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muchosbesitos · 3 days

Text

BODY PAINT

the plan for your birthday had been to just go get a tattoo. so how’d you end up getting eaten out too?

pairing: tattoo artist! geto suguru x fem reader

contents: modern au/no curses, pierced/tattoed geto, cunnilingus, pulling his hair, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, pet names (pretty girl, cutie, etc.), sucking his fingers, spanking (once), creampie, sorta kinda public sex?

author’s note: basically just a big self indulgence fic

word count: 5.8k

Portraits and portraits of art pieces covering the walls welcomed you as you stepped inside, the jingle of the bell perched on the front announcing your entrance. From dragons to variations of skulls—some with roses, lightning, and a couple of the grim reaper. You could easily lose yourself looking at all the different works, staring at how all the different lines came together and how the colors melded into one another.

“What're you looking for today?" A low baritone voice interrupted your brief exploration of the parlor. You turned to see a man standing at the counter with pigtails, a black line going across his nose and a couple piercings scattered across his pale face. How was it that you'd missed him upon walking inside?

"I was thinking about getting a tattoo, do you guys happen to accept walk-ins?" You responded, coming up to the counter where the man was standing. Choso, from what his name tag read. "We do, our current tattoo artist's busy though. You mind waiting about.. twenty minutes?"

You supposed it wasn't too bad after showing up without an appointment so you just simply nodded, going over to take a seat in the lobby. There was only one other person sitting on the end of the black sofa, their attention purely on the show playing on the TV mounted on the wall. You went from playing with your fingers to looking over at the TV, attempting to do anything that would make these twenty minutes pass by.

"Hey, go ahead and fill this out. And let me see your ID," Choso came back with a sheet of paper, a consent form. You fished for your ID in the back pocket of your jeans before handing it over to him, starting out with the task of filling out the paper. Signing your initials where it asked you to, reading through the different medical conditions that the paper explicitly listed out.

Your foot bounced against the floor as you waited, sudden nerves starting to hit you all at once now that you were in here. You knew that you wanted a tattoo, you'd been looking forward towards getting it for a few months now. But the little nagging voice inside your head told you that you could barely tolerate a needle at the doctor's office, and that was only for a couple seconds in of itself. How would you tolerate almost an hour of it?

A woman walked out from the back of the parlor, a tattoo of what seemed to be her birth year wrapped up in cling wrap. But your attention was quickly diverted to the man coming out after her—though, you supposed it would be hard not to stare at him. He was absolutely.. gorgeous. Long dark black hair that practically seemed to shine underneath the harsh lights tied back in a half bun, eyebrow and snake bites piercings accentuating the features of his face, and dark ink adorning his forearms.

"Here's the aftercare sheet, just shoot me a text or something if you have any concerns or anything," the man told the woman before she stepped away from the counter, handing her a white paper. The jingle of the bell echoed behind her as she left, leaving only the four of you alone in the lobby. Maybe this wasn't who Choso was talking about? You couldn't picture yourself or your panties for that matter lasting hours in a room with him.

Though, you probably should've expected as much with your luck.

"You got time for a walk-in?" Choso spoke up, nudging his head towards you when the other man was finished pocketing his tip. The man glanced over at you before pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it for a couple seconds. "Yeah, I got time," the other man walked over, standing in front of you before extending a hand out, "Geto Suguru." The coldness from the silver rings adorning each of his fingers was a stark difference from how warm his hand seemed to be. You gave him your name, stopping the handshake before it prolonged more than it should've.

More than it already did.

"So, what type of tattoo were you looking for?" Geto pushed his hands in his pockets, standing back to allow for you to get up from the spot. "I'm not too sure how to describe it, but I have a reference photo, if that's okay?" You told him, getting your phone out to go back to your camera roll. "Yeah, that's fine. Just airdrop to me when you find it."

The smell of antibacterial spray filled your nose as you stepped in, the room somehow been more decorated than the one outside. Geto had a couple of his designs up on the wall along with a couple band posters—Nirvana, Iron Maiden, and Led Zeppelin being some of the more prominent ones. A couple figures placed on a shelf, photos decorating them as well. "Go on and take a seat. I'll be right there," he told you, opening up one of his drawers.

You took a seat on the leather chair in the middle of the chair, leaning against it before looking over to see what he was doing. "So.. how bad is it supposed to hurt?" You decided to ask, bracing yourself for the worst answer that he could give you. Despite the fact that you knew arm tattoos weren't all that painful from the two hours of research you'd done. "I can't give you a straightforward answer since not everyone has the same pain tolerance. But I'll walk you through the process before I start."

"The first thing I'm gonna do is shave your arm," Geto started off, opening up a pack of razors in front of you. Almost like he wanted to reassure you that everything he was using was new. "Around what area do you want the tattoo?" You opened your arm, gesturing around your inner forearm. Geto shaved the hair around the middle, wiping the residue away with a tissue.

"Next thing I'm gonna do is rub some alcohol on there and put on this cream," he brought up a small container into your line of vision, "It's not numbing cream before you get any ideas. Just so the stencil sticks." The rest of the process had gone relatively fast, the smell of rubbing alcohol filling up the space between the two of you. Geto placed the stencil on your arm, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. "Is this placement okay or do you want me to change it? Don't hesitate to ask, since y'know.. it is kinda permanent."

After a couple minutes of deliberation, Suguru placed the stencil where you’d decided. "So I'm gonna go ahead and put the needle on your arm just to go ahead and see if you can tolerate it," the machine whirred to life with the press of a button, "If you don't think you can tolerate it, just let me know and I'll wipe off the stencil." Geto turned around to face you, the buzzing of the tattoo gun getting louder the closer it got to your arm. All the nerves that you'd felt earlier seemed so silly now. While you felt the pressure of the needle , it was nothing like the excruciating pain you'd heard others have.

You cleared your throat before looking back over at him again, "Yeah, I can handle it." Suguru simply nodded, uncapping the bottle of black ink before almost filling up the small container in front of him. He arranged the small containers almost perfectly aligned to each other, the small work space that he'd set in front of him looking meticulous. Even the napkin that he'd grabbed was neatly folded up in three squares.

You'd almost wished that it was Choso doing the tattoo instead. Because, this, well this simply just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how he managed to look so goddamn pretty just doing the most menial of tasks. The almost intoxicating scent of amber from his cologne filling up your senses with how close he was. You weren't sure if was better or worse for you that he didn't notice just how affected you were, of how much his presence alone was making you want to ditch the whole idea of getting a tattoo.

"You need something to help you relax? I got a couple stress balls hanging around or I could play something on the TV if you want," Suguru sat down on the rolling chair next to you, already grabbing the TV remote next to you. "Can you just play something, please?" Geto flickered through a couple of the channels available, settling on what was on the TV mounted outside. Not particularly your first choice, but enough to get your mind off the tattoo, at least.

And to get your mind off the very attractive man next to you trying to do his job.

"So, any meaning behind this tattoo or you just decided you wanted to get it?" Suguru broke the silence, though his focus was purely on tracing the piece of work in front of him. "Just saw it on Pinterest and I related to it a bit. Well, that and the design itself seemed pretty to me," you offered, staying still and keeping your attention on the TV. "I can follow the design that you showed me or I could try to improve on it. That is, if you have trust in my abilities," he spoke up after a couple seconds, purple eyes almost seeming to bore into you.

"Can I see some of your abilities in place?" As hot as the man was—you didn't want to risk the tattoo coming out like complete dog shit. Suguru let out a short laugh, getting up from his spot before flipping through a couple drawers. He came back with a leather bound sketchbook, placing it on your lap. "I'm not much to show my works to others, but feel free to flip around if that helps you decide," you opened up the sketchbook with your available arm, immediately being greeted with a plethora of colors.

Not only were the pieces themselves better than what you could've expected, but they were so realistic. The shading of each drawing accentuating it perfectly against the lighting of the room, almost like he'd focused on that more than the actual drawing. You shut the sketchbook after flipping through a couple pages of different flowers, animals, and whatever else his brain could conjure up—handing it back to an expectant Geto. "It'd be wrong not to have faith in you after seeing that," you mused, watching him set the sketchbook aside before he went back to tracing.

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna follow the whole outline and shit. Just wanna make it look a little bit better is all," he responded, dipping the needle onto the container of black ink before bringing it back to your arm. You turned to look at much progress he'd done after the forty minute episode had ended only to realize he was just finishing up with the tip of the design. An incredibly detailed tip, though. "You okay? Don't want you passing out on me or anything."

"No, I'm fine," you reassured, going back to watching the TV in the comfortable silence that had built in the room. The only sounds emanating from the room were the soft whirring of the tattoo gun and the screaming of a couple characters on screen. "Have you watched this before?" You decided to break the silence after a while, turning to look over at him. "Something like that. Haven't watched much after the fourth season. Don't really have a buncha time available to watch TV."

The rest of the session had gone moderately well, the two of you sitting in silence for a majority of the time albeit for a couple questions that either he or you asked. He was, oddly enough, easy to talk to. "Okay, I'm gonna go in with a white paint. It's gonna hurt more than the other one so just tell me if it gets to be too much," he told you, pouring white paint into one of those small containers. And you felt the difference between the two, looking over to see him adding small marks with the white paint. Small marks that were starting to hurt like a motherfucker.

"Easy, you did so well for me throughout the session. This is nothing compared to that," Suguru spoke up, raising the tattoo gun to give you a small break. One of his gloved hands went to the furrow settled in your brow, gently easing it over before changing out the gloves for a fresh pair. You weren't even sure when you'd even started to grimace so badly. "Easy for you to say," you grumbled underneath your breath, certain that he wouldn't have caught it. But if the way his eyes shot up to look at you with a slightly amused smile was anything to go by, he did.

"You make it so hard to be nice to you," Geto muttered, turning the tattoo gun back on and going back to adding the fine white strokes. Maybe it'd been the fact that he'd offered that small bit of reassurance or maybe it was the fact that you could feel the session was starting to come to an end, but the pain didn't quite feel as bad as the first go. "Alright, we're all done," he spoke up after a couple minutes, turning the tattoo gun off and placing it on the table next to him.

"You mind if I get a couple pictures?" He waited for you to nod before setting up the ring light next to you, pulling his phone out. You extended your arm out to where he had the camera pointed, the tattoo on display. "Mm, hold on," Suguru muttered to himself, one of his hands wrapping around your wrist to adjust the angle. His touch almost seeming to linger more than necessary. Surely, all of this wasn't necessary just for a single photo, right? Especially when you weren't even the subject of said photo.

"You're gonna want to avoid shaving or waxing the area while it's still healing, some peeling's normal but just come to me if you have any concerns," he continued to explain the process of the aftercare involved, wrapping the tattoo up in cling wrap. "Try not to fuck it up," Geto led you over to the front desk, ringing you up for the price. "Wasn't it $120 and not $100?" You questioned, grabbing your wallet from your pocket.

"Consider it a birthday discount of sorts, pretty girl," the nickname spilled out so easily that you might've almost missed it. As if you needed more things to overthink about from this encounter. You handed him a hundred dollar bill with a ten dollar tip, giving him a short thanks before leaving the parlor. You looked over at the aftercare sheet that he'd given you at the counter, seeing his Instagram scrawled out in pretty decent penmanship. Well, at least you had plans for when you got back to your apartment tonight.

You knew that the tattoo was healing nicely—that you'd put the expensive ass ointment that Geto had recommended the designated three times a day. So why exactly did you find yourself standing outside the tattoo parlor once more? Out of concern for the new ink or just wanting to see Suguru once more? It couldn't be the latter, right? Not like you'd spent hours scrolling through his Instagram these last couple days to see what he'd thought about the tattoo. Definitely not the latter.

After all, he did say come to him if you had any concerns.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Choso to greet you at the counter this time around. Suguru was standing there, rearranging a couple pieces of body jewelry onto the glass display before he lifted his head to see who'd walked in the door. "You didn't let it get infected, did you? I spent hours on that thing," he didn't even bother with a greeting as Choso had done, already looking annoyed at the prospect. "Your concern for my health's endearing too."

"Yeah, yeah, what're you here for?"

"I just wanted to check up with you to see if the tattoo was healing nicely," the practiced lie slipped out of your tongue without any effort, plenty of rehearsals in your head allowing for it to slip out with any second thought.

"Alright, I have a couple minutes before my next appointment gets here," Suguru gestured for you to join him, opening the door for you. The space looked pretty much the same as the day you'd come in—which you should've expected, since it was only a week ago—albeit for a couple pencils scattered on top of a sketchbook in the middle of his desk. You took a seat on the leather chair, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his space.

Suguru grabbed a white box of gloves, grabbing a pair before placing them on. "So, what're you concerned about?" He questioned, long fingers running through your skin as he looked at how the tattoo was healing. "Well, it's been peeling a bit. I just wanted to know if that was normal or if I'm fucking something up somehow. I've been putting on the ointment you recommended three times a day."

Geto let out a small hum before leaning back on the rolling chair, folding his arms across his chest. His very muscular arms, the material of his black button down practically straining against them with the motion. "Your tattoo seems to healing well. Bit of peeling's normal as a new layer of skin comes in, nothing to worry about too much. Usually the area starts to get red if it's starting to get infected."

