#'you have one minute to come up with as many incredulous sex positions on this chez lounge as possible'

[weemssapphic]

in my head (series)

Chapter One: Friends with Benefits

Larissa Weems x f!reader

next chapter | series page

words: ~2.7k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: light smut (nsfw), mentions of alcohol plot: Friends with benefits. No strings attached - no dates, no feelings, just sex (really good sex). That’s what you’d told Larissa. That’s what Larissa seemed to want, and you would do anything to make her happy. So you would be content with the way things were - for now.

“Darling, ‘mm so close,” Larissa moaned. Her thighs clenched around your head as you lapped at her core, savoring every drop of her arousal as she rode out her orgasm. 

You peppered Larissa’s inner thighs with kisses and tiny bite marks before coming up to kiss her, whimpering softly as her tongue brushed against yours. 

The bell rang and the hallway flooded with students, signaling the end of your free period. 

“My meeting with Mayor Walker is in ten minutes,” Larissa sighed, running her fingers affectionately through your hair and stopping at your jaw, pulling you in for a heated kiss that held promises of more to come - later, once official duties had been fulfilled.

You were reluctant to pull away but you had your own class coming up in a few minutes, and so the ache between your thighs would have to wait.

“I don’t think my students would take kindly to me being late for fucking their principal, huh?” You smirked, earning yourself an incredulous look and a playful slap on the ass from the older woman. 

“Must you be so crass?”

“Oh don’t even try to deny it, you love it when I talk dirty,” you grinned and tossed Larissa a wink, which was rewarded with an eye roll.

“I love it even more when you stop talking completely and put that mouth to better use,” she grumbled, the amused glint in her sapphire eyes giving her away.

You placed a hand to your chest in faux-surprise. “Principal Weems, you wound me. Here I thought you enjoyed my clever quips.”

“For that they would actually have to be clever, darling. Now I only have seven minutes until my meeting, and I am still your boss, so I must ask you to leave. Unless you’d like to be punished for being late to your own class…?” Larissa quirked up an eyebrow and you felt your cheeks heat at the implication. 

“As tempting as the offer is, Principal Weems, I should get going.” 

You reached out and fixed her smudged lipstick with your thumb. Larissa gazed at you fondly, eyes sparkling, lips tugged up into a small smile at the outer corners. “Thank you,” she murmured. You weren’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but you could swear you saw a pink tinge to her cheeks.

“If you need me,” you said, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you fetched your panties from her desk and planted a final kiss to Larissa’s cheek before turning to leave. “You know where to find me.”

“Perhaps tonight, to let off some steam. You know how tiresome the Mayor can be,” she rolled her eyes and you snorted in agreement.

“I thought you didn’t tire easily,” you teased.

“Not with you, darling.”

Larissa watched you leave, eyes fixated on the sway of your hips as they disappeared from sight behind her office door. A glance at her watch told her the mayor was due any minute now, so she shook her head lightly, as if physically trying to rid herself from thoughts of you. She mustn't let herself get distracted. 

~~~ FLASHBACK ~~~

You had piqued Larissa’s interest from the moment she’d hired you for the newly founded position of Outcast Neurostudies teacher. Your ability as a mind-reader made you uniquely suited to the position, and it intrigued Larissa - she hadn’t met anyone like you before, and she felt drawn to you from the get go. You challenged her in ways not many people had the ability to, and there was a certain charge in the air when you were around that she simply couldn’t explain.

After spending some one-on-one time together, the two of you had discovered you had quite a lot in common, and had developed a close friendship. You would spend Friday nights curled up in front of Larissa’s fireplace, sharing a bottle of red wine and talking about everything and nothing. It felt nice for Larissa, finally opening up to someone again.

Only she couldn’t get you off her mind. One such day, she was sitting at her desk, preparing to leave for Outreach Day by firing off a few last minute emails. Her thoughts drifted to you - it would be the first time she’d see you off-campus, and the thought thrilled her a bit. Perhaps she could steal you away for some hot chocolate at the Weathervane when all the students were settled into their assignments. 

Larissa’s thoughts drifted even further, wondering what you would be wearing. You always looked so tantalizing, blouses that stopped just shy of your cleavage, skirts that would hike up when you’d squeeze onto the sofa in Larissa’s office, the smooth expanse of your thighs on display. And you, so blissfully unaware of your charm. The thought made Larissa heady. 

No. Such thoughts about an employee were unprofessional.

But if they only stayed thoughts? 

Larissa slammed her laptop shut with a frustrated groan. She could feel her panties growing damp as she pictured you writhing underneath her, riding out an orgasm on her fingers. Fuck. 

She had to do something about the ache between her legs, or Outreach Day was going to be pure torture.

Larissa’s hand slipped under the hem of her skirt and dipped between her thighs, cupping her soaked panties. This wouldn’t take long, she was already so close. She began to rut against her hand, rubbing hard and fast circles against her swollen clit, the faintest of moans passing her lips. Images of you, face contorted with pleasure, screaming her name, flashed behind her eyes as she stroked herself through her panties, her stomach burning.

A knock at her office door caused her to jerk her hand up, and she coughed out a weak “come in!” whilst smoothing her skirt. 

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear - you strolled into her office, beaming ear-to-ear, wearing a tight blouse with the top button undone, hair pulled back to reveal the full curve of your jaw (oh, how would it feel to leave prints of her own lipstick along that jaw?)

“Ready for Outreach Day, Larissa? The students are waiting by the buses.” If you noticed that Larissa was flushed, her breathing labored, well, you didn’t comment.

“Y-yes, Y/N. I’m ready.” Larissa cleared her throat, fingers twitching on her desk as she pressed her thighs together to relieve the tension still steadily climbing inside of her.

“Great! Maybe you’d like to sit next to me on the bus?” Your innocent smile did absolutely nothing to soothe the ache between Larissa’s legs. This was going to be a long day. 

And it was. Thanks to Wednesday Addams, it was a complete disaster. 

The day ended with Larissa inviting you back to her office to share a bottle of wine as she let out her frustrations. One bottle quickly turned into two, and Larissa became aware, again, of the fire in her belly, the heat spreading rapidly throughout all her limbs.

You sat close, closer than you’d ever sat. The firelight flickered across your features, illuminating your natural beauty. You looked so eager, so receptive. When you put your hand on her forearm in a soothing gesture, stroking her bare skin with your thumb, it made her dizzy.

She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the day’s pent up frustrations but before she knew what she was doing, her lips were on yours. To her surprise, you didn’t push her away - quite the contrary, you let out a wanton moan, a moan that said “what are you waiting for?” and she pulled you closer by the waist and allowed her tongue to slide against yours.

She fucked you right there on her office sofa that night, both a little wine drunk, neither one of you caring about anything except quelling the burning desire that burned inside the both of you.

And then morning came. Larissa awoke alone in her bed with a searing headache and, moments later, the events of the previous night came flooding back to her. Her tongue on your cunt, teasing your entrance, circling your clit. Your breathy moans, the way your thighs clenched around her head as you came. 

Shame coursed through her body. She wanted to run and hide, but she knew she had to own up to her mistake, so she called you into her office for the conversation that had changed the trajectory of your relationship:

“Come in.” Larissa was sitting at her desk, head in her hands, when you entered the office. She could barely look up, unsure how she would be able to look into your eyes.

“I assume you want to talk about last night?” you asked. When Larissa finally looked up, you were biting your lip - you looked nervous, and it took everything in Larissa not to reach out and kiss you, to soothe you somehow.

She took a deep breath, slipping into her mask of professionalism, steeling herself for rejection. “Y/N… I apologize for what I did last night. I don’t want you to think poorly of me, what I did was not appropriate nor professional in the slightest. I value the friendship you’ve trusted me with and hate to think that I’ve broken that trust over a silly drunken mishap.”

To Larissa’s utter shock, you laughed. “Larissa… I don’t know about you but last night was the best sex I’ve ever had. Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue?” Larissa’s heart began to pound, the blood rushing to her face. Was she hearing you correctly? Was this some sort of fever dream? You were supposed to be angry, to be disgusted with her. Yet here you were, staring at her with your kind eyes - laughing?

You rounded her desk, perching at the edge of it and taking Larissa’s chin between your fingers. The action made her shiver. “Hey, I’m sorry. I wanted to lighten the mood a little. I just mean I don’t think poorly of you and you have nothing to apologize for, because I don’t regret what happened last night. I enjoyed myself and if you did, too, then I don’t see why we couldn’t… you know, do that again sometime.” You smiled hopefully.

Larissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mind was reeling - when she’d woken up that morning she’d been so afraid you’d be disgusted with her, that you’d tell her off and never want to speak with her again. Instead, you were offering yourself to her on a silver platter. She couldn’t dare hope. 

“I have a rule against dating coworkers,” she said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t mean dating. Think of it as blowing off steam.”

There was a beat of silence where the implications of your words hung heavy in the air.

“What are you suggesting?” Larissa furrowed her brows, pulse racing as she tried to concentrate with your fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

“Haven’t you heard of, you know… friends with benefits?” Your cheeks were slightly rosy and you sucked your lip between your teeth.

Larissa snorted, her hand shooting up to cover her painted lips at the unpretty sound.

You let go of her chin and slipped behind her, soothing your fingers into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. God, that feels good… You dug your thumbs more intensely into her shoulders and she couldn’t help the moan that spilled out of her mouth.

“Friends with benefits, huh?” Larissa’s voice was low and wanting as she mulled over your words. 

“No strings attached, Larissa. No feelings, no dates. Just two friendly coworkers who enjoy each other's company and just so happen to have mind-blowing sex.” Any qualms Larissa had about staying professional, about not ruining your friendship, were slowly trickling away as your warm breath washed over neck, your hands working her muscles into putty. 

“Mmh…” You dug your thumbs harder into Larissa’s back. “I could agree to that.” She let out a moan and swiveled her desk chair around, putting an end to the massage in order to claim your lips with her own. 

~~~ END FLASHBACK ~~~

A few weeks into your arrangement with Larissa, you still got chills every time you walked down the corridor to her office. You couldn’t believe your luck - somehow, the stunning, intelligent, imposing woman had not only become one of your closest friends, but was also interested in you sexually.

Your relationship with her was almost perfect: you’d talk, laugh, cry, be there for each other like best friends, then you’d have the best sex you’d ever had with anyone - all, as you’d said, without any strings attached, without having to label anything. If sharing a glass of wine and quelling her sexual frustrations was all she wanted from you, hell, you weren’t going to question it. It was more than you could ever dare hope for. 

You reached Larissa’s office for the second time that day and knocked on the door, waiting for her smooth voice to call “enter” before slipping into the room. 

“I brought you your favorite.” You grinned, holding up a bottle of Larissa’s preferred red wine as if it were a trophy.

Larissa’s features softened as she peered up at you over the top of her laptop, her lips curling up into a smile. “Let me finish this proposal and then I’ll be right with you.”

You made yourself useful by pouring two glasses of wine, handing one to the blonde then curling up in the armchair across from her desk and watching her finish her work. She worked so intently, so diligently - her fingers flew across the keyboard, her brow furrowed lightly. Every so often she would pause, nibble at her lip, then her fingers would tap away at the keys again. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Larissa stilled, feeling your eyes upon her. Her gaze met yours and she arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You blushed and stared down into your wine. Larissa watched you for a moment before turning her attention back to her proposal, a small smile now playing upon her lips.

The next half hour passed in amiable silence as Larissa worked and you scrolled on your phone, peeking up every so often to steal a glance at the principal. Finally, she shut her laptop. She leaned back in her armchair, eyes fluttering shut, a frustrated groan escaping her lips. 

“Dare I ask how your meeting with Mayor Walker went today?” You spoke quietly, as if afraid to break the silence.

Larissa chuckled darkly, opening her eyes and reaching for her wine glass, draining it in one go. “The aftermath of this year’s Outreach Day extends farther than I thought, it appears.”

You frowned, rounding the desk and sitting on the edge, just in front of Larissa. “I’m sorry, I know how important Outcast-Normie relations are to you.” 

Larissa waved a hand in front of her face. “No need to pity me, darling, it comes with the territory. I just want to do right by these students. And now our dear mayor wants this proposal on his desk by Monday morning.” She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“Do you want me to leave? I mean we could always take a raincheck, you look like you could use some rest and I-” Larissa lunged forward, her mouth colliding with yours, effectively putting an end to your rambling.

Her lips were warm and soft on yours, and she kissed you with a ferocious urgency that you’d rarely experienced from her. She slid her tongue against your lip and you allowed her to explore the cavern of your mouth as her hands tangled roughly in your hair.

When you parted, it was only because Larissa had run out of breath. She rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured. “I… I need the distraction tonight.” She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes, and you could tell it was hard for her to ask for what she wanted. 

Your hands came up to cup her cheeks. “Do you want to be in charge tonight?”

x

[totallyboatless]

A scene in season 2 where the crew is raiding a ship and Stede and Ed go into the captain’s quarters to see if there’s anything there that fits their refurnishing vision for the Revenge captain’s quarters.

Stede: What about that chaise? It’s quite lovely.

Edward: Hmm...I’m not sure.

*Lucius enters and takes Stede’s attention to tell him about something. Throughout their conversation, Edward is in the background testing out the chaise for sturdiness and accommodation of increasingly ridiculous sex positions. Lucius looks on over Stede’s shoulder in horror as he slowly realizes what Edward is doing*

*conversation ends and Edward approaches*

Edward: Yep, let’s take it.

Stede: (not having noticed anything Edward was doing) Wonderful! I’ll have the boys bring it over.

Lucius: (to Edward) Can you throw me off the ship again?

*Edited bc I cannot fucking spell lololol*

[homoose]

A Timely Reminder

Summary: Prof!Spencer has been thinking about having sex in his office for a while now. Reader helps him make it happen. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: established relationship, exhibitionism, light sub!spencer (but really just whipped!spencer), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, insecure!reader, jealous!reader, loud af!spencer, v light hand over mouth action

Word count: 4k

a/n: Because this Tuesday has been hot garbage... have a treat. An anon asked me if reader was a switch... here’s your answer. Also because we already got to see Spencer be jealous af, we deserved to have jealous reader, too. ♥️

a/n 2: This is a companion to the latest chapter of my series, but it can mostly stand alone! All you need to know is it’s an established relationship and she’s been invited to visit him at the university. 

Series Masterlist 

———

Y/N watched from her seat outside his office as a student slipped out through Spencer’s half-open door— looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped in the office. 

It took another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last coed made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wingback leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames. 

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He ran both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her. 

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but truthfully, his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. 

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

He leaned in to press his mouth to hers, soft and sweet. Then his hand was back on her waist and pulling her flush against him, drawing a small gasp from her mouth that had him deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue. His mouth was hot and hungry, moving over hers with a quiet desperation. He slid his free hand to the nape of her neck, fisted it in her hair and tugged. 

She sucked in a breath and bit a little harshly on his bottom lip, moving a hand up to grasp at his forearm. He pulled out of the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, chest already heaving. His voice was raspy when he warned, “The door doesn’t lock.”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“But I’ve kind of… been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, dragging the tip of his nose along her cheek.

She swallowed. “Mm, what— what’ve you been thinking about?”

“You, always.” His breath was hot on her ear, and now he had both hands on her hips. He used them to push her gently back into the bookshelf. “But specifically, I’ve been thinking about fucking you in here.”

“Oh,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.” He ghosted his mouth over her neck, dragged his teeth a little to make her shiver. “Would that be okay?”

She tilted her head back to bare more of her neck to him, and he closed his mouth over her pulse point, sucking wetly. He slid his leg between hers, lifted his thigh to press against her, and she could feel her underwear sticking to the wetness already gathering there. Her breath caught in her throat as she ground down on his leg. He sucked hard on her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot and lifting his head to look at her. 

“Do you wanna do that?” he asked again.

“God, I— yeah,” she nodded.

He brought his hand up to stroke this thumb along her cheek. “You’re sure?”

The knowledge that he’d been thinking about being with her in this space was more than a little overwhelming. His gaze was earnest and lustful, and she knew he was telling the truth— that she had no reason to be jealous, that he was always thinking of her. His declaration didn’t quite douse the fire of her insecurity, but at least it wasn’t burning quite so hot. And the idea that she could bring this fantasy to life, make sure his head was full of her whenever he sat at his desk or pulled a book off this shelf— that was almost too much. “Yes. Very sure.”

His mouth was on hers almost before she got the words out, his tongue sliding against hers. He brought both hands to the hem of her dress, hiking it up and slipping his hands underneath to grab at her ass, pulling her closer. He turned and walked her backwards toward his desk, bringing their entwined bodies around the corner of it, pushing her back, and half-hoisting her to sit on top. 

His warm hands trailed along her inner thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and forcing her legs apart. He stepped in between them and attached his mouth to her neck once more, sucking and licking and nipping a path along where her dress cut low in between her breasts. 

“What did you think about?” she breathed, winding her fingers into his hair. “What’s your fantasy, professor?” He bit down a little harshly where his mouth had been sucking. “You want me on my knees for you?”

He lifted his head and stepped even closer, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her ass to the edge of the desk. “No. I want to be the one on my knees.”

With that, he dropped down in front of her, eye level with her pussy. He looked up at her from his place on the floor, laying his hands flat along the tops of her thighs and pushing her dress up to her waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down.

She watched as he brought them up to his nose, briefly inhaling and then folding them up into a neat square. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and placed them inside, closing the drawer and then looking up at her from under his lashes. She could barely breathe. 

