contentandcommunity-blog1

[khioneee]

simon’s voice makes you weak.

there was something about simon’s voice that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. maybe it was the way it lingered—deep, gravelly, rough around the edges, like it had been sanded down by years of use and silence. or maybe it was the calm confidence behind it, steady and controlled, sending shivers down your spine with every word.

hearing him speak felt like a drug you hadn’t known you needed until it was too late. the moment that low rumble slipped past his lips, it hooked you—completely and utterly.

you didn’t even care what he was saying half the time. tactical orders, a grumble under his breath, or a sarcastic jab at soap—it didn’t matter. the sound of his voice hit something deep inside you, stirring heat low in your belly.

‘you’re not listening, love,’ simon muttered, the rough edge of his voice curling through the words.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring too long, completely lost in the cadence of his voice. ‘sorry, what was that?’ you asked, your heart racing, heat creeping up your neck.

he took a step closer. his presence loomed, warm and steady, filling the small space between you. you swore you could feel the smirk beneath the mask, and the sound of his next words pulled a whimper from your throat. ‘filthy thing, getting turned on just from hearing me talk.’

your breath caught as his hand ghosted near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin.

‘my good girl,’ he whispered, his voice low and deliberate, wrapping around you like a sin you didn’t mind indulging in.

his words, so simple and devastating, made your thighs clench instinctively, and the look in his eyes behind the mask told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

‘thought so,’ he muttered, amusement curling at the edge of his voice like smoke.

he leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath against your ear, your whole body buzzing under the weight of his closeness. and god help you, you wanted more—more of his voice, more of the heat simmering beneath his words.

‘keep talking, baby,’ you thought, heart pounding in your chest. ‘just keep talking.’

[lightseoul]

hi! please could you do number 7 with the mc having a ghost-related quirk??

decided to quickly write this one just in time for halloween! i hope y'all enjoy this little piece amidst the boop war we all find ourselves in right now lol. thank you for playing n have a nice day <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

7. "THE GHOSTS WOULD DISAGREE WITH YOU." (1.3k)

“you’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

you don’t even look up from the churro you’re munching on, opting to ignore the ash-blonde sitting right next to your left.

“what,” he continues, and if you didn’t know any better, he’s starting to sound a little annoyed. “you’re not even gonna defend yourself?”

what you’re not about to do is tell him you’ve heard that taunt over and over again growing up, lest you end up seeming pitiful, which you aren’t.

so you merely shrug. “i don’t see the point. i know it’s not true.”

at that, you finally glance at the man, who’s looking nothing short of speechless under the dim light of the lounge that’s decked out with ‘spooky’ embellishments.

cute is the first thing that comes to mind.

he just fucking insulted you is the next.

still, you can’t help the smile that takes over your features. “you’re the weird one, anyway. why would you say that to your date?”

bakugou promptly breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the human skeleton that’s conveniently parked at the corner of the room. you follow his line of vision, and you have to stop yourself from snorting at the sight.

the people manning this haunted house-themed attraction sure took budget decorating to the next level.

beside you, the pro-hero huffs. “i’m only saying that because this is your idea of a good first date,” he gestures vaguely to your surroundings, an incredulous expression on his face as he tosses you a pointed look. “a horror escape room? really?”

“what?” you say, trying to sound the slightest bit defensive for the sake of it. “it gives us plenty of excuses to get closer.”

whatever bakugou expected you to say in response, it surely wasn’t that.

the man only splutters, quickly diverting his gaze and plopping back against his seat with his muscled arms folded across his broad chest like a petulant child.

he then mutters something that you wouldn’t have caught for the life of you if it weren’t for the thing.

you grin.

“you wanted me to latch onto you for safety? you could’ve just said so.”

almost instantaneously, bakugou whips to stare at you, an absolutely horrified expression etched all over his face.

“what the fuck?”

you flash him the most innocent look you can muster. “what?”

he’s now glaring at you, but there’s no missing the redness that has crept up the high planes of his cheeks. he opens his mouth as if to say something but hesitates. he tries again, gaze fixated on you for a couple more seconds until he shakes his head in disbelief.

“…there’s no fucking way.”

you shrug again, but bakugou only stares at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “unless…”

and, in a blink of an eye you almost could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at him yourself, you see profound realization dawn on his features.

you gulp despite yourself.

“you have a fucking quirk?”

the truth must have been written all over your exterior, because the man leans back in slow motion like the way one would when faced with a relatively shocking revelation.

you rub at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling too self-conscious. this was the part that always made you feel uncomfortable, no matter what the context.

but especially during a first date.

“i never said i was quirkless…”

“yeah, no shit,” he retorts, not missing a single bit. “what is it, superior hearing or something?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, but it does make me privy to things that i don’t perceive with my own senses.”

bakugou’s eyebrows furrow in what you think is confusion. “what else?”

“uh—” you pause, eyes drifting down to your fiddling fingers, “—i can also levitate, be invisible, and permeate through things.”

when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you finally chance a glance at the man, and he’s looking honest-to-god gagged.

pro-hero dynamight is fucking gagged and it’s because of you.

before he can get a word in, though, you quickly follow it up with: “but they make me so nauseous that i can barely pull them off. they’re useless, really.”

when you’re met with nothing but silence, you continue.

“i know,” you chuckle, although it comes out awkward and stilted. “it’s weird. you’re right, after all. i was just messing with you.”

more silence.

not knowing what else to do or say, you take a huge bite of your pastry, although you’re far from hungry, stomach now churning in embarrassment.

you’re in the middle of chewing the remnants of your last bite when bakugou finally speaks up.

now, you’ve heard about how the #9 pro-hero, despite his aggression and temper and generally unpleasant personality, is exceptionally intelligent, perceptive, and intuitive, but you never really thought much about it.

not even when you found out a few hours earlier that the blind date your friends set you up with was your distant superior dynamight himself.

and while you always had a thing for capable men, you didn’t want to fall early and hard lest you hurt yourself in the process. so you merely pushed back against the prejudices and expectations you had of him, and decided to just observe the person who was actually in front of you for the rest of your date.

but when he says the next thing, everything you’ve heard about him suddenly makes sense.

“…so it’s a ghost quirk.”

you don’t even get the opportunity to choke on your churro or gape at him because bakugou shakes his head so fervently, before: “that’s such a fucking waste.”

“e-excuse me?”

at your query, he locks eyes with you. “you have a strong-ass quirk, yet you’re working in admin for us. you could be doing more.”

a thousand questions fight to escape your lips, but what manages to emerge victorious is: “how’d you know i’m working admin for ground riot?”

bakugou scowls at you, but again, there’s that scarlet on his cheeks. he doesn’t answer your question, though, instead going for: “that’s your fucking takeaway?”

you shrug, not knowing what else to say. “i know my quirk is strong. but i was always made to feel like i was weird and creepy for it growing up—and until now, actually, which is why i don’t really talk about it—so i just learned not to use it.”

“well, most of it,” you add, and bakugou cocks his head to the side in question.

you take a shaky inhale.

“…ghosts still choose to talk to me.”

“that how you pick up on things beyond your five senses?”

you try not to gawk at him and at how fast he put two and two together. “…yeah.”

neither of you says anything for a few moments before bakugou finally shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back.

as he does so, he pipes up with: “well, i guess they’re not always accurate, though.”

you frown. although you rarely use your quirk, you still pride yourself in your capacity. “what do you mean?”

at that, bakugou turns to regard you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “i did not want you to latch onto me.”

this time, you really can’t help it. you snort, and that grants you a glower from the pro-hero. you take it in stride, though, waving him off.

“sure, big guy.”

“don’t—” he sits up, “fucking—i’m serious—”

“yeah, but the ghosts—” he throws you a punch, which you dodge, “would disagree—” you dodge another, “ with you—” he barely misses you, “—though,” you finally finish.

and really, you don’t even need your trusty ghosts to know that—the blush that’s taken over the entirety of his face is all the proof you need.

[emjayewrites]

puppy love • aurelien tchouameni (2/8)

SYNOPSIS: Ocho has a dog crush...too bad the owner hates both Aurelien and Ocho.

WARNINGS: mentions of dogs humping each other/in love, football b.s., eventual smut, eventual boyfriend!aurelien, cursing, light enemies-to-lovers, usage of the 'n' word. [if not comfortable, then don't read].

PAIRINGS: aurelien tchouameni x black!femreader (Y/N)

TAGLIST: @sucredreamer, @trenterprise, @tchouathon, @trentswrld, @f1-football-fiend, @certainsaturn, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @foreverisntenough, @essaysbyciara, @elyseesarchive @deonn-jaelle @alika-4466 @greyishbach, @irishmanwhore, @judesbabymamas, @whoevenisthiz @kj77 @shelovesfootie @mineymak

A/N: Another Aurelien series???? Anyways, please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, as always, please like, comment, and send asks! Dividers by @inklore.

P.S.: Should I create Y/N's playlists on Spotify?

Chapter 2: Haterade

The next morning, Y/N hit the pavement for her usual jog around the neighborhood. The air was crisp, the perfect antidote to her simmering frustration. She still hadn’t gotten over that guy—Aurélien—from the park. The way he’d rolled his eyes at her and had the nerve to call her dramatic. She wasn’t dramatic. If anything, Y/N considered herself the quiet type, keeping her head down and minding her own business.

Still, his dismissive attitude pissed her off.

Pausing at a street corner, Y/N stretched her legs, glancing at her reflection in a nearby window. Her expression was still tight with irritation.

Dramatic, my ass.

She shook her head, bouncing lightly in place to keep her heart rate up. The light still hadn’t changed, so she pulled out her phone, and pressed play on her Running playlist. Victoria Monét’s smooth voice flooded her headphones, the beat instantly getting her pumped. Y/N smiled to herself, her body moving to the rhythm as she danced a little in place, forgetting the tension for a moment.

But as she waited for the light to turn green, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Aurélien. He was attractive, she had to admit. Tall, dark-skinned, with a lanky build that still somehow looked athletic. His hair was shaped in a high taper fade, and his angular facial features made him look like he belonged in a magazine. And those full, kissable lips with that sexy accent to match? Yeah, she’d definitely noticed that, even if he was a dickhead.

He’s just another pretty boy who thinks the world revolves around him, she reminded herself. Y/N didn’t mess with dickheads. Hell, she didn’t mess with anybody lately. She wasn’t about that life, no matter how attractive the guy might be.

Maybe you should, an intrusive thought slipped into her mind. Might help ease the tension.

Y/N shook her head, squashing the thought as she jogged across the street, the light finally in her favor. Nah, I didn’t come to Madrid to mess with boys. I came here to finish my degree and make sure my family stays good. That’s all that mattered.

She kept running, the familiar rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement grounding her. By the time she circled back to her house, her mood had leveled out.

Home. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy, a small rented townhouse on the outskirts of the city, close enough to campus but far enough to give her some peace.

Stepping inside, she was immediately greeted by the familiar scent of breakfast from earlier and the faint hum of the TV in the living room. Y/N closed the door behind her, peeling off her running shoes as she climbed the stairs, only to be met by her little brother, Sutton, standing at the top, already grinning.

Sutton wrapped his arms around her waist in a hug. Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing that look. He wanted something.

Sutton pulled back slightly, the grin on his face widening.

"What do you want, brat?" she signed to him with a shake of her head.

"Can you buy me more Roblox money?" he signed back, his face lighting up like Christmas.

Y/N groaned. Of course. "Is that all I’m good for? Roblox or Fortnite re-ups?" she signed, playfully exasperated.

Sutton giggled, the sound making her heart soften a little. "No," he signed, then added with a mischievous smirk, "And making good sandwiches."

Y/N nudged him gently out of her way, walking toward her room. "Please," Sutton begged, this time using his actual speaking voice. There was barely any strain to it. He had been practicing more lately, and it was paying off.

She turned back, signing, "Fine, but this one time, okay? Also, take a shower—you stink."

Sutton’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "I can say the same about you," he signed back, ducking his head before Y/N could swat at him. She playfully mushed his head before stepping into his room, a complete disaster zone.

Clothes were thrown haphazardly across the floor, old snack bags lay on the dresser, and his bed wasn’t even made. "Clean this up first," she signed, raising an eyebrow at him. Sutton immediately gave her a mock salute before getting to work, knowing better than to argue.

Y/N quickly grabbed the PS5 controller and bought him the Roblox bucks he wanted, deleting her card information right after—he wasn’t slick. With that task done, she made her way to her own room, feeling the sweat clinging to her skin from the run.

She tossed her headphones onto her bed, grabbed a towel, and headed to the bathroom.

Shower time.

The day wasn’t over yet, and she still had things to take care of—just like always. Since their mom passed, Y/N had slipped into the caretaker role for Sutton, SJ, and their dad. She wasn’t just their sister anymore; she was like a second mom, making sure the house was clean, cooking dinner, ensuring the boys stayed alive and somewhat functional.

