud, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “You’re for sure going to be the best singer in all of China, no, the whole world! And I’m going to be there every step of the way to support you, Xiaojun.” 

“Okay,” he smiled softly, but his tone was almost bittersweet as though he was trying to pull back. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Why are you acting so weird? This is not like you at all.” 

He said nothing at first, but then his words hit you. All the weight off your shoulder earlier returned tenfold. “I was casted. I’m flying to South Korea next week.”

Your heart was pounding as you tried to make sense of the words that left his mouth. You remembered the first time he confided you in absolute confidence about his dreams and aspirations. You remembered countless hours he put into singing and you remembered how often he would stream videos of singers he admired. You remembered all of it.

“I’m,” you started. “I’m so happy for you, Xiaojun. This is it, this is the start of your dream. I couldn’t be more proud of you, Xiaojun, I mean it.” 

The sincerity in your tone had Xiaojun choking on his words and he didn’t know what to say. All that left his mouth was, “what do you want to be?” 

“Me?” Your chest felt heavy. “I think I just want to be happy.”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “I want you to be happy too.” 

A week later, you saw Xiaojun off at the airport. He exchanged tearful goodbyes with his parents and suddenly he was standing in front of you. His eyes looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for something that you were not sure you were able to procure for him. You gave him the biggest hug you were able to muster and hoped all the unsaid things could be transferred through touch. The two of you stayed in each other’s arms until his flight was called. With a final wave, he was off, and when he turned around to walk toward his terminal, you saw a keychain with a metal charm and an old worn down leather strap hanging from one of the zippers of his carry-ons.

You were seventeen years old when you felt your heart swell with undeniable pride, yet break simultaneously. 

--

You missed Xiaojun.

You were twenty-one years old when you came to terms with your feelings for your best friend. It was not an earth-shattering, cosmic-altering, reality-bending epiphany, but rather a quiet revelation followed by unspoken acceptance.

You were currently sitting in economy class on a flight en route to Seoul, South Korea. You had still kept in contact with him throughout the years he was out there pursuing his dreams. You decided to enroll in the local university and you picked a major on a whim. Despite the circumstances, you had really come to terms with it and grew to like it. You were now working hard at developing a solid career from it and you felt proud of yourself. 

When text messages and video calls became few and far between for you and Xiaojun due to busy schedules and time zone differences, you knew he was something more than just a friend. Your heart fluttered whenever you heard his specially assigned notification tone. You felt giddy each time before you opened his message and you read each text at least three times before sending a reply. When you don’t hear from him on days on end due to his busy schedule, time passed by at an unbearable pace. 

Xiaojun made his debut and you were one of the first to pre-order his albums. You constantly gushed and raved about his singing and his dancing. You stayed up countless nights to let Xiaojun vent and de-stress over video call despite having to sacrifice precious hours of sleep. True to your word, you were there with Xiaojun every step of the way while he achieved his dreams, but he was also there for you when you figured out your path. He was there to listen and offer advice as you considered one career path over the other and which internship to take. The two of you were there for each other. 

Due to the very nature of growing up and what that entailed, both of you were very busy and the timing was always slightly off. When you were free, he had to go on tour, but when he was free, you had to go out of town for your internship. As such, you were twenty-one years old and had not had a chance to see your best friend in person for nearly four years since he left for South Korea.

But this year, for the winter holidays, it was going to be different. You were going to make time to go see him no matter what. You were firm on the requested days off and you booked the flight weeks in advance. Xiaojun was kept in the loop of your meticulous holiday planning at all times to ensure that he could free up his schedules at just the right time to see you. 

The two of you never actually expressed your changing feelings for one another, but perhaps you didn’t need to. You had known each other practically your whole lives and what is a relationship if not the constant changing and finetuning of the little details? 

You weren’t blind to the consistent ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts you received from Xiaojun each day without fail, nor was he blind to your constant fretting if he had eaten yet and how he should always be taking care of himself. It was the little things that sung of true love. 

When the two of you had the chance to video call, his eyes would light up with a smile to match and you feel your soul ache in the most tender of ways. The two you lingered longer than necessary when it came to ‘goodbyes,’ but it was to be expected. 

