#but seriously doll stop embarrassing me with your 'memories'

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

Hi!! I wanted to ask for a chuuya where chuuya calls her s/o doll and s/o asks and blushes and chuuya teases her a bit about it? Total fluff <3 Sorry if this doesn't make sense, you can ignore it! If it wasn't a problem, I'd like the scenario. Take care!

Teasing!- Chuuya Nakahara

Oneshot: Chuuya calls you "doll," and when you blush and ask about it, he playfully teases you. Genre: Fluff A/N: Oml hiii I had to think for a while but I hope you like it →Masterlist

Chuuya had always been known for his ways and a hothead personality in the mafia, but when it came to his significant other, You, he had a soft spot that he couldn't deny. The two of you were out on a casual date, strolling through the streets hand in hand. The evening air was cool, and the city lights painted the surroundings with pastel and neon hues of lightening.

As you walked together, Chuuya couldn't help but steal glances at you, his heart swelling with affection. Finally, he couldn't contain himself any longer and turned to you with a glint in his eye.

"You know, doll," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate.

You blinked, your cheeks instantly flushing with embarrassment. "Did you just call me… 'doll'?" you stammered, not letting him finish the sentence as a mix feeling of surprise and warmth spread through you. It was totally out of personality for Chuuya, or at least you thought

Chuuya chuckled, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, I did. What's wrong with that, doll? Don't tell me you don't like it."

You bit your lip, unable to hide your growing grin. "Well, it's just… It's a little embarrassing, that's all. Besides, stop teasing me with that face of yours, seriously, Doll?"

Chuuya grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He leaned in closer, your faces inches apart. "Yeah, doll. You're like a precious porcelain doll to me," he teased, his voice taking on a playful tone. "Delicate, yet strong. Beautiful, yet fiery."

Your blush deepened, and you playfully swatted at his chest. "Stop teasing," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

Chuuya chuckled softly and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I can't help it if you're so damn adorable when you blush, doll," he said, his tone affectionate. "But I mean every word. You're special to me."

You leaned in and captured his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, your heart filled with warmth and love. "You're special to me too, Chuuya," you whispered against his lips.

Cooling yourself down, you broke away the kiss before smacking his head, "Never call me that again"

Chuuya's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Oh, come on, doll. You're blushing. I think you like it," he teased, his tone dripping with affection.

Your so called 'cooled down' blush deepened, and you playfully swatted his chest. "Fine, maybe I do," you admitted, your gaze meeting his with a shy smile.

Chuuya leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Good, because I love calling you that. I love you."

You melted into his embrace, feeling cherished and loved. The two of you continued your walk, hand in hand, as the city around you faded into the background. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the sweet moment you shared, that became nothing but a lovable memory.

A/N: 👹you didn't say ily to chuuya back haw

★Taglist★

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie⁓

I've made it! That's the last part, we've finally got some old good nsfw stuff and I'm so proud I've managed to finish this little work of mine.

So happy, I'm already doing something else.

Life's so messy these days, why don't just make it messier?

CoDdammit.

Thank you all, whoever has enjoyed this time together with the Task Force! Eat chocolate and have a nice whatever you're doing⁓

DISCLAIMERS: FINALLY SOME NSFW (i've promised you); not so much dom/sub (Ghosty didn't want it); Gaz's about to throw himself (or a random someone) out of a window; Price is done being the psychologist (he doesn't show, but he's always here watching you); Soap's so excited about everything (i love him); you've a master degree on how-to-deal-with- embarrassment at this poin.

..........................................

Eighth part here:

..........................................

Next day, he has to change his shirt twice, since the bandages seem not enough to stop the bloodstream from the open wound on his hip; and youare running around the base with a long sleeved shirt with a turtleneck, trying so suspiciously hard to go unnoticed, that everyone decides to to notice you.

With "everyone" I refer to Soap and Gaz.

They try to avoid your sight (since Price had almost threatened them not to stick their nose again between whatever is happening to you and Ghost), but…they're not that great at it. And, as usual, everything ends up in the oddest sort of symposium in front of your lunch, with the audience (those two old spinster men) waiting for Cicero (you) to spit out a persuasive oration.

You're not gonna tell every detail. 

You definitely don't tell them how everything had started in Ghost's office, with the brand-new door used as a pinning wall, with you pressed on the wooden surface and every will to endure drifted away from your synapsis.

You're not telling this. 

But dear lord, if your body trembles at the memory of his hands pushing your hips still on the door, raising toward your body to trace every curve and muscle, from the belly to the throat. Your neck skin still bursts with the tattoo of his digits, your tights harden while recalling his hand splitting them open and pushing against your crotch, while you try to give him instructions to go slower.

He's not a good listener, though.

And when Gaz is too shocked to ask what in the actual fuck you're telling them (Soap asks at his place), you can just bury your head in your shoulder, face burning red and cuticles digged by your nails, while you start with a ridiculous:

«It wasn't my fault» 

…

«Liar»

«Listen-»

«As false…» fingers pushed harder through the clothes, making you whimper «…as Judas» he ends, burning hot hair in your ear.

You do remember the pose: it's not the first time he pins you on this door, it's not the first time he dominates your tiny figure with every inch of his body, one hand clenched on your throat and the other between your trembling legs.

«You started» you mutter, eyes squeezed in an attempt to not focus on your throbbing clit «at the gym. It was you who-»

And his hand rises to your mouth, gloved palm pressed as gently as possible on your swollen lips.

«You're not taking this seriously enough, doll»

Hand moves to grab you by the cheeks, squeezing your whole face. He lowers on you like a starving eagle on a mouse, and now you can hear clear how scattered his breath is as he harshly whispers behind that goddamn balaclava:

«Shut that pretty mouth of yours, or 'm gonna find a better use of it. 'K?»

You just nod, watery eyes staring at him as you're melting in his hands. 

He mutters: «Good girl»

And you almost faint from the arousal.

«Wanna show me how well yar master trained ya?»

He suddenly releases your crotch from his pressure, grabs your hand, and pushes it on your needy cunt. He crouches down in front of you, eyes on your pretty flustered face and certainly a satisfied smile on his covered face.

«Touch yourself for me»

Heartbeats race in a run to your lower belly while your hand just moves by itself, following the order so religiously you even get rid of the belt and open the pants zipper before digging into your panties and submerging your fingers in a goddamn, slippery lake.

You groan a moany whisper; your legs start to tremble instantly and Ghost just grabs you by the tights, pulling your whole body toward him and almost lays his face on your hand-on-mission.

His breath gets through the balaclava, coming out so hot that it almost burns the cloth.

«Yeah doll, show me how ya do it, how ya want it done»

Your fingers slip on your clit so fast, too fast, and you start to breathe with moans. Legs tighten under his grip, you end up needing to cling to his shoulder, grabbing his muscle with the free hand and squeezing it, trying not to fall. You're so close it hurts; your body knots every nerve in a sudden shiver, tightening limbs and lungs, your back is arched and you're almost on your tiptoes from how tense you are. 

But it's not the right position. You know you can't finish standing, it's not stable enough for you to come, and that frightening thought is what makes you pathetically whimper:

«Please sir I-I need…need to-I can't do it if…please make me-»

«You're fully grown, babe» is his answer, blown on your throbbing cunt, brushed on your wet panties. «Know ya can do it»

Your head shakes like hell, and you're tempted to stop, since the tension is growing unbearable in your nerves.

Your voice squeaks so needy: «please…!»

And Ghost, who absolutely knows you're gonna start crying anytime soon, decides it's the right time to help you: and you suddenly feel two gloved fingers move aside your panties and soak deep through your juices, stirring, pushing and pulling in the clenched hole that's tightening so painfully.

His lips touch your hand above the underwear, putting a small kiss on it through the black fabric on his face. 

«Keep on, doll»

His fingers stuff you deeper, rubbing the spot that's so easy to find since your cunt is goddamn tight.

«Come for me»

That's an order, so gently whispered you think you've just dreamed it; but you follow it anyway, eyes so watery they're almost dripping tears of arousal as you rub your clit that's pulsing painfully. Ghost pushes his digits on your walls, moving them inside while muttering things you're not catching. At one point you think you've blabbered something about slowing the pace", but maybe you're hallucinating since he forcefully pulls his fingers out, making your whole body throb, just to get them inside again in a repeated motion that makes you feel empty and full at the same time, as if he's trying to blow you up like a goddamn balloon.

Then your moans get uncontrollable: you cling more onto him, bending your torso and arching it back again as he stops his fingers' movements and digs them in again, focusing on your little button inside.

You squirm a fucking loud moan, letting out everything you've got on his hand crushed inside your tightened walls. Your legs tremble like hell, while lungs try to start working again, making your chest pump big breaths. 

You really think you're gonna faint this time, when you feel his hand grabbing your hips, lifting you up and pinning you against the wall one more time. 

Ghost guides your legs to clench around his body, and as soon as he literally bites your neck you realize he's somehow lifted his mask, and you're not even watching the first glimpse of his face he's showing since ever.

And he pushes. He pushes against you, letting his crotch collide between your legs, letting you feel the grown bulge inside his livery while you whine and cry moans, a little too overstimulated.

You finally manage to collect enough air to mutter: «slow down- fuck-I can't…do again-»

He digs his teeth in your neck harder, till he hears you squirm. Then he almost throws you on the floor, adjusts himself over you, succeeds somehow in lowering trousers and underwear on both of you, and lets himself inside all at once.

Your cunt throbs, tightening again all of a sudden, and the skin around your poor entrance just screams pain all around as he starts to move aggressively fast, caging you on the floor with your legs split and sore.

You try to cling to him, grasping his biceps, but he grabs your wrists like they're made of tissue paper and pins them with one hand, pulling them over your head.

You lift your sight, for whatever reason.

And you see him looking at you with hazel eyes dirtied in black body paint, curved in the most vulnerable and scary expression you've ever seen at once, while his lips are shown under the mask lifted to his nose, thin and slightly open, scratched in tiny scars that you just wanna count and redraw in a map.

He's not making a single sound, and what makes you aware he's about to come is the tightened grip on your wrists and the deeper movements, that end in a soft, blown, hot breath buried on your cheek as his face slowly clings to your neck's hollow, and he releases your hands.

Your palms run at his cheeks without thinking. But he suddenly slips out of your touch, raising his body away from you.

Too fast, though.

And in the hoarseness of running away from your fingers, he forgets that he's still inside of you.

And he ends up coming out fast and at the worst angle possible, tearing away your still-twitching inside and his dick at once.

…

Soap's almost squeezing the whole bottle of water.

«How-»

«Soap no-» Gaz tries to stop him.

But it's too late, and the man just asks with the most confused look ever: «How the hell does Ghost's wounds-»

«I punched him» you rush out. 

«Oh….'cause of the-»

«The pain, yes, he did hurt me»

«Sooo…ye hadn't liked it?»

Gaz's about to cry from the embarrassment, face buried in his hands and chair that's slightly slithering away from you two. 

But it seems like embarrassment is something that doesn't bother you that much anymore. You shake your shoulders, sighing: «Of fucking course I've liked it»

«Then what's the bloody problem?»

«Well, maybe he could have been more…gentle?»

«The day on which I'll see a gentle Ghost, I'll know universe is fucked up so bad»

«Ok ok, but, look -and I'm being, like, totally honest»

Soap mutters: «Aha», a monosyllabic answer to make you go on, while Gaz digs his mouth into the last spoonful of his lunch, mumbling: «Bloody Jesus» through the chew.

You gift 'em ten seconds of silence, just for suspense's purposes, before blowing:

«I've thought my first time would be kinda different»

Gaz almost chokes on the food.

Soap slammed the empty, already crushed water bottle on the table.

«W H A T»

«…What?»

«Ye'r tellin' me he's the first-»

«Well, yeah…?» you frown. «Why the fuck are you so surprised?»

«Dunno laddie» and Johnny's totally sarcastic at this point. «Knowing ye played so much 'round it, we thought-»

«Around what? What-what kinda mental alembics are you implying?»

«Can we» Gaz raises his voice a little «not talking 'bout it in a bloody crowded room?»

Soap shuts him: «At this point I need to know»

You suddenly feel under inquisition.

«Your brain is pretty fried, Soap»

«You've never had sex before?»

The question is so unexpected and awaited at the same time that you just can't choke an honest: «Yes», blushed and munched. 

Soap's eyes are melting outside orbits.

«But the goddamn submissive thing-»

«You weren't supposed to know 'bout it» you burst out, blowing your cheeks and crossing your arms, even if you do know well Price knew everything, and, for some kinda osmosis properties also the rest of the Task Force did from the start.

Johnny's hand waves at you, scattering your complaints in the air.