But for now, she let herself enjoy the simple comfort of a hot shower, washing away the morning’s frustration.

Y/N turned on her Shower Vibes playlist, immediately engulfed by the pounding intro of Meek Mill's "Dreams & Nightmares." The energy hit her right in the chest as she grabbed her loofah and began lathering herself up, rapping along with the track. “When I bought the Rolls Royce, they thought it was leased…” she spit the lyrics with the same intensity as if she was the one who’d just made it out of Philly’s toughest streets.

She felt every word. Meek’s voice fueled her, the bass reverberating through the bathroom as the hot water hit her skin. The frustration she had been carrying since that run started melting away with each bar. This was her therapy.

“I don't say a word, I don't say a word…”

Suddenly, a sharp knock broke through her focus, followed by more insistent banging on the door.

"Siri, pause the music," Y/N called out, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she wrapped a towel around herself and cracked the bathroom door open.

Standing there, her twin brother, SJ, was tapping his foot impatiently, his face already showing that signature pout he had whenever he wanted something.

"Nigga, what the heck are you doing banging on the door?" she asked, irritation heavy in her voice.

"I gotta pee, and you're taking forever," SJ complained, his tone whiny as he looked past her into the steamy bathroom.

Y/N was about to clap back with some snarky remark about his lack of bladder control, but the words died in her throat when she noticed the slight redness around his eyes. She leaned forward a bit, sniffing the air, and caught that familiar scent.

"The fuck? Are you high, SJ?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yo, you're too loud!" he hissed, quickly covering her mouth and glancing nervously down the hall to make sure their dad wasn’t around. His whole body tensed, clearly panicking. Y/N bit his hand, making him yelp and pull back. "Ouch!"

"That’s what you get for putting your nasty hands on my face," she scowled at him. "What the hell are you doing getting high, SJ? If Dad finds out—"

"Dad ain't even around to notice, Y/N. Quit bitchin', man."

Y/N blinked, stunned. Did he just call me a bitch? Her brows shot up in disbelief. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

SJ sighed, shaking his head. "No, I said you're bitchin'—as in complainin', naggin' on a nigga," he clarified, trying to sound casual about it. "Like I said, Dad's too busy to worry 'bout us, 'specially with this new job of his."

Y/N crossed her arms, her anger brewing again. Oh, so this was what it was about. The new job had him working nonstop. Their father wasn’t just any physio; he was the head physio for one of the biggest football clubs in Madrid, constantly traveling, managing high-pressure situations with elite athletes. It wasn’t like SJ fully grasped the impact their father was making in sports. To SJ, Dad’s absence was just an opportunity to slack off.

"So you thought getting high was the move?" Y/N asked, not even giving him time to answer before continuing. "This isn’t Philly, SJ. You could get in trouble here."

"Nah, 'cause weed's basically legal here—I looked it up," he said with a dopey grin, proud of himself for the bare minimum of research.

Y/N wasn’t surprised. Sure, her brother was a lazy fuck, but he wasn’t a stupid lazy fuck. There was always some girl—or a quick Google search—keeping him from totally failing at life. Still, she wasn’t impressed.

"So that gives you a pass?" she shot back, rolling her eyes. "Y'know how Dad feels about drugs in the house."

"Nah, nah, it wasn’t even like that, lil' sis. I went to one of those weed lounges, so we straight," he said, trying to smooth it over like it wasn’t a big deal. "Anyways, can I take a leak or not?"

Y/N gave him a baffled expression. "No. I'm using this bathroom. Go use the downstairs one."

SJ sucked his teeth, wiping his face with his hand in exaggerated annoyance. "Dad’ll be home any minute, man. You know how he freaks out."

"Of course I do, dickhead. I literally just warned—" Y/N took a deep breath, trying to rein in her vexation. "Y’know what? I’m done. Use the bathroom and wash up too."

SJ grinned, clearly having gotten what he wanted. “Good lookin' out, lil' sis,” he said, shoving past her and into the bathroom. Y/N quickly grabbed her portable speaker and phone from the counter.

"Suck my dick," Y/N shot back with a smirk as she left, enjoying the shocked laugh that burst from her brother.

"You wildin', man," SJ laughed as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N shook her head, heading back to her room. She still had to finish her morning routine—skincare, brushing her teeth, and maybe waxing later. Typical SJ, always barging into her peace with his nonsense. But she loved him. Still, she wasn’t about to let him skate by that easily. He owed her one, whether SJ liked it or not.

Aurélien gripped the pull-up bar tightly, feeling the familiar burn in his biceps and shoulders as he hoisted himself up, his chin clearing the bar in smooth, controlled movements. His home gym was bathed in the morning light streaming through the windows, but his mind was everywhere but on the reps. He exhaled sharply, thinking about the upcoming match against Real Sociedad. It was going to be a tough one, and he needed to be on top of his game.

His foot still ached sometimes from that old sprain. Just a subtle reminder of how quickly things could go sideways in football. One wrong step and everything could change. He’d been cautious, easing back into training, but the worry never fully left his mind. He had to be sharp, fast, and at his best—no room for doubt. There was too much riding on his performance, especially with Shawn on the team. Having him at Real Madrid was invaluable, and Aurélien knew how much he appreciated Shawn’s insight and leadership. The guy had been a game-changer, both on and off the pitch. Football came first; nothing else could get in the way.

Nothing, especially not Y/N.

Aurélien's jaw tightened as he dropped down from the bar, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. He’d been thinking about her way too much lately, and it wasn’t helping his focus. She was off-limits, plain and simple. He didn't have time to get wrapped up in whatever tension had been brewing between them. He wasn’t even sure what the hell her problem was. Sure, he had called her dramatic, but she was acting like he’d committed some major offense.

Dramatic, he thought again, shaking his head.

As he walked toward the treadmill, Ocho sat by the window with his chin resting on the sill, looking out like a heartbroken lover. The dog’s usual playful demeanor had been replaced with this almost zombie-like state. He wasn’t running around the house or following Aurélien with that happy tail wag. Instead, he just sat there, his eyes droopy and sad.

Aurélien sighed, pausing for a moment to glance over at Ocho. He had read something online about dogs getting depressed when they missed someone. But who the hell could Ocho be missing this much? It wasn’t until it hit him that the last time Ocho had seen Lady, Y/N’s dog, was that day at the park. Since then, Ocho had been in this weird funk. Could a dog have a girlfriend?

Aurélien let out a short, disbelieving laugh. It didn’t seem possible, but Ocho had been acting like Lady was the love of his life. He’d been whining constantly, glancing toward the door like he expected her to just walk in at any moment. It was ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore how miserable his dog had been. Ocho must really like Lady—a lot.

"Well, guess I have to deal with it," Aurélien muttered under his breath. He wasn’t about to let his dog suffer over some puppy love, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. Which meant… he was going to have to deal with Y/N, too.

Great.

He hopped on the treadmill and pressed a few buttons, trying to keep his focus on his pace and not on the growing headache that came with the thought of having to talk to her. He didn’t have to like her, but for Ocho’s sake, they’d have to work something out. Maybe they could set up some kind of playdate for the dogs—at least let them run around together for a bit. Aurélien had had it up to here with Ocho’s constant whining and those sad puppy eyes.

The last thing he wanted to do was get closer to Y/N, but if it meant Ocho stopped acting like he’d been dumped, then maybe a truce was in order. They didn’t have to be friends, but at least they could find some middle ground where their dogs could hang out. And after that? Back to business. He didn’t have time for distractions.

He increased the treadmill speed, pushing himself harder as the rhythm of his footsteps echoed in the room. Football first. Always. But even as he tried to center his thoughts back on the upcoming match, Y/N’s face flashed in his mind—annoyed, stubborn, beautiful in a way that he couldn’t quite shake.

He growled under his breath and focused on the sprint. Get it together, Aurélien. Focus.

Aurélien finished his set on the treadmill, his muscles burning with exertion, sweat dripping down his face. The workout had done little to clear his mind, though. Y/N still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, no matter how much he tried to push them aside. He sighed heavily, grabbing his towel and draping it over his shoulder.

"Allez, Ocho," he called, glancing toward his dog who was still sitting by the window, looking utterly heartbroken.

Ocho slowly lifted his head, his tail wagging just a bit at the sound of Aurélien’s voice, but the excitement was short-lived. His tail dropped, and he let out another sad whine before following Aurélien out of the gym and up the stairs.

Aurélien stopped in the kitchen, opening a box of Ocho's favorite treats. He grabbed one, turning to his dog and waving it in front of him. "Qui est un bon garçon, hein?" (Who's a good, handsome boy?) Aurélien said, his voice light, trying to coax a bit of energy back into his dog.

Ocho sniffed the treat but didn’t even lift his head. Instead, he let out a long, mournful whine, his big brown eyes filled with sadness as he rested his head on the floor.

Aurélien blinked, baffled. "Oh non, Ocho… tu ne veux pas une friandise?" (Oh no, Ocho… you don't want a treat?) he asked, shaking the treat in front of him again.

Ocho let out another pitiful whine, followed by a soft, drawn-out howl that almost sounded like a plea. Aurélien could only shake his head.

"Tu manques ta copine?" (You miss your girl?) he asked with a hint of disbelief. Ocho responded with a louder whine, his body sinking further into the floor like his very soul was hurting.

Aurélien scoffed, tossing the treat back into the box. "Sérieusement? Qu'est-ce que vous faites dans ces buissons?" (Seriously? What have you two been doing in those bushes?) he muttered, an amused grin tugging at his lips despite the ridiculousness of the situation.

His mind wandered back to the park. Ocho and Lady always ran off together, disappearing into the bushes while Aurélien watched from afar. What the hell were they even doing back there? Chasing squirrels? Or were they really looking for a more quiet spot to… Aurélien frowned, shaking his head as he realized what his brain was suggesting. Were they hooking up?

"Non, impossible." (No, impossible.) He chuckled to himself, but the thought stayed. Could dogs really fall in love like this? Ocho had never acted like this over anyone before. Then again, Aurélien had never seen Lady with any other dog, either. Maybe Ocho was just that smitten with her.

Either way, Ocho was in pain, and Aurélien couldn’t stand seeing his dog like this. Whatever Ocho and Lady had going on, they were going to need some serious help. A truce between him and Y/N was now non-negotiable.

"Mon pauvre garçon…" (My poor boy…) Aurélien murmured, crouching down to scratch behind Ocho’s ears. Ocho nudged into his hand, letting out a soft sigh.

"C'est bon, on va arranger ça." (It's okay, we'll fix this.) Aurélien said softly, standing up. He wasn't sure what kind of agreement he could strike with Y/N, but he was willing to try for Ocho's sake. He wasn’t about to let his dog go out like this.

_____________________________________________________

A few days after Real Madrid's solid win against Real Sociedad, Aurélien finally had a day off to catch his breath. He called Shawn yesterday, and still felt a mix of relief and unease about the conversation they’d had. Clearing the air with Y/N wasn’t something he had ever expected to do, but Shawn had been understanding when Aurélien insisted this wasn’t some ploy to run game with his daughter. Quite the opposite, actually—he just wanted Ocho and Lady to hang out again.

Shawn had revealed that Lady had been acting just as sad as Ocho. He’d even chuckled and mentioned how Lady had been sitting by the window every day, whining and glancing outside as if waiting for Ocho to show up. "I’ll talk to Y/N," Shawn had said, "and give her your number. You two can sort it out."

And that’s how Aurélien found himself sitting next to Ocho now, who looked just as miserable as before.

"J'ai une surprise pour toi," (I have a surprise for you) Aurélien said softly, reaching down and rubbing Ocho’s head. His dog barely moved, just letting out a soft, sad huff in response.

Aurélien gave him a look, knowing that the poor guy had been in this slump for days. But things were about to change. He glanced over at the park entrance just as Y/N walked in with Lady, the dog prancing beside her, proudly sporting a new pink collar and matching lead. Ocho’s ears perked up the moment he saw her, and for the first time in days, he barked excitedly.

Lady let out an equally excited yip, tugging at her lead as Y/N tried to keep control. "Lady, now you know—" Y/N began to scold her dog, but her words trailed off as she watched Ocho and Lady eagerly sniff each other before Ocho gave her a gentle lick on the nose.

Y/N sighed, clearly giving up on trying to control Lady’s enthusiasm as she unhooked the lead. The moment she did, the two dogs bolted off, playing and chasing each other as if they hadn’t spent the last week pining for one another.

Aurélien couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching the dogs with a mix of relief and amusement. He gestured to the bench, and Y/N reluctantly sat down, keeping a decent distance from him.