You smiled to yourself thinking about him as you looked outside the plane window. Your flight was landing soon and you felt your anxiety gnaw at your joints while your hesitancy took a bite of your lungs. When you landed, you felt as though the ligaments in your body rusted over and each breath of air you took never seemed like enough to flow through your system. You took a few more deep breaths to center yourself before getting up to leave the plane. 

You managed to calm yourself down a substantial amount, but you felt it lurk back behind you as a sudden chill traveled up your spine during the taxi ride to Xiaojun’s dorm. It threatened to seize you by the throat, but then you realized, this was Xiaojun you were coming to see. 

The same Xiaojun who cried easily and had a pirate phase through most of his childhood. The same Xiaojun who took long bites in between food and would lose in arm wrestling matches. The same whose voice could reach unknown heights with a dedication and devotion to match. The same Xiaojun who was your best friend since childhood. The same Xiaojun whom you loved.

And with that, whatever haunted you dissipated and you found yourself at the steps of his dorm. You watched as your breath came out in chilly wisps as you knocked on the door. The sound of padded footsteps ambling along hardwood floors were heard and suddenly you were face to Xiaojun after a whole four years without him. 

The two of you took each other in. Video calling did not do Xiaojun justice. He really matured into his features over the years and you couldn’t help, but stare. 

Xiaojun broke the silence first. “Hey, you.” 

“Hey, you yourself,” you breathed.

“Come on, don’t just stand there,” Xiaojun ushered as he helped you grab your luggage. “It’s cold outside.” 

You followed him as he led you to his room. You looked around with curiosity as you passed by. The WayV dorm was cozy, but surprisingly empty, not that you minded. When you got to his door, Xiaojun saw the look on your face and knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Everyone’s out right now,” he explained. “I can formally introduce you to them when they get back.”

You nodded and watched as Xiaojun placed his hand on the door knob, before stopping in hesitation. He looked at you in earnest. “Promise me you won’t laugh, okay?” 

“Nothing can phase me, Xiaojun. I practically lived at your house and vice versa, or did a few years abroad make you forget that already?” You teased.

He gave you a look, but opened the door for you nonetheless. You expected a messy room with random socks strewn on the floor and the desk chair stacked high with a pile of clothes, but what greeted you nearly took your breath away.

The floor was spotless and fairy lights lined the walls and occasionally looped around the floor. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner dimpled with various ornaments of various sheen and sparkles. Xiaojun led you to the center of the room where the various colored fairy lights crossed one another’s path. A mistletoe tied on the fanlight hung overhead. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

Xiaojun smiled as he drew you in closer. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I really wanted it to be something special. Merry Christmas.” 

You started to tear up as you moved to meet Xiaojun in the middle, “I love you, Xiaojun.” 

You were twenty-one years old when you kissed your best friend. His lips were soft and his tongue sweet. He tasted vaguely of vanilla lip balm and peppermint bark, he tasted like the love of your life. 

When you pull back from the kiss, the adoration in his eyes made you greedy for another, so you dove back in, but not before Xiaojun can let out a quick laugh and a reaffirmation. 

“I love you, too.” 

The two of you kissed and kissed again, under the mistletoe. 

You were twenty-one years old and you were happy.

masterlist.

[xplrerdolan]

I mean since u asked👀what abt if you acted out in public and the twins were mad and so at home u get a punishment and it’s just a bunch of them teasing and denying u😗I’m sorry I’m horny😔

ofc the first thing i write on this account for the twins (obviously excluding hate fuck, that was written before) WOULD be a threesome 😭 never apologize for being horny, anon. i am ALWAYS horny. also this is the second thing in a row that i’m writing about edging 🥴 i see we’re in the mood for that

WARNINGS: smut, rough sex, edging, teasing, overstimulation, slight bondage, degradation kink [including derogatory language] , threesome (MMF), aftercare & slight fluff at the end

—

It was petty. You knew it was petty, but honestly, you didn’t care. Petty, childish, immature—you’d readily plea guilty as charged.