And maybe you should've taken that as a cue to leave. But you found yourself wanting to bask in whatever couple seconds that he would give you, unable to think about any other opportunities where you'd see him. Well, any other opportunities that didn't involve you spending upwards of a hundred dollars. You made no effort to move just yet, folding your hands over your lap. Trying to think of anything else to prolong this visit.

A couple moments of silence pass between the two of you before Suguru opens his mouth up to speak, only to get interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Yo, someone named Larue's here for their appointment," Choso called out from the other side, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Suguru gives you a glance before answering back, "Ask him to reschedule. Tell him that I'm sorry and I'll give him a discount or something."

Choso's heavy boots echoed against the floor as he walked away, leaving you alone with Geto once more. "So, tell me, what exactly is it that you're doing here again? And don't lie to me, talking about some 'I wanna see if my tattoo's healing properly,'" And you almost rolled your eyes at the way he raised his voice in pitch, mocking you with a short chuckle. Almost.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. Second, I really did just come to see if it was healing properly," And despite your words, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the chair just yet. "So maybe I should go tell Larue to come back for his appointment. Since we determined your tattoo's healing nicely, our time's done," You would've thought that he was bluffing but he moved to get up from his chair, walking over to the door.

"Wait," you called out before he managed to turn the doorknob, looking over to see him already staring at you with an expectant look on his face. Like he was about five seconds away from telling you to get off the leather chair. "So maybe, there's a slight chance that I didn't just come here just because I was concerned about my tattoo," you muttered almost reluctantly, avoiding looking at him directly.

"And why don't you try telling me why you came here instead?" Suguru stepped away from the door, returning to his spot in the seat next to you. Where you couldn't avoid looking at him even if you wanted to. How would you even begin telling him that he's been clouding your mind since last week just from that three hour interaction? That you've refreshed his Instagram page more times than you could count to see what he'd say about the piece?

You gulped, willing for the words to come out before he got the chance to go back to the door again. But you couldn't. Couldn't bring yourself to the potential humiliation that would inevitably come if you had just been delusional about this all along.

"You here because you want me to fuck you?" And the words that you'd struggled to spit out, he'd just said them so bluntly. You were expecting for him to look at you with that same mocking smile from earlier, but he seemed to be genuinely analyzing you. Waiting. "No, no, of course, I was just here to.." You hadn't quite rehearsed for this part in your mind.

"Because if you were, then I'd say that I was thinking about you too, cutie," and before you had the chance to respond, he was already speaking again, "So I'm just gonna ask you again. Are you here because you want me to fuck you?"

Now that there was little chance of your advances getting rejected, the word slipped out so easily, "Yes."

"Go on and lay back for me. Wanna taste you," and by how quick he was to get on his knees in front of you, you'd guess that he was doing this for his pleasure more than yours. "Lift up your hips," you followed his words without hesitation, letting him slide your jeans off and place them to the side. Large tattooed hands spread your thighs apart, presenting you like a feast to the man before you.

And you would've felt some ounce of embarrassment for the wet spot that quickly built up in the middle of your panties in just the five minutes of being here—if it weren't for the fact that Geto's cock was already straining against the material of his jeans. "Mph, fuck!" Geto quickly pulled your attention back to the issue at hand, his tongue prodding against your clothed cunt. "Not so loud, you don't want Choso to hear us," he clicked his tongue, giving you somewhat of a relief when he pulled away.

A very short lived relief. His tongue traced the outline of your slick folds through the material of your thin panties, his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue swirled against your clit, your cunt leaking out onto your underwear. You'd be lucky at this rate, if you could wear them back home. And almost like he'd read your mind, his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties before sliding them down to your ankles.

You waited to feel his tongue on your cunt again—but nothing came. You looked over at him, watching as he just observed your weeping pussy. "Thought you were eager to taste," you muttered, a scoff leaving from his lips. A gust of wind blowing to your cunt, your walls clenching all the much more. Eager to receive whatever he could give. "Let me admire for a bit. We got enough time," Suguru let out a small tsk after, his face in front of your cunt. And before you had the chance to say anything more—his tongue was already on your labia.

Your syrupy slick dripped onto his expecting tongue, his eyes almost rolling back at the taste. The small silver ball at the end of his tongue piercing flicked against your folds with every lick, each touch serving to have you clenching around pure air. Your hips bucked up to meet his movements, his large hands holding you down in mere seconds. "What'd I say? Let me enjoy this, pretty girl. Told you we got enough time."

"Such a tease," your grumbled words came out more breathless than you would've liked. "And you're so impatient," he retorted without missing a beat. A hushed whine escaped from your lips when you felt him pull away, his mouth moving to your inner thighs. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, nibbling down just hard enough for it to leave a mark behind. "Promise I'll take care of you, sweet girl. Have some trust in my abilities."

“You say that but your abilities have been less than stellar lately."

A couple dark locks fell out of place, framing his face almost perfectly. You'd almost expected Suguru to look offended at the implication of your words—but all he did was seem to find some kind of amusement. "Guess I'll have to repair that then," he murmured, more so to your cunt than to you, his tongue prodding in and out of your entrance. "You're not doing a g-Oh fuck!" He immediately made you swallow whatever retort you were planning, his tongue penetrating inside of you.

Suguru swiped his tongue up and down your cunt, the lower half of his face covered in a mixture of your slick and his own spit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his nose prodding against your clit with every swipe that he made. "Keep looking at me, pretty. Keep those pretty eyes on me," you opened your eyes to see purple eyes already looking back at you, resuming his actions all too greedily. He was so messy when it came to eating you out—spitting into your cunt, watching almost all too eagerly as you clenched around the liquid.

"Please," a whine left your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair. Whatever act of defiance you'd tried to put on earlier had quickly faded away, all you were feeling was need. An almost slutty moan left his lips at the sudden tug, one of his hands grabbing on to yours. "Come on, you can pull harder, can't you?" An even louder groan escaped his lips at the harder tug you gave this time around—the tips of your fingers digging into his scalp. "Now, what were you saying please for?" His words came out muffled, his face buried in between your legs. "Your fingers, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Suguru took to that almost immediately, two long fingers pushing past the ring of muscle before curling to hit your g-spot. His mouth instantly attached itself to your throbbing clit, pushing through your clitoral hood to get to the bundle of nerves. "F-Fuck, don't stop, don't stop," you sounded like a broken record, your thighs pressing tightly against the sides of his face while his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum," any other thought that you had apart from cumming had been quickly fucked out of you, your grip on his hair tightening even further. Not that Suguru minded by any means, moaning against your cunt with every tug. The vibrations only added to the dual stimulation, your back arching off the chair. Needing to get more. Pushing your hips against his face, bucking up to meet every swipe of his tongue. "Cum for me, princess, come on. You can do it, right?"

All you could do was nod, not wanting to be any louder than you already had been. Part of you had been surprised that Choso hadn't come by knocking earlier. Suguru continued flicking his tongue around your clit, working in synchrony with his fingers to pull your orgasm out of you. "Fuck fuck, gonna cum!" You weren't sure if your muffled moan made it's way into Suguru's ears, watching as he eagerly lapped up your release. Running his tongue across his lips, your slick making them glisten under the lights.

"Get on all fours," Suguru told you after you'd managed to regain your breath, deft fingers working to unzip his jeans. You got on your stomach, resting it against the cold leather while getting on your hands and knees. And if Choso were to come into the room to be quiet now, he'd get a spectacular view of your ass perched up in the air. Suguru ran his cock against your folds, your slick lubricating it with ease after your previous orgasm.

Ridges running down his shaft brushed up against your tight walls, your slick coating his tip like second nature the further that he pushed it in. Your walls clenched and unclenched rapidly in a futile attempt to get used to the pure stretch of his cock. "You can take it, right? This isn't anything," But the sheer girth of his cock was just enough to dispute that statement, the position making him feel much deeper than he was. "Yeah, yeah, I can take it," your voice came out as a mewl, your grip on the leather getting tighter the more he pushed his cock in.

The rhythm that he started up was fairly slow at first, allowing you to get used to the feeling. Whatever he was lacking in length, he certainly compensated for it with the sheer size of his girth. Just a couple inches inside of you and he'd already stuffed you full. "Doin' so good, gonna speed up, okay?" He waited for you to nod, retracting his cock before pushing the full length inside of you with one sharp thrust. Your mouth went agape, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head upon the impact. "So good, so so good," even after a couple thrusts, he already sounded so obsessed.

"That's ittt, that's my girl. Fuck that ass back into me," A strangled groan left his throat at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling underneath him with every thrust, the two of you moving in tandem. One of the hands that'd been on your waist went to cup whatever he could of the flesh, all too entranced with the vision presented in front of him. "Mm, fuck!" A moan left your lips as you felt the palm of his hand strike against the flesh, your ass stinging from the impact. Not to say that you necessarily hated it, by any means.

And Suguru caught it—the way your slick ran down his shaft at the sudden impact. "Should've fucking guessed you would've liked it," his tone practically dripped in condescension as he spoke, his hand going to cup your other ass cheek. Holding the flesh in his hands before giving you another harsh slap, almost rivaling the harsh smack of his hips against your own. "Shit shit, Geto, don't stop," you whined, pushing your ass back into him. "Think it's okay for you to call me Suguru after bein’ inside you and all."

"Suck," a simple command, two of his fingers in front of your face. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting the remnants of your cum on them before letting it fall flat. Simply sucking on his fingers as his cock pushed in and out of you with such fervor. "Get 'em all nice and wet for me, just like that," Suguru pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth the second you started to get too loud again, tears building up at your waterline when you gagged on them. "Aw, don't cry, cutie. Y'know I had to."

And while his words were meant to be reassuring, the mocking tone of his voice was anything but. Spit dribbled down from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the chair beneath you. "Sugu-Sugu, fuck, right there!" He'd adjusted the angle of his hips, his shaft brushing up against your g-spot with every thrust. "So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was accentuated with a deep thrust of his hips, filling you up impossibly so. Like he wanted to show you just how much he'd been thinking about it, like he claimed he did.

If the moans coming out of you weren't evidence enough as to what was happening in the room, then you were pretty much certain that the plap! plap! echoing through the walls was evidence enough. Geto's heavy balls smacked against your ass with every harsh thrust of his hips. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing at the nub just in time for it to match his pace. You clamped around his cock like a vice, a strangled moan leaving out of his lips. "Just had to tell- shit me that you wanted my cum, ma."

"Mph, cumm- I'm cumm-" Muffled babbles left your mouth, your cunt clenching around him yet again. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. Whatever small bits of concern about being too loud had been disregarded—loud squelches and skin clapping filling up the room as Suguru rutted inside of you. You turned your head to look over at him, the sight before you almost like something out of a painting. His hair had completely been released from the half-bun, cascading down his back perfectly and his eyes were closed in pure bliss.

Spurts and spurts of cum shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching as you milked him for whatever he could offer. Suguru pulled his softening cock out of your cunt, his cum starting to dribble out of you and down your thighs. With the same fingers he'd had inside your mouth, he pushed his cum back inside of you. Scooping the substance up with relative ease. Your body slumped against the chair, willing that Geto would give you a couple seconds to catch your breath.

You'd expected him to grab a wipe or a paper towel to clean you up with, but he simply got up from his spot behind you. Grabbing his pants off the floor and fastening up his fly. You looked over at him through half lidded eyes, seeing him pop the fingers that had previously been in your cunt into his mouth. Slurping at them in a similar fashion that you'd done just a couple minutes prior. "Wanna taste yourself, pretty girl? 'S so fucking good."

Geto didn't give you a chance to respond before he was leaning down to your level, one of his fingers underneath your chin to raise your head. He leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a messy exchange. More of spit getting intertwined than an actual kiss, not that you minded in your state. His tongue flicked against yours, the bittersweet taste of both you and him combined filling your tastebuds. Geto pulled away after a couple seconds, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

You hadn't even finished putting on your pants yet when Suguru spoke up yet again,

"You mind giving me a five star review when you get home?"

843 notes · View notes

luveline · 22 hours

Note

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change.

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen.

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!”

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what.

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud.

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know.

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?”

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself.

“James, what’s everything?”

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks.

You look down at his long fingers.

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.”

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach.

“James.”

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?”

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.”

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his.

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily.

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.”

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say.

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek.

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying.

“Don’t frown,” he says softly.

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.”

“No, uh. No, not too long.”

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.”

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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robinsfilm · 1 day

Text

YOU'RE MY MAN (OF BRIGHT LIGHT)

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: While at a fair with your sweet boyfriend Jason, you run into an unexpected, but welcomed suprise ;

ANON ASKED: " Okay, but Jason taking the his secret girlfriend to the fair, they're having a good time playing games, winning prizes, eating funnel cake, when they run into the bat fam and he's forced to make an introduction and once he sees how great they all get along, all his anxiety dissipates. She does comment on how insanely good they all are at those precision games. " ;

WORD COUNT: 1.4k ;

NOTES: cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

THE LIGHTS COVERING THE FAIR HANG LIKE STARS IN THE SKY ABOVE YOU. The bright colors dance across the fair as you and Jason walk hand in hand down the painted road. The different stalls and stands covered in red and white striped tents spread an infectious sweet aroma in the air, warming the atmosphere around you both.