He stole a sidelong glance at her, noticing how her athletic shorts and cropped top hugged her curves in all the right places. She wore a zip-up jacket over her top, and her braids were piled high on her head in their usual fashion. This time, though, she wore glasses. He hadn't seen that before.

"I didn’t know you wore glasses," he said, trying to make some light conversation.

"Yeah, I do," Y/N replied flatly, barely turning to look at him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching their dogs romp around the park, but the tension between them was palpable. Aurélien tried again to break the ice, throwing out a few comments about the weather and their dogs, but Y/N barely acknowledged him. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What’s your problem?" he asked bluntly, unable to stand the cold shoulder any longer.

Y/N turned to him with a sharp look. "My problem? First of all, your dog humped my dog, and then you had the nerve to call me dramatic for being upset about it."

Aurélien blinked, realizing what she was referring to. "Look, I’m sorry about that," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I didn’t mean any ill intent. But come on, you were doing the most for something both of them were into. It’s not like Lady was just sitting there.” He pointed toward the two dogs, who were now happily sniffing each other’s butts without a care in the world.

Y/N let out a huff but softened just a little. "I guess I shouldn’t have gotten that worked up…" she admitted, her tone quieter. She glanced over at Lady, her face shifting into something more vulnerable. "Lady’s my baby. She’s… she’s one of the last gifts my mom gave me before she passed away."

Aurélien’s chest tightened at that, feeling an unexpected wave of sympathy. "I’m really sorry," he said gently. "I get it. I know how it feels to be a dog parent. They grow up so fast… but seeing them happy like this is what matters."

Y/N nodded, her expression softening even more. Aurélien grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "And I promise, Ocho’s a good boy. I raised him right. He’ll treat Lady like the queen she is."

That earned him a small laugh from Y/N, and he felt a flicker of pride at being able to crack her tough exterior. Her smile lit up her whole face, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "You’re prettier when you smile."

Y/N’s smile faded, and she turned to him with an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

Aurélien mentally cursed himself. The last thing he wanted was to spark another argument. "Don’t tell me you’re getting mad about me calling you pretty?" he said, exasperated.

"It’s not that," Y/N said, her voice firm. "It’s the implication that I’m only pretty when I smile, like I have to perform happiness for you."

Aurélien let out a frustrated groan, kissing his teeth. "Oh my God, can we not do this? Our dogs are happy, and you’re getting too worked up over a harmless compliment."

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. "I’m not getting worked up. Do you know how many times I’ve heard stuff like that? ‘Oh, smile girl, you look grumpy,’ or ‘You’re too pretty to be mad.’" She deepened her voice, mimicking the way men usually spoke to her. "It’s demeaning."

Aurélien had to bite back a laugh at her impression, though he understood where she was coming from. Still, this woman was driving him up a wall. "Okay, but I didn’t mean it like that," he said, trying to be reasonable. "You didn’t have to go off in an unnecessary rant about being catcalled—"

"Unnecessary? Are you—" Y/N stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Lady, sweetie, it’s time to go home!" she called out, standing up abruptly.

"Merde," Aurélien muttered under his breath, frustrated with himself. He reached out and gently touched her arm. "Y/N, come on," he said softly. "Please. Just sit down. Let’s talk about our dogs, okay? We came here for them."

Y/N shot him a sharp look but sighed and sat back down. Aurélien could feel the tension in her shoulders and saw the exhaustion in her eyes. She’d been through a lot, that much was obvious. Losing her mother, moving across the world, juggling school—he couldn’t imagine how much she had on her plate. But right now, their main priority was keeping the dogs happy.

"Let’s just keep things cool for them, alright?" Aurélien said, glancing over at Ocho and Lady, who were now rolling in the grass, blissfully unaware of the human drama playing out around them. "That's all that matters." He couldn't help but smile at how peaceful they looked, the tension between him and Y/N forgotten for just a moment. Then, an idea hit him. "You know," he began, his voice casual, "I think Ocho and Lady should hang out more often."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Oh? And how exactly do you see that happening?"

"We could set up playdates," Aurélien suggested, leaning back a little, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Or even better… sleepovers."

Y/N let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Sleepovers? You’re kidding, right?"

Aurélien shook his head, completely serious. "Not at all. Think about it—they’re basically together at this point. Why not let them have some extra time to bond? It’s only fair, considering how much they miss each other when they’re apart."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. "You're suggesting that our dogs… have sleepovers?"

He nodded, looking entirely unbothered. "Yeah, why not? They’ve already been acting like a couple. It’s only logical."

Y/N let out another chortle, shaking her head. "That sounds insane. They're dogs, not kids planning a slumber party."

But Aurélien doubled down, leaning forward with a playful grin. "I’ve given it a lot of thought, actually. Ocho clearly adores Lady, and she seems pretty attached to him too. It’s not as crazy as it sounds." He paused for effect before adding, "Even your dad agreed with me."

Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. "My father agreed to this?"

Aurélien nodded, looking pleased with himself. "Yep. Shawn said he thought it was a good idea. Said it might help with Lady’s loneliness."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Still not happening, Aurélien."

He laughed softly, leaning back with a casual shrug. "You’ll come around. Just wait until you see how much happier Lady is after a few hangouts."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Aurélien said with a smug grin. "But I’m right about this. Just wait."

Y/N gave him a side-eye but didn’t bother arguing any further. Maybe the idea of doggie sleepovers was ridiculous—but there was no denying how happy Lady seemed to be with Ocho around. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, part of her liked the idea of them hanging out more. Just not too much more.

"And if our dogs are going to be hanging out together, you should at least know how to say my name correctly,” Aurélien said, fixing Y/N with a playful but pointed look. "It’s Aw-ree-le-an, not Ah-reel-lian. You’re butchering the shit out of it."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed as she shot back with a smirk. "Same goes for you too. But don’t get mad at me just because your name’s hard to pronounce. Who even says it like that anyway?"

"French people do," he replied with a cocky grin, crossing his arms as if he’d won the argument already. "And you wish your name was as cool as mine."

"Bullshit," Y/N said, shaking her head.

Aurélien leaned in slightly, and kissed his teeth in annoyance. "You know it’s true. Just admit it. My name sounds like royalty—yours is just… basic."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please. Your name is a mouthful, and no one outside of France is saying it right. I bet even your teammates struggle."

Aurélien let out a chuckle. "They do, but that’s their problem. You? You should be better than that, especially if we’re going to be around each other more often."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, Aw-ree-le-an, I’ll try my best. But I make no promises."

Aurélien gave her a playful wink. "You better. I won’t let you keep messing it up."

Y/N scoffed at the title he gave her. "Don’t push it."

"Hey, if our dogs are basically dating, that makes us dog parents-in-law. You better get used to it,” Aurélien teased, enjoying the banter between them.

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Aw-ree-le-an." Y/N stood up, brushing the dirt off her shorts as she glanced at Aurélien one last time. "Alright, I’ve gotta head out. But I’ll let you know when Lady can hang out with Ocho again," she said, her voice neutral but her gaze sharp.

"Bye, hater…" Aurélien called after her, settling back into his seat on the bench, legs stretched out wide in an exaggerated manspread, arms draped casually across the back. His smirk was infuriatingly confident.

Y/N froze for a second, narrowing her eyes. "You must really want your ass beat, huh?" she shot back.

He shrugged, his smirk deepening. "Name the time and place."

What a fucking asshole, Y/N thought, clenching her jaw as she walked over to Lady. She clipped the leash onto her collar, and of course, Lady put up a small protest, whining and glancing back at Ocho as if they were tearing her away from her soulmate.

"We’ll see him and his annoying-ass owner soon, baby. Let’s get a treat," Y/N muttered under her breath. The word 'treat' instantly snapped Lady’s attention back. She let out a happy yip and gave Ocho a parting lick on the face before trotting obediently next to Y/N.

"Don’t forget to text me about the doggie sleepover, Y/N!" Aurélien called out as she walked away. Y/N didn’t even bother to look back; instead, she lifted her hand and flipped him the bird, her middle finger a clear response. His deep chuckle followed her, adding to her irritation.

Y/N inhaled deeply, forcing herself to exhale slowly as they exited the park. Aurélien was so damn cocky, so insufferably full of himself. His arrogance, that smug grin, the way he acted like everything he said was charming—it got under her skin in a way she hated to admit.

But she was doing this for Lady, not herself. Lady deserved to be happy, and if that meant dealing with Aurélien and his ridiculous dog-parenting antics, so be it.

Still, the thought lingered as she adjusted her grip on Lady’s leash, her fingers flexing a little. Wouldn’t it be great to just rock him right in his big-ass mouth? Just once?

Y/N sat at her desk, laptop open, camera on, though her gaze wandered. She wasn’t sure if therapy was supposed to make her feel better, but lately, it hadn’t. The video feed of her psychiatrist, Dr. Morgan, looked back at her, full of concerned patience.

"You’re clearly stressed, Y/N. Your anxiety’s been through the roof. This isn’t healthy for a 22-year-old. Have you thought about trying meditation? Yoga? Anything to relax?"

Y/N crossed her arms and scoffed. "I’m not stressed, Dr. Morgan, I’m pissed."

Dr. Morgan paused and tilted her head. "Why are you pissed?"

Y/N stared at the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line. The reasons whirled around in her mind, but none of them made it out of her mouth. Because mom died too soon. Because since then, I had to carry everyone else’s burdens— dad’s grief, Sutton’s needs. And moving to Madrid? Who would’ve taken care of them if I’d stayed in Philly?

There was no room for her own needs, no space to breathe, to just be a 22-year-old college senior.

"I don’t know," she muttered, unwilling to voice the chaotic swirl in her head.

Dr. Morgan’s voice softened. "Y/N, you need to step back. You’re acting like a surrogate mother to your family. You have to let yourself be a young adult, to be a student. Consider hiring help, a maid or a nanny, just to take off some of the load."

Y/N sighed but said nothing. She had been slacking on making friends since her mother passed, but who had time for that now?

"Grief affects everyone differently," Dr. Morgan continued. "But what you’re doing isn’t sustainable or healthy."

Y/N offered a curt nod, and with that, they hung up. She slammed her laptop shut, the sound echoing through her room, her frustration simmering. Just as she was about to throw herself onto her bed, there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called, pressing the small button on her bedside table that indicated it was safe to enter. She expected Sutton, but it was her dad who poked his head in.

"Hey, just checking on you," he said, stepping inside.

"I’m fine, Daddy," Y/N replied, her voice tight, though she was trying to sound reassuring.

Her dad frowned. "You always say that, Y/N. Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve done around here, but why don’t you go hang out with your friends or something?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Dad, not right now."

"My bad," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. "But for real, Y/N. Go out, do something for you. Go shopping or something."

She raised a brow. "Are you going to give me your AmEx, then?" She was half-joking, but what came next shocked her.

"If that gets you out of the house, then sure." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Y/N’s mouth dropped open as he handed her the card. "You’re basically an accountant, and you’ve always been good with money," he said with a shrug. "If there’s anyone I trust with my credit card, it’s you."

"Really?" Y/N asked, taking the card, unsure whether to laugh or protest.

Her dad nodded. "Go out, spoil yourself a bit. SJ can watch Sutton, or we can get that part-time nanny I’ve been talking about."

"I don’t know about a nanny…"

"He’s eleven, Y/N, not a baby. He’s smart. We can get someone to help out, offset some of the responsibility."

"We’ll see," she said, tucking the card into her jacket pocket.

Her dad lingered for a moment longer. "Anyway, how did things go with Aurélien and Ocho?"

Y/N groaned. "He wants the dogs to have sleepovers."

Her dad grinned. "That’s a good idea."

"He told me you liked the idea, too."

"Of course I do. Gives Lady more socializing skills."

"Or lets her get humped by that damn dog of his," Y/N muttered.

Her dad just shrugged. "Dogs are dogs. Maybe you should go with her."

"Excuse me?"

“I meant hang out with Aurélien. Him, Cama, and Jude are good guys. You need friends, Y/N."

"Guy friends though? Aren’t you worried about that?"

"Nah. I already gave them a warning. Told them you’re off-limits."

"Daddy!" Y/N exclaimed, horrified. "What the hell?"

"What? They know what’s up. But if you ever wanted to go down that route, you’re grown."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. "Wait… so I can make a move, but they can’t? Isn’t that messed up?"

Her dad just shrugged again. "It is what it is. But seriously, Aurélien’s dope. You two are more similar than you think."

He left the room with that parting comment, leaving Y/N to groan in frustration. Of course her dad liked Aurélien, while all she saw was an arrogant nuisance. Still, she reached into her pocket and felt the cool plastic of the AmEx.

"Well, screw it," she muttered. "At least I can buy some new shoes."

Grabbing her sneakers and car keys, Y/N headed downstairs, ready to burn a hole in her dad’s pockets at the shops. A little retail therapy couldn’t hurt, right?