In your defense, they were practically asking for it to happen. I mean, did they really expect you to act like a loyal, good girl to them when they continue to claim they’re single and can do what they want? If that was the case, so could you. And you decided to do exactly that. Right in front of them. In front of a lot of people, actually.

There were several men in the audience cheering you on as you seductively twirled around the column supporting the spandrels around the bar, though they were not among them. While they weren’t cheering, you could practically hear them seething with rage. But what did you care? If they didn’t want to at least be exclusive with you, they had no right to complain about your behavior.

They especially shouldn’t be upset when you grabbed the most attractive guy you see—besides them, of course—and pulled him on top of the bar with you. Because, you’re single, and you can do whatever you want. So, being single and free to do whatever you want, you turned so your back was to his front and danced on him.

Okay, let’s not sugarcoat. You were practically fucking this guy, merely separated by clothes. A full-on dry hump in front of an entire nightclub’s worth of sleazy men. You continued to perform for their pleasure, feeding into the catcalls and vile behavior just to go the extra mile of proving just how single and able to do whatever you want you were.

With your point amply proven, you removed the stranger’s hands from around you and jumped off the bar top into the sea of men fantasizing about you. You ignored them all, happy with the example you’d made out of them, and didn’t even spare a glance in the direction of the two massive men who were likely to be shaking with rage. Instead, you walked out of the nightclub with your head high and more arrogance than they both had combined.

You walked to a lamppost a few feet away from the exit, leaning against it nonchalantly while you waited. You knew they would follow you. And not even two minutes later, two of the most intimidating men you’d ever met in your life moved into your line of vision. You feigned a look of innocence, smiling at them as though you radiated purity, wearing the mask of a virgin.

But they knew so much better than to buy it for even a second. You were, by far, the furthest thing from an innocent virgin they’d ever encountered. The fact that you’d even managed to warm the space between them was proof enough of your irresistible, devilish nature.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” spoke the twin on the right, the one bearing a birthmark on his left cheek.

“And funny, and sexy, and smart, and charming,” you smirked, counting each of the adjectives on your fingers as you listed them. “Among other things.”

The twin on the left scoffed at you, shaking his head. “You’re a slut, [Y/N].”

“That’s very observant of you, Grayson! Like I said, ‘among other things.’ I’m very versatile.”

He looked ten seconds away from breaking the lamppost behind you in half. And with the body hidden under his Gucci shirt...he definitely could.

“E, get the car,” Grayson said, his nostrils flaring as be barely kept his voice below shouting level.

You bit your lip and eyed Grayson tauntingly, more excited than afraid for them to take their anger out on your body. This would be the greatest punishment you’d ever received, without a doubt. You felt your pussy ache in anticipation, unable to contain a giggle and devious smile under Grayson’s furious gaze.

Ethan pulled up in Grayson’s Porsche a minute later. Grayson pulled the door to the backseat open, his aggression present in his movements. He didn’t even order you to get in; he just looked at you with those menacing eyes. You felt a thrill run through you as your mind raced with possibilities of what punishment awaited you. You scooted into the backseat, leaving room for Grayson to follow after you. As the younger twin slammed his door shut, the older one sped off in the direction of their LA home.

Grayson wasted no time with you. He unbuckled his jeans and freed his cock from his boxers, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you down to his lap.

“You see how hard my cock is?” he asked you, keeping your head in place as he smacked it against your cheek mercilessly. “Do you see what you did?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered sweetly, loving the way he degraded you.

“Good. Time for you to take care of it.”

He didn’t hesitate as grabbed you by the cheeks and forced your mouth open for him before pushing your head down on his shaft. He made you take him all the way, something he knew you could handle perfectly. He sighed in pleasure, almost sounding relieved now that he had you where he needed you.

He fucked himself up into your mouth, not holding back at all. He knew you’d stop him if you needed to, but he knew even better than that that you could take it. More than that—you wanted to take it.

“This is how I should keep you, slut. With that disrespectful, pathetic mouth of yours full of my cock,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

You moaned around his cock in response, taking him even further back into your throat to let him fuck it deeper. Your mind was now clouded with lust, your vile thoughts agreeing with him completely, begging him to say more.