He started at her ankles, taking one gently in his hands and kissing a warm path up to her knee, and then crossing over to the other side and back down.

“So soft,” he murmured, dragging his open mouth along her shin. He ghosted his fingers over her legs, pulling them up over his shoulders and settling in between her thighs.

He pressed featherlight kisses along her inner thighs, and she sucked in a breath as he inched closer to where she really wanted him. “Don’t tease, Spence.” 

She could feel his smile against her skin, and she brought her hand up to wrap his curls around her fingers, tugging a little harder than she normally would. “I’m not asking.”

He let out a moan that vibrated across her skin, and she tightened her grip on his hair. She pulled him against her, and finally he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a soft whine. “Mmhmm, there you go.”

He wrapped his hands over the tops of her thighs, using his grip to hold her even more firmly against his mouth as he sucked and swirled his tongue around her clit. He brought his tongue to a point and flicked it rapidly against her, and she had to bring her other hand to his hair as well, holding tight. “Shit, baby, just like that.”

She used her hands in his hair to hold him still as she rolled her hips against his face, and his quiet groans had her heart flipping in her chest. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Never met another man who loves eating pussy this much.” 

He nodded as best he could between the press of her thighs. “Use your fingers, professor,” she demanded. She smiled when he immediately complied, bringing one hand off where he was holding her against his face and trailing it between her legs. He shifted his mouth back to her clit, circling it with his tongue as he began to press his middle finger into her. 

She tightened her grip on his hair and held back a moan. “I said fingers, Spencer. I know you love to drag it out, but we don’t have time.”

He whined but added his index finger, slipping them into her and curling them up immediately. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle the moan that threatened to echo off the walls of the office as he began to fuck into her, dragging his fingers against that spot inside her on every out-stroke. 

He hummed around her clit as he thrust his fingers inside and then sucked as he dragged them out, over and over and over again, his plush lips covered in her arousal and working magic over her cunt. The sound of how wet she was had them both groaning a little too loud for their current venue, and then she was coming with his name on her tongue. 

He didn’t let up after she was finished, still lapping at her entrance and pressing kisses to every inch of her pussy, whining and moaning against her like a man starved. “How are you so good at that, hm?” she gasped. “Had a lot of practice?”

She opened her eyes, slightly unfocused as he worked her to another orgasm, much less intense but still just as good. And then her gaze fell on the shelf behind him, and for the first time she noticed that the picture frames were filled with… her. 

She finally tugged him off by his hair when his mouth became too much, and as he pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, she counted eight different framed pictures of the two of them. There were also pictures of him and the team, his mom, and the boys. But the vast majority of them were of her. 

There was one of her sipping coffee at Soho— from their first official date there. Another of her smiling against the backdrop of the arboretum. One where she was tucked under his arm with his lips pressed to her cheek. Another still where he was hugging her tight in front of the Smithsonian. 

She let out a long breath and then looked down to see him watching her, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she knew that she really, really had nothing to worry about. “C’mere.”

Spencer scrambled up off his knees, crowding in close and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues slid together, and she tasted herself as he brought his clean hand up to her face. Her hands made their way to his ass, pulling him flush against her, and his hips jolted forward and she could feel his erection clear as day. He groaned and rolled his hips against her, and she smiled against his mouth. 

“So hard, baby,” she praised, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “You love being on your knees, huh?”

He hummed in confirmation, and she trailed a line of kisses down his jaw, then his neck. When she reached the collar of his shirt, she brought her hands up to loosen his tie. “You were so good for me.” She got the tie undone and dropped it on the desk. Then she popped the first two buttons on his shirt, dragging her mouth along the column of his throat. “You wanna fuck me now?”

“Yes, yes, please.” 

She dragged her hands down his chest and began to work on his belt. When that was undone and hanging loose, she popped the button on his trousers and lowered his zipper, then palmed him through his underwear. 

“You’re such a pretty boy, Spence,” she breathed. “You know that’s why they come to your office hours, right? Because you’re so pretty.” She squeezed a little where he was so hard and leaking from the tip. “They’re hoping maybe you’ll fuck them over this desk.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. “Y/N, I would never—”

“I know, baby. I know,” she assured, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You probably never even thought about it.” 

“I don’t.” His voice was a little bit desperate, like he was afraid she didn’t believe him. “I only think a-about you. I— I’m always thinking about you, even when I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Mm, I’d say ‘sorry,’ but... I’m really, really not.” She brought her hands to his hips, forcing his trousers and underwear down over his ass to let his cock spring free. “Is that why you’re keeping my panties? To help you out when you’re thinking about me in here?” 

“Y-yes.” He watched as she dragged her palm over her slick entrance, and then brought her wet hand to circle around his dick. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

“How do you wanna fuck me? Wanna bend me over your desk?” His fingers dug into her hips as she pumped his cock, and he shook his head. “No? You want me to blow you?” His hips jerked forward into the tight circle of her hand, but he shook his head again. “Then tell me what you want, Spence.”

His flush had traveled all the way down his chest, pretty and red and sweaty. His gaze was settled on her fingers wrapped around his cock. “Can you, um— can you ride me?”

She smiled and then gave him one last stroke and dropped herself off the edge of the desk. She hummed and stepped closer to him, grasping his chin and pulling him down into a hot, possessive kiss. “Should have known you’d want me on top,” she teased.

She leaned down to his desk drawer. “Do you have condoms in here, too?” She opened it and retrieved her panties, wiping off her hand on them and then folding them back up and replacing them in the drawer. 

He whimpered at the sight and then fumbled in the pocket of his suit coat, slung over the back of the chair. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have one in there?”

“No,” he defended, ripping open the wrapper and rolling it on. “Only when I know you’re gonna be around.”

He moved to sit on the desk, shoving the student essays and extra papers haphazardly out of the way to make room for her. She stepped in between his knees and laughed a little at the way he reached for her. She kissed him quickly before climbing up onto the desk, shifting around him and cursing under her breath. “You’ve picked possibly the most awkward position for this fantasy.”

“We— we can do it another way or— or not at all if—”

“Just—” she put a finger up to his lips “—shut up and make sure I don’t fall off the desk?”

He smiled a little sheepishly and grasped her hips, and she clung to his shoulders as she got situated over top of his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her and leaned in to press their mouths together. “Thank you for making this work,” he mumbled. 

She kissed him again and then rolled her hips down over his cock, pulling a whine from the back of his throat. She did it again just to tease him, and then reached between their bodies to line him up. 

His grip tightened around her waist as she began to sink down on him, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. The stretch from this angle was always more intense, and it had her gasping out his name as he bottomed out. He rubbed his hands soothingly over her lower back as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and keeping as still as possible. 

She finally let out a breath and circled her hips, and Spencer sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “You feel so good, so fucking thick.”

She got into her rhythm quickly, mindful of the fact that she was riding her boyfriend in his office in the middle of the day with an entire university just on the other side of a flimsy door. She worked her hips over his cock, bouncing on him and ignoring the burn in her thighs. She dropped down and he held her hips in place, grinding himself deep. She buried her face in his neck and tried to hold back the obscene moan that threatened to escape. 

Spencer didn’t bother to do the same, letting out a groan that reverberated in her eardrums and throughout the small space. She clapped her hand over his mouth and lifted her hips slightly, pulling back to whisper, “Jesus, shh— you’re so loud, Spence. Gonna get us caught.”

His eyes slammed shut and he fucked up into her, whining underneath her hand. Her eyes widened a little as he continued moaning into her palm. She rolled her hips down hard, forcing him deep, and he cried out again. 

“You want that?” she asked. “You want somebody to hear us? Want them to know you’re fucking me in here?”

He didn’t answer, just gripped her hips a little tighter and used what little leverage he had to thrust his hips roughly into her. She kept her hand over his mouth and leaned forward, partially to bring her lips closer to his ear and partially to find that perfect angle. “You want them to know I belong to you?”

He whined pathetically against her hand, and she circled her hips and kept him deep, moaning quietly into his ear. “Or is this about who you belong to?”

She felt his dick twitch where it was buried inside her, and he nodded frantically. She began to rock her hips forward and back, her breath hitching. “Is that why you have all these pictures of me?” she asked, and she saw his eyes shift to the shelf behind her. 

“You don’t think about fucking them, but they think about you.” She punctuated the thought with a slow roll of her hips. “You want them to know that you’re mine?” 

He brought his eyes back to hers, and there was a softness there that made her chest ache. She removed her hand to cover his mouth in a kiss, and he brought his hands up to cup her face, licking into her mouth and trying desperately to prove his loyalty. 

She broke out of the kiss and rolled her hips again. He kept one hand on her face and moved the other to wrap around her dress and keep her seated. She threw her head back as he rocked his hips to have his cock bumping against that spot inside her. He repeated the motion, bringing her closer to orgasm with every shift of his hips. 

She came with another gasp of his name, riding out her high and clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin. She continued the movement of her hips, working her sensitive cunt over his cock. “I don’t think they’re taking the hint, professor. Did you want to give them another reminder?”

He nodded, surging up to kiss her and then planting his feet to help drive himself up into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned forward into him as his hips began to falter. He grasped her ass and gave one final rough thrust, whining high and long into her mouth as he came. 

She began to press soft kisses to his nose, his cheek, his jaw. He wrapped his arms back around her waist and then hugged her close, panting into her neck as he came down. She rubbed one hand over his back and smoothed the other over his curls, gently twirling the hair at the back of his neck. He gave her one more squeeze before loosening his arms and lifting his head, his eyes dazed and practically sparkling. 

“Wow,” he breathed. 

She laughed. “I can tell you that this is not where I thought I’d end up today.” She lifted off of him and clutched a little at his arms as she navigated off the desk. She sucked in a breath as her feet made it to the floor, her knees and thighs already screaming. “I bet your fan club wouldn’t be this sore,” she joked. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him, bringing his free hand up to brush her hair back. “There’s nothing to bet on, because that’s never going to happen.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You know that, right?” 

She covered his hands with her own, rubbing her thumbs over the soft skin. “I know.”

“Good.” He leaned forward to press their mouths together, unbelievably soft and sweet in comparison to the way it had been just a few minutes ago. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree,” she whispered. She pressed one more kiss to his lips and then stepped out of his embrace. “Now, put that thing away before we actually do get caught.”

He gaped at her, fighting a grin as he tied off the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. She retrieved his tie from where she had discarded it earlier and dragged it from her knee all the way up to her inner thigh under her dress, cleaning herself up as much as she could.

She lifted her head to see him staring at her, his mouth hanging open. “You don’t mind, do you? I figured it was an even trade since you’re keeping my underwear.” She dropped the messy tie into her bag and draped the strap over her shoulder, tilting her head innocently. 

He lunged forward to crash their mouths together, and she clutched at his waist. “You are so fucking hot,” he mumbled, nipping at her bottom lip. 

“Mmhm, and don’t you forget it.”

“I’m literally incapable of forgetting it.” He kissed her again. “Thank fuck.” 

She laughed and used a light hand to push him off her, taking a second to take stock of his appearance. She fixed the tuck of his shirt and smoothed a few rogue curls back into place. He looked decidedly fucked out, sweaty and flushed all the way down his chest, his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons still undone… and she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered. 

He held his hand out to her and smiled radiantly when she accepted it and laced their fingers together. “I was thinking we could get a late lunch?” he offered. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

He grabbed his suit coat and his bag, and they crossed to the door together. He opened it and allowed her to step out into the hallway, following close behind. She swung their hands a little as they made their way down the hall. “That was so fun. Thanks for letting me come.”

Spencer choked on air, looking surreptitiously around the hallway. She laughed brightly and squeezed his hand. “Funny how you’re so modest all of a sudden. Thanks for letting me come visit, professor.”

They walked out together into the quad, hand in hand, and with more than one pair of eyes on them.

———

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[lovetorn]

babysitter [roommate!dream au]

Roommate!Dream x Fem!Reader

summary: you babysit tommy. do i need to explain?

warnings: swearing

w/c: 1.4k+

a/n: thank u 🧋 anon, u are amazing. i hope i did justice for ur amazing idea hahaha 😫hope u guys enjoy!

roommate!dream masterlist

—

“Please, Y/n! It’ll only be for a few hours, just while I do my exam, and then I’ll be back. That’s all! I promise, please.”

You’d never heard Wilbur beg like this before. It is kinda funny. You stand with a smirk as you watch him, your arms crossed over your chest. Yes, you’ve babysat his brother before, but this time, your plans for lunch with your friends were being jeopardised.

“I’ll call Niki and Karl myself and tell them the situation, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Wilbur pleads. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and you guarantee they’re going to fall off in the next 2 seconds. Obviously, you’re going to babysit for him, but this is too funny to pass up.

“I don’t know, Wil. I planned this weeks ago… I’m not sure I can cancel this late…” You try your best not to smile. But, Wilbur isn’t silly, he can see through your act from a mile away.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, shaking your shoulders. You give him an incredulous look and then laugh.

“You owe me one, Tommy isn’t easy to babysit,” You giggle, knowing all too well how he acts when his family isn’t around. Wilbur nods.

“Yeah, yeah, anything. I’ll buy you breakfast for the next month.”

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead. “I'm holding you to that, Wilby.”

And so it was decided: Tommy would come to your apartment at 1 pm and be there until 4. You told Dream you were having a guest over, sparing the details, which made Dream a little suspicious. He really hoped it wasn’t a date—no, it couldn’t be a date.

But, when he hears a knock on the front door, and then the murmur of deep voices, he thinks of the worst. Dream gets up from his bed and presses his ear to his bedroom door, hoping to get any clues as to who is at the door. He knows this is the dumbest thing he’s done since he moved in with you, but he can’t help it. The door shuts and then it’s silent and Dream thinks that maybe the person left.

Meanwhile, you lead Tommy into your room. “Want any food or anything?” You ask as you watch him jump onto your bed and grab the TV remote off of your nightstand.

“No,” He says, fingers flying over the remote to turn the TV on, change the channel, turn the volume up, change the channel again, and then press the button for Netflix. You don’t mind that he’s made himself at home in your room, he’s gonna be here for 3 hours.

“I would like a Slurpee though,” You squint at him. He can’t be serious. Before you can say anything, he continues. “Thanks, Y/n. you’re the best.”

You give him a fake scowl for sucking up to you and sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back in a second.”

You don’t want to ask Dream to go to the corner shop and get Slurpees, but you’d rather ask him to do that than ask him to watch Tommy.

“Dream?” Pushing open his bedroom door, you see him spin around.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?” Dream hopes he isn’t being weird.

He’s being weird and you don’t know why. You hold onto the door handle and inhale sharply. “Uh, I was just wondering if you could go to the corner store for me? Just really quickly, I’ll give you the money.”

Oh shit, Dream thinks. She’s making me go buy condoms for her and her date. “I—Uh, sure, yeah. What am I getting?” He asks, sliding his feet into his Birkenstocks and shoving his phone into his back pocket. Please don’t say condoms.

“A Slurpee,” Thank god.

“Ok, flavour?”

You turn your head to look back at your bedroom door before you look back at him, a puzzled look on your face. “All of them?”

Dream nods slowly. “Okay?” You two stand in silence momentarily and then Dream ushers you out of his room. “Ok, I’ll be back in 5.” You hand him a few dollars and then make your way back to your room.

“Thank you, Dream! I owe you one, thank you,” You smile, pushing your door open and then closing it immediately. Dream barely smiles and grumbles as he leaves.

“Your delivery will be here in like 6 minutes minimum,” You say. Tommy snickers but doesn’t look at you. You cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s funny?”

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know. I just think it’s funny that your roommate is willing to do that for you. Must like you a lot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I’d do the same for him.”

“Him? Woah-ho-ho, that changes the game,” Tommy sits up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s his name? I bet you’re like, in love with him.”

You immediately shake your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “No~, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The room remains still.

“You totally love him.”

“Tommy!”

Then there’s a knock on your bedroom door. You throw your middle finger up at Tommy and tell him to behave before you open the door.

“Here’s your disgusting Slurpee,” Dream mumbles, shoving the cup into your hands. He's a little out of breath from running but doesn't show it.

“Thank you,” You smile. Dream nods and then turns around, but before he can take a step, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Is that the roommate?” Tommy laughs. “Come in here, roommate.” You want to slap him.

Dream looks over his shoulder at you and you shrug. He wears a concerned look as he enters the room and is surprised to see Tommy, obviously.

“Y/n, why do you have a child in here?” Ok, definitely NOT a date.

You have no time to answer before Tommy speaks.

“I’m being babysat and shit,” Tommy rolls his eyes. Your hand is getting cold from the drink so you hand it to Tommy. “Fuck yeah,” He then flops onto your bed again, not caring if he spills some of the sugary liquid onto your bedspread and presses play on the movie he’s watching.

“Stay in here, roommate, we have some business to discuss.”

You shake your head and close the door behind you as Dream perches on the edge of your bed.

“I'm Dream.” He greets.

Tommy nods and looks in your direction, winking overdramatically. “Tommy. Master of women.” Dream scratches his forehead and glances at you. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, whispering to Tommy to shut the fuck up.

“Movie time! We’re watching Sex/Life,” You are bewildered.

“Um, no we’re not!” Moving to snatch the remote from Tommy, you lean your body over Dream’s and see the mischievous look in the child’s eye. You know what he’s doing—could he seriously make this any more awkward?