TO BE CONTINUED....

[4only1]

Signal

Gitae Kim x Reader

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Trying to let you know, sending a sign, sending signals. I must let you know, sending a sign, sending signals, sending a sign, sending signals, sending a sign, sending signals, sending a sign, sending signals, I must let you know!

It hadn’t been that long since you first met Gitae Kim. When he came to Korea, you met him at the airport with Goo and Taejin. Goo definitely was curious about this man for many reasons, the main one probably being that he is Gapryong Kim’s eldest son. The moment you laid your eyes on him, your heart skipped a beat. How can a man be so handsome yet somewhat disturbing at the same time.

You aren’t an idiot, you’ve heard of his past actions. Usurping the previous king of Seoul with an axe?!! That was crazy, and you were expecting the man to match what you’ve heard, but he didn’t. Okay, he did match what you were expecting, but you didn’t expect yourself to be so…attracted to the man. He had to at least be 6’7” if not taller, and he was like, a foot wide of pure muscle. You were constantly surrounded by tall men, but Gitae had to be the biggest man you’ve ever seen.

At some point, I started to like you, you fool, why don’t you know my heart? When are you going to stop being so dumb, and only treating me as a friend, that’s not what I want at all!

Lucky you was assigned to help guide Gitae around Korea during his stay, along with Taejin. Taejin, unfortunately (however fortunate for you), was unavailable the first day of Gitae's arrival, after meeting him at the airport. It was then your job to help guide him around, mainly to various locations, specifically, Big Deal’s street. 

You knew he was Jake’s older brother, I mean, again, it didn't take a genius to know that (same father and all). When he returned after his meeting, you couldn’t help but hide a blush on your face. It must have been the lighting, and also his face, yep definitely his face. The look of relief on his face as he spoke ‘I got the response I wanted’ gave you butterflies in your stomach.

If you notice me looking and smiling at you, I’ve already done it so many times today. If I keep talking to you, you should feel something, I keep staying by your side.

You didn’t even notice until Samuel pointed it out, you were always the first to talk to Gitae when he entered a room. Your eyes always seem to find him and a smile graced your face when they did. Samuel called it creepy which caused you to rant about his own creepy actions, earning a chuckle from across the room. You look and meet Gitae’s eyes. His eyes hold amusement, yours hold fascination.

You get more bold after that, I mean, take a shot when you have it, right? What is the chance you’ll see this man again after he finishes his business in Korea? You start going up to him, beginning a friendly conversation, something that no one else seems to do. He must not be the smartest man, I mean, how much more obvious do you need to be? He must have noticed how you always go up to him, no matter who else is present, or even if you are talking to someone. You will admit however, you do enjoy the look Goo gets on his face as you walk off mid-conversation to start one with Gitae. At this point, everyone BUT HIM, is aware of your growing crush.

Sending a signal, sending a signal, ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing, I really want you, I really want you, why aren’t you reacting? Everytime we meet, with all of my heart, ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing, I’m waiting, you can see everything, but why don’t you know?

At some points you think that even if you just tell Gitae how much you like him, he wouldn’t understand. You’re embarrassing yourself with your actions. You’ve been following him around Korea, like a kitten following its new owner. You are getting along well, you heard from Taejin that if you were annoying Gitae, you would have been dealt an axe to the face. So why hadn’t you? 

You were kinda hoping for any reaction, even an axe to the face at this point. That would be better than contemplating over if Gitae was clueless or intentionally playing with your feelings while saying nothing. You have to know. You can’t keep this up anymore. Everytime you meet, butterflies swarm about within you. You've been waiting too long for him to notice, time to make a move, but maybe, a subtle one. Play it cool (Y/N), you got this.

“So, when we went to go see your brother, what did you and that guy, Sinu, talk about? It seemed pretty intense if you guys fought after just a few words.”

“...” He looks up at you as you place your hands on the table in front of him. He gives it a moment before responding. 

“About romance. I hate it”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. His answer is frustrating, but his voice is just so damn captivating. His words had both answered yet unanswered the question that remained deep inside you. Dear Gitae Kim, I am not giving up unless I get a clear answer. You ‘hate’ romance? Does that mean you hate being romantic, or you hate seeing romance? Doesn't matter, you are going to keep your hopes up.

I’m sending you a sign, sending you a signal, but it won’t go through. Giving you a look, trying to make you notice, but you don’t seem to get it. I’m so frustrated I’m going crazy. I don’t know why this is happening but, I’ll gather my strength up once more and, send you a sign, send you a signal.

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I love Twice and I like lookism so why not combine them. I'm sad we haven't seen much of this man in Korea so I had to get creative. Do y'all understand how tall this man is?!?!

I've gotten a couple of requests so those will probably start coming out next week. I wrote this one the same time I wrote the last story, so I wanted to get this out before I start the requests. Probably a million spelling errors....Anyways, stan TWICE <3.

[yagirlraee]

I COULD BE YOUR GIRL, GIRL, GIRL!

summary: it was just another humid summer night when you decided to go to a concert hosted by no one other than your favorite band, manipulation. with your celebrity crush, choso kamo, as the lead guitarist. but what will happen when he spots you in the crowd, and invites you backstage?

wc: ...

track 1: backstage

the waves of people feel overwhelming paired with the ear splitting rock music emitting from the stage. bright spotlights are roaming the floors, the walls, and the ceiling and occasionally blinding the crowd. sweaty bodies are a little too close to each other, but it didn't matter. not with the beauty of a man on stage going ham on his electric bass guitar.

choso kamo. that was the name of the lead guitarist of the band, Manipulation. along with the lead singer, suguru geto. the drummer, ino takuma. and the back up guitarist, sukuna ryomen. every single member of the band was attractive, but choso just stood out amongst the others to you. and you had absolutely no clue why. maybe it was the symmetrical tattoo on his face, or maybe his pigtails, or was it his milky skin tone? who knew.. no one actually except for you.

you knew you were in love when you didn't have to scream his name like all his other fangirls. you just simply admired his face, and it really helped you out when your friend said that she had scored some affordable front row seat tickets. and you swore you felt your heart skip a few beats when he looked at you for a little too long.

when the show was coming to an end, when most of the conjoined groups got even more excited, you make that same eye contact with the lead guitarist again.

"hey!" a voice echoes throughout the occupied stadium through a microphone.

you, as well as your friends, wonder who he's talking to. but there suguru is, pointing at you and your friends with one hand, and clenching the microphone in the other. yet the crowd is still confused, and it goes noticeably quieter as the crowd mumbles and looks at one another. you see suguru turn away from the mic and tell one of the bodyguards something, and then turns and gives choso a somewhat secretive smile that you don't seem to notice.

and out of nowhere, you feel yourself getting pulled up onto the stage in front of you. out of a mixture of panic and excitement, you whip your head around and get momentarily blinded by the spotlight. but before you can protest, you're getting nudged to the back of the stage and behind the curtain.

where are you? where are your friends? what was in your hand..? a backstage pass, when did you obtain this anyway? and how long did you have to wait back here? there were way too many questions flowing through your head. and man were your shoes killing you. but luckily the band was on their last song.

shortly after their show, after they thanked all of their fans for coming, you saw the four men come backstage. the presence in the room changed, and it was obvious. you shifted nervously in the creaky, black plastic chair you were given, while also fidgeting with your fingers.

the band members gave each other knowing looks and were quickly shooed away by choso. he grabbed a similar chair from the corner and flicked it out. he situated next to you in a manspread and finally made eye contact with you, but it was nervous. he was nervous.

but why? he was a rockstar rising to the top, yet he wasn't quite there yet. more of a local band, but they already had tons of fans.

"i, uhm, i don't think i do this with a lot of people. but my bandmates saw how i looked at you apparently." he rambles. "don't really know what they mean by that.."

and he's so antsy you can't help but let out a little giggle. he stops his muttering and looks up at you. you swiftly look away and place your hand over your mouth to refrain from laughing any longer. and he doesn't know it, but seeing you smile makes him let out a light hearted chuckle. yet he's never met you before, so what was this feeling?

"so," he straightens up. "could i get your number.. maybe?"

and oh did you ever so gladly give it to him, but it was very sudden. exchanging numbers already? maybe for a first date, hopefully for a first date.

he stood up and reached his hand out to you, and you placed yours on top, using it as leverage to get up. you dusted yourself off and pause as you realize, your friends probably left. and you don't blame them, you've been back here for who knows how long. but with that, you didn't even have a ride home.

and choso could sense your nervousness as you shuffle around in your place, noticeably spacing out.

"are you okay?" he says, trying to get you to look at him in his eyes.

you snap out of the trance you're in and nod, "yeah, uhm, i just was wondering if there's any bus stops nearby?"

he laughs, "you don't have a ride?"

he really was just joking, but when he saw you start to chew on your lip, he realized you really didn't have a ride home. so of course he offered you one, and being the lovesick human you were, you accepted.

so what if he was possibly a serial killer on the hunt for more victims? he was cute, so it didn't matter. he grabbed his keys and jingled them, signaling that he had a matte black camaro waiting in the parking lot for the two of you.

track 2: ...

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Courting Dracula

(Not my gif)(Requested by inference and the will of the winds)

(This one really got me feeling like a pathetic hopeless romantic. Hope you enjoy)

- He frightens you when you first meet him: like a phantom in broad daylight, a living shadow that contorts and disappears with the changing of the clouds above you. You blame yourself for nearly running into him, disregarding the fact that there’d been nothing in front of you mere moments earlier; that you were alone under the canopy of trees until you very suddenly weren’t. 

- You’re struck dumb by his sudden appearance, your heart dropping down into your stomach as his eyes meet yours, the blue of them so deep and intense that you struggle to pull yourself away. You apologize quickly once you’re able to get your bearings, swallowing swiftly and moving to step out of his way until he very gently moves in front of you once again. 

- His face twists into a smile, gentle and kind and very unlike what you’d initially expected from him. He explains that he’s new to the city as your eyes instinctively flicker back to his own, like there's a magnetic pull between the two of you. For a moment, you wonder if this is normal, if this is what all wealthy gentleman are like, yet your lack of knowledge on the matter only serves to make you feel even more insecure. 

- He speaks to you as if you’re on his level, chuckling softly as he admits that he’s a bit lost and asks for directions to a certain attraction that’s been drawing in residents and tourists alike. Your hands twist in the frayed cotton of your working dress as you answer him, pointing out the street that he needs to follow before excusing yourself and walking past him.

- You don’t get very far before he calls out to you again, asking if you’ll join him. You’re compelled to laugh at the idea, part of you wondering if he’s teasing you, though the earnest look on his face and the way that he stands patiently awaiting your answer tells you otherwise. 

- His gentle expression never once changes, even as you point out the fact that you’re still dressed in your work uniform and that you look a mess. He merely smiles softly and tells you that he hadn’t noticed, that it’s hard to look anywhere else but at a face as beautiful as yours: and when he assures you that he’d be willing to wait for you if you’d like to go and get changed, you find yourself unable to refuse. 

- And so he does, escorting you home with a pleased smile and waiting patiently for you at your gate as your family rushes to scrounge up something suitable for you to wear, rifling through their wardrobes and jewelry boxes in search of something even half as nice as the tailored suit your perceived admirer is wearing. Your hair is combed though ruthlessly and you face is scrubbed violently and the little makeup your family owns is applied as perfectly as humanly possible until you’re deemed beautiful enough to entertain company. And only then are you ushered out of the door to reunite with the man, smiling nervously as he stares at you in awe, complimenting you quietly as you very purposefully walk towards him, willing yourself to relax and not trip over your own feet. 

- You feel a bit silly walking alongside him, too distracted by the bustling streets of London and your own self doubt to notice the tender gazes he sends your way or to fully keep up with the occasional questions he tries to ask you. He’s patient however, and smiles at you in reassurance as you apologize nervously for missing whatever he’s trying to say to you, comfortingly insisting that he’d probably be distracted as well if he had to navigate such confusing roads as “these”. 

- When you finally do arrive at the attraction, he pays for both your tickets and offers to buy you whatever else you may want: sometimes insisting while other times just gently questioning. A part of you can’t help but wonder why. Wonder what would make him so eager to gift you things and to listen to you speak; especially when you arguably provide such comparably undignified company. You wonder if he’s expecting something from you, something lewd that he thinks he’s owed now that he’s put money into you. 

- But by the end of your day together, he simply walks you home, thanking you for your company and asking if he can see you again in the future, taking off his hat and bidding you adieu with a tender, fleeting smile after you assure him that you’d be happy to. When he’s gone, you can’t help but decide that he’s simply lonely and that he’s merely a foreigner who doesn’t care for English customs or status: a thought that sends you to sleep with great relief. 