Whether he could read your mind or if your thoughts simply screamed loud enough for him to hear, he continued his verbal assault on you. “That’s right, filthy whore. Take daddy nice and deep. You don’t need to breathe, you only need my cock.”

Your eyes practically rolled back into your head, your pussy clenching tight in anticipation and desire. Feeling the vibration of your moan while his dick was being squeezed so well by your throat had Grayson throwing his head back and stilling as he reached his peak. He kept his cock nestled deep in your throat, the hot cum nearly choking you.

Grayson held your head in place still, his grip on your hair more intense. “Swallow it,” he growled, his eyes fixated on your pretty lips nearly kissing his hips with his cock buried in your throat.

You screwed your eyes up tight as you focused on swallowing around his dick, but after a second you managed to do it. Grayson’s moans were pure sin, his cock twitching as he felt your throat move around him.

When he was done using you, he pulled you off him and pushed you carelessly to the side. You gasped for air, your entire chin and chest covered in your own saliva (and probably a bit of cum, too). You didn’t get much of a break, because as soon as Grayson pushed you away from him, Ethan pulled into their driveway.

He parked hastily and practically jumped out of the car as soon as he turned the ignition off. He yanked the back door open, managing to be even more aggressive than Grayson had been. Driving here was pure torture for him. He had already been hard when you’d put on that show at the bar, but hearing you take Grayson into your throat and knowing how velvety you would feel around him had made him nearly dizzy with lust.

“Meet us inside,” he mumbled to his brother, grabbing you ruthlessly by the arm and pulling you out of the car.

You stumbled after him, whining as his fingers dug into your skin—which only made him grip you harder. Not even ten steps past the door, he had you bent over the back of his couch and your pants and underwear were discarded haphazardly on the floor. He rubbed his cock teasingly between your ass cheeks, moaning at the feeling of your body against him.

He angled his cock down slightly to line himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you in one swift motion. You screamed at the suddenness of his movement, your pussy clenching tightly around him as he stretched it.

He moaned in ecstasy, his grip on your hips holding you tightly in place. “Fuck, [Y/N], you took that so well,” Ethan praised, leaning forward to grab your hair the same way Grayson had. He pulled your head back while keeping one hand on your hip, making you arch your back toward him. “The question is, are you that wet? Or...” he leaned in closer to you, hunching his body over yours, “are you just that much of a whore?”

You let out a high-pitched moan, delighted by his grip on you and how deep inside you he was. “I’m a whore, sir,” you answered him, your voice coming out more whiny and needy than before.

The change in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Ethan. “You’re not so versatile right now, are you, [Y/N]?”

You shook your head as best you could with his fist still full of your hair. “No, sir. I’m just a whore. Just a filthy, slutty whore.”

Ethan hummed contentedly at your response, finally moving his hips. He stood back up to his full height, pounding into you with brute force. With each snap of his hips, you cried out, almost involuntarily. The power behind his thrusts was enough to force sounds out of you, though his dominance and control had you screaming in pleasure.

After a few brutal minutes, Ethan pushed himself completely in you and stilled his movements, his deep moans and twitching cock telling you he’d just reached his peak. He finished inside you, pulling out as soon as he was done. He let go of you, your body falling limply against the couch.

You leaned on the furniture for support, your legs completely spent. You were completely exhausted from being used so brutally, but at the same time, you’d loved every second of it.

Grayson, who had come in and simply sat on a nearby chair to watch the show, now stood and walked towards you. You looked up at him from your awkward position, being slightly bent over the couch. You were taken aback by a sudden and harsh slap to your ass, the force behind it enough to make you fall to your knees.

“Crawl to my room,” he said coldly, indicating that your punishment was far from over.

You crawled along the hardwood floors as you were told to, fighting the fatigue that was threatening to settle in your muscles. By the time you reached Grayson’s room, your knees were aching terribly. You waited for his command to stand up, and when it came and you stood, you saw towels laid out on his bed. You already knew the night would only get terribly longer.

With an impatient shove, Grayson urged you to get on the bed. He moved around you to tie you to his headboard to stop you from fighting against your next punishment. As always, you could always tell them to stop, and they would—though you couldn’t imagine wanting to.