«How in the bloody hell you've never fuck with your…master, dom, your…whatever»

«It wasn't a matter of fuck!»

«Don't tell me ye sipped tea with him, 'm not buying it»

«It was something different- it doesn't matter, goddammit Johnny». You suddenly stand, red in the face while Soap seems to be thrilled by your speech, and you know well he's capable of making you spit every bit of what you're trying not to tell about your past kink life.

«If you're interested» you mutter «you could just find a Milf with some big tiddies who spoils you»

«Hope ya don't expect me to spoil you»

You jump, with a: «F U C K» shouted out so loud.

Ghost's leaning on you. His judgmental eyes are piercing your blushed cheeks from the skull mask. 

One of his big hands ends on your head, patting your hair while you're trying to collect some sensible muttering.

«Meeting's in five minutes»

His hand lowers slowly, fingers clench gently on the back of your neck, giving you a bursting, totally visible shiver that makes Gaz turn his sight and Soap smile like an idiot, while Ghost's having so much fun doing his duty of making you flustered.

His mouth reaches your ear, whispering almost inaudibly: 

«That's for the wound. It hurts, ya know? So, next time, let's try to be nicer and avoid dick moves. 'K doll?»

You're thinking about yelling out how much of the fault belongs to him, and that if he didn't have that fear of you looking at his face, the wound wouldn't reopen and your inside wouldn't still be hurting.

You could do it, you could shout it out.

But you don't.

You just nod, automatically, brushing your clothed neck on his glove, eyes lowered and tights tensed.

He smiles. 'Cause you know he's doing it.

«Seems like I've tamed you at the end, noisy little mess⁓»

..........................................

[thimbledoll]

The Ken Doll

Warning: Shitpost

Years of training. Weeks of tracking. Days of preparation. Everything has brought the huntress here, to this moment. Her first target lay before her eyes, accompanied by a doll clearly made more for eye candy than self-defense.

Tall, suave, and sporting an impeccably white smile, the plastic resin doll was quite pleasant to look on. He reminded the huntress of something from ages past, but she brushed the memory aside. He would clearly be no threat to her, the huntress assessed.

The witch was a more curious being, eschewing the traditionalist revival popular among heretics for a more modern look of Converse, striped socks, and a graphic T with a cartoon character and runes she couldn't read. They were young, probably just coming into their powers.

They walked together down the city street, completely unaware of the danger that observed them from the rooftops above. The Academy had taught the huntress to never underestimate her target, but she could recognize that this was going to be all too easy.

Leaping from her position on the high ground, the huntress landed in front of the little witch and their resin doll. She paused there a moment, eyes turned to the floor, before slowly raising her head with a grin full of malice and delight.

She wanted to savor this, let the moment of the heretic's doom hang in the air, all the more to draw out the tension. The fear in her target's eyes would be all the sweeter prepared slowly than if she just got things over with.

"Rejoice, young one," she said while drawing her long, jagged blade from its sheath. "We could not have met on a more auspicious night. Your blood will be the first my blade drinks. When I've killed you, you will not be forgotten by this world; you'll be remembered as my first."

Finally meeting their eyes, the huntress found… boredom…? They were yawning, leaning back against the chest of their doll, like one might a locker. "I'm sorry, are you done yet?" they asked, tapping away at their phone.

Anger flashed across the huntress's face. "It's bad enough you're such a miserable excuse for a heretic in that getup, take this seriously!" she shouted. "And what is with that doll of yours?! What kind of doll is he supposed to be? A boytoy? You'll regret making him your first."

"Oh, him? He's a ken doll," they replied.

"You made… your first doll… a Barbie doll?! Killing you will be doing you a favor," she cried out in disbelief, rushing toward the witch with blade in hand. It dragged across the concrete, lighting the night with sparks.

Bloodlust filled the huntress as she raced forward. A single swipe and this heretic among heretics would be naught but blood on the pavement, she thought. If they couldn't provide her the fear and anguish she desired, then best to get it over with and move on to her next target.

Inches from the witch's face she swung her blade, eager for the sickening squelch of when flesh meets metal. Instead, it clattered with a ptang as her blade was stopped just before it could cut them down. The doll had ditched his arm, revealing the katana it sheathed beneath.

"It seems you've misunderstood. He's not a Ken doll. He's a 剣 doll," the witch exclaimed, their voice full of haughty superiority.

"Senpai, what would you have this one do with this… interloper?" the doll asked.

"Leave her. We're going to be late for the simulcast."

The doll pulled back as the huntress seethed in rage. Picking up his arm, the pair walked past the huntress to continue on their journey.

"You look this far down on me? You spit on my abilities?! You think yourself merciful? You turn your BACK ON ME?!" the huntress cried out

She wouldn't let them get away with this. She wouldn't let them embarrass her like this. She wouldn't let them take pity on her like this. The huntress span in an arc, looking to catch them before they walked too far away, but by the time she had turned, the doll had disappeared.

From behind, she heard the doll's voice once more. "Nothing personal, kid," he said, before the pavement was dyed that crimson red she'd so yearned to see.

(Old story reposted from Twitter)

[sphericaldice]

Every Part of You

ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ♡ Ao3

Author’s note: Long time no see tumblr! This ficlet is actually pretty old but I wanted to post it here to revive this account. CW for brief ED mention, otherwise this is pretty fluffy. As usual my askbox is open for requests, prompts, hatemail, whatever. Enjoy!

***

Still in her skivvies, Sonia flopped dejectedly onto the hotel bed, clutching the blue garment against her full chest. It was a trumpet-style gown inspired by Glaceon, aegon with pale blue fringe and an exposed back. She tried to pull up the fond memories of the week before; Gran’s prideful beam when she twirled for her, the way the beautiful dress zipped all the way without incident (Thank Arceus). But then there was that store clerk.

“Just don't feed her any more” The ageing woman with a shoddy green hair dye-job had muttered as she carried off the two other sizes Sonia tried on.

The soon-to-be professor just couldn't muster up those Glaceon Princess vibes anymore without that old woman’s words tagging along to spoil the whole thing, making her chest tighten and her eyes water.

The dress would look awful on her. The sleeveless thing would hug her stomach in all the wrong places and make her arms look like Copperjah’s gigantic trunk. Her butt would stick out and everyone would notice. No one would pay attention to her inauguration speech. They’d just be gawking at the fat redhead, the dolled-up Mamoswine. If Leon weren’t using the shower she’d fly right in and rid herself of the buttered scone she’d had on their way to The Rose of Rondelands. Now more than ever she wished Yamper had been allowed to accompany her, not just to see her sworn in as Galar’s head professor but also to comfort her. That dog always knew what to say.

“How can you name your whole bloody hotel after a Pokemon and not even allow them in?” Sonia wondered aloud, “Snobs.”

At that moment she heard the water switch off, and not long after, her boyfriend emerged from the washroom, garbed in a pair of Yamper-face boxers, (a birthday gift from yours truly).

“What’s up, Son’?” Leon furrowed his brow. After knowing the woman for as long as he had, it was effortless to discern when something was wrong.

“Oh, Lee,” Sonia groaned, sitting up, “I feel gross all over.”

Leon joined her on the bed, concerned. “Was it something you ate?”

Sonia laughed farcially. “It’s everything I’ve ever eaten.” She took a deep breath and began to explain “I didn't tell anyone, not even Nessa… this woman at the store said something really crummy and I can’t stop thinking about it. It was when I finally found my dress in the perfect size, I was so happy! And then I caught her saying ‘just don’t feed her any more’” She ended the story with a long exhale.

Leon clenched his fists in outrage “Blimey! What did Gran-Gran say to that?”

“That bitch was lucky my Gran didn’t hear her, or there would’ve been real trouble!” Sonia laughed, this time more genuinely before shaking her head, remembering what this was all about, “I’m just so embarrassed now, Lee. My stomach, my thighs, my arms and my chin, there are so many parts of me that I just hate-”

Leon silenced her with a swift kiss before pushing the dress aside and taking her in his arms,“Sonia…I understand you’re feeling bad, seriously, some folks are just plain cruel. But I hate to hear you talk that way about my favourite part.”

“What do you mean?”

The former champion leaned in to his girlfriend until she was pressed against the silk sheets. Sonia giggled as he ran two fingers up her thighs, past her stomach, along her stretch marks and up to her lips where he planted another eager kiss, which she reciprocated,

“All of this,” Leon whispered into her ear, “every part of you is my favourite part. Every part of you is beautiful no matter what some rotten stranger, or anybody in this whole damn region says.”

A tear ran down her flushed face, “Lee! Quit it, you’re getting me all mushy!” She lifted his face to her’s and their eyes met, “I love you so much, Leon.”

“I love you too, Sonia.”

The two kissed deeply as Sonia ran her fingers through Leon’s thick purple locks. “Come now,” she started after they’d broken away, “Time’s-a-wasting and I wanna show you my dress before I show anyone else!”

“Atta girl!”

Leon watched in awe as Sonia stepped in to the the gown and engulfed herself in the sea of blue sparkles. “Give me a hand with the zip?”

“My pleasure, love” He replied as he went to zip her up in the back

Sonia spun around energetically to face him, “Well, what do you think? You’re looking at the hot, new Galar Region Professor!”

Leon wiped a budding tear from his chiselled face. “Goddamn, you look amazing.” He pulled her, embracing her in a tight, muscular hug. “You’re going to do amazing out there, I’m so proud of you.”

Sonia rubbed her boyfriend’s back, “Like, it that much, huh, Lee?” She laughed, sensing his boyish excitement.

“You bet,” Leon whispered, “and I can’t wait to take it off you tonight.”

[cosmidomics]

need to gaslight a bitch into believing memories aren’t real

[youryanderedaddy]

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

[elysiadjarin]

Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

~

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

~

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

~

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

~

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS PT. 2

The first part did really really so I decided to make a second part of sambucky fic recs. Just as the last one: the fics are split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE All fics are completed and all are on AO3. 

BASED ON TFATWS

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs | Mature | 6,742 words

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

anything you can do, i’ll do you better | Explicit | 5,526 words

Steve is going to kill them if they don't learn to get along, but did they have to take it so far?

making amends | Explicit | 8,645 words

“Not Cap yet,” Sam said. He looked a little ruefully at his hands, which were covered in nicks and cuts. He could already feel his palms bruising from that last shield catch, but at least nothing was broken this time.

“I respect that,” Bucky said slowly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Bucky flexed and unflexed the vibranium fingers of his left hand, a nervous habit that Sam had clocked ages ago. “And you’re right.”

“Thanks, I know.” Sam waited a beat. “About what?”

Muscle Memory | 3 parts | Explicit | 13,156 words part 1: Muscle Memory | Teen | 1,766 words

Barnes sighs, and it’s a deep, soul-weary thing. “Maybe no one ever told you this, but I’m telling you right now. You don’t have any obligation to care about me because Steve did. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sam blinks, taken aback. He has to think, really think, about what he says next, because it’s - it’s either going to build or break something.

You’re My World | Explicit | 6,585 words

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name | Teen | 6,928 words

“You got a list of the nicknames available to us lesser mortals?” Sam continued, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. “The ‘you’re not Steve Rogers, so don’t even think about it’ collection?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a list,” Bucky replied, pausing long enough to draw a pointed look from Sam. “Bucky,” he finished, gesturing broadly with his arm to convey the obviousness of the answer.

5 times Sam and Bucky used pet names as a joke + 1 time they used them in earnest

That’s not very gunkle of you | 2 parts | 4,325 words part 1: Bestie Vibes Only | Teen | 1,822 words

“What’s buzzin’ cousin?” Says Bucky, sitting down next to Sam on the docks.

That’s the moment that Sam realizes he needs to change tactics, no more subtly looking up definitions for his weird old person slang, it’s time to fight fire with fire.

“Not much bro, this view is highkey just hitting different TBH” he says, casually looking out at the water.

There’s a beat of silence and then,

“That’s swell doll, I just ate some four-o cackle jelly with side arms, and I’m looking for some kicks, you dig?

Oh, this means war.

misunderstandings | Not Rated | 3,167 words

Sam thinks Sarah and Bucky had a date, and he's Not Okay

you walked into my life to offer me a better view | Teen | 2,534 words

He was standing twenty feet away at the edge of the docks, chatting with Sarah, and Sam couldn't take his eyes away. Bucky's smile was warm, wide, and when he tipped his head back and laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners, Sam could feel it vibrate straight to his heart.

falling, falling, flying | Teen | 2,778 words

Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

lonely boy, you are my world (and i could be anything you need) | Teen | 5,747 words

It all starts with Sam, a shelter, and this sweet kitten that reminded him far too much of a certain century-old, grouchy super soldier.

too dangerous to fall | Explicit | 3,466 words

Bucky Barnes is a one-armed menace. He has murder eyes and no care for basic safety protocols. His jokes are terrible and his bad moods are worse. He’s a godawful roommate who leaves his wet towels on the floor and his combat knives in the linen cabinet. Sam can’t stand the sight of him.