- It isn’t long before you see each other again, whether by coincidence or purposefully made plans. Whenever you do, he continues to be the perfect gentleman: always buying you things and asking you about yourself, seemingly genuinely wanting to get to know you. There’s times where he just keeps asking you about yourself and without even thinking, you manage to spend hours just recounting stories from your past, making you somewhat embarrassed once you realize that you’ve been the only one talking for most of the night. He always just shakes his head and insists that you “weren’t being anything of the sort” and that he wants to hear it whenever you apologize for being so rude, making your heart flutter in your chest. 

- You’re not entirely sure when the feeling of your meetings shift from that of friendliness to that of potential lovers. You deny it for some time, not wanting to be presumptuous, but after a while, you’re incapable of calling it anything else. What else do you call a person like him? Someone who admits to finding you beautiful, or adoring your company, or wanting nothing more than to spend time with you and only you whenever you make a stray comment about how he should be making more distinguished acquaintances. If not a suitor, then what?

- A monster, perhaps. That's what your dreams will have you believe. For all the good that he brings to your life, there is still some bad. The world around you feels so strange after he enters it, so foggy and confusing and, at times, so frightening. He acts so oddly at times, misspeaks in ways that leave you confused, makes the air around you turn tense and suffocating at the drop of the hat for no good reason at all. 

- And yet, any time there is something off, he’s there to soothe you the very next moment: like a dog laving at the wounds that he alone has inflicted. If you dream of him, his gentle face twisting into something evil and beyond recognition, he looks twice as handsome the next morning and you shake the unpleasant thoughts from your head: and yet, though they’re momentarily lost, they’re never truly forgotten. 

- There are times you wonder whether you should refuse to see him again, reasoning that these things never happened to you before he came along. And sometimes you do refuse to see him, ushering him away as politely as possible and making excuses as to why you’re not able to entertain him. Yet you only ever feel worse, your body warm and weak and your mind a fuzzy mess until he visits you again, your parents letting him in as he explains that he was worried over what state you might be in, that he wanted to make sure you were alright. And you are alright, but only once you lay eyes on him, the sight of him clearing away your ailments like the dry cracks of the ground in the rain. 

- It’s only a little over a month after you’ve met when he comes to you, sitting you down on the red velvet cushions of a private room warmed by a crackling fireplace, taking your hands as he explains to you that he’s returning to Transylvania and that he wants you to come along with him. That he wishes for your hand in marriage. 

- And it all feels so soon and sudden and rushed but as you look into his eyes, you cant help but agree, all of your senses screaming at you to say yes and on a whim, you find yourself nodding your head, nerves bubbling in your chest as you watch a smile stretch across his face. He raises your knuckles to his lips, kissing them excitedly before he leans in and gently kisses you on the lips, promising to make you the happiest woman on earth; distracting you from the fact that it feels like you’ve done all of this before....

- Nevertheless, he surely keeps his promise....

- Public displays of affection have never bothered him. He doesn’t care to create a façade of modesty for the sake of society and it’s newly created customs: and considering the fact that you’re probably living in his castle, it isn’t often that you’re in public anyway. Visitors are scarce in your lives yet even if they do turn up, he doesn’t care either way, showering you with love and affection regardless of whoever may be watching; and coyly blaming it on a difference of culture should they have an issue. 

- Although, funnily enough, he tends not to keep hold of you whenever you’re out in public together; not closely at least. He lingers more than he touches: a hand hovering close to you, a delicate grasp of your own, his fingers just barely gracing your spine as he leads you somewhere private, etc. 

- Yet, if someone were to peer into the private rooms where the two of you are alone together, they’d find him completely wrapped around you: his arms embracing you from behind, his face close to your own, tender and loving touches, soft caresses, etc. 

- Chaste pecks on the lips, kisses sponged across your hairline, soft pecks to your nose and eyelids, etc. He kisses you anywhere he pleases in the moment and oftentimes that means he’s going to kiss you everywhere. 

- Passionate and adoring kisses: behind them all are years of yearning; and you can feel as much with the way that he clings to you and steals your breath away. They remain passionate but they soften a bit once he’s certain that you’re his, the overwhelming emotion fading into something a bit more tame and less dizzying; though that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of giving you equally all-consuming kisses literal centuries after the two of you have been reunited. 

- He loves to kiss your neck and journey down your chest, brushing gently against the indentations that are forever embedded in your throat, occasionally leaving a mark in his wake; somewhere only he’s allowed to see. 

- Soft caresses and tender holds of your jaw and neck. It’s his favorite place to touch you.

- Hand kisses; particularly when your hands are out of their gloves. *Gasp*.

- You curl yourselves around each other when you go to sleep: your arms and legs intertwined, head pressed close to his chest. Although, before you were turned, he liked to wrap himself around your middle and listen to your heart beating in your chest. He doesn’t turn you until he’s certain that he’s memorized the melody, wanting to remember it for the rest of his immortal life. Sometimes he’d even kneel on the ground between your thighs and embrace you like that, holding you close and calming himself with the steady sound. 

- He loves hearing your real name leave his lips more than anything else, but he will call you my beloved, my darling, and dearest one; amongst other old fashioned pet names. He’ll also occasionally call you something in Romanian. 

- Dancing together. You’re only lit by candles and surrounded by riches and magic beyond your wildest dreams: and every time you are, you cant help but fear; if only just for a moment, that all of this is just a dream and that you’ll wake up in your old bed alone. But then he smiles down at you, kissing between the slight furrow of your brows and asking what you’re thinking about, and you’re brought back into the unbelievable reality that's become of your life, your fears disappearing in an instant. 

- That’s everyday that you spend with the Count: a dream within your waking moments. He creates a heaven on earth for the two of you and there’s nothing that he isn’t willing to do in order to create it for you. 

- Gifts. So many gifts. Jewels, gems, jewelry, antique heirlooms, and dresses made of threads and beads beyond what you’ve ever seen before or thought possible. Libraries full of books and aviaries full of birds, rooms full of paintings and exotic flowers from faraway lands; anything you could ever ask for is there in his castle just waiting for you to come home to. He’d lasso you the moon if you asked him to and bring you some extra stars just because. 

- Cuddling and walking the beautiful beast he calls a pet. He loves to watch you smile and shower the wolf in affection, burying yourself in it’s soft fur. He can’t bring himself to grow jealous of your love for it, seeing you happy and knowing that you have someone to keep you company during the times in which he cant is like a gift to him.  

- Showing him around all of the new world attractions of your town: all the museums and shows and restaurants that you’ve always loved to go to or wanted to go to since you were young. 

- He loves to indulge you in experience: bringing you to theaters you could never afford to enter on your own, ballets you always wished to see, trips to places you’d only ever read of, etc. He likes seeing your inner child come out, it makes himself feel youthful. 

- The two of you would travel the world together if you wanted to. He’d journey to the end of the earth if you simply asked him to. 

- Long goodbyes filled with...well...longing. Even if the two of you know that you’re going to see each other the next day, you can’t help but hate having to part from each other. You’d spend minutes lingering at your gate and gazing into his eyes until your parents inevitably called you inside for the night, your head turning to send him one last glance before the door is finally shut behind you. 

- Hiding away in secluded rooms and corners.

- Candlelit dinners. Though he never eats with you, you never feel insecure when you’re around him. 

- Carriage rides. You stop wherever you please to do whatever you want and everyone around you watches on in intrigue and fear. The locals near his castle gawk at the two of you whenever you stop by the village, watching as you smile at and point out all of the simplest of life's pleasures to him while he stands near the horses like death himself.

- Him always offering you his arm and helping you down from carriages or stairs or what have you.

- Long conversations. He wants to know every thought that's ever entered your brain and every story you could ever possibly tell.

- Listening to the tales of his past. A part of you feels sorry for not being able to remember the part of you that he does, and somewhat jealous of how much he loved someone who wasn’t quite you but you enough. Sometimes you worry that he loves her more than he’ll ever love you, but to him, you’re one in the same. You’re a part of her that he gets to love more than he ever got to love her, a butterfly reared from her cocoon: what makes you different is loved just as much; if not more, than what makes you similar.

- Poetic words spoken and written to you: confessions of love unlike anything you’ve ever heard. There’s never been more romantic words passed between two people. You’re truly spoiled.

- Please pacify him with kisses and admissions of love on the daily. He can’t stand not hearing and seeing you submit yourself to him and his love. He wants all of what you’re able to give him so much he could cry.

- Insecurities aren’t a thing between the two of you; unless they’re his own. Every inch and quirk and anything of yours is engraved in his memory and loved deeper than you can comprehend. To him, your flaws are perfection and there isn’t a thing about you that he would ever choose to change. 

- Confessions, confessions. Oh the things he’ll have to admit to you before he truly makes you his.

- Learning to love all of his different forms; though he oftentimes only stays in the one he knows is most pleasing to you.

- It takes him a bit of time to turn you; even if you ask him to. He’ll feel somewhat remorseful and shy away from the action, struggling to damn you to the life he’s lived in “your” absence. Though I can also see him attempting to change you early on in your relationship while you’re none the wiser as well, leading to you trying your best to avoid him, confused and frightened by the whole ordeal; not quite sure if what you remember was a dream or reality but still feeling somewhat uneasy in his presence.  

- Him sneaking into your home before the two of you live together/wed. You probably think its a dream when you see him levitating right outside your window. It simply can’t be real....

- That being said: this somewhat strange behavior and coincidences can end up drawing you away from him: feeling as though you’re going crazy and knowing that all of it started and surrounds the very man who’s trying to court you.

- The people in your life find him odd and most try to hint at the idea of you needing to find someone new, but you simply won’t have it and none of them have the heart to say it in his presence. Their disapproval is a lost cause anyway. They think his love is too consuming …and they’re right, they’ve already lost you to it.

- He likes to check on you whenever he pleases. You’ll be going about your business, relaxing in the garden or a room in his home and he’ll take a break from whatever it was he was doing, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you bask in the sun or asking what you’re up to wile he hugs you from behind; a pleased smile creeping across your lips at his sudden presence.

- Him occasionally scaring you with his habit of suddenly appearing out of no where, oftentimes catching whatever inevitably goes to fall from your grasp once you notice he’s there.

- Him always making sure you’re looking after yourself and being well taken care of. He worries and fusses over you: over what you eat, how much you sleep, etc. He’s always cooing at you and telling you to rest; as if you’re made of glass and about to break. 

- He loves taking all of your worries away and handling whatever he can: which is nearly everything. You live a lavish life free from stress and it suits you well. He lives to keep you comforted and comfortable. 

- You’re very good at calming him down, able to sway him towards the direction of mercy whenever he grows irritable. It’s very fortunate that he found you; at least for his enemies or those that otherwise get on his nerves. 

- Though he’d seldom allow for you to meet them, you’re probably at least a little jealous of all of his brides. He no longer needs them after he finds you; and they might even be killed before your arrival, but you still can’t help but feel a little tense when the subject manages to come up. Unless you want some brides yourself I guess. 

- On the outside, he’ll appear nonchalant but on the inside, he’s analyzing every single mannerism and expression passed between you and the man he’s jealous of. He’ll smile cordially and allow you to introduce him, biting back the venom he wants to spit or swallowing down the rush of sickness in his throat, but the minute he feels they’ve overstayed their welcome, they’ll be dealt with in private. He refuses to lose you in any way ever again and that includes meddling mortals capable of making you rethink your devotion to him. He never lets you know about his jealousy though; unless you can guess it from his occasional silent moodiness. 

- Hell hath no fury than Dracula defending his love. He exudes an energy you occasionally match when putting people in their place for questioning your relationship; a trait of yours he cant help but love. 

- He doesn’t entertain arguments with you, he remains calm and reasons with you gently, letting you snap at him if you need to but refusing to return the same anger. You don’t tend to get into very many fights but it’s hard to continue them either way since he simply doesn’t participate. Most of the time you just end up having a calm discussion and sorting things out.  

- He sincerely apologizes whenever he upsets you and insists he makes it up to you; even when you can admit that you were probably being a little silly. He also accepts your apologies very easy; mainly because he can’t stand to be mad at or away from you for long. 

- He tells you he loves you constantly, in more ways than one, and you try your best to do the same. 

- You’re destined to spend the rest of your everlasting life as his countess whether you like it or not, so here’s to hoping that you love it as much as he loves you...

[roguishcat]

A sound judgement

Thank you so much @pursuitseternal for your request and for giving me this prompt (Magistrate Astarion AU, where he was never turned)! This was an absolute delight to write, even if it took me a while to actually get done. Hope you enjoy it!

Excerpt:

And this was when Astarion remembered that he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him. A small voice in the back of his mind chose to remind him how badly this could backfire. Astarion chose not to heed the warnings of said voice and immediately began plotting.