Your wrists pulled on your restraints, testing them—they were secure, and you were helplessly bound. You already knew the sweet torture that awaited you. This was a punishment they reserved for the most extreme acts of disobedience—and, to be fair, you would definitely class your behavior tonight as falling under that category.

Grayson sat on the bed next to you, clad only in his underwear, eyeing you with animosity in his stare. You’d honestly never seen either of them so angry before. And if you had pushed them to this point, there was no telling what point they’d be pushing you to.

Ethan walked into Grayson’s room a moment later, also dressed in only his boxers. Since Ethan had thrown your pants and underwear to the side before, you were left in your top and your bra—but Grayson was quick to tear them off your body with the effortlessness of a god.

Ethan approached you with an object in his hand you were all too familiar with: the Magic Wand vibrator. Your heart rate spiked as you anticipated your punishment, your eyes wide and alert.

“You know your actions have consequences, [Y/N]. Don’t act all innocent now. You certainly weren’t acting innocently while you were trying to get an entire bar of men to fuck you,” Ethan spat, sitting on your other side and settling next to you.

I was trying to get two guys there to actually want me, you thought spitefully. You bit your tongue to save the conversation for later, during your aftercare.

Instead of mouthing off and getting in more trouble, you simply responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now lay there and take it,” Grayson said, his eyes glued to where your thighs met.

With that, Ethan turned on the vibrator and pressed it against your clit. The vibrations built you up to your orgasm quickly, but per your punishment, Ethan removed the vibrator before you could cum. The first few times weren’t so bad; it was almost nice. You walked the edge of release, your womb tightening and your walls flexing in desperation as you were denied release again and again.

After that point, though, was the reason your wrists were bound and you had one of the twins on both your sides. You quickly crumbled from the intensity of the teasing, your pussy practically aching for release. You were pushed to desperation and sensitivity quickly, your legs shaking and eventually trying to kick them away. They held your legs in place, preventing you from escaping your punishment.

After a short while, Ethan could barely even touch you with the vibrator from how close you were. You were sweating profusely, on the verge of tears from how desperate you were, whining wantonly and begging for release. This was only the first half of your punishment.

You’d regret begging to cum within ten minutes. Finally, after being edged for nearly twenty minutes, Ethan pressed the vibrator against you and let you cum. Your body jolted and shivered as you reached your sweet release, squirting from the intensity of your pleasure.

The pleasure was short lived. Ethan kept the vibrator pressed against your hypersensitive clit, your body convulsing through another two orgasms before the pain of overstimulation crashed over you. You were screaming so loud Grayson had to reach a hand up to cover your mouth. You were reduced to hysteric sobs before they decided that you’d probably learned your lesson.

As soon as Ethan turned off the vibrator, they both began to take care of you, showing you gentleness that you almost forgot they were capable of. Grayson worked to untie you from the headboard, massaging your wrists and placing kisses along your forearms.

Ethan went to Grayson’s closet and picked out a shirt for you to sleep in, leaving it with Gray to help you get dressed as he got some water for you. Grayson removed the towels soaked in your cum from his bed, treating you as though you were a precious flower in his garden.

You reached your arms out to him, craving his gentle touch, and he obliged you immediately. He wrapped you up in his secure embrace, and the feeling of his arms around you brought a twinge of sadness to you as you remembered why this had all started in the first place.

When Ethan brought you your water, you drank it down quickly before handing him the empty glass. You reached out for him as well, and like his brother, he was quick to comply to your request.

You were wrapped up between them, feeling safer than you’d ever felt anywhere else. You tried not to cry, but in your vulnerable state, the effort was futile. They both cooed at you softly, wondering with heavy hearts if they’d pushed you too far.

But that was far from the truth. “I just—I ju—hmph—I just want to be yours,” you finally got out between sobs.

Ethan and Grayson shared a look, and in the space between them—where, of course, you were lain—they seemed to decide it was only right for them to be exclusive with you. Sure, it was strange and could lead to a lot of complications in the future, but they’d worry about those when they got there. For the moment, you belonged exactly where you were, between them.

“[Y/N], baby,” Grayson started.

“You are ours,” Ethan finished, pressing his lips softly to your cheek. “You’re all ours.”