What happens in Louisiana | General | 3,478 words

But just then, in the engine room of the Wilson family boat, away from prying eyes, it felt like something they both needed. The closeness. The warmth.

Steve would laugh at them. Two grown men not being able to get it together. He would roll his eyes at Buck, nudge him with his elbow and tell him “you’re sweet on Sam Wilson so make a move already, punk.”

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | Explicit | 4,412 words

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.”

(In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Hey Samuel | Teen | 3,223 words

"Bucky."

"Yeah?" He looked up eyes wide. Did he say something out loud?

"We're walking the wrong way."

"Oh." Right. Um. "Let's get ice cream."

"I don't know about you, man, but if I eat ice cream in this weather I will get sick."

Bucky was at a loss for words. What now?

OR Ride along Bucky's journey of figuring out when exactly did he fall for Sam Wilson.

Anyday, everyday | General | 6,735 words

He moved his head and locked eyes with Sam. "D'you- can you.. help me cut my hair?" He asked. He forced himself to look away, feeling embarrassed for asking him to come all this way just to give him a haircut.

His stomach dropped when he felt Sam let go of his hand to stand up. Of course he was about to leave. Who wouldn't want to leave Bucky?

"C'mon, Buck. Let me cut your hair." Bucky's eyes snapped up to Sam's. He had a small smile on his face and his hand was reaching out, waiting for Bucky to take it.

Or; the five times Bucky fell more and more in love with Sam, and the one time he finally got the guts to tell him.

If You’ll Have Me | Teen | 4,779 words

Sam casually shrugged, although there was an intent look in his eyes, "Yeah, well it's getting late and I didn't feel like flying anymore so I was wondering if your old man self is okay with-"

"You can stay here." Bucky quickly finished for him.

I like Bucky, Sam I am | Not Rated | 2,653 words

"I would kiss you on the boat. Or in Wakanda by your goats."

Static in the Dark | Teen | 4,989 words

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

CANON DIVERGENCE

A Different Kind of Problem | Explicit | 7,616 words

“Do you know what it feels like to be insatiable?”

Two months ago, an interrogation gone wrong left Sam with Bucky’s explicit words seared into his brain and body.

Now, Bucky is living in the Avengers Compound, making pancakes and wearing Steve’s huge sweatshirts, fluffy haired and a little shy, seemingly completely content to be on house arrest — and Sam has never been more confused. Whatever Steve thinks, Sam doesn’t have a problem with Bucky. This domesticity is just so at odds with the feral sexuality Bucky had used to rattle Sam during his interrogation. Where did that side of Bucky go? And why can’t Sam stop thinking about finding it? Maybe Sam does have a problem with Bucky… it’s just not the problem Steve thinks it is.

Bucky’s Choice | Not Rated | 4,753 words

When Bucky enters Westview to try to help Wanda Maximoff, he is confronted with something he never expected- Steve Rogers, back from the dead and ready to start a life with Bucky in Westview. It's everything that Bucky ever wanted, everything that Steve abandoned when he went back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter. But Bucky and Sam have been involved for months, and Sam is waiting for Bucky outside of the Hex. Bucky has to make a choice- the life he always wanted with Steve, or a new start with Sam?

tonight i’ll need you to stay | General | 2,227 words

For once, Bucky wants to stop leaving when things are finally looking up. And he wants people to stay with him, too.

(or, 3 times bucky needed an excuse to stay with sam, and the one time he didn't)

How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Days | Explicit | 14,901 words

When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in.

Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?

at the end of the war (what’s mine is yours) | Mature | 4,290 words

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

warm blood (feels good, i can’t control it anymore) | Explicit | 4,492 words

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Caught With Their Pants Down | Explicit | 3,539 words

“Sam, this guy is not coming, the intel was false,” Bucky replied. “I get this whole ticking boxes and what not, but Rogers got it wrong, and for the love of God I need a fucking toilet.”

“You need to learn to plan your water intake better, is what you need. You’re a damn fool and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Bucky replied, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“In your damn dreams, Barnes.”

They’d been fucking for about six months, but Sam didn’t want Bucky to go getting a big head about it.

AU

sharp teeth, soft heart | 3 parts | 17,866 words part 1: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) | Explicit | 12,444 words 

It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

But once he realizes he’s attracted to Bucky and Bucky can tell, everything becomes, like, a thousand percent more difficult to negotiate. Sam’s just trying to live his life, that’s all, and he keeps getting confronted by Bucky Barnes in a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair all soft and shiny. Bucky glances over at him and smirks, and this is really very embarrassing, how Sam can’t hide his attraction even if he keeps a totally straight face.

I’m so into you I can barely breathe | Explicit | 6,515 words

Sam Wilson had a long day dealing with morons, so he decided to finally go to the famous club in town. There he meets someone who just might get him back in a good mood. And then some.

twelve ounce steak (boxers in briefs) | Explicit | 3,753 words

Sam has pretty lips. Bucky seems to think so, too.

caught it bad (i’ll be on the way) | Mature | 4,830 words

Sam constantly gets roped into doing dumb things with Steve, but this time, it works out perfectly for him.

meet me in the a.m. | Teen | 3,147 words

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

i wanna savour, save it for later | Not Rated | 6,419 words

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

we were a fire with no smoke | Explicit | 15,295 words

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows | Teen | 9,042 words

When Sam Wilson inherits the manor of the old man he once took care of, it feels like his luck is finally looking up. It's an opportunity for a fresh start, something he's in desperate need of. When he arrives, however, it becomes clear that an easy transition into estate living is not exactly a possibility. The house is run-down, nothing like Sam remembers it, and the groundskeeper — who Sam apparently has to share the house with, wants nothing to do with him.

You Smiled Because You Knew | Teen | 3,754 words

"You've got the wrong address," the man who'd answered growled. He had long, scraggly hair that had mostly escaped his attempts to pull it away from his face. He had nice eyes, and wouldn't have been unattractive, especially with a shave, except for the scowl. "Nobody here wants or needs your . . . services."

It was apparent by the tone the man did not appreciate Sam's hard work.

Well, that was tough shit.

[pineapple-lover-boy]

Can- can I just talk about the Victuuri relationship? Pretty please?

I just…. I’ve never seen a healthy relationship that starts from idolization and a need to get out that has ended in a satisfying way.

Let me elaborate:

We all know that Yuri idolized Victor. It’s why he was so nervous in the beginning and why it took time for them to build on their relationship, he saw Victor as a god.

Victor? He was depressed. He loved the ice so much but he longer found excitement in competitions. He didn’t have any worthy opponents that had a chance of beating him (sorry Chris).

I believe Victor “fell in love” at the banquet. He was attracted to Yuri but, even though he lost, he also saw potential in him. That night was probably the most exciting night for him in a long time. I think he felt genuine affection for Yuri but also saw a way to get out of his predicament.

Then, of course, Yuri didn’t show up the following season (a year had passed before the present timeline). He was most likely annoyed that someone who had gave him excitement didn’t show up. Did he think Yuri had a chance of beating him at first? Probably not. Did he see potential or at least someone he could have fun with during the season? Hell yes!

And then when he saw the video of Yuri skating Stay Close To Me, something that awarded him a gold medal. That’s all he needed. He saw how Yuri not only skated it perfectly but I bet he thought Yuri skated it better. Let’s not forget that emotion is a huge part of skating. If you don’t skate with the passion your supposed to hold for whatever theme you have, your performance can almost seem futile. Victor obviously won because he perfected it but if it was based on how he presented it alone, he would’ve lost. He saw someone worthy of skating an gold medal piece while also having the heart to do it. That’s talent.

Anyways, because of this, their relationship doesn’t hold well in the beginning. He’s passive aggressive towards Yuri because he doesn’t see his own talent and Yuri is just going along for the ride because holy shit it’s Victor fucking Nikiforov.

As they get to know each other and Yuri opens up more (plus Victor getting info on Yuri from the others) Victor starts to see Yuri as an actual person and not someone he can use to project himself onto and then later skate against. And Yuri starts to see him as an actual person too.

I saw on another post talking about how we didn’t see them during the summer and how the end credits of every episode suggest they got to know each other better as both in the credits and in the show they (Yuri) are able to touch each other more. I 100% believe this.

I also believe they might’ve had an argument or two on this topic. It’s not easy to switch from inadvertently seeing someone as anything but a person to an actual person with emotions and feelings. I believe Victor would’ve tried to back away from this subject but Yuri wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t big arguments like in episode 7. It was probably little quarrels that annoyed them both but after having a long conversation they finally started to become more comfortable with each other.

Yuri started letting go of the notion that Victor was a god like creature and Victor saw him as something other than a pawn. Yuri stopped getting as embarrassed with Victor touching him and Victor stopped trying to seduce him as much just so he could see the man from the banquet.

This most definitely leads the way towards a healthier relationship but episode 7 was inevitable. Yuri’s anxiety was at an all time high when he comes out on top. The fact that he needs to stay on top and not mess up is getting to him. As a person with anxiety, it’s pure hell. The thoughts of failing won’t get out of his head and even as he turns off all the monitors he can still hear everything.

Victor takes him away from prying eyes and has no idea what to do. Despite an obvious change that would’ve had to include some emotions from both occurring over the summer, he still has no idea how to help someone in distress.

Then he makes his first mistake. Yuri is visibly shaken by someone’s scores (can’t remember who) and Victor, who is at his wits end, yells at him to stop listening and puts his hands over Yuri’s ears. This tells Yuri how nervous Victor is too and despite knowing that Victor wouldn’t leave him now it shows to him that Victor doesn’t have faith in him (even if he does).

Victor tried to shatter Yuri’s heart. He must’ve expected Yuri to maybe sign heavily but tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to win (probably something that’s happened with him and Yakov). Instead he see’s the consequences of his carelessness. Yuri rightfully lashes out at him and even through all that Victor stills says “should I kiss you?”. Idk what Yuri was thinking but if I were him I would be extremely offended that Victor would try and use me like some doll he can play with and can assume that physical affection and love can fix everything, which was probably what Yuri was thinking.

There’s something off about Yuri and Victor when they emerge but Yuri is surprisingly better now. Cathartic crying can do wonders, kids. There’s also my favorite part of the entire show (couldn’t find a gif):

*head jab* “Hey, fuck you.”

*more head jabs* “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I know you don’t like this you unempathetic dicknip.”

*head pat* “You’re forgiven.”

We all know what happens next: Yuri ends his love story with Victor’s signature move and Victor kisses him out of joy and the need to one up him (with love, of course).

I’m gonna get a little sloppy here with the timeline because I have the memory of a female protagonist that needs to go back to work to get something only to accidentally bump into the jerk CEO of which she will develop a toxic relationship for fan service, so forgive me.

Gonna skip ahead to the scene where Yuri tells Victor that he’s leaving skating, and basically Victor too. (At this moment I realized I’ve been spelling Viktor with a c and not a k which is really fucking with my brain but it’s too late to go back). Victor starts crying and realizes just how Yuri felt when he was rejecting him.

I believe Yuri found some light in the situation because of that fact, which Victor was not having. They’ve been closer than ever now. They’ve kissed, they’ve also announced they they’re getting married, so what the hell?!

Yuri, as we know, feels he’s keeping Victor from the ice. Victor, while he misses the ice and wouldn’t mind being competitive again, has found meaning and if he’s going to be Yuri’s coach to stay where he is than so be it.

He wanted to coach Yuri because he wanted a worthy competitor and while he still wants that, what matters most now is his relationship with Yuri. If he stops being Yuri’s coach and Yuri goes off the ice he knows it will be the end. Yuri loves the ice too and I’d bet he’d try to distance himself from Victor as to not feel regret from leaving without actually knowing that he’s doing it.

They’ve grown so much at this point. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. After all they’ve been through Yuri doesn’t realize that consequences of parting from one another. While being too dependent on your spouse isn’t good, it’s what they both need right now. They are what caused the other person to be happy again and while I hate those types of storylines this one executed it perfectly.

I find Victor’s silent plea to Yurio absolutely heartbreaking. He knows it’s bad to put pressure on people but now he’s doing that to a 15 year old boy. He’s putting his relationship and his life into this child’s hands because he knows there’s nothing else he can do.