“Let’s skip to 19 minutes and how many seconds?” Tommy teases, skipping ahead to the timestamp of the scene that went viral. Tommy’s laugh is maniacal, but you are more worried about the position you’re in. Dream’s hands rest in his lap and he looks at the ceiling, while your body leans over his. You don’t know if Tommy is laughing more at the show or the tension between you and Dream.

Finally, you grab the remote and throw it into the chair in the corner of your room. “You are a nightmare, Thomas.”

“Ha, get it, because I’m a nightmare, but he’s Dream, who must be a dream.”

You and Dream groan at his shitty joke and tell him to shut up.

“Anywho, so what’s up with you two?” Tommy smirks. You and your roommate make eye contact, both blushing before looking back at Tommy. He can practically see the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” You say simultaneously. This makes Tommy grin and hum.

Ignoring him, Dream takes refuge on the chair in the corner, looking to you to see how you’re going to handle this situation—however, he can’t help but shamelessly check you out whilst you’re not paying attention to him. He knows it's a dumb thing to do, especially when Tommy is sitting there and has no filter.

You stay speechless in the middle of the room, eyeing Tommy. You didn’t expect babysitting to be so difficult.

“You’re staring, big man.”

You whip around to face Dream and see that the comment makes his cheeks flush a deep red. Your eyes widen and then Dream's up and out of your room. “Bye.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy!” You say, embarrassed. You look back to see Dream’s door closing and you want to kick Tommy, so bad. “Ugh, you make everything so awkward! I hate you.”

“I hear that a lot, it’s a compliment at this point.”

And when Wilbur comes to pick Tommy up, you shove him out the door and swear that if Wilbur breaks his promise about breakfast every day, he's gonna be in deep shit.

[cherrykindness]

let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

[pudimsuki]

Shoto Todoroki+Mall(fitting rooms?) +NSFW

Fitting rooms | Todoroki x reader

Warnings: NSFW (18+ content), public place.

Hmmm... Spicy? Spicy.

Your boyfriend was a peculiar man, as many would say.

Everyone always expected a lot from him, especially with the start of his hero career and the legacy left by his father. Yes, a hero of the people. Talented. Strong. Serious. Stoic, even.

What no one would have expected, of course, was to see him fuck his dear girlfriend inside a fitting room in the middle of a public mall.

It started innocently enough. All you wanted was a little help with a stuck zipper that was out of reach. Todoroki, as the good partner he was, quickly rose from his position on the waiting benches, ready to help you.

"I can't open it", you whispered as he entered the same cabin as you. He looked you up and down, modeled on the dress whose sales tag was still sticking out of the fabric.

“Beautiful.” He said. His intense gaze on you.

You smiled, knowing he never said anything he didn't mean. “Thank you, Sho. Maybe I should buy it then, hum?”

“Do it, I’ll pay. I want to take you out to dinner tonight, you should wear it.”

You wrapped an arm around his neck, fluttering your lashes at his heterochromatic eyes. "Yeah? Anywhere special?"

"You'll see. Now turn around." He commanded.

So you did, smiling at his conduct. He gently brushed your locks off your back, placing them over your bare shoulder and guided himself to the top of your zipper, which he slowly lowered, revealing your immaculate skin.

You were ready to turn around and thank him before you went back to change into your own clothes, but his hands held you in place, long fingers pressing into your hips.

Oh? You raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it.

You could feel his warm breath on your back at how close you were, but still you remained silent.

Slowly ー way slower than necessary if you ask ー, he traced the line of your spine, the cool fingertips of his right hand creating a contrast to his breathing, making you close your eyes and arch your back slightly at the sensation.

You could vaguely hear the conversation of people in the store and the noise of other people entering and exiting the changing rooms surrounding yours, but that was far from your attention.

He touched the straps of your dress, running them with sensual speed down your arms, until they went through your wrists and hands. You didn't wear a bra.

With eyes still closed, you felt his soft lips touching the back of your neck, kissing the spot gently.

"Sho?" You whisper.

"You're just so pretty, love." He muttered over your skin, making you sigh in glee. Todoroki gripped your shoulders with both hands and began to trace your back with his mouth.

"We're at the mall", you tried to reason, already losing yourself in the sensations he always caused you. "Let's go home."

"Can’t. Need you now."

In mere seconds, your outfit was on the floor, leaving you in nothing but lace panties. You looked to the side, where a full-length mirror graced the wall and could see how Shoto towered over your back, tall, strong, and fully clothed, making you look even more vulnerable almost completely naked, your pert breasts reflected sideways on the glass and your hands resting on the wall for support.

You felt a wet spot forming on your panties at the sight.

“You’re still clothed.”

“And?”

You swallowed, mumbling. “And it’s not fair.”

Shoto just chuckled behind you, face close to the curve of your neck. His hands traveled through your waist.

“I think I'm spoiling you too much. Don't worry, tonight you can see what you want. For now, this will be just an appetizer.”

“For who?” You grumbled sarcastically.

“For me, of course.” He simply replied, his voice a tone below normal. Suddenly he presses your hips against him, making it clear the tent in his pants. You purred in desire, making him laugh once more. "Although something tells me you'll enjoy it too."

“Sho, please…”

“Shh, I’ll take care of you. Now, be quiet or people will hear you.”

You closed your eyes as you felt him circle your clothed intimacy with his fingertips and just nodded, hearing some laughter from other customers chatting near the dressing room.

"Always so wet for me." He praised, close to your ear.

He released you for a brief moment and you heard the noise of his pants being unzipped. You were about to take off your own underwear, but he was quick to grab your wrists.

"Hands on the wall."

You swallowed, obeying his orders.

He then lowered your panties over your feet, pulling them off completely. Before you could do anything, he was wrapping his arms around your figure, holding you close. The tip of his cock touching your ass.

Your piece of lace was crumpled in one of his hands, which he brought to your face. The smell of your own arousal rose in your nostrils.

"Open your mouth."

"What?" You questioned incredulously.

"Open it." He repeated. You couldn't help but feel your folds even wetter from it. "I don't want anyone listening to you and interrupting us."

You parted your lips, feeling the fabric being shoved through your mouth and touching your wet muscle.

Is this just the appetizer? You thought to yourself, but couldn’t form any other notion before feeling him press your clit, letting a muffled moan escape your mouth.

“Sorry, honey. I can’t wait now.” With that, he pulled your hips up, setting you at a desired angle before slowly thrusting into your unprepared, but still wet, hole. Your cry was muffled by the fabric in your mouth and you arched your back even more to try to accommodate the full length of him inside you.

“So tight.” He breathed. He was going to take all the time in the world with you after dinner. But right now, all he needed was to feel your warm walls tighten around him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

You just nod your head, eyelids pressed together. Just the feeling of him was making your legs weak.

“Shoto”, you tried to say, even with the panties stuffing your lips, but he understood the message right away, already starting his lunges at a fast pace, a complete contrast to his earlier slow touches.

You moaned, and you knew immediately that the idea of covering your mouth was appropriate, since you were pretty sure someone would have heard your lewd sounds if he hadn't done that.

Shoto just groaned in your ear, making you even more alight.

You ground your teeth into the fabric, your saliva soaking your panties. How would you use that later? You had no idea.

He returned to circling your clit, as fast and hard as his thrusts.

You sought support on the wall in front of you, gluing your forehead to the surface.

"Look at you," Shoto panted, eyes traveling between your bare back and the mirror beside you, unable to decide which view was more pleasing, "so pretty."

Within minutes, you soon felt the knot forming in your stomach. You tried to warn him, but all that came from your clothed mouth was reduced to muffled cries.

“I know, love.” He said, knowing your body language like the palm of his hands.

You gasp, throwing your head back when you feel your knot exploding outward. Todoroki grunts and you tighten around him, but he doesn't slow the pace of his thrusts, seeking his own release.

You feel your legs soften and you moan with the overstimulation. When he finally comes, you have one hand gripped on his arm, which circles your body, keeping you steady.

The two of you are silent for a few seconds, just your breath filling the cubicle. You internally prayed that no one had heard the sex noise coming from your cabin.

Shoto finally turned you to him, pulling the intimate piece out of your mouth right away and delighting in your expression, spittle running down your lips.

He bent down towards them before you could dry them and kissed you fondly, as if to make up for his earlier actions.

"How am I going to get out now?" You questioned with wide eyes, noticing the liquids from both of you trickling down your thighs. Your panties were equally wet. "I can't use this."

"Well, there's nothing to be done." He simply said.

"It's your fault!" You hissed, trying to keep your voice down. "And don't say that when you're still fully dressed."

"Technically," he commented after zipping up his pants, reaching for the dress you had tried on and watching you pull your own clothes off the hanger, "you called me here. So we're even."

Oh, if looks could kill. He thought and couldn't resist the smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"I'll pay for the dress. I'll meet you outside."

"What? No, wait! Don't just leave me he-"

Too late, he was already sneaking out of the cabin.

You just stood there, mouth open in disbelief.

Perhaps the society of heroes would lose one of its rising stars today.

Cause you would kill him.

That was fun, haha

Hope you like it! Thank you for reading and for the support!

Angie ❤

[any comments will be answered with my main account @angie-1306]

[somnambulants]

Can i request readerxnatasha first time? All good if you don't write smut though xx

she’s the sunset in the west

word count: 1.7K notes: i kinda combined this with another prompt: "intertwining your hands with your lover while making love" bc im feeling v soft today lmao hope you enjoy!  warnings: allusions to lack of bodily autonomy/coerced interactions. 

minors pls don’t interact! 18+ only!

Sex has always been a weapon for her.

Natasha knows she can get whatever she wants from whoever she wants if she just flaunts herself in front of them enough to get their attention. She’s not naïve; her whole life has been set up for her to use her body to get what she wants.

It’s something they teach you in the red room from the time you can walk: your body is your biggest weapon. No one will anticipate you coming.  

And it’s true. 

No one ever sees her coming. 

Natasha has walked into many rooms and turned many heads and managed to take out multiple targets with all eyes on her and without anyone batting those eyes because they were so distracted by her.

It’s where the term black widow comes from. You see her but you don’t see her.

And that’s how she lives her life, with people seeing her but not seeing her. It’s what makes her such a good spy; such a good assassin. People might know she’s dangerous from the second they see her but they’ll be dead and she’ll be long gone before they realise exactly just how dangerous.

No one seems to see through it.

Until she meets you.

You, who met her while she was half naked and soaking wet, everything on display, after a mission had gone slightly wrong and didn’t even blink twice as you shrugged off your own jacket and handed it to her with a kind smile while some of her own teammates struggled to keep their eyes to themselves.

She’s pretty sure she fell in love with you right then and there, with your eyes on the ground, pointedly averted, a faint pink flush staining both of your cheeks and crawling down your neck.

--

Your relationship with Natasha is great. Amazing, in fact. You don’t think you could ask for better or more.

There’s just one thing really.

Sometimes you don’t feel like she’s really there when you’re being intimate. In the moment. Sometimes it’s as though she’s going through the motions and just doing what she feels needs to be done. Or what she thinks you want her to do.

Like right now.

She’s kissing you like she’s on autopilot. You love kissing her and you’re enjoying it, no doubt about that, as you sit splayed across her lap with her arms around you like a cage. 

 You love it. And her.

It just doesn’t feel quite right. 

You know, subconsciously, there must be a reason you’ve been dating for all these months and haven’t had sex yet. You know Natasha has had a lot of sex and you’re not exactly inexperienced yourself in that department.

And yet, every time you get close, she’ll suddenly push you away and make an excuse to leave. 

You know there must be a reason. You just don’t know why or how to broach the subject with her. 

Or you thought you didn’t.

“Why don’t you want to have sex?”

You don’t mean for it to slip out and you cover your mouth as soon as it does, but the damage is already done.

Below you, Natasha, hands still on your waist – at a perfectly decent height, as though she thinks your parents might walk in and catch you at any second – freezes and looks at you with wide eyes.

“I – I do,” she says after a second, stuttering a little over her words. It would be amusing in any other circumstance to see Natasha Romanoff, the most unflappable person you’ve ever met in your life, struggling for words.

You stare at her until she swallows and looks away from you. “I do,” she repeats, quiet in a way that is distinctly non-Natasha like. “I’m just not used to this.”

It doesn’t make sense to you, what she’s saying but you stay quiet, sensing she’s building up to something and not wanting to interrupt her when it seems like she’s opening up to you about something important.

“I don’t know how to do …,” she waves a hand in between you wordlessly. You know you must look as confused as you feel because she lets out a huff of frustration. “I don’t know. This –It’s hard. For me. To do this with someone I care about.”

She looks so defeated as the words leave her mouth. You suck in a breath as realisation starts to sink in, feeling nauseous at the implication you’re getting from what she’s just said.

“We don’t have to do anything, Nat, ” you say quietly, tilting your head so she has to look at you as you speak. “Not now. Not ever…. if that’s not something you want. I’m sorry if I --”

“No! No!” she interrupts. She seems to have pinpointed where your thoughts have gone and she leans in, looking at you seriously. “No. Of course I want to. I just don’t know how…I’m used to..”

She doesn’t have to finish. You know exactly what she means and for a second, you’re overcome with such vibrant anger at the thought that no one has ever treated her the way she deserves.

You want to make sure she never feels like that again.

“Okay,” you say slowly, as a plan formulates in your head. You’re not sure if it’s the right thing to do but Natasha is looking at you uncertainly, like she thinks you’re going to up and run at any minute so you have to act fast. “Okay, if you’re sure. Can I try something? Please?”

Still looking uncertain, Natasha nods straight away. You lean in to kiss her gently and she immediately reciprocates, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though you’ll pull away at any moment.

After you break the kiss, you slide off her lap and then off the couch all together, kneeling down so you’re in front of her.

There’s confusion in her eyes as you do but you don’t address it until you’re settled.

You place your hands on her thighs. “Tell me to stop, okay?” The if you’re uncomfortable goes unsaid but you know she must be able to see it written across your face because she nods, biting her lip.

Hands still on her thighs, you kiss every spot you can reach and are delighted as she lets out a little laugh.

Encouraged, you continue until you reach her thighs.

Watching her carefully, you shift, helping her out of her underwear and pulling it down her legs. As you do, she looks back at you evenly, a little smile now playing around the corners of her mouth.

Internally, you breathe a sigh of relief. This was the right move then. You’re sure of it now. 

This is the most relaxed you’ve seen her like this, you think. You hate that you hadn’t noticed any of this earlier.

But at least, you can do your best from now on by knowing what to look for.

You move your hands, and seeming to read your mind, she meets you in the middle, letting you intertwine your fingers on either side of her thighs as you rest your head on her stomach, watching her for any signs that she isn’t as comfortable with this as she seems. “Okay?”

You can’t see anything in her eyes to indicate it isn’t but still, you wait until she nods, giving you the green light. 

“Yeah,” she says, as you lean back down. Her hips buck a little at the first touch of your tongue against her and she lets out a little breath, biting her lip as she looks at you with darkened eyes: “Yes.”

You continue, encouraged by her little moans and sounds that she makes no attempt to stifle, wasting little time detaching one of your hands to press a finger into her and inhaling sharply as you feel how wet she is around you.

Your actions are rewarded with a moan that quicky turns into a high-pitched gasp as you add another finger quickly after.

You thrust into her, picking up speed as she moans, shoving her hips onto your fingers eagerly in a plaintive request for more. She gets louder as you add a third and you feel her stretch around you. Louder still, when you brush over her clit with your thumb. 

“Okay?” you ask again, a little teasingly. No doubt hearing it, she glares down at you but can’t quite hide the smile on her face, pushing her hips up to meet your fingers.

The smile quickly crumbles in favor of a small cry as you thrust into her harder. Her eyes flutter a little and she bites down on her lower lip. “So okay.”

With your fingers now inside her, you turn your attention to her clit, laving your tongue with it and trying not to grin when she cries out, squeezing you so tightly it’s hard for you to keep going at the pace you are.

She squeezes your hand, digging her nails into your skin as her thighs lock around your head and keep you in place.

In response, you double your efforts and are rewarded as she starts to fall apart above you. 

There’s blissful white noise in your head as she arches her back with a moan – filthier and louder than the rest, as she comes -- cutting off your air supply entirely to the point that you wouldn’t be surprised if you blacked out.

You wouldn’t mind. In fact, you think this would be the best possible way to go.

When she finally releases you, you stay where you are, ignoring the cramp in your legs and rest your head on her stomach again, gazing up at her as she comes down, still twitching occasionally.

She runs her free hand through your hair rhythmically as her chest rises and falls, trying to catch her breath. 

She looks like, for lack of better words, a mess. Hair sticking to her neck, cheeks flushed. She’s still wearing her bra, but the straps are now falling down, off her shoulders.

You think you probably don’t look any better yourself.

She’s so beautiful you think you could stare at her for the rest of your life and not get bored.

You squeeze the hand you’re still holding and her eyes flutter open, meeting yours immediately. “All good?” you ask softly.

She lets out an incredulous sounding little huff, pulling you up so you’re in her lap and she can kiss you.

You moan as she licks the taste of herself off your lips.

“Very much good,” she says, playfully, when you pull apart to breathe for a second.

She kisses you again, deeper and more intensely before shoving you away and reversing your positions. “Your turn.”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

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[jerzwriter]

Prompt 16 for ethan and casey from number and pairings list 🙏please

Thanks,

Pep

Sorry for the delay in getting this to you @adiehardfan! I hope it was worth the wait!