Jason can feel your hand tighten around his as your eyes dart around the fairground, following anything that catches your eye.

The day has been spent checking out rides, such as the turning Ferris Wheel and the fair blanketing the ground with its vivid hues as you both watched from such a height. He remembers how thrilled you were looking down, grasping his hand with yours.

He also remembers only looking at you, the sea of tents, balloons flying high in the sky, and people mingling long forgotten.

You had all his attention.

The lights from below reflect in your eyes. “Isn't it beautiful?” you question.

Jason focuses his gaze on you. “It is,” without a doubt, “beautiful.

*****

The picture of you and him in that cramped photo booth appears in his mind over and over again. The walls were decorated with a rainbow of colors; the glitter spread through the narrow space, sticking onto your clothing and messy hair.

Surprisingly, he doesn't feel constricted and trapped in such a place. A carefree grin breaks out on his face, a matching one to your glowing smile.

You move your hand to his face, pushing the strands of hair away. You say something about him being handsome, and he feels the warmth rise to his cheeks.

He can only huff and turn to face the other way as you let out a small giggle, “You are handsome; why deny it?” The same pink hue appears on your cheeks as well. The words are engraved into his mind, not that he has the courage to say that yet.

The camera flash snaps him out of his reverie. The black-and-white strand of photos rests in his hands as a thumb caresses the surface. The picture of you two side by side, hands intertwined, is forever burned into his mind.

*****

It’s something about your face when you're focused that enamours Jason. Maybe it’s the way your eyebrows furrow together when you are concentrating. Maybe it’s the way you bite your lip, lost in thought. Or it’s the way you are oblivious to the world around you.

Oblivious to his stare that won’t leave your frame.

Even now, as your hands grip the water pistol, fingers tense yet precise, Jason can’t tear his gaze off of you.

You groan as you miss another shot at the moving duck. “Oh, for god's sake,” the yellow-colored cutout stares at you mockingly. “This is so rigged!” Your gaze is stuck on the Nightwing plush sitting on the stand as a prize, with its dark blue and black suit. “I need that plush.”

Jason chuckles at your predicament before being shushed by a glare from you. “You give it a try, big guy,” you say, shoving the orange-blue water pistol in his hands. It looks comically small in his hands.

“Watch and learn,” he gives you a smug smirk as he steps closer to aim at the ducks moving in rows above the light blue waves, until a familiar mess of blonde and raven-blue hair catches his attention.

Shit.

“Jaybeans?” Your concerned voice rings through his ears. “Are you okay?”

The voices of Steph and Dick grow closer and closer as he gives you a panicked look, which you only answer with a confused, wobbly smile. They don’t know about you; you don’t know much about them! The only time you have interacted with his family was a baking competition with Alfred (in which he used salt instead of sugar, but that’s beside the point).

He didn’t want it to go like this! He wanted to invite you to dinner with his family (and pray they don’t scare you away with their antics).

He remembers when Dick caught a glimpse of your guys’ text a few weeks back, something along the lines of Get back home safe, honeybee, from you. He can still picture Dick's shocked and teasing face as the older brother held the phone high up away from Jason's grasp.

Honeybee? Isn’t that adorable?

I swear to God if you don’t give me that back—

He snaps himself out of the memory and tries to convince you to check out the funnel cake nearby. “I heard it’s delicious.” His eyes dart around as you give him an unimpressed look.

“Nearby?” you ask, “isn’t it on the opposite side of the fair? I’m not walking that far; my feet hurt!”

“I’ll carry you.”

“But, what about my Nightwing plush?” You pout as you point to the mini version of his brother; granted, you don’t know that it’s his brother. Curse that plush.

“Jaybird?!”

Well, shit.

You both turn your heads to the source of the voice: a girl with messy blonde hair and jeans (with a purple heart sewn into it, you note) and a taller man with blue eyes approach you and Jason.

Jason feels as if he’s going to break the water pistol in his hands in two.

"Didn't you think we’d see you here?” Stephanie speaks up first before turning the attention on you. The three of you break into a conversation. Jason’s the only one who sees the teasing glances his siblings send his way, while you stay oblivious to it all.

He should be happy that you are getting along with his family. Heck, this is what he was preparing for all these months. But he didn’t want it to go like this! On top of that, it feels as if he’s being left out of the conversation.

“So, are you two on a date?” Steph asks, putting the emphasis on the date part of that sentence.

“Yep, we are!” You answer with a glowing smile, “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys.”

Jason is glaring daggers at the two of them, but Dick and Steph don’t seem like they're going to let this go (their grins seem to confirm that).

They shush any attempt of his at getting in the middle of you three, their attention all on you. Questions like: How’d you meet? When did you guys become official? Are you working for any villains as a henchman, by any chance?

You answer with the same elegance as Jason loves about you, holding your head high and easing into conversation.

It’s only when Dick turns to look at the water pistol in Jason's hands and the lone Nightwing plush resting on the prize shelf does he address his little brother, “Trying to win the Nightwing plushie, are you Jaybird?”

Jason can feel his cheeks burn up. “...Yes.”

Dick gives him a small, genuine smile, one that speaks of that one sentence that he always hears from his brother: I’m proud of you, Jay. Maybe this isn’t so bad. He feels all the worries slowly leave his body as the scene finally sinks into his mind. His siblings are here, and you are here, talking and having a truly good time.

Yea, this isn’t so bad.

“Oh!” Steph speaks up, “Let me try!”

“I’m warning you, those ducks are rigged so you lose,” you tell the blonde before moving closer to watch, eyes curious.

“Watch and learn!” (Just like Jason) She aims, and it hits the swimming duck, “bullseye!”

“Whoa,” you exclaim, “that was perfect! Where did you learn to aim like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Steph's face freezes up in surprise. She fumbles with the plush being handed to her before pushing it your way. “It’s a talent, I guess? Aren’t I lucky?”

“Runs in the family?”

“..Yes?” She mumbles with a wobbly smile before throwing an arm around your shoulders. “So, you ever need to win another plush; you know who to call.”

Dick lets out a small chuckle while Jason glares at the Nightwing plush in your hands. “A fan?” Dick asks.

“Duh, but Jaybeans over here is more of a Red Hood enthusiast.”

“Babe—”

“What?”

The voices of his siblings and you slowly drown out the sounds of the fair. Jason watches the three of you talk and joke like you’ve been friends for ages. He might deny it, but god, he feels so happy right now. Happy that his family is getting along.

He feels at peace, and it’s all thanks to you guys.

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lychee-angelica · 2 days

Text

random vedic astrology observations

i thought i may as well post some content that has been sitting in my drafts for over a year xx

౨ৎ libra ascendant 18+

these women are obviously very beautiful, but they are also highly alluring and mysterious. this can be attributed to venus ruling both their first house and eighth house. it is honestly difficult to ignore that these women are seductive and passionate individuals. i have personally observed that these women are highly attractive and naturally possess an evidently strong sexual appeal.

the above can also apply to women with first house lord in the eighth house or eighth house lord in the first house

౨ৎ venus in leo

within my time observing charts of various individuals and celebrities i have found an absurd amount of models with venus in leo. in all honesty this does not surprise me, considering leo is ruled by sun, the most visible, important and prominent celestial body. these women possess a beauty that was almost made for shining above the rest, their beauty is so apparent in the eyes of others. i often think of venus in leo women as embodying the beauty queen archetype.

౨ৎ aquarius ascendant

the identity of these women is heavily tied to something deeply intangible, given that saturn rules both their first and twelfth house. saturn's repressive nature propels these women far from egocentric ideals and toward the undoing of self. that being said, these women can seem very disconnected and even out of touch with reality.

౨ৎ mrigasira

these women can be naturally doe-eyed and have a sweet, bambi appearance. this is due to mrigasira symbolising a deer sniffing the ground, a specific yet beautiful depiction of the deer's face. honestly, even the men have large doe eyes. additionally, i often notice many of these women wear their hair in braids and look beautiful with their hair in this inherently protective style. i say this because the idea of braiding and weaving is deeply rooted in the symbolic nature of mrigasira. deers experience pressure to weave themselves into the heard in order to mitigate the threat of predation.

౨ৎ pisces ascendant

these women are naturally possess a loving curiosity on deeply occult and esoteric knowledge. this is due to venus ruling both their third and eighth house. acknowledging that this aspect of their chart is due to venus, their interest and fascination in mysterious information is something that naturally attracts them, painted with a tinge of romanticism and deep love.

౨ৎ rahu conjunct venus

honestly, women with this placement can get so lost in a world of beauty, indulgence, love and romantic relationships. they most likely have great karma in life that propels them toward learning all of the struggles that come with beauty and love. although how negative this seems, they are undeniably attractive and intensely magnetic women.

౨ৎ saturn conjunct venus

these women are the types who are able to truly let go of unrealistic expectations in love. they are able to love truly, through thick and thin, this placement tends to indicate a devotional and long term orientated lover. another note is that these women can struggle immensely with insecurity in relation to their beauty, it can be very helpful for them to remain devoted to their own beauty. despite the struggle this placement indicates over time their security with their beauty solidities and firms.

౨ৎ ardra, ashlesha, jyeshta and mula

these nakshatras are all considered to embody sharp or dreadful quality. despite the intense struggle these women face, there is a beautiful upside. they are incredibly hypnotising, mystical and deep women.

౨ৎ visakha nakshatra

these women can be have a very intensely ambitious and obsessive streak. particularly when a woman's venus, mars or seventh house lord sits within this nakshatra, they can be highly obsessive and fixated over their partners. despite how intense these women may love, they are very loyal and devoted

#vedic astrology #astrology #jyotish #sidereal astrology #astrology observations

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bougiebutchbinch · 1 day

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today we are thinkin' about logan just absolutely going to town on wade's pussy

full oral fixation

burying his face between his legs and licking and kissing and sucking, pulling his cunny lips into his mouth and letting 'em pop free, grazing his straining clit with his teeth, growling feral like a dog and latching on with fangs and fingernails whenever Wade, whimpering, tries to pull away

pressing his nose real close after he's cum and inhaling greedily

digging in his teeth to try and leave a scar - and if the bite mark heals up instantly, well, he'll just have to do it again. and again. and again...

it's not even about giving Wade pleasure (though that's a fun little bonus) so much as Wolvie taking what he wants.... forcing Wade through one orgasm after another until Wade is a shaky-legged wreck..... slick and blood painting between the scars on his inner thighs.....

he can't even get out a single word of his usual babble. his fingers are wound into Logan's spiky hair, but he's unsure if he's trying to push him away (because god, he's so oversensitized, everything is white-lava agony, pain and pleasure flooding his nerves until he can't tell the difference) or hold him close~

#poolverine #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #wolverine #logan howlett #dead claws #morning cumquats

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lxvsiick · 2 days

Text

KISS ME RIGHT | MYUNG JAEHYUN

PAIRING: down bad! frat boy! myung jaehyun x library worker! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Jaehyung goes to the library everyday to see Y/n even though he's never touched a book in his life.

GENRE: fluff, imagine, frat boy

WORDCOUNT: 2k

WARNING: kissing scene towards the end!

A/N: Inspired by KISS ME RIGHT by Keshi -- the song is finally out! i've been waiting ever since his last tour ,, this song reminds of jaehyun’s flirty personality so ENJOY!

The double doors of the library swung open with an exaggerated flair, and every head inside turned like it was a reflex. There he was again—Jaehyun, in all his glory. Hair tousled like he'd just come from the gym, a hoodie slung over his shoulder, and that ridiculous smile that could charm the paint off the walls. He strutted into the library like it was the hottest club on campus, and not the quietest place within a ten-mile radius.

Whispers buzzed through the aisles.

"Is that Jaehyun again?"

"Does he even know what a book is?"

"Bro, he’s here every day now. Do you think he lost a bet?"

But Jaehyun didn’t care. He barely noticed the stares anymore. All he cared about was making his way to the front desk, where Y/n sat. She looked calm, focused, her fingers flying over the keyboard, the glow from her computer screen highlighting her face. She didn’t even look up as he approached.

Jaehyun cleared his throat a little too loudly, startling a student reading in the corner.

"Yo, uh... hey," he said, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes rehearsing those two words in his head.

She finally glanced up, her brow furrowed in mild confusion. It was like she was wondering why this human embodiment of a golden retriever was trying to infiltrate her serene library world.

"You’re here again?" she asked, her voice neutral but with a hint of amusement.

Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, his usual swagger deflating slightly under her gaze. But he quickly recovered, flashing that winning smile that got him into any party, out of any trouble, and, hopefully, into her good graces.

"Yeah, you know... studying and stuff."

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the completely empty table he had staked out for himself behind her. No books. No laptop. Not even a notebook. Just him, spinning a pen between his fingers like he was preparing for the next big test in... nothing.