Word count: 5.1k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

Tags: some suggestive themes, Astarion being a menace to society, Astarion being a brat, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

❤️Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! ❤️

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The afternoon sunlight brushed warmly against your cheek as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Instead of running around Baldur's Gate, fixing buildings, helping those in need, the Hero of the Gate for once decided to read a newspaper in a park. Something quite mundane for some, a rare luxury for you.

You were not slacking. But you have come to realise that in your bid to please everyone you would soon completely burn out. Which is why you didn’t feel a smidge of guilt when you found yourself going to Bloomridge park instead of the Upper City.

Not having to make any decisions and just simply be for an hour felt absolutely heavenly. Children played, the members of the book club gossiped, and couples whispered among themselves. This was exactly what you loved about this city. No matter how much havoc was wrought, Baldur's Gate healed rapidly and would soon be back to its former glory.

You cast your eyes over the articles in the newspaper. Nothing special, thank the gods. Just silly gossip and the like. You quickly looked through it and gave a happy sigh. No news was always good news in your books!

Yet, no matter how pleasant this little break was, you were well aware that your assistance was needed at ten odd locations today. It was time to get back to work.

Getting up, you looked at the newspaper in your hands and decided that perhaps someone would enjoy reading it. Afterall, there was hardly any reason for you to take the paper with you. And leaving it behind would probably save some poor apprentice a copper. Thus assured that you were doing no harm, you folded the newspaper up neatly and set it down on the park bench for another to enjoy.

Just as you were about to walk away, you heard someone clear their throat loudly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

It was one of the Fists. You didn't recognise him. Perhaps it was a new recruit, seeing as otherwise he would have known who you were.

"Excuse me?"

"You are littering," he stated, pointing to the newspaper with an accusatory finger.

Ah, so a simple misunderstanding.

"I am not littering,” you smiled pleasantly, in spite of feeling that it was rather strange of the Fist to worry about something as inconsequential as litter out of all things. “Just thought someone else might enjoy reading the paper now that I'm done with it."

The Fist did not look impressed by your explanation. In fact, if anything he seemed even more set in his belief that a heinous crime was being committed in broad daylight.

"I am arresting you for littering in a public garden," he seemed to think about it for a moment. "And for arguing with a city guard."

"I've hardly said any-"

"Resisting arrest, are we?" he drawled, making your mouth tighten as you bit back a snarky retort.

"No, I will come with you willingly," you grumbled.

Perhaps if you played along for a bit, you could talk to someone of a higher rank. Saying anything to an overly eager guard who was obstinately sticking to his accusations would just attract onlookers.

"Good. The judge is waiting for your arrival."

"What? What do you mean judge?" you frowned. What business did any judge have looking into misdemeanours and especially something like littering?

"His Honor Judge Ancunín is waiting for you. Don't dawdle. It's rude to keep him waiting."

Suddenly all of this made sense. You ground your teeth and followed the Fist. Of course it was Astarion! That ass!

"Oh, trust me. Him waiting for me will be the least of his worries once I see him."

You felt that you had every right to be annoyed at Astarion. No scratch that. You had every right to be livid and spitting fire! Because this was the fourth time that bastard got you arrested in a little more than a month! And every single bloody time if was for something dumb and trivial. You had no idea how Astarion managed to do it, how he knew exactly where you would be, and how he convinced those Fists that he was to be the judge handling your case.

That stupid, stupid ass!

He couldn’t just come by the tavern and talk to you like someone normal. No, he needed a show of power, especially with him being promoted to judge in high court! Because apparently this was how Astarion got his kicks nowadays. He needed for you to be near forcibly escorted to the courtroom and thrown at his feet. Preferably pleading for mercy and asking him if there was any way that you could make it up to him.

You scowled. The whole scenario just sounded like the plot of some cheap, third-rate smutty novel one would pick up at Sharess'. But if he thought that you would cower before him, that elf had another thing coming!

On the other side of the city, Astarion Ancunín was drumming his fingers against some book he was supposedly reading. Astarion was in a foul mood. It's been several months since the defeat of the Absolute. He and the merry band that defeated the cultists were celebrated just as you deserved for about a tenday, and then went back to your lives. Halsin was immediately off with his wagonfuls of brats, Gale returned to Waterdeep, Shadowheart went to live with her parents in the countryside, Wyll and Karlach waged war in Avernus whilst Lae’zel sought to overthrow Vlaakith. In short, everyone left the city except you and Astarion. Well, Jaheira and Minsc were probably about, but he didn’t care about them enough to check.

For a while, Astarion enjoyed the privileges that came with the title of Savior of Baldur's Gate. The fame had him moving up the ranks with impressive speed until he was promoted from magistrate to judge. No more minor cases! Oh no, he was in the big leagues now. And he was so, so bored.

Astarion could hardly believe that this dull, bureaucratic crap was all he did for years until he got tadpoled. And in the past, he enjoyed it well enough. But having experienced the thrill of adventure, the rush of adrenalin, the drama and the fun of travelling, he could not fathom sitting at a desk for the rest of his long, long life.

Which was when he realised that the only acceptable source of entertainment was you. Except getting to you was easier said than done. Everyone wanted your time and, being the annoyingly selfless creature that you were, it was near impossible to find any window of opportunity and see you for longer than a few minutes. And by the gods Astarion wanted to.

You two shared a couple passionate encounters when you were on the road and decided that you were better of as friends. Well, at least you decided that. Astarion was not quite on board with the whole platonic thing, but with death literally being around every corner, he begrudgingly agreed that a budding romance was the last thing you both needed at the time.

And this was how the two of you became friends. Except Astarion wanted more, so much more. And herein lay the problem. He never in the past had to woo anyone. His good looks and roguish charms were generally enough to have everyone chasing after him. An interested look and a smirk would often be enough for his potential lovers to drop their pants fast.

But this tactic, if one could really call it that, didn’t actually work on you. And he tried showing his interest. Astarion invited you on outings and to parties. Afterall, there were soiree aplenty where he his resplendent beauty would definitely be reason enough for you to want to sneak away and spend some quality time in some secluded alcove. Except yoh would actually have to turn up for that to happen.

Not deterred, Astarion tried sending you gifts and you sent him something equally pleasant back. Which he interpreted as 'thanks for the present, but not for the interest'. This had him gritting his teeth in annoyance but surprisingly not giving up.

Because he wanted, and craved and yearned. He wanted nothing more than sequester you in his rooms and not allow you to leave for weeks. Or until he felt that he fucked that whole ‘friendship’ idea out of your mind.

And this was when Astarion remembered that he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him. A small voice in the back of his mind chose to remind him how badly this could backfire. Astarion chose not to heed the warnings of said voice and immediately began plotting.

So he abused his power in every way, had you arrested time and time again, dragged through the city and thrown into prison to await his judgement. You should have been flattered really that he went to all that trouble simply to arrange a meeting. Honestly, most wanted nothing more than to have a passing glance from him, when you had the entirety of his attention!

Except something seemed different this time. When you walked into the courtroom and levelled him with a look previously reserved for your enemies, Astarion wondered if perhaps his plan was not quite as foolproof as he had thought.

But it was too late to back out. He assumed a sort of casually reclining bored noble position and waited for the Fist to read out what you were being charged with.

It was a surprisingly long list. Perhaps Astarion should have chosen a less zealous guard.

As each wrongdoing was reported to him, Astarion couldn’t help but worry about the way your face darkened by the minute as your eyes shot daggers. He was quite sure that it would have been actual steel piercing his flesh by now if it weren’t for all those witnesses.  

“Enough,” he lifted his arm with an imperious look, making the Fist pause, only half-done with his report.

“Your Honor?”

“I see that this matter does indeed require my special attention. Yet, seeing as this is the Hero of the Gate,” he paused for dramatic effect noting with annoyance that this seemed to have the desired effect only on the scribe, the Fist and whatever staff were about rather than you, “I may be persuaded to lift the charges.”

“How generous of you…. Your Honor,” you said in a reverent tone that contradicted your face expression.

Astarion gulped, to his confusion feeling both concerned and aroused.

"Well,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “I am nothing but generous."

"Of course. And earnest too!" you nodded. “Why, I am sure that your impartial perspective will allow you to deliver an objective verdict-"

"You forget yourself!” Astarion cut you off abruptly. He rather enjoyed your insolence, but appearances had to be kept up. “Justice should be a harsh lesson. To make sure that no such offense occurs in the future. I ought to administer the punishment where you stand. Make an example of you."

"Well, what are you waiting for, your Honour?” You leaned forward slightly and lowered your voice. “Punish me as you see fit."

Astarion thanked every god he could think of at that moment that he was required to wear loose fitting robes. Because he was already half-mast and carrying on with this conversation would eventually make his problem rather obvious to all present. That would be the Fist, the mages, the scribe, and whoever else was milling about that he generally did not notice. Wholly unacceptable.

"Do follow me, no guards required, thank you."

"But- but your Honor!” the Fist stammered, clutching the report to his chest. “What if she tries to assault you!"

"Trust me, I am perfectly capable of handling this one."

He pretended not to notice you rolling your eyes, motioning for you to follow as he started for his office.

You made your way down the long, winding halls, quite sure that you would be lost if it wasn’t for Astarion. Every now and then the surface of the walls would ripple, and a clerk would emerge from the depths of a secret passage and shuffle past, head bowed and curling in on themselves, only to sink into the opposite wall. If you were to press your fingertips against the surface, you were sure that you would find solid stone.

The narrow hallway widened and you walked into what appeared to be the archive, shelves filled with scrolls, stone tablets and books. A veritable cornucopia of every kind of crime carefully recorded and catalogued over centuries. You scowled as you thought of how your supposedly atrocious crimes were among the entries.

You walked up two flights of stairs and finally reached the door to what seemed to be Astarion’s office. The elf opened the door and stood aside, letting you walk in first. You scoffed and pushed past him, making a show of flicking your hair in his face. Astarion drew back a little with a grin, anticipating you doing something so childish.

The door clicked closed behind you and immediately magic hummed to life.

"Arcane Lock? Really?" you arched an eyebrow.

 "Just so we don't get disturbed, dearest."

Your eyes followed Astarion as he walked around his desk and sat in the beautifully upholstered chair. Just like everything else in his office, it looked eye-wateringly expensive and imported.

"How may I help you on this fine day?" he motioned for you to take a seat on the other side of the desk.

"How may you-"

You cut yourself off and took a few deep breaths before you said something terse that would get thrown into prison. Again. You took a seat, noticing immediately that your chair looked much less comfortable. Trust Astarion to make his company squirm in their seats.

"Astarion, I think-"

"Your Honor," he corrected you with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever! Tell me, oh great Judge Ancunín, ignoring the abuse of power, the made up charges and you potentially bribing the city guard into arresting me, what are you actually hoping to get out of this, hm?"

Astarion took off his glasses and started polishing them with careful, unhurried movements. Outwardly he was the epitome of calm and grace, the one in charge. Inwardly, however, he didn’t have a clue what to do now that he had your full, undivided attention.

Because eloquence in the courtroom apparently did not translate into eloquence with you. Astarion was kind of hoping that you would just somehow fall into his arms and then the two of you would forget about the battle of wits in favour of something far more engaging. But apparently you wanted a real, honest answer. And that would be tricky seeing as he didn’t know how to put what he felt into words.

The silence stretched, tensions high, your patience almost at its end.

"Do you know what? Fine,” you spat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don't answer that. It was stupid of me to think that you would treat me as a friend. I'm just going to pay a fine or whatever else I have to do and be out of your hair. You obviously have better things to do around here than talk to my lowly self."

"I never wanted to be your friend,” he interjected, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Well," you cleared your throat, annoyed at yourself for feeling hurt by his words. "You've made that plenty obvious."

Understanding that you misinterpreted his words, Astarion quickly grasped your sleeve as you prepared to rise.

"I- I am not sure exactly what I want,” he frowned, looking down at the polished wood of his desk.  “I have very little experience of wanting to be around others for the sake of enjoying their company. Getting acquainted with someone was always done with one purpose in mind, to climb the social ladder until I came out on top," he gave a little high-pitched laugh, running his fingers through his hair to brush it back.

"So when it comes to you, my dear, the last thing I want is to be your friend,” he took a deep breath, letting go of your sleeve to interlace his fingers to stop himself from fidgeting. “I have never wanted to be just friends with anyone less in my life.”

“And I don't know what you are to me,” he took a breath to summon the courage to carry on. “But when I look at you, I ache. We are good together. There is a potential for... something wonderful,” he did look up then, eyes locking with yours. “And I want to find out what that is, if you want that too."

You were stunned, momentarily speechless. Looking at him as if you were seeing him properly for the first time. Because it has been so long since you've seen that raw, earnest expression on his face. Body language filling in whatever blanks that were left behind by words.