Book: Open Heart (Book 1, Between Chapter 12 and 13)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Title: In Flagrante Delicto

Rating: Mature

Summary: Ethan is mortified after finding himself in a compromising position with Casey.

Category: FLUFF

Warnings: Some sexual references

Words: 1383

A/N: 16. things you said with no space between us

From the things you said prompt list

A/N1: I am participating in this week’s Wacky Drabble prompt #105 “It’s definitely … interesting” can be found below in bold

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

Casey yawned as she poured two cups of coffee. It’s now 10:30 PM and she’s been at the hospital since 6:00 AM, and it was finally catching up with her. She plopped one cup on Ethan’s desk before returning to the floor where she sat among at least ten medical journals.

“So, how many does that make for you tonight?” She asked.

“Coffees? I’d say four. What about you?”

“Number six for the win.”

“You know, you don’t have to stay. If you leave now, you might actually be able to get five hours sleep tonight.”

“I can sleep when I’m dead. I’m not leaving you alone with this, Ethan, and until I feel I have done all that I can for Naveen today, I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled at her, but she did not notice. She was too busy pouring over pages of research, determined to help find something to save Dr. Banerji. Ethan was so besotted with her. If not for their precarious work situation, he swears she would be sleeping next to him every single night by now. He’s never had such strong feelings for anyone.

She looked up and caught him.

“Oh, I was, just….”

“Staring at me.”

“You can’t really blame me, can you.”

Casey smiled wistfully and returned to her research. Her mind fluttered back to last night at the opera and the tender kiss they shared in his private box. She knew his reasoning for refusing to become involved with her, but she didn’t necessarily understand it. He’s the one who said some things are worth any risk, and Casey truly believed what they felt for each other fell under that category, but he didn’t. If only she could accept that and move on, but she doubted it was possible, especially after last night.

A few moments she jumped up from the floor.

“Ethan, look! I found this in JAMA. There was a study done on rare sepsis infections in New Delhi last year. I know for a fact we have never seen this data. I don’t know if it will help us, but….”

“It's definitely ... interesting. I think it’s worth a look. What journal published the findings?”

“The Indian Journal of Medicine and Pathology, it would have been in an edition from 2018.”

Ethan typed into his laptop to access the journal.

“Shit! It’s only available online in Hindi.”

“We can use an online translator?”

“They’re not known for being efficient in translating medical terminology. I believe the BU Med School’s Library has hard copies in English.”

“Unfortunately, it’s almost 11:00 at night, so we can’t get in there now.”

A sly grin formed on his lips. “You can if you teach there.”

“You do?”

“I did last year and probably will again this fall. So,” he opened his drawer and pulls out a plastic pass, “that gives me access to this. And this gives me access to the library 24/7. Are you down for a road trip?”

“Well, I don’t think a 10-minute drive equates to a road trip, but hell yeah, I’m down, let’s go!”

__________

They arrived at the library and Ethan showed his credentials to the guard.

“And who is she?”

“She is my research assistant.”

The guard gave Casey a once-over. “Hmm... well, you have clearance, go ahead in.”

As they took the elevator to their floor, Casey chuckled, “You know the guard totally thinks we are coming in here to have sex, right?”

Ethan turned to her incredulously, “What? Wha... What would make you say that.”

“The once over he gave me from head to toe. The “hmm…” and the smirk he gave you when he handed you back your credentials. Trust me, Ethan, that’s what he thinks.”

“Well, that’s preposterous. Who would do such a thing.”

“Lots of people.”

“Well, not me.”

“Of course not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Casey smiled, proud of herself for getting under his skin.

“I can’t find the switch for the damned overhead lights.”

“Well, at least some of the recessed lighting is on, it’s dim, but we can work with it. Of course, this is just going to lead the guard to think….”

“Casey!”

“Sorry, you’re just too easy.”

Finally, they found the section they were looking for, only to find that the journals they required was on the top shelf of the bookcase which stood over 15 feet tall.

“Well, even with your giraffe-like height, you’re not grabbing that.”

“What did you just say?”

“Even with your giraffe-like….”

“Yes, that.”

“Well, I hate to be the first one to ever tell you this, Ethan. But you’re freakishly tall.”

He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.

This is a good night for me! I am really getting under his skin.

“There was a step stool back there. I’ll go get it,” Casey said, but even with that, they couldn’t reach.

“Ethan, why don’t you stand on the stool and then give me a boost? I should be able to reach it that way.”

“Sure, because that’s not unsafe.”

“Ethan, live a little. We will be fine! Plus, unless you want to wait until tomorrow, what choice do we have?”

“Fine,” he huffed.

Ethan placed the stool against the bookshelf in the narrow aisle. Once he was safely on it, he lifted Casey by the waist to hoist her up. This left her bottom practically in his face, and he quickly realized yet another reason why he thought this was a bad idea. Well, not exactly a bad idea, but considering the effect it was having on him below his waist, yeah, it might have been a bad idea.

“Casey, do you think you can reach it?” he asked.

“Yep! I am almost there… ahh!”

The silky fabric of Casey’s blouse slid against Ethan’s hand, causing him to lose his grip. The two of them toppled to the floor, stuck between the shelves in the tiny space. Ethan landed on his back with Casey, face down, pressed firmly against him.

“Oh my God, are you OK?” she asked.

Ethan groaned a bit, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be a little sore in the morning. What about you?”

“You broke my fall. I am completely fine. Oh, thanks for that, by the way,” she grinned.

Her face was only inches away from his and their bodies pressed together so tightly she could feel his heart racing against hers. She made no attempt to move off of him.

“Uhm, Casey, do you plan on getting off of me.”

“Don’t use the words getting off and you in the same sentence Ethan. You have no idea what that does to me,” she laughed.

Ethan wanted to act appalled and pontificate about how improper her statement was, but all he could do was laugh.

“Oh, is that so?”

Casey just shrugged her shoulders and grinned.

“But seriously, Casey, are you going to get off of me?”

“You did it again!”

“Oh, Rookie, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“That’s too bad, because I have quite a few ideas about what I’d like to do with you.”

She leaned up and put her lips to his. He tensed at first but quickly gave in, holding her face in his hands their tender kiss turned more passionate.

“Ehh-hem!”

They jumped apart as they looked up with wide eyes. There was the night guard, flashlight in hand, standing over them.

“How is the research going, you two?”

Ethan grabbed the journal they needed, which had fallen to the floor along with Casey, and jumped to his feet.

“It’s, it’s going well… we found the journal we need. Ehem, I think I’ll go sign it out.”

Casey was as amused as Ethan was mortified.

“Thank you, I think we’ll be going now,” she smiled.

Ethan remained silent as the rode the elevator to the lobby. He still entirely embarrassed by the incident. Looking up at him, Casey got a case of the giggles.

Ethan scowled down at her.

“What do you find so amusing?”

“Now, he totally thinks we were going up there to have sex.”

Ethan chortled despite himself.

“The things you get me into, Rookie.”

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[ilikemesometaetaes]

Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​ : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | vampire!au | Yoongi!AU | Vampire’s Mate | Vampire!Yoongi | Human!Reader | Gifted!Reader

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face. 

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood. 

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened. 

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took. 

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

[thran-duils]

And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.1)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 1,656 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Author’s Note: READ the intro! This chapter starts there.

Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You barely remember the wedding ceremony. There had been no courting, no engagement whatsoever to speak of between you and your now husband, Tony Stark. Your marriage was a business transaction between him and your father. The ceremony had been short and sweet, the reception being the thing people were most concerned with and between your father and Tony, the food and drink had been exceptional. You had kept your head about you, not drinking too much, and turning down drugs that had been offered. Tony had done the same, much to your surprise. He was being as cautious about you as you were being about him in turn; neither wanted the other to get the jump on them.

A town car, driven by one of his men, had come at the end of your night to take the two of you to the airport to your honeymoon. On the drive, the car was quiet, the pair of you on your phones or looking out the window, with small comments about the reception sprinkled in. Neither of you were pretending this was anything more than it was at this point; you were practically strangers, only having crossed paths a couple times a year before now.

Plus, you were not inclined to speak with him considering what you had been told by one of your bridesmaids. Tony had apparently been bragging about how he was going to get you into bed on the honeymoon. One of your girlfriends had happened to overhear him speaking to a handful of his men in what was supposed to be a private conversation. There had been comment from another about your ‘rack’ looking ‘delectable’ in your wedding gown and that term had made you gag. Another told him it should be ‘easy’ to get you on your back considering your reputation for clubbing. You despised the men in this business sometimes.

He had not gotten you into bed on the honeymoon. Much to his extreme annoyance; he had trouble hiding his temper, that much you had figured out already. You had kept yourself occupied with local attractions and the pool for the weekend.

His mansion was foreign to you and even after a month, you had still not settled in. And he was still trying to strong arm you with his comments and behavior to be submissive. Just like he was doing right now with his trying to order you around to get him and his men drinks. Fat chance. You stayed relaxed on your floatie, hearing June, your personal favorite of the servants because she was not an idiot and could hold a good conversation, gathering up the champagne to take over to them.

<><><>

Later in the evening, you came out of your closet, finding Tony walking into his. He was uncuffing his dress shirt and he stopped seeing you.

“That’s a nice dress,” Tony commented, his eyes running over you quickly, eyes only lingering at the tight fabric around your hips for the briefest of moments. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”

“Out.”

“Y/N.” There was warning in his tone.

He had an annoying habit of tracking you whenever you left the house. Whether or not he thought you were going to betray the marriage deal, cheat on him, or he was just a control freak – the last being very likely considering the sexism in the mafia – you were unsure. But it drove you up the wall he wanted tabs on you all the time.

Sighing as you dug through your clutch to make sure you had everything you needed, you told him, “I’m going out with my friends.”

“Where?” he pressed.

“The Bungalow,” you answered seeing your friend texted that she was outside. “It’s in Santa Monica.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring you down. You looked up at his silence finding the glower being aimed at you.

“What?” you asked exasperated.

“Be back by midnight.”

“You’re not my fucking parent, Tony.”

Tony rose his eyebrows in annoyance at your tone. “No, you’re right. I’m your husband. And as your husband, I’m telling you I want you back home by midnight. It doesn’t look good if you’re out partying until 3:00 in the morning all the time. That shit is gonna stop sooner rather than later.”

“It’s almost 8:00 and it takes a half hour—”

Tony cut in, “Then it sounds like you better stop arguing with me and get going.”

Clenching your jaw, you turned away from him and stomped out of your bedroom.

“Maybe invite your friends here next time! It’s not like there’s not a bar and pool here,” you heard him call after you.

You were suppressing the urge to scream as you descended the staircase. Just because you were married did not mean your life had to end. In the hall, you ran into one of his guys, Bucky, meandering with a drink in hand. He spotted you and gave you a smile. You forced an extremely fake one for a split second before storming past him out the front door.

Instead of forcing your friend to have to drive you home so early in the night and cutting their fun short, you risked taking an Uber by yourself back home. There were still cars outside which meant mafia members were still over. It was ten after midnight. You had had half a mind to invite your friends home, prepared to throw Tony’s words back at him about the pool and the bar. But you were afraid that the mafia would still be here and that had proven to be a legitimate fear. Plus, if Tony had lost his temper, you did not want to put your friends in that awkward position of witnessing that.

You slammed the front door as loudly as you could and immediately made your way towards the kitchen to make yourself a stiff drink. Throwing your clutch onto the kitchen island, you kicked your shoes off as well, leaving them haphazardly on the tile. You could hear music and voices coming from down the hall in what you assumed was the billiard room.

The vodka cran was stiff just like you wanted, and you took a huge gulp, leaning on the counter.

Natasha walked into the kitchen, and she paused seeing you before smiling; you returned it weakly.

“Looking for the chip stash,” she told you as she moved towards the pantry. She rummaged around in there and emerged with a couple bags. She asked, “Are you going to join us?”

“No, thank you though,” you told her. “I’m gonna watch Netflix. That’s what people do when they’re forced home before midnight, right?”

Natasha looked uncomfortable and said, “I… suppose. Well, if you change your mind then we’re in the game room.”

“Thanks,” you said again and she left you there, like she could not wait to exit that awkward conversation.

<><><>

Tossing the chips on the table, Natasha told Tony, giving him a cringing look, “You really pissed Y/N off. You gave her a curfew?”

Bucky rose his eyebrows as he grabbed one of the bags. He slowly opened it, waiting for Tony to respond.

Tony looked down at his watch and realized it was in fact almost 12:30. He had lost track of the time. “She’s home, then?” Natasha nodded and he smirked in triumph. “Good.”

“So, did you?”

“She doesn’t need to be out dancing in clubs all the damn time now. It’s embarrassing and frankly insulting for me,” Tony responded. “She’s not available and she shouldn’t be acting as such. She’s got to respect me. If my own wife won’t, then what’s stopping everyone else from not doing it either?”

Natasha chewed on that and shrugged. “I can see that. But maybe you shouldn’t be so gloating about the fact she obeyed your rule. You should thank her for listening to you. Just my opinion. Might help melt down the ice a little bit.” Tony scowled and she pressed, “You know I’m right. Her coming back when you asked should build some trust, right?”

Tony said after a few beats, “In the morning.”

“No, now.”

“Who is whose boss, here?” Tony asked her, cocking his head incredulously.

She nudged him and he let out an exasperated sigh as he got up from the couch, putting his drink down on the table.

“You said you had next game right?” Rhodes asked as Tony walked by. He was playing against Wanda at the pool table.

“Yes, and I’m going to kick whoever’s ass it is,” Tony answered, leaving the room.

<><><>

Tony walked into the bedroom, finding you under the covers, watching Netflix.

You told him scornfully, “I know, I know. I was ten minutes late. I’m sorry. In my defense, I took an uber home because I didn’t wanna make Jasmine leave early. So, they got lost for a few.”

He held up his hand, his brows raised. “Easy, tiger. Ten minutes is not a huge issue. I was just… coming up to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes going back to the television.

He pointed at your glass and asked, “Want a refill?” You eyed him suspiciously and he said, “Just asking.”

“No, thank you. I had enough at the bar, and this is gonna be my last.”

Tony nodded and said, “Right. Well, be sure to drink water before you go to bed. And thanks by the way… for listening to me and coming back on time.”

“You’re welcome…” you told him, confused as all hell at his out of left field behavior.

He nodded again and clapped his hands before turning on his heel and walking out.

“What the fuck?” you said under your breath to yourself.

Since when was he that calm?

Slowly, you sunk back into the pillows. You shot another look at the door, wondering what had gotten into him.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental​

[tanzaniiite]

Hello! Can i request part 2 for "just a thought"? Where kuroo's s/o finally pregnant and their pregnancy journey until she give birth and gushing over their newborn 😔❤ thank you

JOURNEY • KUROO T.

requests: CLOSED

warnings: none!

word count: 2k

a/n: heyo!! this request is months old but here you are! the baby isn’t born in this but a part three is in the works! enjoy! 🥰

part one

Who knew trying for a baby would be so hard?

Both you and Kuroo sat on the couch, staring at yet another negative pregnancy test, that seemed to mock you from its place on the end table. You turned your attention to your boyfriend who was groaning in frustration. It’s been about three months since you and Tetsuro have actively started trying for a baby. Luck was not on your side. Rubbing his arm gently, you offered Kuroo a small smile. “It’s okay babe. This stuff takes time, no one said it'll be easy” You explained, getting up from your spot on the couch to throw away the test. 

“The Sims did! All they have to do is click try for a baby and bam! Eating for two” Kuroo huffed. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You weren’t sure if he was joking or if he thought getting pregnant would be that easy. After throwing the test away and washing your hands, you crawled back to your previous spot on the couch. You watched as your boyfriend scrolled through the endless pictures of Koutarou and Keiji’s newborn. “How many pictures did Bokuto send you?” You giggled, placing your head on his shoulder. Kuroo groaned again, “Too many.. but she’s adorable” He sighed. You nodded in agreement and snuggled closer to your boyfriend. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tetsuro spoke up. “How come Kou and Keiji can have a baby but we can’t? This is bogus” He pouted, shutting off his phone and tossing it to the other side of the couch. 

“Well, they used a surrogate but that’s not always guaranteed to work. It’s all about luck baby” You explained, running your fingers through his unruly hair. Kuroo grumbled something that sounded like a “You’re right” before laying on your chest. Suddenly he tilted his head to look up at you, “Wanna try again?” He inquired. Your eyes widened a bit, “Right now?” You asked. He nodded fervently. You winced a bit at the soreness between your legs that decided to make itself known. “Uh, m-maybe later,” You said, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. At that, Kuroo deflated, laying his head on your chest once again.

You knew your boyfriend desperately wanted a baby but the ‘hit it until it breaks’ method doesn’t exactly work in this case. Of course, you knew it wouldn’t happen the first couple of times but you didn’t think it would take this long either. Maybe it was time to come up with a game plan.

Kuroo walked through the door, tired from another day at work. As he placed down his bag and chucked off his shoes, he noticed that you didn’t come to greet him like you normally did. “Y/n?” He called out, putting his jacket on the coat rack. “I’m in the dining room!” You replied. Tetsuro made his way to the dining room, wondering if he should ask you to try again tonight. As much as he wanted a baby, he didn’t want to wear you out, you come first. All those thoughts vanished as he looked at the scene laid out in front of him.