I do think Yurio had a crush on Yuri but even if he didn’t: Yuri has taught him so much. He, although being an ass most of the time, has really come to love Yuri as family. It’s clear that Yurio was always lonely (Otabek being his first friend and all) but once he came to Japan and lived, truly lived there, he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Yurio wins, Yuri gets silver and all’s well that ends well.

I guess my point of this was to show how well the relationship in YOI was. I could’ve included some more detail on some points but I usually write stuff in one take (it’s very hard to revise without my mind shutting on itself).

I just love how an implicitly toxic relationship can come out so healthy. They don’t do any of that miscommunication bullshit and when they do it’s because the characters don’t know what to do or how to handle something. Like humans do!

They could’ve easily made this the hot famous guy thinks the kawai girl boy is just so adorable and the kawai girl boy is absolutely infatuated with the hot guy. Hijinks ensue which includes the kawai girl boy thinking the hot guy is in love with someone else. She He gets pushed into thinking that she’s he’s more independent in the end and happily ever after for the couple that will divorce in less than five years! Yay!

Seriously, I thought that was what was going to happen but YOI subverted my expectations so much. They are people that grew from their bad mindsets. And you know what? Yuri still has anxiety! Victor is still bad with handling emotions! And that’s ok! We don’t change that quickly. It takes time and hopefully another season.

I’m definitely using this show as a template for healthy relationships. It’s so hard for me to properly write them when I’ve never been in one and I’m not given the chance to see it happen in different environments (when searching it up all I get is “they trust each other. They blame each other. They’re compassionate.” Like ok but can you show me how?)

Yuri!!! On ice…. I love you so much. You have done so much for my mental health and my writing. Thank you.

[arvinsescape]

Ok when you have the time I thought of this Arvin x reader scenario. Arvin comes to a small town after the events of the movie and falls for the sweet girl working at the bakery and visits her everyday. If you wanna add smut, angst, fighting, or make it only tooth rotting fluff , I don’t care. Have the freedom to write it as you see fit!⭐️👄⭐️

His angel.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in! It got kinda long! I really hope you enjoy!!💕

Warnings: Language, Violence, misogyny.

Arvin had moved to the small town after the events of Knockemstiff, that's where he met you. You worked at the local bakery and Arvin was almost addicted to you, he found himself seeking out the bakery almost every day in hopes you were working.

Arvin thought you were sweet and kind, he often found himself thinking about you when he was working on a car at the garage he worked in. Your sweet smile always managed to pull a smile from him, you made his heart do flips and he wanted to work up the courage to ask you on a date.

He'd tried a couple of times, he really had but it always got caught in his throat and he found himself with sweaty palms and a racing heart. He was not the only man in the small town who liked you, no, most of the men did. It angered Arvin, their thoughts were nowhere near as innocent as his own.

Arvin hated the way the men in town spoke about your body and the things they wanted to do to you. It upset him that they couldn't see the sweet girl who deserved the world, only saw you as a piece of meat. He'd almost punched his work colleague for a remark he'd made about your physique.

It wasn't that Arvin didn't find you attractive because god he did, but you were so much more than that in his eyes. He'd gotten to know the sweet and caring nature you had, the way you would try and help anyone regardless of what it cost you.

He was yet again in the bakery, his daily routine, he felt a need to see you at least once a day, allow you to brighten his mood just by smiling at him. Grayson, one of the dickwads that liked to make remarks about you walked in, Arvin felt his anger rise as he watched the man rake his eyes up your body, eyeing you like a prize.

"Y/N? You got any of them sweet cakes left? You know, the ones I like?" He asked and Arvin watched as you gave the man that sweet smile of yours.

"Sure." You answered in that angelic voice. Arvin swears he never believed in angels or any of that stuff until he met you. "How many do you want?" You asked politely, making your way back around the counter.

"I'll take them all." He answered as you bagged them up before charging him, Arvin watched as he handed over the money shooting you a wink.

"Keep it. I'm sure you'll enjoy my tip." He said and Arvin nearly flew for the guy. How dare he? He watched as you gulped slightly, face draining of colour. "How about it doll? Me and you?" Grayson continued and Arvin watched as you shook your head in response.

"I think you should leave her alone." Arvin said as he stood to full height, he might have been slightly shorter than Grayson but Arvin looked far more intimidating.

"What's it got to do with you? Oh, sorry am I trying to muscle in on your territory? I'll happily have her once you've had your fun." Grayson laughed and Arvin felt his blood boil over, taking quick and firm steps towards the man.

"Now listen here you fucking asshole. You leave her alone or you'll have me to answer to, she's not interested." Arvin said, he'd subconsciously grabbed Grayson's shirt.

He watched as Grayson shook slightly, fear shooting through his eyes before he composed himself and held his hands up in defence, cocky smirk on his face.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't realise it was so serious. I was only having a laugh."

"Fuck off out of here before I throw you out." Arvin said through gritted teeth and Grayson did as he was told, Arvin loosening his grip on his shirt. He turned to look at you. "Sorry." Arvin said sheepishly, he was annoyed with himself for losing his temper in front of you.

"Thank you, Arvin." You said and Arvin nodded before making his way out of the little shop. He was almost kicking himself for losing his temper, thoughts about how you were too good for him flooding his thoughts.

You were completely the opposite, he was all fists and violence and you were all sweet and lovely, there's no way you'd ever be interested.

**

Arvin didn't see you for almost a week, too embarrassed to step foot back in the shop. You shouldn't have had to witness him snap like that, memories of his past flooding through the back of his mind. You were too good for him, too good for a man who'd murdered people, whether they deserved it or not, he didn't want to drag you down.

Arvin was aware he could be a self destructive person, he could be grumpy and not see the fun in most things. You were the opposite and he just didn't want to drag you down, you deserved better, the world in fact. Arvin was so caught up in his own thoughts as he walked through the quiet streets that he almost didn't hear it.

"Grayson, stop." It was your voice, but it sounded sad, panicked, strange to Arvin's ears. "Seriously, I'm not interested you need to leave me alone. Go home." You shouted, you were trying to keep your voice steady Arvin could tell that much but it wasn't convincing.

"Oh come on Y/N, a bit of fun never hurt anyone." Grayson's voice echoed off the quiet walls and Arvin hastily made his way towards the voices. His heart hammering in his chest as the panic rose, he needed to get to you and make sure you were okay, make sure you weren't hurt.

Arvin quickly found the two people the voices belonged to and his anger rose again. Grayson was stood, hand wrapped around your wrist as you struggled to get him to let go, this fucker was in for it.

"Oi!" Arvin shouted and your eyes locked with his own, relief flooding them. "Let go." Arvin snarled and he watched as Grayson released your wrist.

"Fuck off Arvin, this has nothing to do with you." Grayson said, great he was drunk Arvin thought.

"I told you last week to leave her alone and I fucking meant it." Arvin snapped as he made his way towards the two figures, your feet quickly carrying you towards him. Arvin felt almost relived as as you stood in front of him and Arvin couldn't stop himself as he moved you behind him.

"Empty fucking threat. Come on, hand her over." The drunken male said as he made his way towards you, Arvin's hand instantly landing on his chest, stopping him. "Fine, you want a fucking fight over a stupid whore, then let's have at it." Grayson spat, far more confidence due to the alcohol buzzing through his system.

Arvin felt his anger reach a dangerous level at his words, he almost forgot that you were there as he swung for the man. Grayson must have expected it as he ducked just in time, Arvin's fist connecting with the wall. The pain almost didn't register to him as he swung again, this time knocking Grayson backwards.

He watched as the man stumbled, split lip evident and a look of pure anger in his face. Grayson made a move for Arvin but Arvin was smarter and far more powerful than the man in front of him as he knocked him onto his back. Arvin almost couldn't stop himself as he climbed on top of the man and repeatedly shoving his fist into his face. It brought back memories of the time he'd taught Lenora's bullies a lesson.

"Arvin, stop." He heard the words, but they didn't register. "Arvin!" He heard a little more firmly. "You're gonna kill him, you need to stop!" He heard again and he felt a soft hand touch his shoulder, Arvin came crashing back to reality as his vision cleared and he took in the man below him.

Arvin stood up quickly, Grayson groaned before rolling over spitting blood onto the floor. Arvin had just completely lost his temper and in front of you. He felt ashamed of himself, what the fuck where you going to think?

Arvin turned to face you, all thoughts of Grayson leaving him, you looked utterly terrified and Arvin felt awful. He'd probably just scared you off forever, your hands shook slightly as you reached for his hand, carefully holding it in your own.

"I just want to go home." You said just above a whisper, Arvin nodded slightly he walked you home, he needed to make sure you got home safe even if you spent the rest of your life hating him for what had just happened.

The walk was silent, you were unreadable, facial expression something Arvin had never seen before. It wasn't your usual happy self, you seemed deep in thought and Arvin wondered what was going on in that beautiful head. You were probably thinking of ways you could avoid him, a way you could get him to leave you alone.

You silently unlocked your door and Arvin waited for you to let go of his hand but you didn't as you made your way inside, pulling Arvin with you. You sat him down on your couch and silently left the room, returning with a first aid box.

You carefully took his hand in your own and only then did Arvin notice the blood and cuts on them. He watched with furrowed brows as you took a washcloth and wiped the blood away, almost like you were slowly removing the evidence of his violent outburst.

"This might sting a little." You said, voice soft as you looked at him with a sad smile before applying the alcohol rag, Arvin hissed as he felt the alcohol enter his cuts. He resisted the urge to pull his hand from your own, he didn't want to frighten you with any sudden movements.

"I'm sorry." Arvin spoke through a sigh when you grabbed a bandage to wrap his hand in. You looked at him with furrowed brows.

"What for?" You asked and Arvin looked at you like you'd grown two heads, his now bandaged hand leaving your own.

"For losing my temper." Arvin clarified.

"Arvin, you saved me tonight. I'm grateful, sure you could have held back but you saved me." You answered with that sweet smile and being here, in your lovely home, his hands bandaged up he realised he could never have you, you deserved more.

"Stop being so nice. I could've killed the guy." Arvin snapped and you looked at him shocked, he'd never taken that tone with you. "You are too nice for your own good."

"I, you," You tried to speak but Arvin cut you off.

"Don't make excuses for me. I'm a violent person Y/N, wherever I go violence follows and you, you're a good fucking person. You shouldn't be around people like me." He ranted.

"I wasn't making excuses Arvin!" You said, voice slightly raised.

"You should stay as far away from me as possible."

"But Arvin, I don't want to, I really like you!" You exclaimed and Arvin scoffed.

"I saw that look of fear in your eyes tonight. You saw it didn't you, how dangerous I am when I lose my temper." He raged and you stood your ground, determined.

"You wouldn't hurt me." You said confidently.

"You don't know that." Arvin spat back and you shook your head.

"You won't. I know what you're trying to do. You think I'm too good for you so you're just trying to push me away, make me hate you but I don't." You said as you took a step towards him.

"You are too good for me!" He shouted, "you can't fix me Y/N, I'm not like all those old people you help, I can't be helped. I'm violent and I'm no good for you." Arvin was trying desperately to get you to see what he did. "What if I lost my temper with you?" He shouted again.

"You have." You pointed out and Arvin furrowed his brows in response. "You're angry right now and look, I'm fine. You haven't tried to hurt me because you won't. You think I'm some perfect woman Arvin but I'm not. I don't want to fix you, I want you for you." You said as you stepped ever so close to him.

Your scent filled his senses and he became almost drugged from how close you were, his heart beating, palms sweaty. He looked at you and the anger washed away and all he was left with was a sadness.

"Y/N," he sighed. "I like you, so fucking much but I'm no good, you have no idea the burden's I carry, what I've done."

"I don't care," you said as you took his face in your hands. "I don't care what you've done. I care about you and how you make me feel. Arvin, you are a good man, you just need to let yourself see it." You smiled at him. "Kiss me." You demanded of him.

Arvin studied you for a moment, studied how close you'd gotten, how he saw no evidence of fear in your eyes, only adoration, for him. Maybe he wasn't a good man but he would always protect you, always make sure the ground you walked on was worshipped. Maybe he didn't think he was good enough for you but you did and how could he deny you? He would always treat you the way you deserved even if he did have flaws.

Arvin took your face in his hands, yours falling over the top of his own as he pulled you towards him, capturing your lips in his own. The kiss was sweet as you wrapped your arms around his neck, one of his hands slipping to cup your neck. The kiss deepened slightly but out of need and longing, he'd wanted this for so long.

"Stay?" You asked as he rested his forehead against your own. "Please? Arvin, I want you, I want to be with you." You spoke and Arvin felt his heart flutter. He was never going to be a danger to you, you were a goddam fucking angel in his eyes.