"Oh hells, say something," he pleaded and put his hands on top of yours.

And then you were in his lap and your lips were on his, because you would be lying to yourself if you did anything but kiss him at that moment.

"You are still an ass," were the first words out of your mouth when you broke apart.

"Yes, dear," he kissed you jaw and then down your neck.

"I can't believe you had me arrested!"

"And I probably will again if you take days to answer my letters or otherwise ignore me," Astarion was already done with the ties of your outer clothing, discarding them by throwing them carelessly somewhere behind you.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to be escorted to the courthouse? I bet newspapers will have a field day with this!"

"And any journalist who writes a word about this will be brought before me."

You tried to get his robes off him but were having trouble with the diamond encrusted broach holding the cravat in place.

"Argh, why do you insist on decorating yourself with all of these useless baubles!"

"Well, someone has to support the local businesses. You do your bit to see Baldur's Gate restored, I do mine."

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, finally getting a glimpse of his chest and running your hands down soft skin with a sigh.

"Feeling happier dear?"

You felt a breeze on your shoulders and then Astarion's hands cupped your breasts.

"No, I'm still annoyed at you."

"Well then I must double my efforts."

Clerks scuttled about the endless, winding halls, each wanting to impress their superiors.

A loud thump was heard, and a tremor reverberated throughout the building, making the panes of glass zing in protests.

A young human clerk gasped, "What in the hells is going on?"

"Judge Ancunín is questioning the Hero of Baldur's Gate," another replied with a yawn, seemingly not worried.

"This sounded bad, do you think he will need a hand?"

"What, ya mean since his own hands are full?"

The other clerks tittered, picking up scrolls and putting them back on the shelves.

"Oi, stop being mean to the newbie!" someone called from a distance.

"Or be even more of an ass and let him barge in, that would be even more entertaining," a tiefling chortled without looking up from his scroll.

"So, no one is in danger?" He said slowly, not really sure whether he was meant to ignore whatever was going on during an interrogation.

"Nope, in fact, I'm pretty sure that next couple of days are going to be easy," the tiefling took another scroll and added it to the pile in front of him.

Another tremor went through the building, making an ink pot fall off the desk.

"What do you think is going on there?" the young clerk whispered to the co-worker that seemed fairly friendly, unlike the rest.

"Aw crap, don't tell me that no one explained the birds and the bees to you yet?"

"Oh. Oh!" He gasped, a blush dusting his cheeks as realisation set in.

A halfling carrying thick tomes past his desk stage-whispered to no one in particular, "This one is not the sharpest quill, right?"

"Shit! Code Arsehole! Judge Buttershed is in our wing!"

An elf burst in, every head turning in his direction. The clerks stopped laughing, one hurrying down the hall towards Judge Ancunín’s office whilst the rest got to work with impressive speed.

"Why are you even covering for Judge Ancunín?"

The tiefling rolled his eyes at the newbie but graciously chose to reply.

"Because in spite of his eccentric ways and borderline obsession with the Hero of the Gate, he is the best we've had in years! Do you want to have to rewrite all your scrolls because your handwriting is neither here nor there?"

"Gods, do you remember the 'no use of magic above Level 1 in governmental buildings’?"

"Pft, that was nothing,” a handsome elf with long hair put up in a severe, tight chignon scoffed. “I heard they used to have gremishkas just to make sure no one used magic on site.”

"He's here!"

Most would not understand what the commotion was even about. To a casual observer, Judge Buttershed would appear fairly unremarkable. Just a short, portly man with a sweaty face and capricious expression whose spectacles were woefully unfashionable even a century ago. His whole demeanour screamed that he disliked everyone in this room immensely and could not wait to go back to his wing, where according to him things were still done the right way, and settle into his chair in his office.

"I heard that Ancunín was late for court yesterday. Again. Although, judging by the disorder I see here,” he boomed, a little spittle flying forth, “this is of little surprise. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to give him a stern talk."

"Considering his status, your Honour, is that wise?”

Judge Buttershed looked down his nose at the half-elf who dared contradict him.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I will make sure to fire you first once Ancunín is out of here,” he pointed a fat finger at the clerk.

Expecting to see fear and reverence in forest-green eyes and finding neither, he cursed under his breath and made his way down the hall, muttering to himself and shooting hard looks at whoever happened to cross his path.

Thus assured that he was doing the only thing that would save Baldur’s Gate judicial system from collapse, Buttershed burst through the doors, all righteous anger, ready to deliver his judgement. Only to find his rival and the Hero of the Gate sipping tea, engaged in amicable conversation.

“Oh? To what do I owe the honour Buttershed?” Astarion quirked a brow. “What was important enough for you to barge into my office without making an appointment with my secretary?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, you- you- charlatan! You know full well that you have no business sullying these halls with your disgusting presence!”

“Astarion? Who is this? I will make sure to mention him the next time I pay a visit to Duke Ravengard,” your voice was pleasant enough but the look you levelled the intruder with spoke volumes. “In fact, I was going to call on Ulder tomorrow. Luckily, with us being old friends and all, I hardly need to bother to make an appointment!”

Judge Buttershed was defeated, and he knew it. Whilst he was prepared to take on Ancunín, feeling that he could successfully make a case and prove that the elf committed professional misconducts, the Supreme Marshall of the Flaming Fists was not someone to trifle with. Bidding his farewells to you only, he left the room in a flurry of silk and barely concealed complaints muttered under his breath.

“Now, my dear. That was most impressive,” Astarion purred, taking a sip of tea.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you shrugged, picking out a particularly scrumptious-looking biscuit and happily crunching on it. And then selecting one more, wondering if Astarion would mind terribly if you took the rest with you.

“I mean, you accuse yours truly, saying that I abuse my power. But are you any better?” he set his cup aside to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, your cheek and under your jaw. “It’s nice to know that the heroes are as bad as the rest of us.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Astarion,” you popped the biscuit into your mouth with a smile. “Now then, I must leave. Seeing as I missed most of my appointments for today and have to reschedule, don’t expect to see me for a while.”

His hands tightened round your middle, head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Must you leave?”

“For now. But I will make sure to come by in the next few days or so, okay? I miss you when I’m not around you,” you admitted, looking at him from underneath long lashes. “But there is so much to be done still… I feel selfish. For feeling so happy.”

Ah. And that was your most vexing quality that he exploited so readily when you first started travelling together. Your damnable selflessness. He loved you for it. He hated that you extended it to others.

Astarion sighed into your shoulder and withdrew. You felt the absence of his warmth so acutely that it took all your willpower to turn around and walk out of his door at that moment.

Astarion got you arrested on five more occasions before he finally summoned the courage to ask you to move in with him. Not for any particular reason. You were barely home as it was, so did it really matter which space you cluttered up with your armour and such? Which corner you tossed your boots in at the end of a long, tiring day?

Astarion, of course, being quite meticulous, made sure to organise your things for you. He began by colour-coding your undergarments drawer. To which he got a mixed response, considering he expected nothing but enthusiasm and gratitude.

A year into you living together, Astarion tossed a book onto your shared bed with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Dearest, I got you this. Considering you might not have enough reading material.”

“The ‘Court of Love’? Let me guess, you saw the title of this smutty little number and just couldn’t pass by?”

“Something like that. Would you indulge me by reading out a passage or two whilst I get ready to retire for the night?”

You narrowed your eyes. Something seemed off.

“What are you up to, Astarion?”

“My love! Your suspicions wound me!” Astarion crawled onto the bed and leaned against the bedframe.

You didn’t trust him for one second, but decided to play along for now, being a little curious yourself.

“The culprit was dragged in front of the magistrate. Her heavy breasts heaving with every laboured breath, nipples erect and pointing in his direction… Oh gods, this is terrible!” you chortled, making yourself comfortable and putting your head on Astarion’s bare chest.

“Isn’t it? Go on then, I want to hear what happens next,” he grinned, twirling a strand of your hair around his long fingers.

You giggled and turned the page.

“The magistrate rose in one swift movement, his eyes flashing and muscles flexing. He moved slowly, a predator circling his prey. Her eyes followed him, heart hammering as he breasts rose and fell with every breath, her nipples-  What is with this writer and nipples?” you rolled your eyes.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

Astarion was clearly having a whale of a time, though he seemed to be familiar with the text, his attention directed at you, as if wanting to make sure he caught every reaction, every expression.

“Are the nipples meant to be moving around so much? They could be out there directing foot traffic! I’m guessing that you picked this up at Sharess’?”

“Indeed, I did! And who are you to judge the quality of this book!” Astarion said with an air of a mother defending her child. “I’ll have you know, it was sold out in hours! I worked hard to get my hands on this copy!”

Then something clicked in your mind. You read the next two pages quickly.

“Magistrate Arunin and the Hero of the Coast? Astarion, is this based on us?” you looked at the cover at the book to check the name of the author. And sure enough, it was the Fist that arrested you for littering and then two more times after that.

“I’m going to kill him!” you growled, throwing the book on the floor. “And I don’t mean that in a cutesy way. I mean I will literally run my sword through him,” you pushed against Astarion’s chest. The elf gripped you tighter to stop you from leaving, as you were clearly intent on making good on your promise in spite of the late hour.

“Being a slave to the quill is truly a dangerous profession these days,” Astarion laughed, flipping you over and manoeuvring you so swiftly that you felt a little dizzy until he had you pinned against the bed.

“Now, whilst that murderous glint in your eyes is truly fetching, I think our energies would be better spent on each other rather than on some writer. Besides,” he went on, popping button after button open and pulling your shirt open slowly, fingers trailing along your skin, “I hear that he is planning on writing a sequel. And I find myself eager to read what depraved adventures the magistrate and the hero will get up to.”

Your words of outrage were quickly cut of by insistent lips as Astarion kissed you, tongue darting out through the smallest opening in his mouth to coax your own to open. And then there was no more talking, just groans and sighs, and gasps and moans.

As night bled into morning and you were fast asleep, Astarion congratulated himself on his usual practical sagacity, as once again his sound judgement resulted in an outcome most pleasant. Perhaps you were not keen on his brilliant plan at first, but you had no reasons to complain about his ways of going about getting what he wanted now.

And thus assured that he was always right, Astarion pulled you closer and closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue

[ravenwriter16]

Creative Minds Think Alike

Episode One--Episode Two--Episode Three--Episode Four--Episode Five--Episode Six--Halloween Special pt. 1--Halloween Special pt. 2 (Here!)--Halloween Special pt. 3

Happy Halloween!

Come and join me on all the fun the castle is having with our annual Halloween Festival!

Enjoy! ~~~~~~

(POV: Written by @amymaleneart!)

The spooky atmosphere of the Halloween festival is almost intoxicating. Everywhere I look, I am just filled with giddiness seeing the wonderful decorations for all hallows eve. Something about the wonderful autumn colors, along with witchcraft purples and ebony blacks, fills me with such joy that it’s like drinking serotonin straight from the tap.

Hmmmmm…I wonder what that would taste like?

I turn back to the buffet table I have been painting all day to fee all the hungry ghouls and goblins. I open up my blackened hand, as dark as obsidian to reveal my yellow (my favorite color) paw pads that are adapted to my human-like hands. I concentrate and watch as my toe beans go through a rainbow of colors until each pad settles on the palette desire to create this new beverage.

I get to work dipping my claws to sketch out a new punch bowl in the shape of a pumpkin, with its top cut off that’s made out of iridescent crystal. I wait for my magic to solidify it into actual crystal from the wet paint it’s made from.

Next I create splashes of tints and hues of milky oranges and creams. As I watch the liquid fall into the punch bowl, I quickly draw up ice cubes of bats and eyeballs. Each newly formed hardened water plops into the refreshing beverage, quickly chilling the now completed masterpiece.

I reach over to one of the many paper cups to use to dip into the punch for a taste test.

“Color! Are you really going to use your dirty paws to get that drink?” cries my overly concerned golden friend. I roll my heterochromatic blue and green eyes. But he’s right, this would be a bit unsanitary. I swiftly draw up a punch spoon to match the bowl. With ease, I scoop up the attractive beverage to finally taste test one of my creations.

Placing the cup against my lips on my gray face, the citrusy sparking beverage of strawberries and peaches flow down my throat. The sensation of nostalgia, happiness and calm spreads out from my stomach to the rest of my furry body. My black with yellow tip fox hears wiggle in delight at these wonderful flavors.

I hear a deep gruff voice chuckling behind, causing me to look up at my other blue and grey friend. “If I was going to guess based on your reaction, that punch is very delicious,” says the cosmodian alien named Dr. Moontiedea Obquartz, Moon to his friends.

“Why of course it is!” shouts the other cosmodian alien known as Dr. Sunafetia Obquartz, otherwise known as Sun. “Color is the best chef in the entire galaxy. Even the best in this dimension.”