There was a huge calendar sprawled out across the table, with huge red circles drawn over certain dates. On top of that was your laptop, which was opened up to some article he couldn’t see the name of. And not too far from your laptop was a book.. was that a book of sex positions? Kuroo gave you a confused look as you gave him a warm smile. “Welcome home baby” You greeted, going up to him and giving him a quick peck on the lips before going back to… whatever you were doing. “What’s.. all this?” He asked, gesturing to the dining table, still confused about what the hell was going on.

Your face lit up at his question and he couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you asked! Okay so, I was looking at my period tracker, and did you know that it gives you the days you’re most fertile? So I took it upon myself to circle those dates, as you could see here,” You explained, pointing to the calendar. “Uh-huh,” Kuroo responded, starting to understand what you were doing. “Right, so those days are when we’ll try, instead of blindly picking days. And we’ll use the most penetrative positions, which I learned from this book” You said, raising the book. Your boyfriend took the book from your hands and flipped through it, “Oh wow” He breathed, looking at rather.. confusing position that you circled. “Also I was reading this article that said pregnancy tests aren’t always right so we should probably go to the doctor next time” You stated, pulling your boyfriend’s attention from the sex book. 

“Babe, this is so extra. I love it” He chirped, hugging you from behind and pressing kisses to your temple. You giggled slightly, “I’m glad you like it, I know how badly you want a baby” You hummed, turning around to face him. “I mean yeah, but you didn’t have to do-“He started. You quickly placed a finger on his lips, “I wanted to okay? I want this baby as much as you do, if not more. So let me help us get to that end goal” You said, holding his cheeks in your hands. Kuroo smiled and sighed dramatically, “Ugh! How did I get such a perfect partner?” He asked rhetorically, kissing your forehead. 

“So when are most fertile this month?”

“Today”

You have never seen Tetsuro move so quickly. He hoisted you up by the thighs and carried you to the bedroom, with you giggling into his neck the whole way there.

Today you felt like absolute shit.

It all started this morning when you felt too nauseous to get out of bed. It was so bad that Kuroo had to call your job and tell them you were taking a sick day. Your boyfriend proposed the idea that maybe you were finally pregnant. You dismissed that idea quickly, saying that it only been a week since you guys last tried and that there was no way you would be showing symptoms that fast. Plus, although you felt nauseous, you didn’t throw up. Even though you wanted to, just to get this wave of nausea to go away. So Tetsuro reluctantly went to work (he wanted to stay home with you) and you were laying in bed feeling miserable. Kuroo put a bucket next to your side of the bed just in case you eventually threw up and couldn’t make it to the bathroom. He loved you but he would rather not have to clean up vomit. Around noon, you decided to FaceTime Kiyoko and chat with her a bit.

“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

She questioned, giving you an incredulous look. You let out an exasperated sigh, “Yes, I’m sure. Tetsu and I just tried last week. People don’t start getting symptoms until two or three weeks afterward” You explained. Shimizu nodded slightly before perking up a bit, “Wait. Didn’t you guys try last month? I remember you complaining about how rough Kuroo was” She recalled, tapping her chin thoughtfully. You blushed slightly, looking at your blanket that was suddenly super interesting. “Well yeah but that was a whole month ago. If I was pregnant from that time, I wouldn’t be showing symptoms this late” You clarified.

“Well better late than never right? Maybe take a test, if not that then go to the doctor” She suggested. You hummed in agreement, looking at your dresser, that had an almost empty pack of pregnancy tests resting on top of it. Slowly getting up you grabbed your phone and one of the tests. “Stay on the phone with me?” You asked, showing Kiyoko the test. She nodded, “Of course hun”. 

Now you were sitting on the rim of the bathtub, waiting for the result of the test. You and Kuroo have done this several times before, the result always comes back negative, so why did you feel anxious? Why did this time feel different? Was it because your boyfriend wasn’t with you? 

“Y/n relax, worst case scenario it’s negative and you guys will try again” Shimizu reassured, watching you spiral in your thoughts. You took a deep breath and nodded, “You’re right, I’m just super nervous” You stated. “That’s understandable, the test should be ready now,” Kiyoko said. Taking yet another deep breath, you took the test off the sink and flipped it over to see the result. 

Dropping both your phone and the test, you lunged for the toilet and finally threw up for the first time that day. “Y/n?! Are you all alright? What happened?” Shimizu’s panicked voice called out from your phone. “I-I’m fine, just felt sick all of a sudden” You explained, hovering over the toilet. “Are you sure? I can come over” She fretted. You shook your head before realizing she couldn’t see you. 

“No no, I’m good. Look, I’ll call you back later, okay?”

You couldn’t stop pacing the living room, waiting for Kuroo to come home. This was it, you were pregnant, you and Tetsuro were finally having the baby you both longed for. You couldn’t help but let a few happy tears roll down your cheeks, this was surreal. After months of trying and failing, you were finally pregnant. Holy shit, you were pregnant. The jiggling of keys snapped you out of your thoughts. You clutched the test in your hands and put it behind your back. 

“Hey babe, you feeling better?” Kuroo asked, taking off his shoes. You nodded slightly while making your way closer to him, the test still hidden from his view. He bent down and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek, “You want me to make dinner tonight? Or we can order takeout if you’re feeling up to it” He suggested, noting how your hands were behind your back. “Takeout is fine but... I do have something to tell you” You stated, guiding him to the couch. “O…kay? Should I be worried?” He asked. You shook your head and sat down, “Nope, now sit down and close your eyes” You requested, patting the spot next to you. Kuroo raised an eyebrow at you, suddenly suspicious of your behavior.

“Come on, please?” You pleaded, pouting a bit. “Alright alright,” He gave in, sitting down and closing his eyes. Putting the test, that you had put in a small ziplock bag, on your lap, you took Kuroo’s big hands into your small ones. “This is something we’ve been wanting for a while, so I hope you’ll be just as excited as I am” You stated, placing the test in his hands. Tetsuro’s face scrunched up in confusion before he opened his eyes. You watched his face intently, trying to take in his reaction. However, that was hard to do since his face was blank and he fell silent.

“Tetsu? Baby?”

Your boyfriend clenched the test in his hands, so much so that you were afraid he would snap it in half. You placed a hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to get him to talk, but you were surprised to feel him trembling. "Babe? I-I know this is a lot to take in, it's.. um, it's fine if you need time to proc–" You started only to jump back as Kuroo pulled you into a tight embrace. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his torso and rubbed his back gently. "I.. I'm so happy right now" He whispered in your ear, his voice wavering. "Aw baby, me too. But you don't need to cry" You laughed slightly, kissing his cheek.

Tetsuro pulled back from the hug and looked at you with hazel eyes, tears just threatening to spill. He chuckled, "Shut up, I'm ecstatic okay? Oh shit! I need to call Kenma!" He exclaimed jumping up from the couch to grab the house phone. You watched in amusement as your boyfriend animatedly told his best friend the good news. You subconsciously placed a hand on your stomach.

This was going to be one hell of a journey.

tanzaniiite © 2020 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[fruitcoops]

hi! i was wondering if you could do couples play truth or drink with coops and o’knutzy? i wouldn’t mind it being spicy :))

This is VERY spicy, so please be aware of that before you go in. Coops and O’Knutzy belong to @lumosinlove!

TW for many mentions of sex and alcohol

Sirius was warm, a little tipsy, and perfectly content. The carpet was soft under his palms and Remus was cuddled happily against his side from their spot on the floor; across from him, Logan was sitting in Leo’s lap with his legs over Finn’s, whose Spotify ‘gaylist’ played from the speakers. Their cheeks were all a little pink from alcohol and Sirius was glad they were staying the night instead of driving home.

“Okay, okay, new game,” Leo laughed as they gathered the last of the Scrabble pieces. The five of them had made it through a whole fifteen minutes before Remus and Finn began arguing about symbolism in Great Expectations, while Sirius sat on the sidelines deeply regretting his choice to build ‘mansion’ for a triple-word score. Twenty points really wasn’t worth the near-fistfight.

“It’s time,” Logan singsonged as he took the truth or drink cards off the coffee table, which had been pushed aside to make room for their game board. “The rules for this are a little different. Do you have alcohol?”

Sirius scoffed. “Of course we have alcohol, we’re adults.”

“Other than wine.”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and walked back into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of cheap whiskey he had been given on his birthday and set it in the middle of their circle, along with five glasses. “There.”

“Before we start, let’s make an agreement that whatever we say stays in this room, alright?” Finn held his hand out, palm down, and they stacked theirs on top. “No cameras, no holding back.”

“Deal. Who goes first?”

“Alright, so with the group game, there’s one judge each round,” Logan explained as he took a few cards out and put them face down. “Every card has two questions and the judge decides who asks who. They give the card to the person with the best answer, and whoever has the most cards at the end wins. Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

Finn drew a card. “Okay, I want Remus to ask Leo the first one, and Leo asks Remus the second one.”

“Have you ever walked in on your parents?” Remus asked.

Leo groaned. “Yeah.”

“Not Eloise and Wyatt!”

“Yes, Eloise and Wyatt. Scarred me for life, that’s for sure.” Leo shuddered and took the card, immediately grinning. “This is a good one. What’s your most embarrassing sex moment?”

“I really want to drink.”

“You can’t chicken out this early!”

“Ugh, fine.” Remus ran a hand down his face, which was faintly red. “Um, it was after my first game with the Lions and I tried to ride and…” He sighed. “My legs were too tired to actually sit up.”

“No,” Finn gasped, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “You couldn’t even get up?”

“I could get up, I just couldn’t move.” Remus tucked his knees under himself. “Like, I got to here and it was fine, but there was nothing left.”

Sirius snickered. “Almost broke my sternum trying, though.”

All three cubs burst out laughing. “This one goes to Loops,” Finn managed after a moment, wiping a tear from his eye as he handed the card over. “Oh, shit, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Leo, you’re up.”

“Okay…I want Cap to ask Logan the first one, and vice versa.”

Any higher power, give me strength. “What’s your favorite position, Tremzy?”

Logan grinned cheekily. “Middle.”

“Didn’t need to know that.”

“Too bad. When was the last time you had sex?”

“It would have been three and a half hours ago if your boyfriend didn’t insist on being early to everything.”

“I knew it!” Finn practically shouted. “I told you two they were fucking.”

“Did you bet on that?” Remus asked, incredulous. “Oh my god!”

“It was less of a bet and more of an assumption,” Leo corrected. “Cap, answer the question.”

“Last night.”

“That’s a lame-ass answer and I’m giving the card to Lo.”

“Bias,” he coughed, earning himself three different smacks to the shoulders. “Rude.”

“My turn!” Logan reached over for a new card. “Loops, ask Finn the first one, and Finn, ask Loops the second.”

Remus cleared his throat, took a second to laugh, and then read. “Name the person here you think I should hook up with.”

Finn snorted. “Aside from your actual fiancé?” They both turned to Logan, who shrugged. “Alright, which one of my boyfriends am I willing to hand over for a night? I feel like you’d object to sleeping with Lo because he’s basically Sirius’ brother. You and Leo are close already, which means it wouldn’t be all that awkward. Honestly, when it comes down it, I’d tap that.”

“Oh, you think you’re doing the tapping?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Finn glanced at Sirius, who grinned. “That’s cute. My turn, Harzy, hand it over.”

Finn obliged, shocked into silence while Leo and Logan cackled next to him. “Are you really surprised?” Sirius asked.

“I mean, a little.”

“Shush, you two. Finn, have you ever done anything sexual on camera?”

“Does Snapchat count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Multiple times.”

The five of them looked to Logan, who shook his head. “I’m going to have to give it to Loops, who is apparently a top, much to everyone’s surprise. Sorry, mon rouge.”

“To clarify, I’m a switch,” Remus said as he added the card to his pile. “Let’s not get too hasty here.”

Sirius took a card off the stack and scanned the two questions. “Logan, ask Leo the first one, and vice versa.”

“Oh, this should be interesting. Knutty, who here do you most want to hook up with?”

“Just one?” Leo looked over to Sirius who nodded. “Fuck, I don’t know. I can’t choose!”

“Are you going to drink?” Sirius asked. “That means you lose the card by default.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to choose between my boyfriends.” He downed the shot and reached for the card. “Have you ever had an awkward sex dream? Was anyone here involved?”

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. “Yes, I have had so many awkward sex dreams and several of them involved people in this room.”

“Aw, Tremzy, I’m flattered,” Remus teased, taking a sip of his water as Logan stretched a leg out to kick him in the thigh. “Do I get to be the judge now, seeing as you won by default?”

“Get me some cards, Loops!” Finn said.

“Sirius, ask Finn question one and Finn, ask him question two.” Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek as he handed him the card.

“Harzy, what’s the sexy nickname they’ll give you in the old folks’ home? You have no idea how bad I want to know this.”

Finn winked. “Big Red.”

“That is the shittiest nickname ever. Do better.”

“Ugh, fine. Hmmm…” He hummed along to the playlist while he thought, and Sirius couldn’t help but bop a bit as well. Sue him, Gloria Gaynor was catchy. “My nickname in the nursing home is going to be Harzy because that’s already sexy. Hand it over, Cap. What’s a sexual thing you tried, but just couldn’t get into?”

“Having sex with women.” The entire group burst out laughing at that, and it took a solid minute for everyone to calm down enough to continue. “It’s true! They were all very nice and lovely, but it wasn’t quite right. Alright, Re, who won?”

“You did,” Remus laughed. “By a landslide, holy fuck. Batter up, Harz.”

“Ha! Everyone has to answer this one except me. What’s the sex skill you’re most proud of?”

“Do we just go around the circle?” Leo asked. Finn nodded and he tilted his head. “Hmm. I’m really flexible.”

“Damn right you are,” Logan grinned. “I’m most proud of my riding ability.”

Sirius did not miss the flush that came to both Finn and Leo’s faces at that. “Easy, boys. I think I’m a really good kisser.”

“That’s not a sex skill!” Finn protested. “Everyone can kiss.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Not like he can, trust me. Um, I give top-notch blowjobs.”

Finn looked between the four of them, deep in thought. “I hate having to choose between my boyfriends.”

“You know there are two other people here, right?” Sirius asked drily.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to go home with you tomorrow and neither of you are in direct control of whether or not I get laid. I think I have to go with Logan on this one. Peanut, I am grateful for your flexibility every single day, but it’s not a specifically sexual talent.”

“We’ll see if you get to experience it ever again,” Leo scoffed, flicking him on the ribs playfully. “My turn. Logan, ask Finn the first one.”

“Okay, baby, what did you get in major trouble for as a kid?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Finn absentmindedly ran his hand through Logan’s hair. “There was one time when I told Alex I was going for a bike ride, but he didn’t tell my parents and they thought I’d been kidnapped. Got grounded for a month after that.”

“Even though you told your brother?”

“Mhmm. Oh, I hate the way this is worded. Tell us about a time a fluid got on you during sexy times.”

Logan snorted. “Do you remember the day we found out I was allergic to dust?”

Both Leo and Finn started laughing, but Sirius shared a bewildered look with Remus, who shrugged. “Spill it, Tremz, we weren’t there.”

“D’accord, we had forgotten to clean the apartment after a roadie, so it was pretty dusty. I went down on Leo and then pulled off to sneeze right as he came, and it got in my eye.”

Sirius winced at the thought and Remus hissed in sympathy. “Yikes.”

“After we finished rinsing my eye out, we dusted the whole place and now we vacuum at least once a week.”

“Logan is the winner for this round because I still feel bad about that,” Leo said as he handed the card over. “I have never felt so guilty for coming. Lo, you’re the judge now.”

“Since the questions stayed within the triad last round, I’m going to be nice and give you two a chance to catch up,” he teased. “Cap, read Loops the first one.”

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

“I don’t think a lot of people can say they’ve fucked at the rink.”

“Yeah, um, how often did that happen?” Leo interrupted, making a time out motion. “Because I thought it was maybe twice and I’m a little worried about sitting on that table now.”

Sirius winked. “Pre-game rituals, Knutty. At least once a week.”

“The Habs PT room was also interesting,” Remus mused. “They had a very heavy door, which was nice. Okay, gimme. What was your best orgasm?”

“When I wore your jersey,” Sirius answered without hesitating. “No contest. Logan, who won?”

He blinked twice before responding. “Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you got off in the Habs PT room. I think this one goes to Loops.”

Sirius sighed and picked a new card. “These are incredibly similar. Um, Re and Leo.”

Remus took the card and snuggled up against his side as he read. “Leo, how much money would a voyeuristic billionaire have to pay us to have sex in his velvet blimp? That is so specific, what the hell?”

“There are two parts to my answer,” Leo said. “Number one: it would take very little actual money to get me to have sex with you if I wasn’t head over heels in love and you weren’t engaged. Number two: a hundred million dollars.”

“What?”

“He’s a billionaire! That’s nothing to him! Think of another time when you’d be allowed to fuck in a velvet blimp and get paid obscene amounts of money, Loops. I’ll wait.”

“Good point.”

“My turn. What would we do on our first date?”

“Hmm. I’m getting, like, coffee shop and bookstore vibes.” Remus paused. “Wait, we literally did that last weekend.”

“By that metric, we’re basically already dating,” Leo laughed. “Cap, who won?”

“Sorry, honey, but Leo put a lot of thought into his answer.” Sirius slid the card across the floor and Leo kissed it in victory.

Remus shook his head and drew a card. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Finn, ask my traitor fiancé the first one and vice versa.”

“I’m getting punished for being fair?”

“We’re in this to win, baby.”

“Ask away, Harz.”