"Studying?" she echoed, clearly unconvinced.

"Yeah, you know... brushing up on... the Dewey Decimal System." He threw in a dramatic wink, like it was the cleverest thing anyone had ever said about libraries.

She didn’t laugh, but there was a tiny, almost imperceptible quirk of her lips. Success.

"Right. Well, let me know if you need help finding a book... or learning how to read." Her voice was dry, and Jaehyun's grin widened.

"Ouch, brutal," he chuckled, his face lighting up like she had just complimented him.

She turned back to her screen, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely brushing him off. That was all the encouragement he needed. Without another word, he made his way to his usual table—smack in the middle of her line of sight. He didn’t sit like a regular person. He flopped down with a dramatic sigh, then spread out across the chair like he was getting ready for a nap, not a study session.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

From her seat, Y/n could feel his presence, like a beam of sunshine she wasn’t sure she needed right now. Every time she glanced up, there he was, pretending to flip through the pages of some random book he’d grabbed. Every few minutes, he'd peek over the top of the pages to check if she was looking.

At one point, Taesan and Leehan walked by and nearly stopped in their tracks when they saw Jaehyun actually holding a book. Leehan nudged Taesan, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Dude, I think he’s... reading?"

Taesan snorted. "Nah, he's definitely planning something. Probably trying to get out of doing chores at the frat house."

Jaehyun pretended not to hear them, but he couldn’t help shooting a quick grin their way. Let them talk. He was on a mission—a mission that involved far more staring at Y/n than reading anything resembling words.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As the library’s closing time approached, the once-crowded space thinned out. Y/n was busy packing up her things behind the desk, when she noticed Jaehyun still lounging in his seat, scrolling through his phone. Everyone else had left, but he lingered like he had all the time in the world.

She walked over, standing at his table, crossing her arms with a bemused expression. "You know we’re closing, right?"

He glanced up, his puppy-like enthusiasm returning as if she’d just thrown him a bone. "Oh, yeah, totally. Just waiting for the right moment to—" He glanced down at the book in front of him and then looked back up, suddenly sheepish. "—check this out. For... studying. You know, tomorrow."

She shook her head, but this time, the smile she’d been holding back all day finally broke through.

"You’re hopeless."

He stood up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Nah, just... committed."

She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes. "To studying?"

He stepped closer, playful but serious. "To you."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the quiet, empty library around them. Then she laughed—soft, real. And in that moment, he knew every second of pretending to study had been worth it.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

The bass from the speakers thumped through the walls of the frat house as Jaehyun stood near the kitchen, laughing with his friends. Red Solo cups in hand, they exchanged stories from the week, loud banter filling the air. Jaehyun was mid-sentence when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

Out of the corner of his vision, Y/n stepped through the front door, her figure silhouetted against the dim lights of the hallway. She was wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her frame just right, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. The noise of the party seemed to dull in his ears. He froze, his eyes locked onto her as if the world had slowed down just for a moment.

His friends continued chatting around him, oblivious to his trance.

"Yo, bro... hello?" Sungho waved a hand in front of his face. Jaehyun blinked but didn’t move.

"Earth to Jaehyun! What are you staring at, man?" Sohee nudged him, noticing where his eyes were glued.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind still trying to process how she—Y/n—was here, in this chaos of beer pong and blaring music. She didn’t belong here, but she looked so effortlessly out of place, it was almost unfair.

"Bro, you good?" Hanbin laughed, realizing why he was distracted. "Dude’s done for, he’s totally smitten."

Jaehyun shook his head, snapping out of it. He chuckled awkwardly, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, uh, I’ll catch you guys later." He set his cup down on the counter and started weaving his way through the crowd toward her, his pulse quickening with every step.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As he neared her, she looked around the room, clearly unfamiliar with the party vibe. Her eyes landed on him, and she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He stopped a few feet away, his voice unsteady.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, more confused than anything. "Who invited you?"

She raised an eyebrow at his tone, folding her arms over her chest. "Jake invited me. I thought it might be fun." Her voice was cool, as if his question wasn’t welcome.

A flare of jealousy twisted in his gut, and he frowned, glancing around the room, wondering why Jake had to ask her. "You should’ve said no to him. This isn't your scene." His voice came out sharper than he intended, his frustration laced in every word.

Y/n scoffed, clearly annoyed. "Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do." She took a step closer, her gaze hardening. "I didn’t come here for Jake. I came because I wanted to see you. But if this is how you're gonna act, maybe it was a mistake." Her voice cut through the noise, her disappointment evident.

Before he could even respond, she turned on her heel, moving deeper into the house, disappearing into the crowd of bodies and flashing lights. He stood there, dumbfounded, replaying her words in his head. She came to see him.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

His heart sank. He felt like an idiot. Without wasting another second, he pushed his way through the throng of people, his mind racing. How could he have messed up so badly in just one conversation?

"Hey, have you seen—" he asked one person, cutting himself off as he realized they didn’t know who he was talking about. He scanned the dance floor, the kitchen, even outside by the keg, but she was nowhere in sight. His frustration grew with every passing second.

He was a guy who could read a room, crack a joke, keep the vibe light. But right now? He was frantic. His friends slapped him on the back as he passed, asking him what was up, but he brushed them off. He couldn’t let her leave thinking that was all he had to say—that she wasn’t welcome here, when in reality, she was the only person he wanted to be around.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was really just a few intense minutes, he spotted her standing near the back patio, her arms crossed as she talked with a couple of people. She looked frustrated, her foot tapping lightly against the ground.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right.

As he approached, the people around her seemed to sense the tension, exchanging glances before slowly stepping back, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the patio. The noise around them faded into the background.

Jaehyun opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then the words just spilled out.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out earlier. I was just... I don’t know, I saw you in that dress and... and then when you said you came to see me and not because of Jake, I just—" He paused, his hands gesturing wildly as he tried to find the right words. "I got jealous. It was dumb. I shouldn’t have said you shouldn’t be here, because I want you here. Like, I always want you here, not just at parties, but anywhere, and I—" He was rambling now, his thoughts tripping over each other in his rush to explain.

"—I just, I like you. A lot. And I don’t know how to deal with that sometimes. You’re... you’re like this amazing person, and I’m just the guy who’s pretending to study just so I can see you, and that probably sounds stupid, but—" He was talking faster, his words stumbling over each other. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense anymore.

Suddenly, Y/n stepped closer, cutting him off mid-sentence. Without saying a word, she stood on her tiptoes, leaning in.

Before he could process what was happening, her lips met his.

Time seemed to stop. His heart did a somersault, and his thoughts went blank. Her kiss was soft, brief, but it left him utterly frozen, like his brain couldn’t catch up with what just happened.

When she pulled back, Jaehyun stood there, completely stunned, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he tried to make sense of reality. For a moment, it was as though his whole world had paused.

Y/n looked at him and burst into laughter—an easy, melodic sound that broke through the tension. "You should see your face right now," she teased.

Her laughter snapped him out of his trance. His shocked expression melted into a grin, his heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"Wait, you—" he started, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

She smiled, stepping closer again, her gaze soft but teasing. "Yeah, I like you too. Even if you pretend to read at the library every day." She gave him a playful nudge.

A flood of relief and pure happiness washed over him, and without thinking, he closed the gap between them, gently cupping her face and bringing his lips to hers once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of it. He could feel the smile on her lips, and it made him grin into the kiss.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

MASTERLIST

#lxvsiick </3 #kpop #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #myung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #bnd jaehyun #bnd jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun imagines #myung jaehyun fluff

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 days

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Writing Ideas: 170 Character Quirks

Quirk—a peculiar trait; idiosyncrasy; memorable little things about a character’s personality that make them charming, endearing, weird, or unique; can be cute habits; is anything worth describing about a character.

PERSONALITY QUIRKS

Very introverted, quiet and reserved, keeps to themselves

Highly extroverted, loves socializing and meeting new people

Mega control freak who has to have everything their way

Neat freak (often coincides with control freak)

Total slob who never knows where anything is

Super stubborn and will never admit when they’re wrong

Brutally honest and can’t lie to save their life

Extremely judgmental of other people

Short-tempered, especially when irritated

Always patient, even when frustrated

Hilarious or odd sense of humor

Very hard to make them laugh

Loves to eat and is obsessed with food

Loves to drink and is constantly partying

Constantly complains about everything

Extremely loyal and will do anything for their friends/family

Adventurous and willing to try anything

Cautious and careful no matter what

Energetic, hardly ever needs to rest

Sleeps all the time and still gets tired during the day

Horrible sense of direction and constantly gets lost

Overachiever who loves school/structure

Really modest and won’t ever brag about themselves

Extremely emotional and will cry at the drop of a hat

Stoic and detached, rarely shows emotion

Wildcard whose behavior is unpredictable, even to their friends

Notoriously two-faced and will betray anyone

Charismatic and can convince anyone to do their bidding

Very proper and always polite to others

Dates tons of people and has a new boyfriend or girlfriend every week

Obsessive personality — whether it’s a TV show, brand, musical artist, or even another person, they’ll get attached and think/talk about it constantly

PHYSICAL QUIRKS

Unique eye or hair color

Has two different eye colors

Extremely short or tall

Some discerning physical mark — birthmark, freckles, mole, or scar

Wears unusual glasses

Has braces and headgear

Large feet — may mean they’re clumsy

Bites their nails/lips or chews on their hair

Constantly fidgeting and can’t sit still

Acne, eczema, or other skin problems

Many tattoos or piercings

Often sick or has allergies (constantly sniffling/blowing their nose)

Talks very loudly or quietly

Says everything like it’s a question

Terrible breath — may be a coffee drinker

Gets sweaty easily (especially when nervous)

Unusually hairy arms or legs

Very long painted nails

Always wears a faceful of makeup

Has a stutter or other speech impediment

Incessantly clicks a pen

Often tucks their hair behind their ears

Constantly chews gum

Has a toothpick dangling from their mouth

Always picking their teeth

Smokes and has a raspy voice

Breathes heavily or snores

Is extremely muscular

Walks very slowly or quickly

Left-handed or ambidextrous

Constantly scratching themselves

Has some noticeable physical tic, like a twitch

Always wears a distinct item of clothing or accessory — a favorite pair of socks, a lucky jersey, or even a particular shade of lipstick

STRENGTHS/TALENTS

Fantastic cook or baker

Skilled musician (piano, guitar, violin, etc.)

Artistic talent (drawing, painting, sculpting, etc.)

Model athlete (football, hockey, swimming, etc.)

Great at voices/ventriloquy

Can do sleight-of-hand — may be a pickpocket

Speaks multiple languages, even obscure ones

Knows everything about history

Mathematical or scientific genius

Brilliant coder and can hack into any database

Skilled mechanical inventor

Can build or put together anything

Super-quick logical reasoning

Exceptional memory/genius IQ (several of the above might fall under this)

Special connection with animals

Super empathetic and understanding of other people

Extremely fast runner

Contortionist (can twist their body into any shape)

Psychic talent (can predict the future)

Amazing mechanic

Super strength, flying, invisibility or other superpowers

Unusually high tolerance for pain

Survival skills like hunting and fishing

Quick reflexes, acts fast in a crisis

Brave and fearless, not scared of anything

Able to talk their way out of any trouble/invent stories on the fly

WEAKNESSES/NEGATIVE TRAITS

Awful driver

Always running late

Illegible handwriting

Terrible at public speaking

Socially awkward — hard for them to make friends

Has tons of credit card debt from online shopping

Self-destructive and always wants what’s worst for them

Gets blackout drunk every time they go out

Extremely conceited or arrogant

Compulsive liar

Manipulative of friends

Gets jealous over nothing

Often mean for no reason

Unbelievably self-centered

Extremely passive-aggressive

Is a hero who doesn’t like using their superpowers

Arachnophobia (irrational fear of spiders)

Coulrophobia (irrational fear of clowns)

Agoraphobia (irrational fear of leaving the house)

Pantophobia (fear of everything)

COMMONLY USED QUIRKS

Pale skin

Crooked smile

“Intense” stare

Relentless clumsiness

Artificial hair colors that are supposedly natural

Characters thinking they’re unattractive when everyone else thinks they’re beautiful

OTHER QUIRKS

Dresses all in one color

Bedroom is decorated exactly like a Pinterest picture

Won’t drink still water, only sparkling

Refuses to use headphones and blasts their music in public

Always dresses too nicely for the occasion

Walks around barefoot, even in stores and other public places

Hates being inside, sleeps and goes to the bathroom outdoors

Can’t help but look in every mirror they pass

Wears a small plastic backpack everywhere

Preps their meals three weeks in advance

Drinks shots of espresso all day long

Sings opera in the shower

Always sneezes around pets

Has a collection of something mundane

Makes their own (terrible) abstract art and hangs it on their walls

Gets super excited about Christmas and then really depressed in January

Refuses to wear glasses even though they need them

Carries around a secret teddy bear

Has been wearing the same friendship bracelet for three years

Fastidiously lint-rolls all their clothing

Will leave a shop or restaurant if someone walks in with a baby

Extremely superstitious (knocks on wood, avoids the number 13, etc.)