"Okay. I'll stay." He agreed as he pulled you in for another kiss. He knew he'd have to tell you why he came here, knew he'd eventually have to come clean about his past and he was terrified it would scare you off. He wanted you so badly and the knowledge that you wanted him to, allowed him to let go of his fears. You were his angel and as long as you allowed him to grace your presence, he would.

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[honeyhan-123]

What You Can’t See

Summary: Bucky doesn’t understand how you could think were were just a one night stand. 

Warnings: Non-con/Dubcon, dark yandere Bucky, stalking. 

Word Count: 3.3k

AN: So a few months ago the lovely and incredibly talented @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ gave me the title prompt ‘What You Can’t See’ and I’ve only just gotten around to writing it. This was also a request from my lovely purple and black love heart nonny who has disappeared recently, but I hope you enjoy. The prompt will be in bold. 

My Masterlist

Your thighs ache in the best possible way as you gingerly slip from the bed, careful not to disturb the man still between the sheets. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but he had been insatiable last night and you had been more than willing to let him use you until you lost consciousness. But now with the sun streaming in through the blinds, your mind was of a different volition. Now it was time to go. 

You spared him one last glance as you crept towards his bedroom door and the desire to take a photo almost overpowered you. He looked so serene as he slept, his long brown hair tousled over the pillow and his body lacking any trace of the ruminating thoughts you knew he had carried around all night. A small part of you wanted to climb back into bed with him but you knew that’s not what this was, and it would be better for everyone if you saved yourself from the morning-after embarrassment. So you made your way out of his small apartment and out onto the bustling streets of Brooklyn, vowing to yourself that you wouldn’t become one of those girls obsessed with some guy they slept with once.

+

Bucky awoke slowly. It had been by far the best night’s sleep he had had in over seventy years. A smile was on his face as he reached consciousness and remembered the feel of your body underneath his. It had been better than he had ever expected even if it hadn’t happened quite the way he had been planning. Bumping into you at the bar Sam had dragged him to had been a complete coincidence but he wasn’t going to complain. He felt a stir between his thighs as he remembered the way you had felt wrapped around his cock as he had you in the bathroom of the dingy bar and then again and again back at his place. 

His hands trailed along the bed as he searched for your body, desperate to hear your moans of pleasure once more before he had to head into the tower. Mentally he was cursing Maria for calling a mission briefing on the weekend but he knew if he didn’t go they would expect the worst. Bucky’s smile soon fell off his face as his hands continued to search, only to find cold sheets. His eyes flew open and to his dismay, you had gone. 

Immediately he threw back the sheets and got out of bed, not even bothering to pull on some clothes as he searched his apartment. He was desperately wishing that you had just gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom, or better yet he would find you in the kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt as you whipped up some breakfast. He stupidly hoped that you would be making those pancakes he had seen you make a week ago when a friend had come over. He knew that if given the opportunity he would be very creative with the whipped cream you had coated your pancakes with. 

Even though a small part of him had known as soon as he woke up that you were gone, his heart still ached as he entered the empty kitchen. Why had you left? He knew it definitely wasn't because you hadn’t had a good time last night. He had lost count of how many times you had cum before he dared focus on himself. So why the fuck had you left? 

And what was he meant to do with his raging hard on now? Going back to using his hand after last night seemed like the worst trade off in the world. 

He let out a sigh of annoyance before heading to the shower, waiting the briefing to be over already. The scalding hot water dripped down his body as he fisted his cock, dreaming up images of what he’d do when he rocked up at your apartment that night.

+

The sky was darkening, the golden streaks of sunset slowly disappearing and turning into a twinkling twilight when Bucky finally made it to your apartment. The briefing had lasted hours and then he hadn’t been able to come up with a good enough excuse to get out of training with Sam afterwards. Even though over the months the Birdman had started to grow on him, his constant teasing throughout the day about where Bucky had disappeared off to the night before was getting on his nerves. He didn’t want Sam making such lewd assumptions about you.  Not that they weren’t entirely correct. 

He was glad that he had briefly stolen your keys to make his own copy a month ago. It made getting into your building much easier. The large pastry filled box was slightly awkward to carry as he climbed the numerous flights of stairs towards you since the elevator was out of order, just like it had been for the last few months. He cursed your landlord for not giving a shit about the people living in his building but he reconciled it with the fact that soon he would take you far away from here. Soon everything would be different. 

His fist rapped on your door and he tried to wait as patiently as he could for you to open it. He had no qualms about using his own set of keys to get into your apartment but he figured he should at least try and do this normally. 

When the door finally cracked open Bucky could hear your gasp as you recognised him beyond the chain. ‘B-Bucky? What… What are you doing here?’ You seemed lost and confused and Bucky wanted to take those feelings away immediately. He knew that he would be able to help you. 

‘Well I had planned on taking you out to breakfast this morning but you kind of ran out on me before I got this chance, so I figured I would bring breakfast to you.’ He held up the mint green cardboard box from BreadClub so you could see the pastries inside. 

If you seemed shocked before, now you were doubly so. ‘But… how did you know where I live?’

Bucky forced himself to laugh when in reality all he wanted to do was break down your door so he could hold you. ‘Doll, I’m an Avenger. It’s not that hard to do a background check.’ 

‘Oh… right yeah I forgot about that. But still… what are you doing here?’

‘I just told you. I wanted to bring you some breakfast.’ His patience was starting to wean as you continued to keep the door between you. 

‘Yeah, I got that. But what are you doing here? Don't you have somewhere else to be? Some Earth-ending event to stop?’ Your brows were furrowed as you spoke and Bucky could hear the fear starting to lace your words.

‘Nope. I’m exactly where I need to be.’

‘But why? I mean… we just had sex. We both got super drunk and hooked up. I don’t understand why you’re here. It was just a one-night stand.’ 

At this Bucky snapped and banged his fist against the door, forcing it open. The chain that had been in place snapped as easily as twigs underfoot. ‘Just a one-night stand? Oh Dollface you have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you seriously think that I would take just anybody back to my place for a quick fuck? I knew the moment I first laid eyes on you in that coffee shop you were meant to be mine. You’re more than just a one-night stand to me; you’re mine.’ 

Bucky felt as though he could almost hear the memory echoing around in your head and recognition flashed across your eyes. It hurt slightly that you hadn’t thought of that moment nearly as much as he had, but Bucky didn’t mind. From that moment on, his life had been changed. It was a change as irrecoverable as falling from that snow covered train all those years ago. 

He snapped the door shut behind him as he stalked inside your apartment, inwardly hurting as you retreated back a few paces. But that would change. You would come to love him just as he had you. ‘I brought us some pastries from the bakery around the corner, BreadClub. I know it’s your favourite. I figured they would keep our energy up tonight.’ 

‘Our energy? Bucky, I don’t know what you’re doing here but I would like you to leave. You’re starting to scare me.’ 

Bucky let out a humourless laugh, amazed at how you still didn’t seem to understand. ‘Dollface, I’m not going anywhere, not now, not ever. So why don’t you be a good little girl and lead me to your bedroom. After having you last night, I just can’t seem to get enough.’ 

When you had made no effort to move, too stunned by his presence, a flash of annoyance crept over Bucky’s face. He had been waiting for this all day, hell, he’d been waiting for this for months. He wasn’t about to let you ruin his plans. He would show you just how good together you were; how you were made for him. 

‘C’mon Dollface. Just take me to your bedroom and then we can both enjoy ourselves. I know you had a good time last night and that was while you were drunk. It’ll be so much better when you're drunk off of me.’ Heat flushed your cheeks as his words reminded you of the dingy bathroom stall where he had first taken you and then of his kitchen counter where he had eaten you out for hours before finally taking you back to his bedroom. You tried to ignore the tell tale tingy between your thighs as you relived the memories. That was not happening again. This man was clearly delusional. 

You watched as he inhaled deeply through his nose, a smirk gracing his sinful pink lips.’Oh Sweetheart, you want it, you want it bad.’ You blanched at the idea of him being able to smell you and quickly tried to deny it.

‘No I don’t Bucky. What I want is for you to leave. I’ll… I’ll call the cops.’ You tried to make yourself seem braver than you felt but any bravado you had mustered up quickly vanished when Bucky let out a bark of laughter.

‘You’ll call the cops and what? Tell them an Avenger is fucking your brains out? They wouldn’t believe you, and even if they did, by the time they sent a patrol car around I’ll have you begging for more. So why don’t you quit wasting everyone’s time and just be a good girl.’ 

You hadn’t noticed the tears starting to pool in your eyes as he spoke but you blamed them for blocking your vision as you made a mad dash around him. You barely got two feet to the door before his strong arms wrapped around your waist and he hoisted you up onto his broad shoulder. 

If he felt any of the kicks or punches you tried to land on him, he didn’t show it as he walked purposely through your tiny apartment towards your bedroom. No matter how loud you screamed, you doubted any of your neighbours would come and check on you, you didn’t exactly live in the best part of the city. 

You felt the air rush beneath your body as he threw you down onto the mattress. You bounced for a moment before trying to scramble away from him, only to be trapped by his legs coming to straddle your body beneath his. 

‘C’mon Dollface. You know I really didn’t want it to be like this but if you’re not going to be reasonable, I’m just going to have to show you I mean business.’ You didn’t bother responding to him. Instead you just sucked a deep breath in and screamed as loudly as you could, desperate to get anyone’s attention. 

Your scream didn’t get far however as his hand quickly clamped down on your throat, the cool metal pressing against your jugular, cutting off your air. ‘I am only going to say this once, so listen up. You. Are. Mine. And I am not going to leave until you realise that, okay Sweetheart?’ 

Panic seeped through your veins as he pulled out a long flick knife from his bomber jacket. He wasted no time in pressing the cool metal to the skin of your navel and you barely dared to breath and he slid it up and under your top before yanking it up fiercely, tearing through the thin material.

‘Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. That right there. That’s why I can’t leave you alone, you’re too fuckin’ gorgeous.’ You recalled him saying similar things the night before, peppering your senses with little compliments continuously as he was inside you. It had made you feel incredibly sexy last night, but now it had an entirely different effect. ‘Well actually…’ his hand reached up to cup your jaw gently. ‘It’s only part of the reason.’ 

You felt your cheeks flush with heat as you registered his words and you cursed his silver tongue. How could he be saying such sweet things to you while this was happening? How dare he try and be the prince charming you had longed for in all your previous relationships when in reality he was the devil in disguise. 

His knife made quick work of your sleep shorts and your panties too. You felt the warmth of his hand against your most intimate parts as he groaned. ‘I knew you wanted me Doll. You’re so fucken wet for me. Just for me. Such a good girl, responding to me like this.’ You tried to swallow the bile in your throat caused by his words and your body’s betrayal. ‘I told you we belong together.’

His fingers played with your slick, swiping it along your folds and up to your clit where he swirled his fingers. You bucked your hips, whether to get away from his hand or closer to it you weren’t sure. The pleasure he was giving you was just undeniable and no matter how much you hated him in this moment, you could feel the familiar tension building slowly in your abdomen. 

‘You’re close aren’t you Doll? See how good I can make you feel. It could be like this all the time. Just let go and give in, give in to me Baby.’ You tried to shake your head, tried with your last remaining strength to throw him off but you couldn’t. You couldn't do anything but exactly what he said which was give in. 

You gasped for breath as you came, your walls fluttering around nothing as he continued to toy with your clit, unrelenting even as pleasure flowed through your veins. ‘That’s it. That’s a good girl. You’re so good to me Dollface.’ His praise only egged your pleasure on further, a dopey smile taking over your features before you could stop it. 

As blissed out as you were, you somehow hadn’t noticed him undressing with hasty and jerky movements until he was lying back on top of you. ‘All day I’ve been hard just thinking about having you again and now I’m here, I’m basically ready to burst. How embarrassing is that? But don’t worry Dollface, as I proved last night, I’m not just a one and done.’ He smirked down at you as he guided himself to your entrance, finding a very warm and wet welcome. 

‘Oh… Fuck Doll.’ He moaned into your ear, holding himself still once he was fully inside you. ‘You’re so fuckin’ tight, just milking my cock.’ You tried to block out the sinful words spoken as smooth as velvet but you couldn’t hide your body’s reaction. Not from him and not while he was inside you, filling you to the brim. 

Your nails dug into his back as he started moving, slowly pulling out inch by inch before sliding back in again. His pelvis grazed your clit which each move of his hips and you shuddered in his grasp. While the memories of last night were hazy from the copious amount of alcohol you had drunk, you remembered enjoying it and now with him rutting into you, the same feeling of ecstasy started to build. 

As he continued moving, his pace slowly building, the desire to push him off grew less and less. You knew your efforts would be futile as he was far too strong and with the way he was grinding into you, a small part of you didn’t want him to stop.