“How are we wrong for each other romantically? Ooo, can I answer this after you?”

“Sure. Where do I start?” Sirius laughed. “First we have the weird power imbalance if we’re still on the same team, then there’s the part where I’m super introverted and you’re painfully social, and finally you’re poly and I’m not.”

“I was going to say you’re not as kinky as me.”

Remus, who had been taking a drink of water, choked and nearly did a spit take. “Double check that before you commit,” he coughed.

Finn’s eyes widened. “Really? Again? I thought you guys were the wholesome vanilla couple!”

“Oh, honey, no,” Leo said, patting him on the arm. “Kasey made the same mistake.”

Sirius took the card from him. “This is easy. Have you ever had a threesome?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Sirius wins that one,” Remus said. At Finn’s betrayed look, he shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re literally the judge.”

“You are now, actually. The round ended.”

Finn rolled his eyes and took a card. “Loops and Logan, give it a go.”

“Loops, if we were on a desert island together, would we become lovers?” Logan batted his eyelashes and Remus laughed.

“Is anyone else there?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sure, why not. You’re cute.” He paused and made a face. “Now that I think about it, that would be a lot like fucking Regulus and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Sirius turned to look at him. “I hope you feel oh god, please no about that.”

“It’s a desert island!”

“Maps exist! We’ll find you!”

“Hand over the card before this gets ugly, Tremz.” Remus made a low oof noise as Sirius dragged him into his lap and placed a loud kiss to the side of his neck. “Thank you, baby. Describe the first time you had sex, including every cringey detail.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “I was a junior in high school and it happened in her parents’ basement. The school gave out free condoms—”

“You had sex with a school condom?” Remus grimaced. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I had been crushing on her for a while, but she panicked as soon as her shirt came off and told me she was a lesbian, and that I looked exactly like the girl she was in love with.”

“No.”

“Yeah. It was so awkward. I gave her a hug and then we went and got ice cream.”

The room was quiet for a moment. “Damn,” Leo said with a low whistle at last as Remus passed the card to Logan. “Good for her, I guess?”

“I mean, she was dating the girl by the end of the year. Gay rights?”

“Gay rights,” the rest of them said in unison, breaking down into laughter as Leo took the last card.

“Bummer, everyone gets to answer this except me. Expose one of your kinks or take a shot, and you can’t repeat one that’s already been said. Nobody wins this card at the end of the round.”

“I am not opposed to a little bit of manhandling,” Logan said with a sly look at Leo.

Sirius eyed the shot glass in the middle of the circle, then decided against it. There was no way he would give up a chance to beat the cubs at this game. “Getting tied up.”

Remus gave him a surprised look. “I thought you’d take a shot.”

“Not this late in the game. Your turn.”

“Hmmm.” Remus bit his lip. “Praise kink.”

“Aw, man, that was mine!” Finn protested. Remus gave him a high five. “I guess I have to go with voyeurism, then. Whew, wasn’t expecting to say that out loud tonight.”

“Is that it? That was the last one?” Strangely, Sirius was a little disappointed. Despite the insanely invasive sex questions, it was fun to trade stories with the cubs.

“Yep. Count your cards, everyone.”

“I don’t have any.” Finn pouted.

Leo held up his single card. “Thank God for the velvet blimp.”

Sirius had two, and Remus shuffled his three. Across the circle, Logan was sitting pretty on five cards. “I win,” he said with a smug smile.

“Way to go, Tremzy.” Sirius reached over for a fist bump, doing his best not to jostle Remus. “I mean, it must have been nice having both your boyfriends here to give you cards.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan tossed his cards at Sirius, who grabbed a pillow off the sofa behind them and whacked him on the side of the head with it. “Oh, you’re going down.”

In the ensuing chaos, the truth or drink box and Logan’s winning cards were forgotten. None of them really cared, though; they had a pillow fight to win.

[scuttling]

Kneel

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 1,757 Tags: NSFW, 18+, Oral sex, Kneeling, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Canon-typical violence, Hurt/comfort Summary: Sophie is kidnapped, and something the unsub says triggers her in way Aaron never expected. Link to A03 or read below!

“On your knees for me, baby,” Aaron says, and Sophie drops to them without even thinking; her body just obeys the command now, like so many others he gives her. “I’m the only one you do this for. I’m the only one you give your power to. The only one you trust with it.”

“Yes, daddy, only you. Always.” The need to please him, to prove that she belongs to him one hundred percent, is always strong, but never so strong as when she kneels for him, looks up at him from the ground, in all of his glory. There are so many things he could do to her in this position, so much he could take, but he never does, because he meets her trust and devotion with adoration and love, would never hurt her.

“My perfect girl. You give me the greatest gifts, when you give yourself to me like this.” He reaches a gentle hand down, cups her chin, tilts her head up, and she sighs, content. “Good girl. I want to just stand here for a moment and look at you. How good you are for me. How easily you give me this part of you. I know how headstrong you are; I know giving up your power is hard.”

“Not anymore, daddy. Not for you.” He closes his eyes, exhales long like he’s feeling overwhelmed.

“That’s right, sweet girl. It’s as easy as breathing for you now, isn’t it? You actually need me to take your power, sometimes; to relieve you of the burden.” Her eyes water a little, because he’s right, because he knows her so well. Being on her knees for him isn’t about sucking him off, even if that’s what she ends up doing; it is about being cared for in a way she didn’t even know she needed, until Aaron showed her. Until he eased the ache, lifted a weight off her chest she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying.

“I need you, daddy. I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, baby. I’m here for you.” He presses two fingertips to her lips, and she opens her mouth for him, lets him push them inside. She sucks on them softly, because he is undemanding, sweet, almost reverent, the way he looks at her; when he pulls them out, replaces them with his cock, she echoes it right back, worships him with her mouth and hands until she earns his praise in the form of her name, breathy, falling from his lips.

They live in a world where life is rarely perfect, but in Sophie’s world, this is about as close as it gets. When Aaron finds out that Sophie has been taken, the fifth thing he thinks is that it’s a small blessing that her comms were on when their unsub abducted her. It’s currently set up so she can’t hear them, but they can hear her, and it makes the drive to the unsub’s storage unit slightly easier, her rough breath in his ear. At least she’s still breathing.

“You’re finally awake,” the unsub says; his voice is faint, like he’s not very close to her. “I’ve been wanting to play with you, but I only play when my girls are awake.”

“You know my team will come for me,” Sophie says matter-of-factly. The unsub makes a sound of disinterest.

“I’m sure they will, but not until after I’ve had my fun.” His voice is louder, clearer. Closer. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your handcuffs; you look beautiful, with your arms bound. At my mercy.”

Sophie swallows hard.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

“You know I’m not going to kill you yet. You know what I like to do first. You found me; you must know.” JJ is in the passenger seat, covers her mouth with her hand like she’s going to be sick.

“Yes, I do. You like to make them fear for their lives, and then you torture them until they beg for death. You beat them with your bare hands just to feel something, because you’re incapable of feeling things.”

“That’s right. I’m a real psycho.” There is a grin in his voice when he says it, something sick.

“Actually, you’re a sociopath. It’s textbook antisocial personality disorder.”

“Enough. I prefer my girls to be silent—except for the pleading and the crying, of course. That’s the sweet spot.” Sophie’s breathing gets rougher; maybe he’s getting closer. “Get on your knees.”

She inhales sharply.

“No.” Aaron resists closing his eyes, but only because he’s driving. Fuck.

The unsub chuckles.

“Are you stupid? I said get on your knees. Kneel.”

“And I said no.” There is a clear sound of impact, like a blow to the face, and Sophie grunts.

“Why is she agitating him?” Reid asks from the backseat, almost pleading.

“Kneel,” the unsub repeats sternly, but she must not do it; there is the sound of another blow, and then she falls to the ground with a thud. More impact, and she acts like the breath is knocked out of her; he’s kicking her in the stomach, maybe. Aaron winces, feels pure rage rush through him. When he gets his hands on this son of a bitch...

“Kneel.”

“I won’t do it,” Sophie says, her voice weak, and it earns her several more kicks; she cries out in pain.

“I said kneel!” The unsub is enraged now, it’s clear from the tone of his voice, and Aaron wishes she could hear him so he could beg her to do it, to just do it.

“I won’t do it, I won’t do it,” she murmurs softly, and Aaron’s heart aches.

“Stop saying that to me!” This time it sounds like he’s hitting her in the face; her breath is labored, sounds wet.

“I’m not—I’m not saying it to you,” she rasps, and Aaron curses, because he knows, now, that the words are for him.

“What does that mean?” Prentiss asks from the backseat, and Aaron sighs, swears again.

“It’s for me.”

“Kneel,” the unsub repeats.

“I won’t give it to him,” Sophie assures.

“What does that mean, Hotch?” JJ asks, desperate.

“Kneel!”

“I won’t give it to him. I won’t do it.” Her voice is soft and laced with pain.

“Get on your knees or I will gut you right there, I swear to god,” the unsub hisses practically into the mouthpiece.

“Hotch!” Reid calls. Aaron exhales hard.

“She’ll only get on her knees for me. It’s something we talk about.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s willing to die over some kinky game you two play?” JJ says, incredulous.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about trust. It’s about her willingly giving up her power.” He’s sick to his stomach, wishes again that he could beg her to obey, tell her it’s alright.

“Stand,” the unsub tells her, and there is more labored breathing as she pulls herself up. “So you’ll stand on a foot I’m fairly sure is broken, but you won’t kneel? Answer me!”

“I don’t answer to you,” she spits, and then there are sounds of a struggle; more impact, bodies hitting the ground, and then choking sounds. Someone is gasping for air. It is agony to listen to, and everyone in the car is tense, quiet, terrified. They’re five minutes out; will it be enough time?

He’s not sure how much time passes, but the choking sounds stop. All that’s left is heavy breathing.

She could just be passed out. She might not be dead. He repeats it like a mantra, until they hear the voice.

“Aaron?”

It’s Sophie, sounding exhausted. They all sigh in relief, and JJ grabs hold of his arm, squeezes.

“Aaron, I want you to remember that it looks much worse than it is. There’s just a lot of blood because my nose is broken. I think he was wrong about my foot, but I’m just going to sit here until you come get me, just in case.”

The sound of her voice has never been sweeter; he wants to cry, or scream. They have to be right around the corner.

“I love you. I love all of you. I’m sorry you guys had to listen to that.” She sighs, sounds like she’s crying herself. “I know I should have just done what he said, but… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give him my power. I hope you’re not mad.”

When they finally make it inside, he wraps her up in his arms and kisses her bloody face, assures her he’s not angry.

The unsub is dead, with ligature marks on his throat; apparently she got him close enough to get her arms around him and choke him with the cuffs. Nobody is upset with the way it ended but Sophie.

“It’s so different from shooting someone,” she breathes against his neck. “Not that that’s easy, but I could feel him die. It makes me sick to think about it.” He shushes her, presses his lips to her forehead.

“My brave, headstrong, perfect girl,” he murmurs, holding her tightly. He knows the EMTs are right behind them, and she needs to be seen, but until they arrive he just holds her. “My incredible wife. I’m here for you. It will be okay.”

She gets hugs from everyone, but it’s kind of a group hug situation, because he will not let her go.

Her nose is broken, a minor fracture, but her foot is just sprained; she’s patched up, given lots of love and attention by the team, by Aaron; when they make it back to the hotel, all she wants is a hot shower and to be held some more, so that’s what he plans for.

What he doesn’t plan for is her sliding to her knees in front of him instead of getting dressed for bed. Her body is covered in purple bruises, and so is her face, and he sits down on the bed, presses his hands carefully to her cheeks.

“I need you, daddy,” she breathes, eyes wet, and he pulls her closer, let’s her rest her head in his lap.

“I’ll take your burden, baby, if you let me.” He cards his fingers through her hair, rubs his hands softly over her shoulders, and that’s how she falls asleep. He moves her to the bed, wraps her up in the blanket and holds her, presses his nose against her hair; he listens to the sound of her breathing and doesn’t sleep a wink.

[honeymoonjin]

pairing: jimin x yoongi || genre: smut - nsfw 18+ word count: 6.7k warnings: dom!jimin, sub!yoongi, exhibitionism, BDSM, sub!jk feature very briefly, masochism, pain play, impact play, spanking, orgasm control/denial, untouched orgasm, frotting (i hope that’s right, i had to google it), crying during sex but in a fun liberating way u feel me, praise, mean-mugging, pet names

summary: jimin is used to keeping his professional bdsm life and his domestic married life separate, but when his husband yoongi comes in after a hard day at work, he wants to blur those lines. 

A/N: i wrote this for the lovely and talented @joonsbean​ so thank her for inspiring me to actually write something, also this is unedited bc i just sat down for 6 hours to write this and i am not willing to stare at it a moment longer

---

After a particularly resonant flick of the whip, Jimin eyes the way Jungkook's calves tense, left foot tapping the floor in an uneven stutter. He's starting to really feel it now.

He absentmindedly reaches his hand out to smooth the reddened flesh of Jungkook's ass, gently cooing at him quiet enough that his rapt audience won't hear. While the eager submissive was the biggest masochist of the regulars, and he was likely miles away from safewording, as a friend Jimin knew the long-haired boy had three hours of lectures the next day. He'd probably relish the sore ass and take it like a champ, but Jimin was soft on him, so he knew it was time to wrap it up.

Tilting his chin towards the dark, almost purplish streak just above Jungkook's thigh, he raises his voice to address the onlookers. "As you can see, when there's only one fall, like with a whip or a switch, the impact feels a lot sharper and concentrated. The thinner it is, that effect is only amplified. For that reason, I really recommend against switches and whips as a first-timer or if you're testing it out." Jimin can't help but beam at the way every person in the crowd listens to his spiel with clear enthusiasm. He got off on this kind of spotlight in a different way to the usual exhibitionism. Sharing his passion never failed to cheer him up. "Even though floggers can look more intense, as we saw when we were starting out, the impact is more distributed, more of a thud than a sting. Now," he breaks off, giving Jungkook's tender ass a final playful swat, making the boy jump, knuckles white as they clench the back of the chair he's bent over, "let's give our little prince a big round of applause for being so helpful for us today."

Jungkook positively keens at the cheers and wolf whistles that erupt from the crowd of at least thirty, his back arching and face buried between his meaty upper arms to hide the blush. Jimin gently massages the heated skin one last time, whispering instructions to head off to the side where his usual dom, Namjoon, was no doubt waiting.

The two had been playing for almost a year now, but Namjoon was still hesitant to venture into the heavier sadism that Jungkook sometimes needed, and the three of them had found a happy medium where Jungkook helped Jimin out with demonstrations, and Jimin indulged Jungkook's occasional desire for more intense pain play. As a thank you, Namjoon even helped Jimin out with his taxes just the month before, and Jimin quite often allowed them to reserve their favourite play rooms out of courtesy. A mutually beneficial arrangement, and it certainly came in handy to have Namjoon deal with aftercare while Jimin still had his demonstration to wind up.

Swinging the chair that Jungkook was previously bent over, Jimin takes a seat facing the audience and quirks a brow. "Alrighty, before we wrap up and I set you back into the wild, any questions?"

This line always had very different responses. Once, on a basic self-bondage informational session, there were so many single kinksters interested that there ended up being almost an hour of questioning, followed by an impromptu tutorial of safe handcuff use. More commonly, Jimin fielded a few confirming questions about what he'd shown, or something related but not overly relevant to the main topic at hand. More often than not, though, he'd find a string of people awkwardly hovering around him after the crowd had dissipated, too nervous to ask their question in front of the others.

This time, however, a single hand is thrust into the air, coming from the rough back third of the gathering.

"Yes?" Jimin calls out, squinting past the few stage lights and into the darkened crowd. He can't quite make out the face, but as soon as the rumbly voice begins to speak, he doesn't need the visual to recognise it.

"I was just wondering," his husband calls out, "could I speak to you in private?"

Jimin is so startled to hear Yoongi that for a moment he freezes on stage, totally silent. Never once had his husband of four years step a single foot into the dungeon Jimin worked at. Not intolerant of the kink world, Yoongi was simply paranoid about being recognised - a renowned human rights lawyer showing up to a BDSM dungeon dressed in leathers was a tabloid field day waiting to happen - and was happy for Jimin to continue working there whenever he wished.

Now, though, that unspoken rule that had kept these two worlds of Jimin's separate had shattered with a single question, and he felt cold shock drip down his spine.

"Uh," he begins eloquently, blinking himself out of it and plastering a collected smile on again, "of course! I'll be right with you once the show ends."

Jimin closes the session in a daze, answering a few questions about physical aftercare and the best materials and brands for impact play equipment on autopilot. It feels like an eternity passing in a single second, and before he's even processed it, the audience have moved on, and his husband is placing a gentle kiss of greeting on his temple, the same way he would when he'd get home from work in the evenings.

Mere minutes after he'd been in his usual dominant persona, Jimin feels himself melting like candy floss in Yoongi's arms, wrapping around him in their usual casual intimacy. "How are you here?" Jimin asks softly, snaking his arms under Yoongi's slate grey suit jacket, feeling the warmth radiate from his body, even through the expensive cotton shirt. "You're still dressed for work, baby."

Yoongi tenses slightly, gazing around the room. A few people are still milling around in small groups, chatting, but this close to the stage, him and Jimin are out of earshot. Still, he speaks lowly, dipping into the Daegu drawl that only makes an appearance when he's too stressed to think clearly. "I took a sick day. Or, I suppose, sick afternoon," he corrects, brows pinched together. "Had to get out. Can we- Is there a place we can have some privacy, please?"