Drops everything other people ask them to hold

Likes to go out dancing by themselves

Prefers to have the lights off or dimmed at all times

Only reads books written before 1900

Only watches movies that get really bad reviews

Always wears multiple sweaters on top of each other

Won’t eat anything that doesn’t have bread (at least on the side)

Thinks they’re a time-traveler from the medieval era

Gives friends and family excellent homemade presents

Leaves the office last every day so they can push all the chairs in

Hates jagged numbers (always fills their gas tank to the dollar, sends emails on the hour, etc.)

Has an imaginary friend they still talk to, even in adulthood

Owns a lizard that they try and use as a guard dog

Listens exclusively to Britney Spears

Leaves little notes in library books for future readers

Uses tissues to hold onto poles on public transportation

Wears their hair in Princess Leia buns

Never goes a day without talking to their mom

Hums “In the Hall of the Mountain King” when they get stressed

Clucks their tongue while walking, so they sound like a horse

Quotes Pulp Fiction all the time

Loves hanging out in completely empty places

Convinced they’re going to die in a freak accident

Grows all their own food in their vegetable garden

Never pays for train or bus tickets

Can recite Shakespearean sonnets

Recycles and eats vegetarian, but only out of guilt

Has a “vision board” posted on their ceiling

Loves the beach but hates swimming

Flicks people in the forehead when they get annoyed

Laughs at everything, even bad jokes

Curates a great Instagram feed of street art

Sources: 1 2

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winedarkthoughts · 3 days

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house of addams (7)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 7.3k

— 🍄 summary: you’re invited for a night at the Addams house.

— ☕ content warnings: mentions of (mutual) stalking and taking photos without consent, smoking, weapons + firearms

— 🕸️ a/n: ok listen, i am a sucker for tropes.

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 7: the dinner party

october 30, 2004

The gates of the Addams house greet you with open iron rails, swinging open, just like before, without any kind of assistance. It only makes you hesitate for a moment, because you figure you're in for more of a shock once you get inside.

The Addams house looms tall and intimidating from atop the hill. The sun has nearly completed its descent past the treetops into the darkening wilderness, and the windows of the house are aglow with warm light. It makes it look more like a place fit for habitation.

The image of all of them cozied up at the dinner table, ready to share a meal together like a little family, pops into your mind. But it is very quickly shooed away, because it hurts a little to think of happy families.

A few old lamposts illuminate your way up the path. When you get a little closer, you can see shadows moving through the dirty glass windows.

Even in the darkness, you can see the overgrown weeds and crumbling stone that makes up the exterior of the house, and it makes you even more curious to see what it looks like inside.

Standing on the front landing, you check your watch. Five fifty-five p.m. The invitation said six sharp, so you figure it won't hurt to arrive a few minutes early.

The iron knocker is in the image of a black cat's head, with a mouse dangling by its tail as the handle. You grasp the mouse and rap it against the door three times.

A few moments pass before the old wood is creaking open.

You're half expecting the door to open by itself like the gate, but no. Jungkook stands there, dressed in a dark pinstripe suit with his hair in slick curls. The warm lamplight crawls across his face, but his strange paleness still startles you a little.

"Good evening," he greets you, opening the door wider to beckon you inside.

You're glad you're dressed adequately. The formal dress code was a little intimidating. You opted for slacks, a white button-up, tie, leather vest (even with a silver pocket watch chain for extra flare), and an oversized suit jacket. All with the leather coat you purchased at the bookshop thrown overtop to combat the cold.

Wearing a dress isn't ideal in any situation other than for looks, especially when you're carrying items that are meant to remain concealed, so you opted for a more practical outfit.

You're expecting the inside of the house to be just as decrepit as the outside, but this isn't the case. The long, elegant hallway is lined with framed oil paintings and sconces holding lit candles, flickering in the slight draft, an air that feels a little ghostly.

You follow Jungkook into a large foyer with polished floors and a tall domed ceiling overhead. A grand staircase that branches in two directions leads up to the balconied second floor.

You can't help stopping for a moment to admire the grandeur of the place. Every curve, every corner, is embellished with carved wood or shining brass accents. It isn't even dusty, let alone decrepit.

"Come," Jungkook says softly. "He's waiting for you in the lounge."

He leads you through more labyrinthine hallways, all aglow with candlelight, gesturing you through an oak door.

The room inside is dimly lit with soft lamps, a fully-stocked bar tucked into one corner, the remaining walls lined with full bookshelves. There's plenty of seating options, from plush-looking armchairs to curving sofas.

"I'll see where he's gone off to. Wait here, please," Jungkook blurts out, sounding nervous, and closes the door without waiting for a reply.

You take the opportunity to look around a bit.

Lush ferns decorate almost every potential empty space, probably thanks to Yoongi. There's a table in the center of the circle of seating options, crowded with appetizers. Oysters on the half shell, perfectly pink shrimp and cocktail sauce, chunks of fresh salmon with lemon wedges, all resting on giant slabs of ice.

You walk over to the ledge of the bar, examining all the fancy bottles and crystal decanters. Some of them have little tags hanging from their glass necks, labelling them. Blackberry vodka, silver rum, 0.3% cyanide, hemlock syrup.

It's just as you're ducking your head under to examine the hidden shelves behind the bar counter when a light voice interjects,

"Nosy little thing, aren't you?"

You turn to find the head of the house himself standing there in the doorway, though you didn't hear it open or him enter.

You've never seen him this close before. And what a vision he is. Dressed in all black, skin showing through the deep cut V in his shirt, hair slicked back, and a grin that's just as slick to match.

"Yes," you quip back, unapologetic. "I've made a career out of it."

His smile only widens, as if to say I'm well aware.

"Drink?"

"Please," you reply.

His smile, which is much brighter and lighthearted than you anticipated, remains as he crosses the room and stands behind the bar.

"Any preference?" he asks.

"Whatever you recommend," you answer, plopping down on the velvet green Chesterfield sofa, digging in your bag for your notes. At this point, it's less of a bag and more of a giant mess of papers and folders and photographs held together by a few pieces of straining fabric.

Hoseok plucks a perfect sphere of ice out of a silver dish, dropping it into a martini shaker. He grabs the decanter of blackberry vodka, and a few other bottles and mixers.

"Very thorough, aren't you?" he asks as he pours shots and drizzles into the shaker.

"That's right," you respond, spreading out the near-endless stream of documents according to the map in your head.

You can hear the clack of the shaker, the sound of its contents being poured. A moment later, a martini glass filled with near pitch-dark liquid, garnished with a blackberry, is placed by your side.

"Thank you," you say, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. There's the hint of flavored vodka, a berry tartness, and some other taste that you can't quite name.

Hoseok sinks down in the chair across from you with a matching glass in his hand, crossing one slim leg over the other.

"So," he begins, and you don't have to look at him to feel his eyes scanning you up and down. "You're the one she settled on to sort out this mess."

You pause your obsessive shuffling.

"She?"

In the middle of taking a sip from his drink, he looks at you like he's a little confused.

"The mayor? She is the one who hired you, isn't she?" he asks.

"Yes," you admit. "What of it?"

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I admire your suspicion, ______," Hoseok says, and hearing your name from his mouth is strangely thrilling. "But you must trust me when I say that me and my family have done nothing to cause the deaths and disappearances, at least to our knowledge."

"Then you better start telling me what you know," you reply sharply, fixing him with a strict gaze, and he doesn't break it.

"That is why you invited me here, isn't it?" you ask. "To tell me what you know?"

Hoseok considers it for a moment.

"Of sorts, yes," he replies, cryptidly.

You suppress the slight annoyance that wants to creep into your expression, focusing back on your documents. Spreading out a map littered with red circles and connecting lines, you point to one of the marked indicators.

"This is the Addams House, correct?" you ask, instinctively using your interrogation voice without realizing it.

It makes Hoseok chuckle internally.

"Correct," he replies cooly.

"And these," you point to several of the red circles. "Are the last known locations of the five missing persons. Remarkably close, hmm?"

"Come now, ______," Hoseok says in a playfully chiding voice. "Location may be suggestive, but it isn't incriminating."

"I never said it was," you bite back. "I'm merely suggesting that this house, as well as the surrounding area, displays some very strange qualities. And I can't leave any stone unturned."

Hoseok nods, almost appreciatively.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he says, smiling that same radiant smile.

“You’ve done your job well, haven’t you?” he inquires, setting his glass down and rising from his seat, beginning to circle around the couch.

“I should hope so,” you reply a little hesitantly.

He passes by the bar and picks up the discarded martini shaker, fiddling with it, the ice inside clanking.

“How far-reaching are your investigative powers, I wonder?” he says.

He’s at your right-hand side, and suddenly he tosses the shaker halfway across the room in a perfect arc. It lands in the small sink at the bar counter with a loud clang.

Your head whips toward the sound, focus ripped away from the sea of papers.

When you look back at him, he’s adjusting his jacket lapels, sauntering back over to his seat.

“Far enough to get the job done, I suppose," you reply, trying to uphold a neutral yet strict tone of voice.

"Hmm," Hoseok says, raising a brow. "Far enough to constitute stalking?"

The back of your neck prickles.

"What makes you say that?" you ask, though both of you know well enough that you're playing dumb.

"Ever heard the expression "walls have ears?" Well, trees have eyes, and they've told me all about you."

He's back in his seat, but you still feel like he's circling around you. Not many people make you nervous, let alone intimidate you, but Hoseok is apparently one of the exceptions.

"You should know that I am very protective over my family," he says, the tone of his voice dipping a little deeper. "Naturally, I keep an eye on them."

With that, he reaches into his inside jacket and pulls out several files. Flipping open to specific pages, he throws them down on the coffee table between the two of you with a papery slap!

Staring up at you are several photos, and it takes you a second to recognize them as ones from your own camera.

Jimin, walking to class, his hand frozen in time while brushing through his hair. Taehyung, hands in his coat pockets, meandering through town on his way to the police station. Jin, leaning against the garden wall, cradling a coffee cup in his hands.

It takes you another few seconds to realize that the file is from the pile of folders you brought with you. He must've slipped it from you when he tossed the shaker into the sink, a diversion to make you turn your head.

A crooked grin, slick voice, and sticky fingers apparently.

"I admire the dedication even more than the suspicion," Hoseok says, reaching into his jacket again, but this time he pulls out a silver cigarette case.

He holds it towards you with a questioning tilt of his head, offering you one, but you shake your head. He takes one out, puts it to his lips and lights it with the flick of a lighter.

It doesn't smell like tobacco though, more like cloves and pennyroyal buds.

"Technically," you begin. "Stalking includes inducing fear in the victim; intimidation, threats, and the like."

The subtext is clear: good luck taking me to court for this.

A smile breaks out on his face.

"No harm done," he says. "They were quite flattered, actually."

You don't really know what to do with that statement. It must show on your face, because Hoseok smirks with an exhale of fragrant smoke.

"Don't worry about it, detective," he says, sounding amused. "We're all sinners here. What's a little felony charge here and there?"

You watch the ghosts of smoke twist from the end of the cigarette between his slim fingers. Something about the way the smoke moves is unusual, like it doesn't quite obey the laws of physics that normal smoke would.

"In fact," he says, reaching into his other jacket pocket. "I must admit that I'm a little guilty myself."

He takes out another folder, opens it, and lets it fall on the table. It's a mass of photos, and they're all of you. Sitting in the cafe through the window, walking through town, collecting samples at in the woods.

Now you know where that I'm being watched feeling was coming from. If you were normal, you might've been creeped out by it. But this isn't the first time you've been trailed and you doubt it will be the last.

"I'm curious, though," he starts. "What exactly made them worthy of stalking in the first place?"

You look down at the spread of appetizers like you're contemplating reaching for one. You're not going to mention how you've been trying to distract yourself from what you saw at the lake, or the fact that you find all the inhabitants of the Addams House to be a little too compelling.

"I knew that all of them were cagey if not outright lying about living here, and given this place's reputation, I found it necessary to dig deeper," you answer in a leveled voice.

"And you figured that this place might be connected to the disturbances?" Hoseok replies, though it doesn't sound like a question.

You set him with a firm gaze.

"I never ignore patterns."

He stares right back.

"Words? Yes. Actions? Sometimes. But never patterns."

He's really staring at you, like he's trying to find the answer to some unspoken question in his head. The look in his eyes is somewhere between inquisitive and impressed, maybe even—

"I think you have darker thoughts than you realize, detective," he says. The smoke tendrils from his last drag hang, mesmerizing, between the two of you.

"If you truly want to know what's strange about this place, I can show you."

He's leaning forward slightly in his chair, and but before you even have time to think about what that means, the loud clang of a bell is sounding through the air.

"Ah," Hoseok says, taking one last puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table. "That's Jin calling us to dinner."

He rises to a stand and straightens his jacket lapels.

"Once you're done with your cocktail, we'll head into the dining room."

You haphazardly gather your notes, down the rest of your drink, and follow him out of the room.

He leads you through the ornate hallways, quickly darkening with the setting of the sun. The sound of clinking dishes and pleasant chatter grows steadily louder.