‘That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.’ His breath brushed against the shell of your ear and you couldn’t hold back the responding moan. ‘You like that huh? Me whispering dirty little things in your ear? It’s just like those audios you use to get yourself off isn’t it?’ 

You had no idea how he knew about those but he was right. His voice was so much more powerful and rich than those unknown ones stored on your phone. ‘You’re never gonna need those other men ever again. You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine.’ His voice was starting to grow breathless, coming out in sharp bursts. It mingled with the obscene sounds coming from your cunt as he thrusted into you again and again, his balls slapping against your ass as he moved. 

‘I’m so fuckin’ close Doll, need you to cum first though…’ His voice was truly breathless now as he pushed up onto his haunches and wrapped your legs around his waist, never once missing a beat. 

You gasped in shock as you felt his metal hand dip down, in between your legs. His deft fingers played with your arousal, getting coated in it before coming up to your clit and circling it quickly. You fisted the sheets as your toes curled. Your release was so close, you just needed a little bit more. 

‘Play with your tits baby, play with them for me.’ You wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but your body was no longer obeying your brain as your hands came up to cup your chest. ‘Yeah baby, just like that. Such a good girl.’ 

It was his voice that did it, the way it flooded your senses and finally released the knot building in your gut. You couldn’t help the scream that came from your mouth as your walls pulsated around him, trying to milk him dry. ‘Fuck Doll. Fuck, fuck.’ His thrusts grew erratic and you knew he was on the edge. ‘I know your pussy is just begging for my cream but I can’t… God, I can’t fucking wait to fill you up though.’ He groaned out before suddenly pulling free from you. 

His flesh hand fisted his cock with strong and rapid strokes. Once, twice, three times, before his cum spurted out, landing in stips across your tits. The sound that came from his mouth as he worked himself through his orgasm was absolutely sinful and had you rubbing your thighs together subconsciously. The movement was not missed by him as a devious smirk came over his lips as he watched. 

‘Just can’t wait for more can you?’ You hastily shook your head, trying to find your voice as he collapsed beside you, his arms wrapping around your body like a vice. You felt him start to harden once more against your thigh. 

‘Don’t worry Doll, there’ll be plenty more where that came from now that you’re finally mine.’ 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

My Masterlist

[a-mended-pact]

Period Pains & Cuddles

Hey! So this is a one shot for @fortheloveofcriminalminds and I 's series Sticks and Stones! That being said this is one that can stand alone if you chose to read it. I for some reason keep dreaming of more things for our story that just aren't needed for the main story line. Enjoy!

⚠️ warning: mentions of Menstruation, Past abuse and malnutrition. ⚠️ (if there are more inform me please)

✒Word Count: 2,398

🛑 If you do not want any spoilers at all for Sticks & Stones do not read.

I Have been living next door to Spencer for a little over a month now. My apartment had slowly become more and more homey as the days went on. He was constantly dropping things off at my door or I'd buy little things from the shop I'm working at and bring them home.  

My apartment finally looked like I had a personality and I wasn't this bland shell of a marionette doll being pushed and pulled the way someone wanted me to be. It was refreshing but more nerve-wracking than a breath of fresh air for me.

It was nearing day break  and I knew I needed to get up and start cleaning my place. I had a routine that I did everyday. I'd wake up early and clean the whole place. Spotless to the point you could eat off the floor if you wanted to. I'd even scrub all the nooks and crannies with a toothbrush.  This was an everyday thing. Changing my schedule wasn't an option. Once the apartment was clean I had to get ready myself and by the time 9 came around I was ready to start my day fully. 

Having been given the time to adjust to eating again whenever I wanted was interesting.  I had no idea what I liked anymore but because of the month of freedom I had started to gain a little weight. God I hoped Spencer didn't notice. I hope he didn't get upset with me the way I knew Brett would. 

Spencer had told me once that I was looking healthier and that he was happy for me. He also spewed facts about how now because I am getting the nutrients that my body needs I could start experiencing things my body wasn't used to anymore. 

I didn't really understand what he meant then but I think I'm starting to.

I forced myself to get up only to notice a stain on my sheets caused by me. Seriously? I forgot that periods were a thing. I pulled my hand up counting on my fingers. Each year is remembered by an unpleasant memory. I stopped having it right after a very brutal night with Brett. I bled for nearly a month after that night. Glancing at my hands I only held up 6 fingers.  

I hadn't had my period in 6 years. If anything joyous came from being with Brett it was the fact I didn't have to deal with this. 

I groaned in annoyance and in panic. I needed to clean this up. I had to because this couldn't be left on my sheets for too long or else it would stain permanently.  Even when I had my periods with Brett he was never supposed to see any signs of a period, none.  I used to use pads and tampons but I quickly had to learn how to use a cup. 

It caused less mess. No waste to be seen in the bin and nothing put under the cabinets that Brett could see. 

I quickly threw my sheets and comforter into the hamper while I rushed to throw away my now wasted pajama bottoms, sealing off the bag I put them in and putting it next to the door. Yes I was in fact running around my home in the nude. Just for a couple of moments though. 

I stumbled into the shower knocking over my body wash and shampoo. The moment the warm water hit my face I felt my body relax. I was in a lot of pain. When I did have my periods regularly they were always heavy and painful. My muscles in my back would always be incredibly tight to the point I couldn't even bend over. 

Now that the adrenaline is gone from the sheer shock of the situation. I'm sure this one would be exactly the same. All I wanted to do is curl up and cry. I couldn't though it was embedded in me that I had to clean the house. 

When I got out of the shower and went to get dressed, that's when I realized the biggest problem I was going to have today. With a loud scream of frustration I slammed my sink cabinet.  I didn't have any female hygiene products for this. I mean it had been 6 years. 

I wracked my brain about what I could possibly do. The thought of ordering things to my door sounded lovely. However, anyone knowing that I am going through this is just embarrassing to me. I made a very quick and brash decision of crumbling up toilet paper to make a temporary pad until I got to the store. 

I dressed in black. I didn't want to risk another disaster.  

---------------------

By the time I made it home all I wanted to do was go back to bed. I got myself and my new things situated and stored away. I immediately started to clean afterwards doing everything the way I always did.  Like I was supposed to do. I glanced at the clock on the stove only to realize it was noon now. 

A huff escaped me. I was finally done. Now I could start winding down and relaxing. I was getting extremely dizzy while cleaning anyway. I made my way to the couch to curl up.  I never wanted to leave this spot.

It was just curved enough to relax my lower back and to cradle me in all the right places.  I started to drift off, giving myself some time to recuperate from my chaotic morning.

------------

I awoke to a gentle hand on my face caressing me. I flinched at their close proximity which caused me to tense up a small groan left my lips as I curled up more and rolled away from them.

'Dahlia, sweetheart, you didn't hear me banging on your door or calling you? It's 7pm. We had a date. Did you forget?' His voice was laced with concern and I couldn't help but feel awful because I did forget. 

'I hope you don't mind. I let myself in. You know you shouldn't leave your door unlocked,Statistically in the United States alone 22,796 women are likely to be burglarized when they live alone.' 

Spencer helped me roll over when he saw me struggling to do so.  ‘I’m, I’m sorry I’ll go get dressed for our date now.’ I rushed to go get up when a dizzy spell hit me. He stood up quickly and caught me by my waist. ‘Hey, what’s wrong, you seem disoriented?’ I tried to tell him that I was fine but I didn’t feel fine. Perhaps I was just being over dramatic. I logically knew women go through this sort of thing all the time but all I wanted to do was cry.

 I was overflowing with so much emotion. I was aggravated with the fact that this was happening to me again to start with. I was upset with myself for being like this. I was even more distraught by the fact I had forgotten my date with Spencer. How could I just forget? I was looking forward to it since last week when he got called away for work while we were planning the whole thing. 

We had agreed to go out to see one of his forgein movies. He was gonna translate it the whole way through whispering it in my ear. At first I had declined saying it was going to ruin the movie for him. He assured me that it was fine he had already seen it once with his mother when he was younger. He just believed it was a movie I was going to enjoy. 

We had also discussed having dinner after. We never ended up picking a restaurant before he got called away. ‘It’s nothing Spencer, I'm fine, really. I just forgot our date is all. I’m really sorry’ I moved myself out of his hold and made my way to my bedroom to get dressed. 

‘You know we don’t have to even go out tonight. I am more than happy to just stay in and spend time with you!’  I could hear him shout from my living room. I was getting frustrated because all my clothes seemed unbelievably tight on me right now. I could feel the tears brimming at the corners of my eyes. This was ridiculous. Why was I being so emotional? How do I tell Spencer that I didn’t want to do anything at all? I didn’t even want to be out of bed or better yet off the couch. As long as I was laying down and I wasn’t moving it didn’t feel like my hips were being compressed and my back finally wasn’t in pain. 

I barely even wanted to be pleasant towards him and all he has ever been to me was a gentleman. I walked out in the same clothes I went in with this time wrapped in a throw blanket I bought from the shops. He looked at me with concern and smiled softly as he pulled me with him to the couch. He pulled me close and held me, playing with my hair and moving it off my face. I laughed slightly at how gentle he was being with me. 

‘Do you remember when you told me now that I was getting healthier that my body would start doing things it’s supposed to.’ I whispered and leaned my head against the back of the couch. His warmth on my back felt magical. His chest vibrated as he chuckled. ‘Yes, I remember. Pretty girl, is that what's wrong.’ He pulled me closer to him, his hand lightly touching my stomach. I never noticed how tight my tummy muscles were until the natural warmth he carried slipped to me through the palm of his hand. 

I looked down embarrassed. This was always such a sensitive topic when Brett was around. He didn’t want to hear about it nor did he care to. ‘For the first time in 6 years. I - um started my period.’ I said it as quietly as I could in hopes he wouldn’t be put off by this new information. I went to pull away only for him to pull me closer to him. Him basically wrapping himself around me and holding me close as he kissed my temple. 

‘That’s really good news sweetheart. I know it may not seem like a good thing right now but it is. It means that your hormones and everything are finally going back to normal after years of being not right.’ He grabbed both of my hands in his when I tried to curl in on myself again. I could feel his breath on my neck every time he exhaled. It made me want to slip deeper into him. 

‘I think we should order in and watch one of your favorite movies. How's that for tonight?’ I bit my lip still questioning whether or not I wanted him to go home or not. Him seeing me like this was already upsetting enough. It wasn’t like I wasn’t dressed and didn’t have makeup on. Maybe it was just the fact that I didn't feel great that made me think I also didn’t look it. 

I nodded but otherwise didn’t speak. Spencer has known me long enough to know that I'm a little in my head at times like these. So he knows that as long as I agree he can do whatever he likes unless I say otherwise. 

He ordered food and began looking around on my shelves lining the wall to realize I didn’t own any movies.  I watched him and couldn’t help but smile. It was hard to believe he could be a dominant when he was struggling so hard to take charge of the situation right now. He held up his finger and made an ah ha noise when he ran out of my apartment to what i assume was into his. He came back clutching a bundle of movies in his large hands along with some junk food from his place. 

‘I know enough from Stell that you can’t go wrong with junk food when a lady is on her period.’ His voice was laced with confidence yet somehow his stance said shy as if he were overstepping. I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was so sweet I managed to move myself into a more proper position when there was a knock at my door. ‘Ah that must be the food.’ He placed all the things he brought onto the table and quickly grabbed the take out.

At this point my mouth was watering. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled the food. 

‘Thank you. For just being you Spencer. I didn’t realize I could be cared for the way you’ve cared for me since I’ve gotten the pleasure of knowing you.’ I smiled widely as he sat down beside me. The movie started and the food was passed out between us both. He smiled a smile that stole my heart out of my chest and yet made it beat so rapidly I thought for certain he could hear it. ‘There’s no need to thank me Dahlia. I don’t mind taking care of you. You aren’t a hard person to take care of. I just enjoy spending time with you. Regardless of what we are doing.’ A blush formed on his features. If it wasn’t for the glow of the projector I would have missed it. ‘Thank you, I’m not sure I could be anyone else even if I tried.’ his voice was small and filled with adoration at what I had said.

Some time after we were done eating I gravitated towards him seeking his warmth. He had moved himself, his leg now resting on my couch as he leaned against the arm rest. I was between his legs, my body tangled in his as my head rested on his chest. If every time I got my period meant that I had the pleasure of getting to use Doctor Spencer Reid as a giant teddy bear. I’d be more than happy to have them 

His hand cradled my face as the tips of his fingers played in my hair. His other arm draped over me holding me protectively as I drifted off into my sea of unconsciousness.

‘My precious Dahlia what have you done to me?’ 