Wide-eyed, Jimin jumps up out of Yoongi's embrace. "Oh, definitely, sorry!" He tamps down his rising concern by hooking his arm around Yoongi's, locking their fingers tightly as he leads his husband out of the auditorium and down a hall.

Being a matinee opening, the dungeon isn't too packed. Jimin prefers working the day shifts, likes that everything feels a little more personal and open. Nights, especially themed ones, get so busy that the gear and rooms have to be booked sometimes weeks in advance. Jimin does his fair share of DMing (they need all the help they can get) but doesn't like to run any scenes himself in the relative chaos.

But at 2pm on a Tuesday, it's easy enough to slip into one of the private rooms, switching the sign to occupied. There's no lock on the door for safety purposes, but nobody will dare enter while it's taken.

Yoongi steps in, eying the room with surprise. It's a relatively open space, with the walls lined with bookcases on one end, and a large wooden desk with some filing cabinets on the other. The desk itself has a comfortable-looking desk chair, and the opposite side has a single leather armchair like something from a therapist's office.

Although there is a wide window, it's covered with blinds, and Jimin knows from experience that it opens directly onto a brick wall for privacy. Instead, the room is lit from above with ceiling lights that are adjustable by a dimmer. Jimin leaves it bright.

Yoongi slowly makes his way to the black leather armchair, sitting down on it and leaning forward to inspect the desk. Absurdly large, it is mostly uncovered except for a diary with some unreadable scrawls on it, an ancient laptop that doesn't turn on, and a ruler. "Is this your office?" Yoongi asks incredulously.

Jimin cackles before he can help himself, moving forward to perch on the edge of the desk in front of Yoongi. "Does it look like I'd get anything done here? It's a play room, baby."

"Play room?" his husband replies dully, but Jimin doesn't miss the way his eyes are zoned in on Jimin's body, the intimidating leather jacket fixed with a tightly buckled belt around his waist, the skintight black jeans that barely contained his thighs, and perfectly glossed black dress shoes, his calling card amongst the typical stomping boots or knife-thin stilettos that most other doms wore. He always got dressed at the dungeon, leaving the house in unassuming sweatpants and a hoodie, so he gets no little satisfaction in relishing his husband's first reaction to the getup.

"That's right," he confirms with a smirk, crossing his legs. "We have five of them at the moment, though the sixth one is almost ready for use. This one is for your typical CEO or professor roleplays, we have a medical one, an interrogation one," Jimin rattles them off on his fingers, watching the way Yoongi's eyes bug out at each addition, "just a basic bedroom one for the vanilla stuff, one that actually looks like a dungeon, and the new one is gonna be an outdoor one."

"Outdoor?" Yoongi asks with a unsteady voice, before shaking his head to clear the thoughts. "Anyway, here is fine, I just- I had to get away from work, Minnie, and I... I was thinking..."

Jimin frowns in sympathy, leaning forward to stroke the back of Yoongi's hand. "I can leave early, I don't have anything else booked today, I was mostly planning on sticking to the social lounge-"

"I don't wanna go home," Yoongi slips in hurriedly, flipping his hand on the arm of the chair to link their fingers together tightly, though his eyes don't leave Jimin's for a second. "I know that you like to keep this job and our own love life separate, and I'm not going to force you, but- I came here because I want to submit to you."

Jimin's eyes widen, his breath catching in his chest. A switch at heart, Jimin had always found it a nice balance to indulge his dominant side here at work, and return home for Yoongi to take care of him, and it had always worked well. Even before they were serious, right in the early days of fucking like rabbits and pretending they weren't entirely smitten, Yoongi had always easily taken that more dominant role, though most of their sex to this day was far less kinky than the kind of demonstrations Jimin ran here. What Yoongi was asking wasn't just to be pampered and taken care of, but to be taken control of. And Jimin couldn't deny the ball of heat that was quickly building inside of him at that thought.

"Baby," he sighs, forcing himself to keep professionalism in mind, "I can't- We can't do anything here without you filling out some paperwork. The list of kinks and limits at the least. Not just as an employee, but as your husband, I gotta keep you safe."

"I know," Yoongi insists, and he frees his hand from Jimin's grip just long enough to plunge a hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a tightly folded piece of paper, handing it to Jimin.

Oddly enough, the folds are worn, not crisp, and as Jimin unfolds it, the text - printed in 12 point Times New Roman, because of course Yoongi would type it up with perfect formatting - has lost the freshly-printed gloss.

"I've been working up the courage to come here for months, Jimin-ah," Yoongi explains in a shy but determined voice. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel pressured at all either way, but please know that this is something that I've researched, and that I'm serious about." His solemn expression turns slightly cheeky, almost impish. "You literally make a living domming people, Minnie. I've been fantasising about it long before I even realised I wanted it."

A thrill of arousal runs through Jimin, straight between his legs, and he tightens his thighs, taking a settling breath. "Oh, baby," he coos, eyes dropping to read Yoongi's well-documented and organised list of kinks and limits, scanning over some surprising - and not-so-surprising - tidbits, "I'm gonna take such good care of you."

The air rushes out of Yoongi's lungs as he unconsciously scoots forward in the chair, leaning in. "Do we- Do we just start now, or do you need to go get some-" he breaks off, blushing violently, "some equipment?"

Jimin breaks into a broad smile, eyes crinkling as he steps forward, steps close, ringed fingers slipping into Yoongi's hair on either side, tipping his husband's face up as his chin rests on Jimin's lower abdomen. "Oh, my big boy wants to play with some toys, huh?" Jimin can feel when Yoongi swallows hard, his eyes not glossy with subspace, instead keen and sharp with pointed desire. "Don't worry, baby, this room isn't as empty as you think."

When he steps away, dropping all contact, Yoongi slumps like a puppet with cut strings, catching himself before he slips off the chair, instead lying back against it, chest heaving beneath the starch white of his dress shirt.

Jimin makes his way first to the bookshelves, looking back over his shoulder to catch Yoongi's reaction as he finds a notch in the framing and pulls, revealing that they aren't real shelves at all, simply disguised cabinets that swing open to reveal the hidden delights inside. The three closest to the desk are filled with clothes of all sizes, office-wear spanning pencil skirts to neckties to blazers, a few frumpy pieces that remind Jimin of dorky professors, even some school uniforms, cut far shorter than regulation.

With a grin, Jimin pulls at a pleated plaid skirt, smirking at Yoongi. "In the mood for dress-up, baby? Show off those pretty legs of yours."

Yoongi, still with some wits about him, narrows his eyes with a mock scowl, his disapproval clear.

Jimin sighs out wistfully, but lets it go. "Another time, maybe." Ignoring Yoongi's light scoff, he nudges the doors shut with his foot one at a time and moves to the last one, where the facade of stacked books hides a series of hooks nailed into the back wall.

Jimin doesn't need to even face Yoongi to know he's squirming in his chair - the squeaking leather gives it away. Strung up are floggers, whips, switches, and neatly coiled bundles of rope, catalogued by length. His husband had expressed interest in both impact play and bondage, several different types of both, and so it's no surprise that the sight of those fantasies had Yoongi breathing heavily. He leaves that cupboard open.

"There are so many things we could play with in here, baby," Jimin assures, patting the folded piece of paper that he'd slipped into his own pocket, "and your list was pretty extensive, so before we get started, any particular preference?"

Yoongi swallows again, hair slightly rucked up from Jimin's hands. Jimin can't wait to see it totally mussed up, see his husband in ruins, see him love it. With wary eyes on Jimin as he moves behind the desk towards the filing cabinets, Yoongi nods. "The- what you were doing with that guy on stage. I- I want that."

Jimin blinks, turning his back to his husband to mask his surprise, fingers hooking the edge of the top drawer of one of the cabinets, each one labelled alphabetically. "Is that so? We did a lot on that stage, baby, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Yoongi is silent for a moment, his breathing the only sound as Jimin carefully slides the drawer open, revealing neatly sectioned rows of anal plugs. He grins. A for Anal, B for Bondage, C for Chastity. The designers really took their job seriously, and he could appreciate the humour in it.

He lets Yoongi take his time, knowing that saying something is often the hardest part. Instead, he notes the location of the drawer marked P, and turns back to his husband.

Looking incredibly small, tucked up on the intentionally oversized armchair, Yoongi clears his throat, making shy eye contact. "The paddles," he says in a high tone, like he's unsure he's even using the correct word, "I want you to- to hit me with them like you did him."

"You want me to spank that pretty little ass of yours?" Jimin confirms, loving the way his husband goes bright pink.

"Y-yeah," he replies breathily, dropping his gaze. "Will you?"

Despite the raging fire inside him, Jimin's heart leaps fondly, so in love with his husband and all his endearing mannerisms. "Of course, baby. But let's start slow, hm? Gotta make your first time special, don't we?"

Yoongi laughs, then, full of air and barely audible, his lips lilting in a small smile that still shows his teeth.

Jimin tilts his head to the side. "What?"

With a tiny head shake, Yoongi contains his grin. "I just really wanna kiss you right now."

Jimin is moving before he's even finished speaking, his hip barely missing the corner of the desk in his haste to join his husband, knees straddling his lap without hesitation, holding those soft cheeks in both hands as he presses his lips firmly against Yoongi's, eyes fluttering shut.

Their parting kiss before Yoongi left for work this morning feels too long ago, and for a moment their new arrangement is forgotten as they fall into their usual motions, years of marriage making every inch of Yoongi's lips feel familiar, the bump of their noses and brush of eyelashes like home even in such a different environment.

With no rush, Jimin lets himself indulge in it, burying one hand in Yoongi's hair, carding through the choppy black locks that are no longer gelled back. His other hand slides down Yoongi's jaw, neck, and chest, tugging at the knot of his tie to loosen it. He makes no effort to be gentle, and his husband just groans into Jimin's mouth at the rough treatment.

It's all too easy to shift into his dom space, a practiced scale of gradually increasing intensity. It begins with the tie, but soon enough Jimin punctuates their ongoing kiss with hard sucks and quick nips of teeth, Yoongi tipping his chin up to drown in it more. Testing the waters, Jimin rocks his hips once against Yoongi's taut crotch and yanks once on a fistful of hair, baring the pale expanse of Yoongi's neck.

The debauched lawyer bucks beneath him, hands flying to grip tightly at Jimin's waist. His long, beautiful fingers and wide palm have always made Jimin feel weak at the knees, and feeling them grasp at him not in command but in desperation feels addictive.

"You like that?" he breathes, voice low enough to almost growl, and Yoongi shivers as he nods his affirmation. "Good," Jimin praises, and dives down, teeth grazing down the sensitive skin of Yoongi's throat, skimming until he feels the throb of his pulse point. Yoongi can't risk marks at work, certainly not in court, but it's a Friday, and Jimin is feeling more possessive than usual. He nips lightly but laps at the skin thoroughly, knowing the best he can get away with is a reddened bite mark which would fade over the weekend. The hickies were best saved for other areas, he knew.

Yoongi is panting like a horse now, air punched through his nostrils as he bites down hard on his own swollen lip. Jimin knows the effect he has on his subs, and grins against the glistening wet skin of Yoongi's neck at the hardness that has grown between his legs. "Wuh-want more, Minnie," he gasps out, "need more."

Jimin hums, making sure Yoongi can feel the vibrations in the hollow of his throat, sliding up to press kisses to that hyper-sensitive place just behind Yoongi's ear that always made him tremble.

It doesn't disappoint, Yoongi letting out a shaky breath as his arms wrap around Jimin's waist, trying to bring him closer.

Jimin doesn't let him, though, pulling back to sit on his haunches, running a thumb down Yoongi's reddened lower lip to watch the way it springs back into place. Yoongi sits still, eyes cloudy as he lets his dom for the night play with him. The thought pleases Jimin; that Yoongi truly was wanting this, truly was willing to give up control to him.

He spares a glance down between his own thighs, where the cool grey of Yoongi's slacks makes no attempt at hiding his bulging erection. Pouting in sympathy, Jimin reaches out with a single finger to trace the outline, watching the muscles in his husband's thighs tense as he fights to stay still. "So hard already, baby," Jimin drawls, "do you think that pretty little cock of yours can wait its turn while I spank you, hm? Can it be patient for me?"

Yoongi flushes, whining Jimin's name under his breath. "Yes," he admits, huffing out a reluctant sigh.

"Yes what?"

Yoongi grimaces at Jimin, but the dom just raises an expectant brow. "Yes, my- my pretty little cock can be patient for you," Yoongi murmurs in the quietest voice he can manage, cheeks red hot.

"That's my boy," Jimin beams, rewarding his husband by popping the button and pulling down the zip on the fly of Yoongi's slacks, releasing some of the pressure. Yoongi groans, deep in his throat, but his relief is quickly thwarted once Jimin stands up off him.

Making his way back to the filing cabinets, Jimin quickly slides open the one labeled P. Splayed out neatly lie five different paddles. Three are plastic, one a basic rounded shape, another that same shape only with several small holes drilled through for a sharper impact, and a final one a rectangular shape. The next one is hard wood, heavy, Jimin recalls, and the one tucked at the back is a softly upholstered pleather one for beginners. Then there's the ruler, of course, though that's a little cheesy for the current mood.

He assesses the five inside at his leisure, knowing every moment of anticipation will feel like an eternity to his husband, and finally makes a choice. He slides the cabinet drawer closed.

Yoongi makes a wounded, cut-off noise in his throat, but Jimin sends him a firm gaze.

"I'll give you what you want, baby," Jimin assures, wetting his lips, "but first I want to feel you myself. Pants and underwear off, jacket off, I want you bent over my desk."

Yoongi sucks in a sudden breath, but stands up on wobbly legs and slips off his blazer. It's probably too expensive to be dumping it on the chair behind him, but Yoongi clearly isn't worried about that as he kicks off his shoes and pants too, only hesitating once his fingers are hooked on the elastic waistband of his underwear.

"Off," Jimin demands harshly, "I won't ask again."

This time Yoongi obeys without delay, and Jimin takes great pleasure in watching the way his husband's cock leaps up once it's freed, pretty and pink and wetter than he'd ever seen it before. Though Yoongi always tended to top, his cock was smaller - more slender, at least - than Jimin's, but he loved it, loved that a hasty three fingers was enough prep on those times that they just couldn't wait to devour each other.

Now, though, with mussed hair and wrinkled shirt, naked from the waist down bar a pair of black ankle socks, Jimin's husband looked positively adorable in the most erotic way, and Jimin wanted nothing more than to make him wait, make him work to cum.

When Yoongi folds himself over the desk, side-on to Jimin to make use of the length of the surface, his hands awkwardly hover on either side of him, keeping himself slightly upright still. The back of his shirt is just long enough to cover the tops of his cheeks, and the sight of his rounded ass and dripping cock peeking through is enough to make Jimin actively restrain himself, taking a moment to breathe and appreciate this opportunity.

He steps forward, planting a hand between Yoongi's shoulder blades and presses, slow enough that Yoongi has time to move his face to the side to avoid banging his chin, but firm enough that there's no resisting. Yoongi goes willingly, however, his back arching as the table is just lower than his hips. Like this, no fabric obstructs Jimin's view, and he hums, pleased. "Good boy."

Yoongi trembles, his legs tight together and knees shaking just slightly. He's nervous at the vulnerable position, but no less aroused for it.

With the tip of his shoe, Jimin guides Yoongi's legs apart, until his socked feet are wider than his hips, until he needs to lean his weight onto the desktop to keep stable.

"That's it," Jimin praises, "my perfect little slut. So obedient."

Yoongi's right knee buckles at the exact moment that he hears the pet name, and Jimin grins. The piece of paper in his pocket had a long list of suggestions for names he was okay being called, and the dom couldn't resist picking out his favourite. The perfect mix of praise and degradation, it flowed so well on his tongue; the smooth, melodic sounds punctuated by the sharp hit of the t. Slut. Jimin muffles a groan, pressing on his own straining erection.

Unable to help himself, he reaches out, both hands grabbing at the plush ass cheeks in front of him, spreading them to watch the way Yoongi clenches at the sudden exposure. This must be what he looks like when they play together, Jimin thinks. He wonders if Yoongi is enjoying the change in pace just as much as he is.

"I'm going to start you off with just my hands, baby," he introduces, running a palm under the hem of his shirt and up Yoongi's spine to watch the way he shivers. "I'm sure you're well aware of the traffic light system, hm? Tell me what the colours mean."

Yoongi shifts, fingers curling uselessly against the tabletop as his eyes remain squeezed shut. "Red means stop, yellow means slow down, green means go," he recites, the exact phrasing off the dungeon's website, and Jimin bends down to press a single soft kiss on the top of Yoongi's ass as a reward, making him twitch violently. "Fuck, Jimin-ah," he sighs, arching his back even more.

Jimin grins. "Good. I'm adding another colour, just for you," he explains. "Gold. Can you guess what gold means?"

Yoongi swallows, shifts his weight, and shakes his head.

Jimin digs his fingers into the flesh of Yoongi's ass, watching them pillow in roughly. "Gold means more. Gold means harder. Okay?"

Yoongi nods quickly, hair even more tangled with every movement.

"Good boy," Jimin croons, and without further comment his left hand rises and comes down in a single strike.