When you emerge into what you presume is the kitchen, you're almost struck speechless.

It's a humongous, grand, high-ceilinged room, and nearly everything is in shades of green and gold. The dark marble floors are flecked with gold veins, the dark wood cupboards and drawers are fixed with gold handles, even the smell in the air has a rich, golden warmth to it.

The countertops are a deep jade quartz, and the floor to ceiling stained glass windows are in patterns of emerald and amber. More plants decorate the space, though these are taller and more lush.

The huge stove is crowded with copper pots and pans, all sizzling and bubbling and hissing with their savory aroma.

There's someone standing over the stove, wearing a crisp white button-up and black apron, a small saucepan in one hand, swirling sauce on a plate in fancy shapes. There's a whole line of plates before him, making him look like a master chef plating up a dish for a hoard of diners.

"Oh, hello _______," the man says cheerfully when he notices you, and you realize that it's Jin (though you guessed as much from his ridiculously broad shoulders).

The next second he's squirting something into a different pan, sending up a surge of sweet-smelling flames, though he doesn't even turn his head from you.

"Hello," you manage to greet him, captivated by how he expertly juggles everything. There's sauteing vegetables, sizzling meats, a bubbling broth, not to mention something that you can't see in the oven.

The sound of shattering glass sounds from the next room.

Hoseok suppresses an eye roll.

"Please excuse me, detective," he says, sounding like a slightly annoyed parent. "If you wouldn't mind lingering in the kitchen while I sort this out. Jin so likes the company."

Jin flicks a spurt of hot oil over one shoulder, missing Hoseok by an inch, but he only bursts into laughter while sliding out of the room.

Jin doesn't seem to mind as you curiously look around the gigantic room, he just continues his work in comfortable silence.

That's a common theme with Jin. He's charismatic and perfectly capable of carrying a conversation, but he appears to enjoy your company despite how quiet and reserved you are. He merely glances your way every few moments, like he's reassuring himself that you're still there.

You like how he doesn't push you for conversation. It seems like he enjoys observing you just as much as you enjoy observing your surroundings (though you do enjoy observing him when he's not looking).

"Very impressive," you can't help but say as you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

"Thank you," he replies happily, and then adds playfully, "Feel free to mention that at the table."

Your eyes scan over the variety of coffee contraptions, no doubt because of Jin the cafe owner. Then you reach the refrigerator, black with gold handles, but instead of plastic magnets there are little antique picture frames with photos of all if the house's inhabitants. Because of course even the fridge has to align with the aesthetic.

"Looking for something?" Jin quips, clearly amused.

It's then that you wonder what exactly you'd find inside the fridge. Jin knows you've been watching him. Does he know what you suspect he is?

"What would I possibly be looking for?" you reply nonchalantly.

Jin lets out a chuckle that would dissolve even the thickest tension.

"If you're looking for blood bags and raw meat, you won't find them here."

He says it so jokingly, that you start to think maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe is he just some normal man with normal tendencies, the only reason for his nocturnal lifestyle attributed to him owning a 24 hour coffee shop.

Maybe you don't have to imagine him standing among a rack of blood bags at the local hospital, stealing them for his own benefit while leaving others without the vital resource.

Because if that's the case, then you have no reason to suspect he has anything to do with the deaths and disappearances. Maybe you could even—

"I don't keep them in that fridge," he says.

Your amused expression drops.

The timer on the oven beeps.

"Almost ready. If you wouldn't mind moving into the dining room and taking your seat," Jin says, focusing back on plating each dish.

You take the hint, leaving him in his element.

Another grand room, but with much higher ceilings, almost like a dark cathedral. There are the same stained glass windows and marble floors, and a massive crystal chandelier lit by tapering candles hangs overhead, though you have no idea how anyone could get so high up in order to light them.

Though the thing that demands the most attention is the long table in the center of the room. More dripping candles, some more like piles of wax with a lit wick, and bouquets of dried flowers serve as centerpieces. A black lace tablecloth, glinting silverware, dishes with images of crows and insects.

You don't even notice the people standing around the table until a small projectile is hurtling past you. Head whipping around, you see Jimin standing there with a slingshot held up to his face, and that face painted with a smirk.

From the way he's looking at you, it's not outrageous to assume that he was aiming at you. That is, until you hear a crash from behind you.

"Hey! Don't hit my azaleas!"

You immediately recognize the voice as Yoongi's, but your eyes are locked on Jimin. This is the first time you've seen him without a mask.

Uncovered by a hat, his silver hair falls across his forehead, and his eyes, unobscured by sunglasses, shine a strange blue-gray.

Something about his face is dangerous, it makes you want to see how close you can get before that danger becomes a real threat.

"You missed," you say, even though the smirk on his face is not one that belongs to someone who's missed their shot.

He just smiles on, and his teeth are sharp. Unnaturally sharp, as if every tooth beyond the front two have been filed down to fine points.

"If I wanted to hit you, I would've hit you," Jimin replies.

Hoseok approaches the two of you, ready to unleash another lethal roll of his eyes. He holds out his hand, and Jimin gives up the slingshot with a little huff.

"We have a no weapons at the table policy," Hoseok explains as Jimin pushes past him. You move to follow, but Hoseok stops you too.

"I'm afraid we also have a no recording devices at the table policy," he says with a knowing look.

You stare at him in slight disbelief, but he appears to be serious.

You want them to trust you, if only for the sake of the investigation. If they know something, you can't seem like a threat.

So you start to empty your pockets.

There's the microcassette recorder in your coat pocket, the digital recorder in your pants pocket, the flash drive recorder in your other pants pocket, the pen recorder in your inner jacket pocket.

You make a show of straightening your clothes before trying to slide past him, but he blocks you again with a raise of an eyebrow.

How the fuck...? Ugh, fine. You suppose you can actually be trustworthy instead of just pretending to be.

You take out the spare digital recorder in your left jacket pocket, the mini microphone in your shirt pocket, the flashlight with the secret button clipped to your belt. And the fake lapel pin. And the video camera in your bag. And the smaller backup camera in the hidden pocket inside your bag.

When you look up, you see that everyone in the room has stopped to watch you, all with expressions of slight shock.

Remembering one last thing, you hold up a finger, fishing out the micro nine pistol from the holster at the back of your waistband, setting it down at the top of the pile of contraband. As well as the extra magazine.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and you think that maybe you shouldn’t have revealed the fact that you usually bring your gun to unfamiliar situations. But then you hear Jimin chuckle.

“Well,” he says from across the room with nothing but amusement in his tone. “It’s definitely a party now.”

Now that everyone is properly de-weaponed and de-deviced, everyone moves to take a seat, with Hoseok at one head of the table and Yoongi at the other in a tall peacock chair.

Your place is between Jimin and Taehyung, with Jungkook and Namjoon sitting across the table.

You should’ve guessed that Namjoon would be here, live here. As a P.I., you’re kicking yourself that you didn’t guess as much earlier.

Jin is still in the kitchen, dishes clanking. And what you perceive as awkward silence hangs in the air. To them, it simply feels like impatience being soothed.

You wait, wait for one of them to acknowledge the situation. Why have you been invited here?

“Did you enjoy the appetizers, _____?” Jimin asks.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s dressed in a silk shirt that billows around his form, his pale hair now pushed back from his forehead, transforming his face from relatively innocent to dangerously attractive. He watches you eagerly, waiting for your reply. He caught all of the seafood himself, after all.

You just nod in response, but Jimin flashes you a pleased smile all the same.

“We weren’t allowed to have any, of course,” Taehyung remarks, giving Hoseok a pointed look.

“Guests eat first, Taehyung, you know that,” he replies swiftly, but from the little grin on both their faces, it’s clear they’re only teasing.

You wonder how often they have guests in a place like this.

Another silence falls, you sneaking glances at everyone around the table. Except when you dare glance at Hoseok, he’s already looking. He must sense your discomfort, because then he’s saying, “My apologies, detective. We haven’t had proper introductions yet.”

He starts with the person to his left.

“This is Taehyung, our resident coroner. He runs the morgue downstairs.”

This is the first time you’ve made eye contact with Taehyung since you arrived in the house, and he doesn’t seem like the same man you met in the morgue. This man is at ease in his own home, a man who isn’t bound by professional constraints. He’s looking at you now less like a private investigator and more like a stranger that he doesn’t want to remain a stranger.

You’re not sure which you prefer.

“This is Jimin, he’s currently studying chemistry and marine biology at the university.”

Jimin meets your gaze when you glance at him, cocking his head back slightly and flashing a hint of those sharp teeth again.

“Yoongi, our genius little green thumb. He’s the one who keeps the place nice and lush,” Hoseok gushes, and Yoongi gives a little wave and straight-lipped smile, blushing only slightly.

“Namjoon, our favorite bookworm. And brilliant scholar! About to publish his third book.” Namjoon nods his head towards you with a small smile.

“And this is Jungkook, the youngest problem in the bunch,” Hoseok says, gesturing towards the young man in the pinstripe suit. Jungkook acknowledges you still somewhat nervously.

“Forgotten someone?” A voice calls.

Jin saunters into the room, having abandoned his apron for a lace jacket with sewn-on fabric flowers. He takes the empty seat to Hoseok’s right, straightening his hair. But it doesn’t like he’s been slaving in the kitchen this whole time at all. Not one stain on his clothes, not one dew drop of sweat.

“Could never forget you, darling,” Hoseok replies. “And this is Jin, our lovely chef who keeps us all so well fed.”

Jin gives a tiny little bow in your direction, along with one of his charming smiles.

There’s another pause, as if they’re waiting for you to say something. All you can think of is that they already know you, there’s no need for you to introduce yourself. So you say the first adjacent thing to come to your head:

“Glad to have met all of you.”

And you barely notice it, already looking down at your empty plate, but they simultaneously stifle the flutter in their gut.

“Alright,” Jin announces, clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat!”

Everyone but you, in near perfect synchronicity, grabs the silver cloche set before each of their table settings, and places it over their plate. Jimin gestures for you to do the same, so you obey.

When you remove it again, after everyone else does the same, the former empty plate is suddenly full. A thick and creamy soup, speckled with spices, steaming in a bread bowl crusted with garlic and herbs.

And of course no one bats an eye at the casual error in the law of physics, too busy passing around a bowl of greens to garnish and a bottle of red wine to fill their glasses. You don’t object when Taehyung holds the bottle over your own glass with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

And by God, is it delicious. The cream base of the soup melts perfectly with hints of herbs and the peppery bite of truffle shavings. And of course, the best part is being able to break off a bit of flavored bread and dip it into the pot of gold before you.

“This is delicious,” you can’t help but blurt out, saying it like an aggressively objective fact.

“Thank you,” Jin replies, smiling wide like a child that was just complimented on their most recent art project. Except you can’t display a bowl of soup on the fridge, but you would if you could.

“Yoongi helped me forage the mushrooms,” Jin adds.

Mushrooms? Now that you think of it, the soup does have a distinct earthy taste.

“Do you forage often?” you ask, looking at Yoongi.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he replies.

“Why is that?” you ask, and a small smile tugs at Yoongi’s mouth. There’s a shared chuckle from around the table.

“What?” you blurt out, almost certain that they are making fun of you or know something that you don’t, probably both.

“You’re doing your interrogator voice,” Jimin says, but it doesn’t sound malicious, more like…endeared?

A look around the table, and everyone’s face matches the tone of his voice. He says it as if the two of you have known each other for years, as if you’re friends. It puts a strange, almost sickly feeling in your stomach. You set down your spoon.

Soon the air is filled with pleasant dinner-time chatter. They keep trying to bring you into the conversation, like you’re somehow one of them. But you’re here to get a job done.

It becomes exceedingly more difficult to concentrate solely on the case when the main course comes out. Again, due only to the covering and uncovering of your plates with the silver cloches, the remains of your soup disappearing.

A choice cut steak, generously seasoned, drizzled with a red wine sauce, a heap of garlic and herb mashed potatoes, and more mushrooms grilled to tenderness. You’re not normally fond of mushrooms, but these are surprisingly flavorful in a way you wouldn’t expect from a vegetable, let alone a fungus.

“They’re Pepperwood caps,” Jin says, as if reading your thoughts. “Yoongi grows them on the grounds.”

In all your research, you’ve never heard of Pepperwood caps.

“Hoseok isn’t eating them,” you say pointedly. “Neither is Jungkook,” you continue. There are no Pepperwood caps on either of their plates. Instead, a small pile of white capped mushrooms with brown spots.

“To my knowledge, those are Deadly Dapperlings, yes?”

They all look at each other.

“You don’t miss anything, do you detective?” Hoseok says with a little grin.

Your research on fungi has made you a novice at recognizing the lethal ones.

“Jungkook and I find that the poisonous ones have a particularly robust flavor,” Hoseok continues.

You watch him as he says it, waiting for him to elaborate, but he never does. So you return your attention to your perfectly cooked steak.

“I imagine you’re curious about what precisely the fuck we all are,” Jin interjects the silence, and your fork stops halfway to your mouth.