[artzee-bee]

Tree House | Benny Weir x Reader

Fandom: My babysitter’s a Vampire

Summary: two childhood best friends return to the place they first met and feelings are revealed

Genre:Fluff

Warnings: none

~~~

“Watch your head when you get up there!” you yelled after Benny, not that he was paying attention to you or anything. He continued on his way up the old staircase, leading into his childhood tree house.

“I got it!” he finally replied, after disappearing into the tiny home

“Well, how is it?”

“Come find out for yourself” that’s all the motivation you needed to hear. Before you knew it, you were making your way up the same old staircase you used to climb every day when you were little. Peeking inside, nothing seemed changed, expect maybe the dust covering every square inch of the place.

“It’s so dirty!” 

“Yeah, so? What’s a little dirt gonna do to you?” Benny jokingly commented, reaching out his left hand to help you up. You gladly took it and climbed the last few steps into your childhood world.

“Here!” Benny took off his jacket and handing it over “Sit on this” you didn’t complain

“It’s untouched” You looked around in awe at the tiny space

“I would sure hope so! This was our secret lair! Anybody else coming up here would have ruined the magic!” You giggled at the boy

“It was your secret lair at first!”

“Right, until the invasion happened” 

The “invasion” referred to you and how you managed to sneak your way into this boy’s life.You were new in the neighbourhood and saw the tree house in the Weir’s front lawn. Of course you didn’t know it was theirs at first. But you heard someone talk. Someone who sounded like a little boy and so, since you were always up for making new friends, you climbed up, much to the young Benny’s shock and horror. You had entered his secret hideaway! You ruined his cover! But then he noticed your shirt, the face of his favorite superhero staring back at him and he decided maybe you weren’t as much of a bad person as he initially thought. You started hanging out and soon became the best of friends. His secret space became both of yours and you shared everything in there.

Reaching behind him, Benny dragged an old wooden box that seemed to be filled to the top with dust coated toys

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, picking out your favorite doll “Angela! I thought I lost her!” 

“Yeah, I might have hidden it from you one April Fool’s and forgot to give it back…” Benny confessed, looking down at his lap but he you could tell he was holding back a laugh

“Are you serious?!” it’s been so long, you weren’t even mad, just amused

“I’m sorry!” he burst laughing and so did you

Looking through the box of stuff, each of you were reminiscing on old games you used to play and funny things that happened, until you got to the bottom of the box. As carefully as possible, Benny pulled out some papers. Old drawings. They were in prime condition. Most of them were just scribbled or weird sketches but one in particular stood out of the bunch. One Benny did a long time ago of you too holding hands. Above it, he wrote “Friends forever” and then each of you signed your name by your respective stick figure, as a promise.

“I remember when you made that.” Benny blushed at your comment, shaking his head violently

“You do?”

“Yeah, of course! You forced me to sign it and then it hung on the wall for like 3 months!” You both laughed at the memory. Benny folded the paper carefully and slid it into his back pocket”I’m keeping this one…”

Half an hour later, you were heading down the street to the store for some last minute supplies for your movie night. You were still wearing Benny’s jacket since he insisted it was chilly out and you should keep it. The entire way you talked about the tree house and all the memories you had there.

“You know, about that drawing…” said Benny

“What about it?”

“Well, you promised to be my friend forever”

“And I never regretted it once” you laughed and a giggle escaped Benny, but then he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you seriously, which didn’t happen often. Your curiosity grew.

“But what if we changed that?” your friend said 

“What do you mean?” Benny took a deep breath in before saying

“I don’t wanna be friends anymore” those few words hit you like a bus and you were staring into his eyes, looking for anything to prove to you it was all just a bad joke but he was serious. As serious as you’ve ever seen him. Embarrassed, Benny looked down at the ground, reaching his hand out to hold yours, before saying

“What if we were more?” you couldn’t contain your laugh and Benny looked up quickly, mortified at your reaction 

“Is this what you were going on about? Asking me to be your girlfriend? You scared me Bens!” You smiled at him and you saw him ease up a bit. You seemed....ok? Like totally not freaked out or mad or anything? Like maybe he had a chance..

“So...what you’re saying is…” he left his sentence unfinished, waiting for your response

“I’ll gladly be your girlfriend” Benny let out a breath before pulling you into a bear hug, whispering an “Oh thank God!” which made you burst out laughing. 

You held him tight, trying to convey all the love you had for him in this one moment.You quickly kissed his cheek before pulling away. You took his hand in yours and dragged him after you “Come on, it’s getting late. The store will be closed by the time we get there!”

[shelby-love]

SIRIUS BLACK

A little Bit of Amortentia

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none this is a certified fluff piece (2.3K words)

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this! Harry Potter is such a great world, and I’d love to explore more of it. Requests for HP are OPEN!!

P.S for everyone wondering Remus is actually my favorite out of the Marauders

~

"Well I still think you're missing out," Lilly stated after a long rant and because of how sweet she was, she had decided to stop her mouth right at that sentence.

You only laughed lightly, pushing through the student body with Lily Evans hot on your robe. "Sneaking out to Hogsmeade is something I'm fine with missing out on."

She shook her head, determination settling hard in her brow. "That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" You asked, hugging your textbook closer to your chest. When you noticed that the auburn-haired girl was no longer by your side you bunched your brows together and turned around. "Lily? Lily, what are you doing?"

Her eyes were wide, bright green eyes blazing at you. "You seriously have no idea?"

You had idea of course. So much so that you felt embarrassed by the mere thought of it…

Him.

"Come Lily. We're late for Potions."

She shook her head and followed you reluctantly, only because she knew that your professor would surely be disappointed if you two showed up late. Lily and you were after all, Horace Slughorn's favorite students.

"This isn't over," She mumbled.

Perhaps for her it wasn't. Lily Evans tended to see the best in all people. It was the good in her that made her give in to James Potter little after Christmas this year after hating him her entire schooling at Hogwarts.

"He matured a lot," she would tell you, and while that might have been true for James it surely wasn't true for the boy you laid your desires upon.

Sirius Black.

Either he was purposely ignoring you, or he really was a dimwit.

***

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals." Horace Slughorn informed, keeping a safe distance from the steaming love potion. The rest of the girls in the class not so much. Each of them neared the potion little by little with a boy in mind. Lily and you both shared the same thoughts as those love-obsessed girls – only you didn't show it. Despite having boys in mind, Lily and you stood put.

"Lily, dear, how about you come here and tell us what you smell?"

You hard-pressed your shoulder against hers as she smiled shyly, obvious to what she was going to smell. James Potter stood at the other end of the assembly of students, looking at his lovely girlfriend with pure adornment.

For a second, they had you wondering if you could ever find love like that.

"Do you know why I asked Lily to tell us what she smells?" Horace asked, sending you a look that had a simple meaning.

"Because the potion is supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us…" You answered quickly, just like he wanted you to.

"Marvelous Y/N. Good job," Slughorn praised you whilst ushering Lily to tell you all what she smelt. From the corner of your eye you managed to catch James' sly smirk as his eyes darted from you, to his very uninterested friend.

Sirius Black.

You swallowed, focusing your eyes on your best friend that stood in front of the potion, holding her hair so it doesn’t fall into the potion with a face as red as a tomato. "Vanilla, freshly cut oranges and –"

He cheeks flamed even more if that was even possible. She dashed away from the love potion and stood back next to you without revealing the third thing, although everyone knew already. James was grinning like an idiot. "What was the third smell?"

She shyly turned her mouth to your ear, "James' quidditch uniform."

You laughed out loud before Lily shushed you down frantically.

It was all fun and games until Horace called out for you, "Y/N would you mind telling us what you smell? Don't be shy now, come."  

A part of you wanted to say "Yes, professor I would mind." but the other more rational, and smarter part of you had tied your hands behind your back in defeat. Lily gave you a push and sooner than later you found yourself standing over the love potion.

"I-I smell…" You inhaled slowly, the potion's fumes filling you up. Several different scents found their way into your nostrils, making you have a hard time deciphering them because of the sensual overdrive they gave you. "Roses…the smell of sea and-"

"Oh no," you mumbled, barely audible for everyone but yourself.

"Was there something you wanted to say dear?" Horace asked, having heard your mumbling barely.

"No…I um, smell petrichor," You stated somewhat awkwardly but very, very quickly. "You know, um, when the r-rain hits the ground…"

"Ah, yes," realization dawned upon your professor. "A lovely smell. A lovely smell indeed. Very well, miss Y/LN thank you. You may go back to your place."

Lily Evans waited for you, beaming, "Mind telling me what the third smell was?"

"Shut it Lily."

"But I told you mine!"

***

You glanced at the sign above the pink looking door and sighed. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, it said. You had known about this small tea shop that was located on a side road off the High Street in Hogsmeade Village even before you had arrived at Hogwarts. A boy from Hufflepuff had taken you there on a date once, sometime during your fifth year. It wasn't an especially pleasant memory, being cramped and surrounded by snogging couples at only 15 with a boy you didn't particularly like that way. Nevertheless, it had happened, and there was nothing you could do about the lingering memory.

The overall cute place was owned by Madam Puddifoot; the same woman who dearly welcomed you in the moment you stepped through the door.

You hoped to spot Lily there, after all that's why you were there. When the front of your little notebook changed under the influence of the Protean charm, you knew it was Lily instantly. While the Marauders had their own tricks, maps and such, Lily and you had thought of something far more practical. It would do you good, the charm, as it was expected to be known by every student that wants to take the N.E.W.T.

A win-win situation that was.

But although Lily Evans was nowhere to be seen, you still decided to sit down, trusting her not to pull any tricks on you. Save for the snowy weather, your day has been good so far and you didn’t want anyone to disrupt it.

Cautiously, you sat down and leaned against the plush sofa, discarding your scarf and coat along the way.

"What can I get ya lovely?" A sweet woman asked, hearts practically swimming within her irises. A pale pink apron with daisies was secured tightly around her waist, dolling her up prettily.

"I actually won't be staying, I'm waiting for-" You started, although you were sure in the fact you were going to have to buy gilly water at the very least. Even waiting comes at a price here.

But that didn't seem to be the case as the bells jingle and a dark figure waltzes through. The ladies' man, a member of the Marauders that had the most beautiful features pursued by impeccable dark hair and grey eyes walked in without a care in the world. Sirius didn't know it, but he had your toes curling every time.

You immidiately glanced around the cute shop, seeing nothing but loving couples.

No lone girl in the shop save for you.

Realization struck you in the gut and you swallowed, wanting now more than ever to disappear into a hole…or turn into a little bird and fly away.

His eyes swept across the stuffed shop, getting attention of several girls who were obviously there on a date. Boys exchanged distasteful glances between themselves, sensing Sirius to be an equal competitor that could easily give them a run for their money. "Y/N?"

You dared to say his voice softened upon seeing you. "Sirius."

Sirius' smile widened teasingly. It looked like the smile he would give his best of friends.

But you didn't want that. Not that you would tell him that.

He glanced around the shop once again before slipping into the free chair opposite of you. Without a care in the world, he stripped his snowy coat off his shoulders, his muscles tensing under the movements.

You swallowed.

"I'll have some butterbeer thank you," Sirius said, pulling out a generous amount of sickles for the waiting waitress you forgot was even standing there.

"And the lovely lady?" She mused, giving you a wink.

"Pumkin juice." You choke out.

Like a real gentleman, Sirius halted your attempt to pay for your drink with a raised hand and a wink.

Why does everyone keep winking?

You shook your head at the rogue thought.

"4 sickles young lad."

Sirius handed her the coins and she disappeared, leaving a trail of literal hearts whisking underneath her steps. "Talk about exaggeration."

Sirius' low chuckle at your random comment had you flustered immediately.

"So –" You both voiced at the same time.

"No, you first." You said quickly, brushing some misplaced strands of hair out of the way.

"You can go fi-"

You gave Serius the look you would usually give Remus and James many times on many different occasions; the one that said not to argue with you. Only this time it felt like a completely different look. It intrigued the stubborn boy even more; dragging him deeper into the pit of feelings he had for you.

"Fine," he said, casually twining his fingers atop the table. "I have a question."

"Um…o-kay."

He smiled at your nervousness and decided at that moment to just blurt out the question that's been nagging him since it happened. "What did you smell during potions yesterday?"

"Y-you mean when I smelled the Amortentia?" The strongest love potion ever created that had the ability to reveal ones biggest attractions with a simple sniff. “That potion?”

"Mhmm," he said. "If you tell me what you smelled, I'll tell you what I smelled."