Yoongi seizes up for a second at the shock of it, but there's no power behind the hit, and his brain realises a moment later that no pain follows the loud noise. He huffs in need and pushes his hips back, silently asking for more. "Gold, g-gold," he mutters offbeat, already panting.

Jimin hums in pleasure, and swats his right cheek this time, feeling a sting bloom across his palm. Still not nearly the hardest he can go, it's clearly not enough for Yoongi, as he remains stoic, waiting for more.

The next time, Jimin lets his hand really catch the air on the way down, but he doesn't stop at one hit, raining down three in quick succession on the same spot. Yoongi breathes through the first impact, freezes in surprise at the second one, and an unbidden moan falls out of his mouth at the third.

"Mm, that's better, isn't it?" Jimin muses rhetorically, soothing the slightly pinked patch of skin with his warmed hand. "Just need a bit more pain to let go."

"Please," Yoongi breathes, "jus' keep going."

"Bossy," Jimin teases, "I'm meant to be giving you orders, baby. If you don't quit it, I might not give you what you want at all."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, ple-please hit me again," Yoongi begs mindlessly, and Jimin can't help but indulge him, his husband sounding so pretty when he whines.

When he returns to spanking again, it's in earnest. Instead of pausing to check in each time, he relies on his husband's telling cues to moderate it, as well as the sweet pleas of gold, gold every time Jimin spent too long between swats.

Much like the rest of him, Yoongi's ass blooms candied pink, and with every strike, Jimin can't help but venture further, wanting to colour him in all over. The spanks that fall on Yoongi's upper thighs make him restless, squirming and moaning wordlessly. The ones that land on the fatty portion of his ass have him sighing happily, crooked smile slicked in drool against the wood of the desk.

The two of them slip into an unspoken rhythm for a while, alternating these hits on either side, of varying number and intensity, until Yoongi has almost fallen into a trance of sorts, mouth hanging open slackly as a whine or moan or whimper is falling out of his mouth with every single thwack.

Jimin's arm begins to tire, and just as he pauses to shake out the joints, Yoongi pants a, "wait, wait," making him pause.

It takes a moment for Yoongi to catch his breath, but Jimin waits patiently, scanning his ass and thighs for any sign of something that could be causing undue comfort, but he comes up short. With a weak, slurred voice, Yoongi lets out a sob. "I wanna use the paddle, Minnie, I wanna feel it," he pleads, "I've h-had enough of the spanking."

Jimin furrows his brows in concern, massaging out the sore tissue as Yoongi goes lax beneath him. "If you've had enough, baby, we should stop. I don't wanna push you."

Yoongi actually tears up, biting hard on his lip as he shakes his head. "Please, Minnie, just a few times, I just need it to be- to be heavy. I don't know, but I need it. Gold, please gold."

"Okay," Jimin is agreeing softly, squatting down to press reassuring kisses against the hot flesh, feeling his own palm stinging. He leaves only to slide open the drawer of paddles, selecting the wooden one. He knew from subspace himself that sometimes those base, thoughtless needs stemmed from something deeper, from an emotional need tangled up daily life. Once, in the early days of doing demonstrations at the dungeon, Jimin had gotten stage fright and done such a poor job of a fingering tutorial that the sweet sub he was working on didn't even cum. He'd come home to Yoongi bawling in humiliation, and his husband had lain him down on their bed and made him cum so many times that he couldn't even think, couldn't move a single limb. Now, Jimin had no doubt that the need to feel a heavy impact had something to do with the reason Yoongi had taken an uncharacteristic sick day.

Talking about it wouldn't help, would only break the escapism of the scene, so Jimin just runs the face of the wooden paddle over Yoongi's sore ass, letting him grow accustomed to the feel and texture. "Just two hits," Jimin declares, "one on each cheek. No more. Focus on them, baby. Eyes closed, just feel them."

He waits until Yoongi settles, spreading his legs wider with wiggling toes, and catching his breath, one hand pressed over his teary eyes.

Jimin swings the paddle backwards, not up, and lets it impact on Yoongi's left cheek first, a wet, strangled moan leaving his husband's mouth at the thuddy feel. The wooden paddle didn't hurt like spanking or a lighter paddle. It was about the weighty feel of it hitting your skin, a light hit so as not to cause bruising.

A line of tension disappears between Yoongi's clothed shoulders, the sweaty fabric clinging to his back. He's calmed down, fully, waiting patiently for the second strike. The second Jimin rains that final hit, he drops the paddle onto the carpeted floor, exhausted himself, and moves around to the side of the desk, bending awkwardly over it to press his mouth to Yoongi's, who makes a muffled sound of surprise before responding in turn.

Jimin's hand is curled around the nape of his husband's neck, keeping him close as tears mingle with spit, their kiss salty and desperate.

He feels a vibration between them before he hears anything, has to focus hard to hear Yoongi as he chants over and over like a prayer, thanking Jimin.

He slows the kiss after a sweet eternity, letting their heartbeats return to normal. Jimin's own eyes sting, love and concern a potent combination, but as the adrenaline settles back to normal, Yoongi calms down too, and seems to come back to himself.

He pulls away to let out a tired breath, laughing voicelessly. "Fuck," Yoongi curses with eyes still closed in bliss. "I get it now."

Jimin beams, a chuckle leaving his own lips as he sees the peace on his husband's face. After a moment, though, a frown appears as Yoongi furrows his brows. "What is it?"

"My dick hurts," Yoongi whines, managing to get his elbows under him to lift his chest from the table, head in his hands.

Jimin startles, standing bolt upright as he rushes down to look for any injury. "Oh shit, did I hit it?"

The laugh returns, bubbling out of Yoongi as he turns himself with great effort onto his back, chest still rising and falling dramatically. "No, Jimin-ah, don't worry," he assures, wincing when his ass-cheeks meet the unforgiving surface of the desk. "But if I don't cum soon, I think it's gonna explode."

Jimin's mouth falls open, relief and disbelief flooding his veins equally as he's faced with Yoongi's cock, so flushed with blood it's almost purple in places. "I- Okay, do you- do you want me to get you off, or do you want to keep playing?"

Yoongi looks at him like he's insane. "I mean... Preferably both, Minnie."

After the moment of scare, it takes surprisingly little time before that thrum of arousal is dialed up again, and Jimin smirks, running his hands up and down Yoongi's inner thighs to watch the way he naturally and obediently parts them for him.

"Do you know what I realised, baby?" Jimin coos, stubbornly avoiding the weeping cock in front of him. Yoongi mutters a weak response. "I realised that so far I've been doing all the work so far, haven't I? That isn't really fair, wouldn't you agree?"

Wary, Yoongi pauses and nods, the blur of tears long since replaced by the haze of arousal, of subspace beginning to creep in once more.

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Jimin drawls, flattening a hand heavy on the soft flesh just above Yoongi's cock, making the man moan and wriggle to escape the pressure. "So I think, if you want to get off, you should put a little work in yourself. Make some effort, baby."

Yoongi takes a few heaving breaths, before slowly, so carefully, lowering his hand down to wrap around the base of his cock, immediately groaning at the touch. He's leaked so much precum that it takes a single shaky stroke to coat the sensitive skin, and a relieved smile spreads over his face at the thought that he's finally going to get off.

But where's the fun in that?

"Don't you think you're being a little selfish?" Jimin spits stiffly, and flicks once at the very tip of Yoongi's dick.

His husband practically howls, curling up with a depraved cry. "Wha-at?" he sobs, hand trembling as it hovers on his thigh, fighting his desire. "What do you want, Minnie?"

"How sweet of you to ask," Jimin praises in a sugar-sweet voice, reaching down to unzip his own jeans. "Those hands are big enough to fit the both of us, aren't they?"

Blearily, Yoongi looks down as Jimin slips his aching cock out from his pants, fitting himself between Yoongi's spread legs so that their bobbing lengths bump together.

Even that contact is enough to make Yoongi hiss, but he's desperate and so he nods quickly, fingers trembling as they grab Jimin's cock, pinning them together in his grip. He pauses, panting as he stares up at Jimin for permission.

Jimin smiles placidly, bending forward to press a single chaste kiss to his husband's lips. "I don't want you cumming before I do, okay?" he asks sweetly, though the threat is thinly veiled.

Using the strength of his abdomen to lift his upper half off the desk, Yoongi stabilises himself with an elbow while his other hand jerks the two of them off together, thumb running over the sensitive heads, paying extra attention to Jimin's.

"That's it," Jimin groans, biting hard on his tongue. Truth be told, it was hard enough for him to hold back, feeling threads of an orgasm already knitting together in his stomach. But he's not willing to let go of the pretty sight of Yoongi just yet, so debauched and far gone as he shivers with every stroke, torn between making Jimin cum and preventing his own climax.

After mere minutes, Yoongi has collapsed back onto the desk, ankles curled around Jimin's back to hold him close, hand shaking violently.

"Please," he begs occasionally, but the moment his hand slows down to give himself a break, Jimin pinches his inner thigh in warning. They both knew marks there were allowed.

It's not until Yoongi is quite literally biting down on his own knuckles to hold back an orgasm that Jimin can't keep himself from cumming anymore.

Greedily, he runs his hands over Yoongi's sides, skimming the shirt up to put his chest on display, flicking at the delicate pink nipples. Jimin cums so hard he almost buckles forward onto Yoongi, spurting white all over Yoongi's hand and cock.

He holds himself up shakily, spouting praises to Yoongi as the wave of pleasure rushes through him, making his toes tingle and his fingers curl, scratches down Yoongi's chest and stomach.

"Oh, god, I'm gonna- Mi-Minnie, can I cum, oh fuh-fuck, no!"

One last liberty taken in his time as Yoongi's dom, Jimin pulls himself away, pinning Yoongi's wrists to the table and watching as his cock, dripping white, bobs desperately in the air, seeking friction.

Yoongi babbles pleas and curses, hips jerking, but it only takes Jimin leaning down, blowing a single thin stream of cool air over Yoongi's cock for Yoongi's thighs to tense. He cums, untouched, shuddering and seizing on the table as Jimin takes mercy and wraps his hand around him to stroke him through it.

"Look at you," Jimin croons in wonder, watching cum spill between his fingers, the two of them mixed together indistinguishably. "Baby, you look perfect like this. Please tell me you want to do that again."

Yoongi makes a strangled, guttural noise as he goes limp on the table, legs dangling off the edge. "Fuck, not right away, you demon," he protests grumpily, "now come kiss me again."

With a fond beam, heart so full with love and post-orgasm endorphins that he can barely handle it, Jimin tugs him up by his forearms and joins their mouths together, Yoongi's one dry hand tangling in his hair as he smiles into the kiss.

It takes only a few moments, however, for the sticky reality to sink in, and soon enough Yoongi is parting, letting his forehead rest against Jimin's. "I don't suppose there are any wet wipes in here?" he ventures.

Jimin chuckles, leaning back. "Cleaning materials in the desk drawers," he divulges.

With crazy sex hair and wide eyes, Yoongi makes quite the picture. "Fuck, I love this place. Let's try the interrogation one next time, yeah?"

[ourladylennon]

list of mclennon fanfics? 👀

Coming right up!

Camera-less by fingersfallingupwards | smut | AU | length: >10,000 | “The words register and Paul barely keeps back an incredulous laugh. Is Lennon… is he really trying it on with Paul? There’s no hiding the implication; it’s the same way Paul’s approached whores on the street, thriving on the ignominy of it all. Lennon must be taking the piss.If he is having Paul on, well, two can play at that game.”

What You’re Doing to Me by smothermeinrelish | smut | length: >10,000 | “John's not sure what is going on. Since arriving in Hamburg, the sex and parties are non-stop, yet he can't shake this growing feeling there is something going on with him and Paul.Is it the sin of the city? Or has John found a void within that is looking for it's missing piece?”

Initiation by unchained_daisychain | smut | length: >10,000 | “Initially, Paul thinks they’re all taking the piss. As the newest member of the band, he has learned to laugh off the jokes made at his expense. But a frown soon misshapes his smile as he dumbly watches the boys disperse themselves throughout the room.“Yer serious?” he asks, confusion cementing his feet on the carpet. “All of you just…sit around an’ wank together?” “If you don’t wanna join, just wait outside till the big boys are finished,” Len says with grating arrogance. It feels like some type of test or initiation. Buy into our daft game and you’ll secure your spot in the band; bow out and consider yourself nothing more than an expendable instrument. Paul’s hand tightens around the neck of his guitar. Soon enough it disappears from his grasp entirely as he deposits it against the wall and seats himself in a vacant armchair.”

Bright Are the Stars, Dark is the Sky by unchained_daisychain | smut | *warning: taboo with consent* | AU | length: >10,000 | “John can never recall precisely when the feelings arose. In the beginning, he had despised another figure of authority in his life, even if by association. Neatly kept and well-spoken, Mr. McCartney had seemed just that, too. From the very start, John had tried to break him down…only to later realize he was the one crumbling to pieces. Because, in an unforeseen twist, Paul proves to be unlike the other oppressive parents of his generation. For a while, he thinks it is a fatherly bond that keeps him a frequent visitor at the McCartney residence. But when respect begins to wane in the presence of something stronger, it frightens him to the core. He can count on one hand the number of times he has been blindsided in his life, and the realization of his attraction to Paul is one of them.”

Tessellate by cloudy_blue | hurt & comfort | length: >10,000 | “No one had prepared her for John. Maybe they could have put aside fifteen minutes in-between teaching her how to make her stitches even and her chicken cooked through – what to do if your man is also sleeping with his bassist.”

Whatever Gets you Through the Night by sleeprettydarling | smut | length: 10,000+ | “When John catches wind of a prostitute in Hamburg who's willing to do two blokes at once, he and Paul agree to pay her a visit. John has an ulterior motive, but he's unaware that Paul has a plan of his own. Misunderstandings, feelings, and an abundance of sex ensue.”

Lifting Latches by thinkpink20 | smut | length: 10,000 + | “Paul is used to talking about everything with John. About girls, sex, fantasies about Bridget Bardot - everything. They even talk about Mary and Julia, when they've had enough to drink. He doesn't talk like that to anyone else, and he senses from the way John speaks in such a rush about all the important things that he doesn't either.So when something happens that they don't speak about, he knows it must be serious.”/ OR: Paul and John swap t-shirts, and also somehow change the nature of their relationship...”

French Connection by smothermeinrelish & unchained_daisychain | smut | *warning: taboo with consent* | length: 10,000+ | “Running low on funds during their holiday in Paris, John and Paul have to find some way to finance the rest of their trip. A wealthy stranger approaches them with an offer impossible to refuse. He shook his head, slowly and confoundedly. “Bleedin’ hell, I can’t believe yer actually considering this.”“We aren’t really in the position to be refusin’ offers.” At the answering silence, he swatted Paul’s shoulder, pressing, “C’mon, a thousand francs, Macca.”

The Ballad of Lennon and McCartney by please_dont_wake_me | angst & smut | length: 30,000+ (wip) | "“I think that to make real art - like, if you want to tap into the current of what’s really going on, you can’t be fully aware of it. You can’t be all in your head about it. You’re not speakin’ the truth, you’re feeling it - lettin’ it speak through you. You’re taking from the realm of truth and transforming it into something a human can perceive, but you don’t always know what it is.” In late 1966, the baby-faced balladeer Paul McCartney meets an unsuccessful artist named John Lennon at an Avant Garde gala. The ensuing relationship causes him to publicly lose his mind.

What is Living is Burning by orphanbeat | fluff & smut | length: 40,000+ | “Looking at John, watching his hands, seeing the slope of his nose, Paul realizes he wants to kiss him, always has. He wants to tell him, but he’s too afraid. He wonders if it was the other way around between them, would John tell him? /OR: In 1968, Paul is publicly outed in a book called The Homosexual's Handbook, written by Angelo D'Arcangelo.” 

Boy You’ve Been a Naughty Girl by merseysidestory | smut | length: 40,000+| “John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961.”

Metered by fingersfallingupwards | smut | length: 40,000+ | "The bloke said something just the same as you did, about floating off unless tied down, or maybe it was the other way around, getting tied down to float off, y'know.”/OR: Canon-era John and Paul haphazardly invent BDSM, and learn a few things about power, surrender, pleasure, and themselves along the way” 

Art & Obligation by imaginebeatles | length: 100,000+ | fluff & smut | AU-1800′s | “John Lennon works as the apprentice of a well-known portraitist and is tasked to do the picture of the young Mr. Paul McCartney. He is the son of Jim McCartney, a wealthy and powerful landowner, and has the reputation of an arrogant, spoilt brat with a pretty face, who has a way of wrapping anyone around his finger. But soon John finds that things are not as straightforward as they may seem.”

On Our Way Back Home by kathleenishereagain | fluff & smut | length: 300,000+ | “Something ticked in Paul’s mind as the familiar words washed through him. When he looked at John, his friend was already looking at him. And suddenly, it all became clear: He remembered having that conversation more than 50 years ago. He remembered it too well.He had been thinking about it for years, wondering what he should have understood, how he should have reacted. /OR: Summer 2019, 77-year-old Paul wakes up feeling surprisingly good. One tiny problem: he is back in December 1965.”

I originally had Red Hall fic on this list, before having actually read it and that was a huge mistake. I do not condone, support or recommend it. It's beyond deplorable and a line was crossed when it was written. I am so sorry I ever carelessly placed it on this list to begin with.

these are just some of my personal faves, so many more to read. You are all. so. AMAZING. 

Bonus: beautiful mclennon artwork by auroralunatica