“Really all that needs to be said is that whatever you’ve already deduced is probably true.” He has his hands clasped together, his shirtsleeve riding up to expose the crescent-shaped bite mark on the inside of his wrist. He smiles when he notices you staring.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sounding amused. “I can be trusted around exposed neck flesh.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“So there’ll be no biting over the course of the evening?” you quip, only half joking.

Jin maintains his level gaze.

“Only if you want it desperately,” he replies.

You mold your face into a hard mask of indifference before you say something stupid.

“I must admit,” Taehyung begins. “I'm a little older than I look."

You stare at him like you’re trying to read a book. It’s true, he doesn’t look a day over thirty.

Jimin clears his throat.

"I'm not exactly...from here," he says, and when you look at him you swear you see something shift underneath his shirt.

The man in the peacock chair shifts.

"I'm a little more tuned into nature than most people," Yoongi adds. It’s only then that you notice that the dried flowers in their vases are leaning towards him like he’s the sun.

Jungkook is fidgeting in his chair, avoiding your gaze. But you can gather as much from the pallor of his skin and the deep-set dark circles under his eyes, both of which become clearer and easier to see the more times you look at him.

He has a ghostly air about him, like a whisper in the wind.

You look at Namjoon, and he smiles with a shrug.

"I just run a bookshop," he says.

A shared laugh sounds around the table. Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"Okay, maybe I've made a few blood pacts, but I'm a folklorist for Christ's sake!"

You genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. Though, judging by what you’ve seen tonight, he’s probably telling nothing but the truth.

Finally, you turn to Hoseok.

“I’m…not all there,” he says, and you wait patiently for more.

He scratches the back of his head, looking like he’s trying to find the right words.

“You can see me sitting here, but it’s only half of me. You can touch me and hear my voice, but it’s not actually me. I need to be…contained.”

Now you’re staring at him in confusion.

“You ever read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?” Namjoon asks.

Before you can answer, another loud clang of the bell is sounding. Everyone else merely looks at the clock, but you flinch violently at the skull-rattling volume of the noise.

Jin wipes the corner of his mouth with his cloth napkin and pushes his chair back. Everyone else does the same, covering their now empty plates with the silver cloches.

Hoseok rises to a stand.

“Would you like to join us for coffee and cocktails in the library? Dessert should be ready shortly,” Hoseok says, though it doesn’t sound much like question when he heads down the hallway without waiting for an answer. And apparently it didn’t sound like a question to anyone else either, because Jimin and Taehyung are soon pulling you up from your chair and leading you out of the room, with Jimin even wrapping one arm around yours as Taehyung presses himself to your side.

The library is a dark room, no less grand than the rest of the house, with the same candlelit chandelier and sconces. Floor to ceiling bookshelves wrap themselves around the entirety of the room, complete with a wooden ladder on a sliding rail. There’s a roaring fire in the fireplace, and plenty of leather chairs and couches gathered around it.

Jimin lets you go when the door is shut securely behind you.

“Who wants a drink?” Jin asks, heading over to the bar cart in the corner, but you’re more drawn to the tea set on the low table by the fireplace. It’s all black and gold, with little images of ravens on the cups and saucers.

You pour yourself a cup with cream and sugar, taking a languid sip and relishing in its perfect richness.

Jin distributes the drinks as he prepares them without having to ask anyone what they want. A glass of white wine for Taehyung, something sparkling and slightly radioactive looking for Jimin, that same blackberry concoction for Hoseok, hot toddies for Namjoon and Jungkook, and a glass of some citrusy cordial for Yoongi. When you get a closer look at his glass you notice that Jin even took the time to carve a little jack-o-lantern face into half a tangerine as a garnish.

Jin makes himself the dirtiest martini you've ever seen, with only half the glass with liquid in it, the top half being a copious pile of olives.

“So, detective,” Hoseok says, leaning against one of the bookshelves. “How can we be of service?”

Your eyebrows raise.

“You want to help?” you ask, still incredulous. Because to be honest, you’re not quite sure what the purpose of this evening is supposed to be. To intimidate you? Confuse you? Judging by the fact that you stalked them because they fell under your radar of suspicion. You figured that if they were going to offer to help they could’ve done it with an email.

“Of course,” Taehyung says from his seat on one of the couches. “The last thing I want is more bodies on my autopsy table due to deaths that could’ve been avoided.”

“And something is harming the wildlife,” Yoongi adds.

You set down your cup and saucer, digging in your bag to start spreading papers all around you.

“What’s the deal with the mayor?” you ask.

“She's...unpopular with the general population," Namjoon offers. "A little too different."

"She won the election, didn't she?" you counter.

"By the skin of her teeth," Jimin replies. "Minority vote kicked in at the last second. And a lot of people aren't happy about it."

"Different, huh?" you say. The implication is clear.

"Or at least, her ancestors were, and I think her daughter is too. Tends to run in the family, stuff like that," Taehyung adds.

"She looks out for those like us," Yoongi says. "When she can, that is. It's gotten a little harder these days."

"Why is that?" you ask.

Yoongi shrugs.

"That's just how it goes. Some times are harder than others."

"Is that why the mayor wanted everything off the record? Why there's hardly been any media coverage?" you ask.

"That's what I'm guessing," Yoongi replies.

"She's paying me out of pocket," you inform them.

"That doesn't surprise me much," Namjoon adds. "She's always been too generous for her own good. I imagine she cares more about this strange case than most of her colleagues."

"So she knows about all of your…proclivities? That’s why she sent me your way?” you ask.

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Yoongi replies. “Normal people tend to think we’re weirdos, but those who are like us know when they’re looking in a mirror.”

"What about the paper?" you ask.

Their expressions cloud with confusion.

“Uh, what about it?”

Ah, have you finally breached the topic of something they want to hide?

“Several people have claimed to have negative experiences with the press, but the main publishers have barely commented on any of the cases.”

“Oh, you mean the Periscope Press,” Taehyung supplies.

Hmm, maybe they don’t have anything to hide after all. But that doesn’t mean you trust them yet.

“It’s an underground newspaper, independently published, geared towards folks like us. Though it’s mostly full of garbage these days, we don’t have a subscription,” Taehyung explains.

“We can get you copies of the last few editions, though,” Jungkook adds, startling you a little since you haven’t heard him speak much tonight. He suddenly looks down at his shoes like he just realized the fact too.

“If you want,” he says, this time in nearly a whisper.

“That would be great, thank you,” you reply graciously, though he continues to avoid your gaze.

“So, detective,” Hoseok begins, and with the drink his voice is a touch more gravelly. “What’s your next move?”

They’re all looking at you now, curious and waiting.

You look down at your notes and fight the urge to clench your fist, because to honest, you’re not sure.

“I’m sure our little sleuth has a plan,” Jimin quips from his place sprawled out across one of the couches.

“I’d like to get access to Bradley’s reports and records, and wear down Mrs. Bradley if at all possible,” you begin, forming a list in your head. “I’d like to continue fieldwork around the woods and the lake, maybe see if anyone at the university can do some tests on those unusual mushrooms. I’ll be continuing my rounds around town to see if any civilians have anything to offer. Hopefully I can get some more information on the ones still missing.”

“And the lake?” Jimin asks.

You don’t want to talk about the lake. Thinking about it puts a sinking feeling in your gut, the stench of hot poisoned salt water filling your nose.

You don’t want to talk about what you saw. In your line of work, simply seeing isn’t enough. All that matters is hard evidence. So that’s what you’re gonna get.

Downing the dregs of your coffee cup, you start to gather up your notes.

“You’re leaving?” Jimin says, sounding wounded. “Before dessert?”

“I’m afraid there’s some things I wanted to get done tonight,” you say, ready to retreat back into your hole and dive back into the distraction of your work, where there aren’t several pairs of sultry dark eyes watching your every move.

“I suppose it is getting late,” Hoseok says. Though he doesn’t mention that many of them either don’t need to sleep or simply prefer to be active into the darkest hours of the morning.

“Let us send you home with some goodies, hm?” Hoseok nods to his housemates.

Jin cuts you slice of blue velvet cake, packing it up in a little bento box container.

You object at first, saying you don’t want to take a container as nice as this one, but Jin just retorts with a wink, saying that you’ll just have to come back sometime to return it.

Yoongi takes some cuttings from one of the dining room table centerpieces, adding some clippings from plants around the house as fillers, and wraps the bouquet in brown paper tied neatly with a bow. He hands it to you with a shy expression.

Namjoon gifts you a small stack of books, bound together by a leather strap, with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at the top of the pile. He gives you a smile when you notice.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Jungkook says when they lead you through the dark halls to the front door, which you didn’t expect.

He carries your gifts as the two of you travers first the cobblestone path and then the small hill down to where you parked your car.

“Sorry we’re so strange. And vague. I imagine it’s frustrating,” he says suddenly.

The walk up to this point has been completely silent, so the sound of his voice startles you just a bit.

“Yes, you’re all very weird,” you say, and Jungkook’s face sinks.

“If any of you ever change I’ll be very disappointed,” you finish, and that puts a full smile on his face, full enough that you can see the bunny-like jut of his front teeth.

A few moments of silence, the wind singing a low song.

“You’re very cynical, you know,” he says.

That makes you look at him, but his face is that same neutral expression, dark eyes wide like a young doe’s. He says it like a simple observation, not with the judgmental you’re used to hearing.

“Am I?” you reply, unable to choke back the little sarcastic bite to your tone.

He nods.

“You think no one could ever believe you just for the sake of believing you. You think you need to prove yourself.”

You stare at him, long and hard enough to miss the fact that the two of you have reached your car.

He opens the door for you, and you’re glad that you’re heading to the safety of your home because all these kind gestures are starting to make you feel weird.

After you start the engine, Jungkook leans down to look at you through the open window.

“Try not to worry about the case so much,” he says softly. “Trust your instincts, you’ll figure it out.”

There’s a moment of silence where you stare at him some more, wondering how a man who’s been so quiet and shy for the duration of the evening can shock you dumb with just a handful of words.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you manage after a while. “And thank the others for a lovely meal.”

He nods and smiles, backing up to let you drive off down the hill.

Back at home, you make a fresh pot of coffee and tuck into that slice of cake while you draft an email to the mayor detailing your most recent findings.

Then you look through all the books you have on mushrooms, even go to the internet, but you find absolutely nothing on Pepperwood caps. To the rest of the world, they don’t exist.