"You must be bloody joking," You exclaimed. Almost everyone knew that you smelled someone. Not just the rain and roses. Someone.

Unlike with Lily, they had no idea who it was.

No one knew save for Lily who probably told James.

Who probably told Remus?

Remus, Peter…

Sirius.

A million thoughts raced through your head. What at first was a blind date will turn out to be the biggest prank the Marauders ever pulled on someone. The biggest prank in Marauders history. You were sure of it.

"I-I should go," you muttered, grabbing your bag and coat in a haste to get out.

Sirius' eyes went wide in alarm, "What are you doing, Y/N? Where are you going?"

"Away from you," You said sternly. "I don't plan on being your new plaything so just leave me alone."

"Woah, woah, woah. Why would you think that?" He asked with what looked like genuine confusion as he held your hands in a vise grip to stop you from leaving.

"B-because…" Words stopped coming once you realized.

Telling him the reason behind it would ruin everything.

"Because you like me?"

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened to the size of a quidditch snitch. No, a bludger. "I don't know what to say to that."

Sirius outright laughed at you and your attempt to conceal what you both already knew, "Look…"

You swallowed.

"I like you too Y/N."

"I know, so let's just forget this ever happen- Wait what did you just say?"

The two of you were, unbeknownst to you in that moment, holding hands atop the cute table, looking like a real couple at that moment to anyone who walked into the shop.

"I like you," He repeated slowly, more audibly for you to comprehend this time. "I know I've been a…"

"Bully," You butted in quickly.

"No I wasn't!"

"Severus begs to differ," You reminded.

"Whatever," Sirius brushed you off, tightening his hold on your two hands. Warmth seemed to come off him in waves, making it all the more comfortable to be in his hold. No wonder girls fawned around him. "What I'm trying to say is – the four of us were idiots, and you were the girl I thought I didn't deserve."

You almost melted.

"So, when I saw what James has with Lily," He confessed. "I wanted that…but with you."

"So why didn't you come up to me?"

"Thought you'd reject me," He said quickly.

"True."

The way he looked at you had you tumbling down your brain for word, "B-but you've changed… And I like you too Sirius."

"I'd like to take you out somewhere else," Sirius proposed. "If you'd have me."

"Of course," You smiled, for the first time freely. "I'd like that very much."

Never in a million years would you have guessed this would be happening; Sirius standing behind you, helping you with your coat…

And holding your hand on the way out.

"You still didn't tell me."

“Tell you what?”

"What you smelled in the Amortentia."

The question didn't sound so attacking as it did 10 minutes ago, and you felt like you could answer it with more ease. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"Fine," You stopped somewhere in the middle of the square, feeling quite brave and bold. "You."

He didn't look surprised, maybe relieved more than surprised. The relief shone in his grey eyes, you could see it. His long black hair blew against the wind that swept through Hogsmeade in a wildly matter. Sirius seemed closer now more than ever as he gazed into your eyes. Whilst you probably looked crazy in the cold wind, the weather only seemed to compliment the once a big troublemaker before you.

"Good."

You creased your brows, "You didn't tell me what you smelled."

Sirius chuckled, "You of course."

Pleased with his answer, you let him do something you've been dreaming about for quite some time.

He kissed you.

The kiss felt electrical, making your body go haywire. Sparks, as cliché as they sound, they were there, present from the moment the kiss started and until it ended. Sirius had his warm hand against your cold cheek, bringing you closer than ever before.

You hadn't shared this with any other boy save for the one you were with right now.

You didn't have what Lily and James did because their love was theirs and theirs only.

Sirius and you will build a love of your own. Something characteristic to you two only. Here in Hogsmeade, or wherever in the world. A long life was ahead of you and you, now more than ever, felt like you could do anything.

Even pass the N.E.W.T.

~

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[pretty-face-breaker]

WIJ Prompt: Sleep

CW. creepy whumper, pet names, implied murder, blood stains, forced to get rid of evidence for a killer, past consensual torture, coercive relationship

@whumpmasinjuly

Timeline: A few months before Hayko escapes

— At its corner, the desk clock read 2:00 am. 

The light of the lamp fell on his hand as he wrote, eyes skipping the document before he turned the page to give the pen a healthy shake. Then, it was from the top again with the court file number, judicial centre, applicant. Down until his hand hung off of the desk. He seemed to only breathe once a page.

He had been dealing with paperwork for the past few hours but for Hayko, filling in blanks was like second nature as riding a bike might be for someone. Just as they would know when to lift their hips for an oncoming bump, he knew where to push the nib hard enough that the ink wouldn’t swipe and smear the space. By muscle memory, he crossed every t and dotted each i but ensured, as each page filled up, to go back and check. 

Two empty fruit bar wrappers sat near him beside an empty mug - all he had eaten since the single boiled egg and tea in the morning - which wasn’t his proudest meal plan but there was work to be done for next week. Crisis had struck. One of the cartel’s major benefactors was on trial for embezzlement. 

He wanted to laugh.  

Hayko sighed, letting the fountain pen click down before stretching up to the ceiling and then back. The exercise was useful when he needed a reminder that he had bones that weren’t made for crouching over a desk for hours at a time.  

“Good morning.” 

The seat almost toppled back as Hayko flinched and darted his eyes to the doorway of the other man’s room. “Jesus, you scared me, Nick.” He stood up quickly, fingers leaning on the desk for support when his head suddenly began to spin and his vision blacked out for a moment. 

Looking at his figure in the doorway, they suddenly felt colder.

“Working late again, busy bee? You should be asleep.” Nick wasn’t moving from the doorway, just leaning on one shoulder and just out of the perimeter that the light would allow him to be seen. It was all too dark to tell, but Hayko felt like he was smiling.

He smiled nervously in response, dragging his hands closer to him. “Always.” They held a long look under the benevolent layer of darkness before Nick ripped it away by stepping forward, then again until the yellow light of the desk lamp crawled up to his face. When Hayko saw his face, he was silently surprised at having guessed correctly that he was smiling.

Then, he saw his shirt. 

Nick must have noticed the immobile terror in his face because he chuckled. It rumbled in his ear, signalling a little involuntary shiver up the man’s back. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s not mine.” 

His fingertips were chilled against the desk now as Hayko kept his eyes locked on the bloodstains, of which there were plenty, clotting near the buttons at the waist, splattered across his sleeves, and painting a grimly neat stripe up to his collar. The glaring light of the bulb brought out their faint redness but mostly, it looked like Nick had painted the shirt black. 

“Th-... then whose?” He’d been meaning to ask. Hayko breaths mellowed as Nick began sliding off his watch and walking over. When it was off, he dropped it behind him with a thunk that made him blink. Right on the court order, too, he thought.

He should have been asleep by now. He should have gone to bed before he got home because then, he wouldn’t have to be dealing with him in the late hours. Nick was different at night, less human, and not in his humanity but his general appearance.  

Nick’s hands travelled to his waistband and plucked the dress shirt from his pants, not hesitating to start immediately unbuttoning. For courtesy, he turned at an angle to the bed next to the desk, facing the headboard as he took off the stained shirt. His chest was splattered with fainter spots of blood. Those would be easier missed and Hayko was glad they were. 

He finally found enough courage to bring his hands fully to his sides but not enough to look at him as he undressed, not out of disgust of the bloodstains but out of awkwardness. Never really figuring out where to look any time Nick undressed in front of him - although he probably would prefer it to be at him - Hayko let his eyes wander to the floor. 

“Is that all you ate today?” Nick was looking at the empty wrappers and mug, skipping the pile of paperwork entirely in a way that made Hayko redden a little for the mess.

He anxiously scraped the tiny crack in the floorboard made by his chair. “Yeah, um... ‘didn’t have much time for much else.” While technically not true, he thought, it wasn’t that he had the appetite for anything more either. With the recent heat-wave that had overwhelmed the city, he could hardly remember to eat without Nick being the one to remind him. Like they were god damn married.

The man pulled his tie loose then swooped both off, tsking in disapproval as he hung them over his arm and faced Hayko. “You need to seriously take care of yourself, love,” he chided with a hint of warmth. “You have work, sure, but not eating?” 

He found it harder to stare at the floor with Nick looking directly at him now. “Wasn’t hungry,” he mumbled, frustrated with the nagging while he stood there covered in a litre of fucking blood. 

It seemed strange to him, even this far into this veil of a romantic relationship, that Nick insisted on playing concerned spouse and talking down to him in that voice thick with adoration. He hated it. But mostly, he hated how it tricked him every time, for a few moments, to believing that the concern was genuine. 

That if Nick wanted to, he wouldn’t just break him in two for a quick, sadistic fix. 

“What if I hire a chef, hm?” Hayko’s eyes travelled uneasily up to his, avoiding the body not out of embarrassment or modesty but the light bruising, the little scratches at his shoulders that indicated there had been a struggle. 

He swallowed down the image of his victim clawing from below so he wouldn’t accidentally imagine his own face to fill in the blank.

“A nice one, family friend even, so you don’t starve yourself cooped up in my bedroom all day with your papers.” 

“Your papers,” Hayko reminded him carefully. It was annoying when he couldn’t at least pretend to remember that he was his employer. But Nick just chuckled before handing him the shirt, tie draped over. His fingernails were black with blood. 

“Do me a favour?” 

The dried, metallic smell overwhelmed him and he swallowed as the scent lingered, reminding him of the uncharacteristically pleasant evening a few nights ago, how the stench had replaced the man’s sage cologne as he had looked over Hayko’s bare back. Looked over the cuts there and decided to open a few up again as he shivered and bit back whimpers. 

He closed his eyes a moment, reliving the painful buzz his mind had been in, too clouded by chanting of more, more, more to say anything coherent until Nick had finished and planted a kiss on his neck and woken him up. Memories like those and how close they happened to each other sometimes made Hayko forget the nature of how he even got here but if he was honest in the moment, that one evening had...almost made it count. 

Hayko gasped back to reality, snatching the shirt before Nick could snap at him. “Sure, yeah, I-I’ll throw it away.” 

“Don’t throw it away, silly,” Nick interrupted as he turned to his bathroom. “Clean it. I like that shirt a lot, you know, you’ve seen me wear it to lots of those end-of-the-month parties Don Miguel likes to organize for us.” 

Hayko seemed at a loss for just what to do with the bloodstained clothing in his hand when he noticed that it wasn’t just stained but bathed in life. The combination seemed heavier in his hand than any of his shirt’s ever had. He thought, with a stirring and morbid curiosity, just which of his fucked up methods Nick had used to squeeze the breath out of the-

“Did you hear me?” 

He should have been asleep, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this tonight.

“Nick-... I don’t think-” He stammered and motioned to the red cluster. “There’s too much… I don’t think I can, um, actually clean it with the amount of blood.” Waiting in silence for a response, Hayko unfolded the shirt by the shoulders, as if he hadn’t already seen the wreck. “Plus, a lot of it is dried. How long ago did you?...”

Sighing, Nick stopped and tilted his head. “You know I’ve got a couple of those enzyme detergents in the left cabinet of the other washroom. Multiple, actually, so fill up the sink and leave it.” 

And with that, Nick nodded at him which was cue that it was time to stop asking questions.

When he stumbled through the living room, he noticed it was pitch black where Nick hadn’t even spared the bar lights to make his way to the bedroom. Only further proof that the man was a born predator, Hayko thought grimly. 

He searched blindly for the light and squinted upon flicking it on. Nick may not have convinced him with the criticism of his diet but Hayko was starting to pay attention to the poor lighting he usually worked under. 

The left cabinet revealed the detergents. Hayko took them out, one by one, and stacked them on the sink before opening the faucet. He took note to plug it before it filled up and shut the warm dial. The colder the better Nick had mentioned off-hand once on a night similar to this one, where Hayko had watched him scrubbing a shirt in the sink from the hallway, pretending the water wasn’t turning pink between his fingers.

He breathed once, the sharp smell of chemical piercing his nose, and sprinkled it in. The shirt went in next and then the tie and all he could do was stare at it, infatuated. He had watched a man come home from killing someone, taken his clothes, and stuck the evidence in heavy-duty detergent.

He was a fucking lawyer. 

He didn’t sign up for this. 

Where had the time gone for it to have gone this far, to be involved like this with a psychopath? Going from tied up in his god damn basement to playing boyfriend? 

Sure, it had been a stupid mistake on his part but it was a mistake, all he had wanted was to live, and one verbal contract later, now watched blood merge with water.

The blood stained dress shirt stared back up at him disapprovingly. It probably thought he deserved it, Hayko thought faintly and the sudden rush of nausea almost made him double over and wretch into the sink.

The clock ate the time with ticks, and all Hayko did was stare at the shirt in the sink. Until he heard a rustle from behind. The man had probably finished washing up and just in time, too. “You should’ve been asleep.” 

Nick was right, always right. 

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