You fall asleep with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde lying open in your hand.

~~~

a/n: thanks for your patience! :)

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts series #bts x fem!reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts mystery #bts angst #bts poly au

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beomiracles · 3 days

Text

⌞ 𝐒𝟐 𝐄𝐏 𝟒 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ His fingers grasp your chin and reality slowly seeps back into your clouded mind. He was a complete stranger, you didn’t even know his name. It somehow excited you. It was the thrill your mundane life lacked, it was what your husband failed to provide you with. But this man, this stranger, he was ready to give you everything and more as his eyes hungirly roam your body, hands moving along your sides before sliding down your thighs to push your dress up. ⸝⸝

wc: 3.2k

pairings taehyun x fem!reader warnings infidelity, age-gap, strangers to ???, Taehyun is 22 & reader is referred to be around her mid-thirties, reader is slightly insecure, semi-public sex, unprotected + creampie, vaginal fingering, marking, kissing, hm hm hm let me know if I missed something !!

#serene speaks ✎... hii hii !! this is heavily inspired by one scene from the show 'Good Girls' eheh, because I'm rewatching it right now !! like I love Rio and Beth you don't get it. anyway, I'm not claiming this plot/idea as my own in any way shape or form, but you do not have to have seen the show to read this :3 this is horribly proofread on my part but my dear Izzy looked through it for me so fear not !!

The glass is cold beneath your fingers, the rim resting against your lips, waiting on you to take another sip. You do. The liquor burns your throat, it adds to the light buzz, the tingle of your body. — Chatter surrounds you, it’s everywhere but you can’t seem to pick up on it. The bar is beyond crowded, and so is your small table, placed in an ocean of others. Some guests are merely tipsy, others are on the verge of passing out.

Your gaze shifts to the man in front of you, your husband. He keeps on talking and talking, somehow overpowering the murmur around you. His monotone voice makes you tick, the small wedge between his bushy eyebrows, the insistent moving of his lips, the pools of nothing swirling behind his eyes. Not a single comprehensive thought roamed that brain of his.

You knew that he was cheating. You’d be a fool not to. The lipstick on his fingers, some smudging on the collar of his white shirt. His uneven hair and flushed cheeks, not to mention the constant talking, a distraction, as if he was still trying to cover for himself. — He must think you’re stupid. But you’re not. You’ve known for a while now. You just haven’t decided on how to pursue, decided on a suitable approach.

Divorce was always an option, but what about your kids? They love their daddy. — You take another sip, swishing the alcohol on your tongue before swallowing. Perhaps you’d guilt trip him... — “Babe, are you listening?” He still called you that, it was despicable, you weren’t in high school anymore. You blink, painting on a small smile, the same smile you’d been wearing for the past ten years.

“Sorry, you said something about your upcoming sales?”

His face lights up, like a kid on Christmas, eager to tell you about things he thought you had no clue of, things he didn’t think you’d understand. He belittled you, almost everyday, and you were sick of it. — He begins rambling once more, he’s bound to be occupied for another five minutes, so you let your eyes wander. They scan the crowded bar, people leaning over the countertop to get their order across.

Then suddenly, he leans back, easily parting himself from the rest, if only for a split second. The black shirt clung to his chest, sleeves rolled up to expose his near delectable forearms. He was young, at least ten years your junior. But he’d caught your eye the whole night. His gaze meets yours, dark eyes twinkling under the dim lights as he sends you a near unnoticeable smirk, just the faint tug of his lips, nothing else. His attention momentarily shifts over to your obnoxious man of a husband, but you don’t stray from him.

“..And so if we put the Honda for sale, I’m sure it’ll attract far more…Babe?” Your husband leans forward, blocking the view of the stranger before you. Internally groaning, your wide eyes quickly snap back to him, “sorry darling, my mind’s all over the place.” Your husband nods, and his hand reaches for yours, you notice that he isn’t wearing his wedding ring. “Should we go home?” He asks the question like any other in the world, but it lacks any kind of sincerity.

Brushing past him, your attention returns to the guy by the bar, he was talking to someone, but his eyes would shift to your table ever so often, an almost knowing look on his face. “Yes”, you bring the cold glass to your lips once more, downing the beverage in one go, “I’ll just go freshen up.”

Without waiting for a response, you rise, swinging your small bag over your shoulder as you push your chair in. Your husband looks confused, though he quickly nods, murmuring something about waiting out in the car. But you pay the man you’d devoted fifteen years of your life to, little mind, instead you head for the bathrooms with long and determined strides.

The room is small, cramped, and as the door shuts behind you with an awkward squeak, you lean onto the sink, gripping its edges tightly as you regard your reflection in the dirty mirror. With a shaky exhale you place your bag down on the cool surface, unzipping it as you reach for your lipstick, carefully reapplying the gloss across your lips. Resisting the urge to splash cold water all over your heated face, you run a hand through your hair.

You think about your husband, and for a moment guilt gnaws at the corners of your mind. But the longer you picture his face, the lies, the betrayal. — The better you feel about yourself.

You swallow, your throat suddenly feels dry, and a small bead of sweat forms on your forehead. Fingers drumming against the white porcelain, you count the seconds in your head, your mouth moving silently. — Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven..

Click.

The door glides open, and a tall shadow slinks inside. He closes the door behind him, hands digging into the pockets of his black jeans as he watches you expectantly. Through the reflection of the mirror, everything is okay, but as you turn around, coming face to face with him for the first time tonight, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Fuck, he was really young, 21? 22?

You bite the inside of your cheek, briefly hesitating. But he didn’t. He watches you with the same expression he had been all night, unmoving to the untrained eye, but you could clearly catch the glint in his gaze, the desire radiating off of him. You wouldn’t back down now. — So you take a step forward, one is enough to put you against him, chests brushing one another.

He doesn’t say anything when you reach a hand out, fingers clasping around the lock of the door behind him as you seal the two of you away from the rest of the world. — Your soft exhale fans across his face, the smirk on his lips spreading, exposing sharp teeth. Part of you wants to break the silence, another part of you wants it to go on forever.

You’re frozen, because in truth, you hadn’t planned for anything further than this. But he doesn’t seem to mind, an almost gentle look playing on his features as he draws closer, large hands finding their way to the back of your thighs as he runs them along your clothed skin. — Your dress is long, reaching all the way to your knees, certainly not what the twenty-something girls wore, but he didn’t seem to mind that either as he carefully bunches the fabric up.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, you don’t even realize how far you’ve gotten until your now exposed skin hits the cold porcelain and you emit a small gasp. The sound rings out in the silent room, echoing off its walls almost melodically. — He huffs, and in one swift move, he hikes you up onto the cool sink.

The determination of his movements make your panties dampen in a way they hadn’t for years. In all honesty you couldn’t even remember the last time you and your husband had sex, it might have been sometime before your youngest was born.. You tried to shake the uncomfortable thoughts away but it seemed impossible. Your hands roam his shoulders and the fine outline of his toned chest, he was everything your husband wasn’t.

And you…You were everything they weren’t, the twenty-something girls. Would he even like you? — Sure beauty was subjective but would he hesitate when he saw the stretch marks on your belly? The dip of your hips, the plush of your thighs, your body worn out after birthing four children. Would he be disgusted? Would he back out?

His fingers grasp your chin and reality slowly seeps back into your clouded mind. He was a complete stranger, you didn’t even know his name. It somehow excited you. It was the thrill your mundane life lacked, it was what your husband failed to provide you with. But this man, this stranger, he was ready to give you everything and more as his eyes hungirly roam your body, hands moving along your sides before sliding down your thighs to push your dress up.

You shiver. Whether that was from the fresh air hitting your now naked skin or the anticipation swirling in the pits of your stomach, you didn’t know. His gaze searches yours as his fingers brush the lining of your panties, as if looking for doubt, but he only finds lust, and he smirks. — Your husband rarely touches you, and especially not like this, not intimately. You often thought that you might have been the problem, but as the man before you leans in to press a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder, you find that it’s not.

A small part of you wants to ask his name, his age, anything, even the slightest bit of information about him. But the unknown felt good, ignorance really was bliss. It was better this way, you tell yourself. Less strings attached, and it wasn’t like you were ever going to see this man again. You were doing something for yourself, for you.

He dips a tentative hand beneath the soft cotton of your underwear, fingers experimentally swiping across your soaked cunt as he parts your folds. He has yet to pull away, to change his mind, and you internally sigh out in relief. — Your head falls forward, hands gripping his broad shoulders as you exhale against his neck.

You catch him softly humming and mere moments later, the pad of his thumb presses against your throbbing clit and a small moan rolls off your tongue. You could barely remember the last time you’d even touched yourself. With four children and a cheating husband who stayed out late, alone time was near sacred. You were pretty damn sure it showed.

The way he was touching you felt good, way too good, and you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around his arm. — Just as his lips trace the shell of your ear does he push a finger deep into your core, drawing a breathless gasp from you as he curls said finger, almost immediately brushing past a part of you that had been kept stowed away for so long.

The buzzing sensation the alcohol had left you with was nothing compared to the fire currently taking to life within you. And all you could think was: why hadn’t you done this sooner? Why had you denied yourself of the pleasure your husband has so liberally been granting himself for the past year.

Your husband…

He was waiting for you in the car. Time was not on your side, and any other day, you would have been freaked out. Not today. Today your mind is set on one thing alone. — Feverish hands claw at his shirt as you urge him on, the second finger he’d added wasn’t enough, you needed more, and a lot of it. He complies almost immediately, a small grin splayed across his face as he yanks your panties down your legs. You wondered if he let the twenty-something girls boss him around like this too.

Your neck feels damp, covered in his wet kisses, rough enough to where they’d surely discolor your skin. The idea of your husband seeing it was thrilling. But before you get to ponder said scenario further, he’s got you on your feet once more, spinning your around to face the mirror. Immediately you shy away from your reflection in the glass. The thought of seeing yourself like this, bent over the sink of a public bathroom in a random bar like some cheap fuck.. The idea was far from enticing.

His hand is on your lower back as he guides you down, the other one trailing along your arm before reaching your neck. Fingers splayed across your throat, he encourages your head back up and your eyes flutter at the action. — And when they open, you find him already watching you through the reflection, lips pulled into the same smirk he’d been wearing the whole night.

Suddenly, it felt okay again.

The sound of his zipper being undone sends a small spark of excitement through your already anticipating body. — Leaning forward, he presses a warm kiss to your shoulder blade, firm chest meeting the slight arch of your back and the head of his cock nudges your nearly pleading cunt.

Your fingers grip the porcelain tight, knuckles fading to match its pale color, making the wedding ring on your hand a stark contrast. You exhale, gaze flickering up to meet his through the reflection. Dark hair falls down onto his forehead, shielding his face from view until he looks up. — With a soft grunt, the hand previously on your back now resting against the curve of your waist, he pushes himself inside with one swift thrust.

The feeling is familiar yet completely foreign and you gasp at the stretch, your cunt clenching around him almost immediately. He gives a small sigh, head falling to the crook of your neck once more as his hand travels from your throat and down your chest, getting a handful of your tits as he squeezes them through the light blouse you wore.

He moves slowly at first, taking his time as he gauges your every reaction. From the twitch of your lips to the sickeningly sweet moans that he managed to draw. — But you both quickly realize that it’s far from enough. And it’s not long until his hips are snapping against yours with a force strong enough to make your eyes roll back.

To be touched like this. To be craved like this. It was like a part of you, once long forgotten, had been awakened all over again. Your life before your scumbag of a husband, your life before the lies, the cheating, the must’s and the do’s. — It was your life before soccer practice with the kids every tuesday, it was life before turning in at 10pm each night, it was life before slaving away in the kitchen as you scrambled to feed your family.

This. This was your life. Only you and this mere stranger, a mere stranger who made you feel like yourself again. — His cock buried deep within your throbbing cunt, twitching with your every persistent clench of arousal. Biting down on your bottom lip, you try to muffle the noises of pleasure waiting on your tongue, the thin walls of the small bathroom would surely give you away.

Your knees feel weak, legs wobbling with each thrust of his, and if it hadn't been for his arm snaked around your waist, you would’ve been on the floor moments ago. — Your eyes get caught on him, his large frame towering over you from behind, broad shoulders spreading out above yours; biceps flexing through the material of his dark shirt. His breath is hot against your neck, coming out in heavy pants and faint grunts as his lips nip at your sweaty skin.

You didn’t know his name. But he still made you feel things you hadn’t felt in forever. He made you feel sexy. Desirable. Like there was more to you than the sad house-wife who obliviously lets her husband cheat on her.

When you finish on his cock, it doesn’t feel at all like it had with your husband, with the man you had devoted your life to. No, it felt better. Like this was how it was supposed to have been all along. It feels euphoric, like you’re floating, nothing was real and nothing mattered. Then suddenly, you want to kiss him. — Craning your neck slightly, a trembling hand unlatching from the sink as your fingers entangle in his dark hair, you pull his face to meet yours.

Was this a bad idea? Was kissing taking it too far? Were you about to cross a boundary you couldn’t revert back from. It didn’t matter, you didn’t care, and neither did he.

His lips are soft as they move eagerly against your own. It’s not like the quick pecks you and your husband shares before he leaves for work, before he leaves for someone else. Your kisses with your husband are solemn, melancholy, and almost chore-like. This was anything but. It felt like your first kiss all over. Hot but tentative, clumsy but absolutely perfect.

He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating on your tongue and you resist a small moan. Then he tries to pull back, but you don’t want him to, he can’t. Your fingers in his hair keeps him close, and with a soft hum he complies. Hips jerking forward one last time before his warm release shot up into your spent cunt. It felt like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing. Perhaps that was why you did it.

You finally felt in control.

As he pulls out, tucking himself back into his dark jeans, you realize that you had yet to speak a word to each other. The silence had been a minimal obstacle just moments prior but now…You wonder if you should break it. But what would you say to him? “Thank you?” You almost scoffed.

His large hands on your legs startle you from your thoughts and it takes you a second to realize that he’s pulling your panties back on. The garment is beyond drenched as it sticks to you uncomfortably. — He’s close, so close that you can feel his warm breath caress your flushed cheeks. He exhales, eyes finding yours in the dim light of the small bathroom. Then he smiles, it’s not the previous smirk that had originally drawn you in, but a genuine smile.

“Taehyun.”

His voice is low, the name effortlessly rolling off his tongue and you blink dumbfoundedly at him before realizing that he’d just introduced himself. Feeling your face redden even further, you clear your throat before following his lead and doing the same. — Taehyun leads you out of the restrooms, ignoring the glances sent by the multiple people in line as his hand rests on your lower back.

The cold air causes goosebumps to ripple across your skin the moment you step out onto the parking lot. Taking a small step back, Taehyun’s eyes roam the multitude of cars lined up, you do the same, eventually finding the familiar one amongst the crowd. After glancing back and forth awkwardly, you finally bid farewell to him, barely managing to catch the subtle wink he shot you.

The car door slams shut and with a heavy sigh you slump against the leather seat, finally feeling the evening’s events catch up to you. — “What took you so long?” The annoyingly monotone voice of your husband rings out into the thick air and you’re thankful for the darkness of the night as you roll your eyes. “Long line”, you mumble.

Your husband hums as the engine comes to life. “And who was that?” He adds, sending a small nod in the direction of Taehyun’s figure, leaning against the brick wall of the bar as he takes slow drags from a cigarette. — You shrug, feigning ignorance as you rub your thighs together, the dampness between them an evident memory of what had taken place just minutes earlier.

“A friend of a friend”, you sigh, letting your gaze wander out the window as you pull out of the parking lot. “Yeah?” Your husband mutters, “what’s his name?” — You smile, shrugging the question off as you settle back into your seat.

“I haven't got a clue.”

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