I watch in silence as the twin brothers talk, sipping my drink. I am so happy these two, as well as Captain Dawntitus Eclipseso, aka Eclipse to a very few, had agreed to help me out at the humongous buffet table. This isn’t the first time they have been outside of the canvas. But it always made them feel a little daunting to find out your characters in a story. Thankfully they quickly become okay as the memories from their previous visits return to them.

This is something that always occurs whenever they leave their world thanks to this castle’s magic. It helps keep the characters from losing their sanity thinking they are “not real” But they are always real to each other and that’s what matters.

I take a moment to admire the assortment of colorful dishes I spent all day painting. From snacks of ghost shaped crackers with cheese and meats to baked pizza balls in shapes of mini pumpkins and just about anything else you could imagine, I can create. There’s even a section for the guest that would have some dietary restrictions. And of course all the sweets you can eat.

Because I am not paying attention, I fail to notice that my cup in snatched from my hand by Moon.

“Moonie! That’s not very nice,” Sun yells at his brother. Moon chuckles in response like the gremlin that he is. After taking a sip from my cup, he hums in delight as he says, “This taste wonderful Color. I didn’t realize you put zofifinas in this punch.”

“Oooo, let me try.” Sun says excitedly as he takes my cup from Moon’s hands. I laugh noticing that Sun had indirectly stolen my cup too. He sips the drink and his six ears also wiggles in delight that they look like it’s spinning around his face. “This does taste amazing! But all I taste is the robingreengo.”

I giggle a little bit loudly, my voice sounding like windchimes. They both look at me with an inquisitive look. I settle down my laughter to hand sign to them, -That’s because the drink changes depending on who drinks it and what makes them happy. I call it my “happy juice”.-

“It’s definitely making me happy,” says Sun

“I got to say, it’s still weird seeing you with only two arms. Luckily the magic stones Miss Raven has provided translates you well enough,” Moon comments.

Yes, the magic does help with any translation of any language, real or made up. But I still have my own magic place on my y/n, Stardust. Even in a place like this, the language barrier between them and the aliens is still there. Not even another person can translate for Stardust when it comes to Sun, Moon and Eclipse. I even kept the illusion going by telling them people would be dressing up in many different costumes. And the biggest trend right now is to be dressed as a human that’s also wearing a costume.

I know I’m lying to them. I didn’t think it’s a good idea to completely ruin their reality.

Speaking of, where are Eclipse and Stardust?

I look around the ballroom at the many faces of character and creators. If we were back in my canvas, my aliens and I would be four times bigger than just about everyone here. But thankfully, I was able to shrink us down to be able to accommodate. Even though my aliens are still close to 7 feet tall. Thanks to that, I finally spot the dark calico cosmodian, Eclipse, as he is gathering the little children together for the next activity.

I couldn’t help but smile as I also spotted my harpy chicks, Sundrop and Moondrop, with their Caretaker y/n standing by.

I giggle at how adorable both little cuties are dressed up as little ravens, wearing a cape of black feathers and a mask with a protruding beak. Even y/n dressed up like a scarecrow holding a plastic jack-o-lantern filled with their treats. I almost suspect they got the idea for the costumes from our host. Especially after their last visit when they got the new plushies from her.

I had debated on what costume I could wear, but settled on an ornate witch’s hat with black feathers that shimmer and shine with hidden rainbows of colors. I do love colors after all. Besides, I’m always in disguise in my fae fox form. Otherwise I have my usual colorful overalls and long sleeved shirt.

The chicks have been having a wonderful time playing games and trying to eat as much gummy worms and sweets before it’s taken away to be saved for later. Sundrop’s very pale yellow eyes stare in wonder. at the decorations. While Moondrop rosy eyes stare hungrily at a particular plate of cricket cookies on my table.

Finally I spot Stardust talking with some other y/ns. Sun had changed the appearance of the suit to black with glowing neon spider webs for the festivities. It took a lot of convincing the three brothers to get them to let Stardust wander around freely. But even they deserve to have a good time. Besides, I reminded them that their wristlets can track their movement.

I wonder when Raven would be stopping by? I got something special I wanted to give her.

Speaking of the devil, Raven quickly runs over to the buffet, tackling me in a tight hug before pulling back, “Good evening! Your costume looks amazing!”

I laugh at the archivist’s antics, returning the passionate hug with a happy wag of my yellow-tipped black tail. I pull away so I can sign, - All I did was wear a hat. Nothing special. –

Raven steps back and crosses her arms while leaning forward a bit, “It’s a very COOL hat!”

She laughs before scanning the options at the buffet table.

- Well, what do you think? I hope I made enough food to last the evening. –

“It all looks delicious.” She praises while picking up a ghost cracker. She takes a small bite and her face lights up. “And tastes delicious as well.”

She looks around once more, spotting Dr. Sun and Dr. Moon as they talk around the punch bowl. “Glad to see those two again. Especially after peeling all those potatoes…”

- Well, you should have thought of that before picking a fight with Roxanne in front of the captain. It was almost like you wanted to get punished with kitchen duties.- I tease Raven.

“Hey!” Raven meant to be stubborn but I’m guessing my happy energy overwhelms that and she ends up laughing with a small snort. “How is the Private by the way? Not causing you any trouble I hope.” She asks while picking up another treat. Her feathers bristle in delight when she tries it.

But before I could answer her, a little silver fluffy troublemaker of a chick yanks on her wing as he demands attention.

She grunts in pain, dropping her unfinished treat. Raven looks down at her feet, smiling at the small harpy. Eyes widen as she takes in his costume. She crouches down and ruffles his head feathers, “Such a cutie~! You make a wonderful raven Moon.”

She gets completely ignored as he snatches the cricket cookie off the ground to consume. Yet he purrs at the complement and allows pets.

“Moondrop!” cries y/n, causing the mischievous bird to flinch. “What did I tell you about stealing?” We all look up to see zir running over with Sundrop trailing behind them. Ze quickly scoops up Moondrop, who has already finished eating his prize. “I’m so sort about that Raven. You’re not hurt are you?”

She tilts her head and smiles at zir. “I’m alright. Don’t worry.” She gives Moon a long look before scooping him up into her arms in a flash. She spins him around making zooming noises before setting him back down on the ground, laughing. “Sorry Moonie. You just remind me too much of my little brother.”

The dizzy chick giggles because he found it to be more fun than he thought. But then Sundrop starts screeching, “ME NEXT! ME NEXT!!” The jealous yellow chick jumps up and down, flapping his yellow wings, causing a few black feathers to fall off.

Raven chuckle, giving both me and y/n a “what can you do” look. She crouches down and holds her arms out to the yellow harpy, who almost knocks her over when he runs into her embrace.

Raven steadies herself and lifts the chick high in the air. Making high trills as she spins him around. After setting him down, her hands over around him as he stumbles a bit.

Both chicks giggle with such glee it’s as sweet as the sugared confectionaries on my buffet tables. I reach into a big cauldron pot full of candy and pull out two lollipops of colorful swirls, that’s as big as their heads. The harpy chicks’ eyes grow so large they might pop out of their feather heads. As quick as lightning, the both snatch their treasure and run towards the closest hay bales, with their Caretaker running after them.

I tap Raven on her shoulder to get her attention. -So that’s a great trick from my little Moondrop. Now it’s time for your treat.-

Raven raises a brow, tilting her head in question, “My treat?”

A wicked smile growing on my face that matches perfectly with my witch’s hat. I turn and whistle to my aliens to get their attention. Sun’s six ears shoots up in the air and asks, “Oh! Do you need it now?”

I nod yes.

Dr. Sun smiles as he ducks down under the table and pulls out a covered pie carried basket made out of willow wicker, walnut wooden lid and black leather straps. I sign, -Thank you,- as I take it from him, being careful not to drop it. I turn to Raven and present the basket to her.

Raven takes a step back after seeing my smile. She laughs nervously, her feathers puffing up, "Color...What are you up to?"

I cock my head and wait patiently for the nervous archivist to take the basket.

Raven sighs and reaches out, taking the offered item. She gently lifts the top of the basket open to see what was inside.

A waft of spices and steam escapes from the basket to reveal the silky smooth mashed potatoes of a familiar emerald green color. There is a silhouette of a raven bird made from blackened chickpeas, on top of my alien version of a shepherd’s pie.

-Since you were so helpful in the Kitchen, I made this pie just for you.-

Raven blinks a few times, mouth hanging open in shock. She tries to form words but the amazing aroma of the pie leaves her speechless. So instead she holds the basket up with one hand and uses her other to tightly hug me. Her wings beat happily behind her, accidentally hitting a poor staff bot.

I hug her right back with my own tail swish back and forth to end up knocking another staff bot to the ground.

I can hear Dr. Moon laughing behind us. “You all better be careful and stay clear of the danger zone.”

I lean back and sign, -Glad you’re not sick of space potatoes.- “Not when they’re in the form of such a delicious looking pie.” Raven muses, putting a hand on her hip. “Makes peeling all those blasted things worth it.”

I shake my head at how silly she can get. But I’m glad she’s out archivist and not the some stuck up snob.

I got her a cup of happy juice, which gladly took from me. -Just be certain to take a moments and actually eat it. We don’t want you to end up with an upset stomach because of all the sweets.-

“Don’t worry,” Sun chimes in, “Moonie and I made sure to bring plenty of bismuth subsalicylate just in case. As well as any medical equipment for an emergency. Just send them to us and we’ll take care of them.”

I snap my fingers as I recall something I was asked to tell Raven. -Captain Eclipse wanted me to remind you that if you need his help with organizing defenses against the trolls, all you have to do is call for him. He has experiences handing such “characters” and knows how to handle.-

Raven’s shoulders drop more as she breathes out a sigh of relief and gratitude. “That would be wonderful. Please give him my thanks.”

I didn’t realize how tensed up she was until she made that sigh. I tilt my head as I feel a little bit concerned for my friend. -Are you okay? Is there something the matter?-

Raven moves the basket’s handle to the crook of her arm to gesture with her hands as she explains. “I’ve been getting reports of suspicious activities going on around the Castle. And our security is already stretched as thin as it is with the recent council’s inspection.” Raven shakes her head and smiles once more, “So I’m very happy that Eclipse will help with guarding the castle.”

I take a moment to think before I open up my paw again to activate my magic. Quickly in the air, I paint up a little whistle that looks like a phoenix. I hand it to Raven signing, -You can blow this anywhere on the castle grounds and Eclipse will hear it. It will also send up a warning flair to your location.-

Raven tales the whistle, eyes starting to well up. She holds the whistle close to her chest and bows, wings spreading out along the ground as she does so. “THANK YOU SO MUCH!”

My ears flinch at the very loud sound, although I make sure to keep a smile on my face. -Easy there with the volume. I can be considered a mute, but I’m not deaf.- I laugh with my joyous sounds as I give her one final hug. -Now you need to get going so you can eat that before it gets cold.-

Raven blushes from embarrassment and nods her head, thanking me one last time before saying goodbye. She goes to leave but then turns around and snatches a few treats from the buffet table. She put them in the small free space in the basket then heads on her merry way, waving over her shoulder.

“Color! We need some more mummy jalapeno poppers. Moonie ate the whole plate!” Sun tattled on her brother.

“Hey, you ate some of it too!” he growls back.

I just shake my head at the two. Oh well, I suppose a creator’s work is never done.

(POV: Written by @amarynthian-chronicles)

Raven walks down the path, taking in the many Residents enjoying the festivities. She had a simple masquerade make covering her eyes and a black cloak over her shoulders. She has yet to notice the group of people walking towards her.

Playful shadows began to dance along the walls and the floors, as if completely holding a mind of their own, and soon the cackles of twin vampiric aristocrats were heard. Marquis Moon and Viscount Sun were about to enact their silly pranks on dear Raven, but a stern voice stopped them. “Behave, boys, you know the rules. Hello, hello, Raven, how are you?”

Raven turns her head, smiling as she takes in her dear friend. “Good evening Lady Amary! How are you this Halloween night?”

A soft smile grace’s Amary’s features as she conjures a little basket full of sweets and gifts for her friend, “The boys and I are making sure that the entire castle area is secure and we are having lots of fun while doing so! We did catch a few wayward monsters trying to sneak in, but I bribed them with treats to obey.”

“Bribe? Or lure in so that the Viscount and the Marquis can play tricks on them?” Raven asks with a mischievous smirk and a small tilt of her head.

Amary giggled, “Well, the boys do need some playmates for enrichment, and it is better for them to mess around with demons and monsters than with our esteemed guests here, correct? Besides, it is fun hearing them bicker. Sun keeps giving the monsters unsolvable riddles and Moon is trying to trick them into soul contracts. Dear Eclipse is oddly calm, I wonder if he is secretly listening to us.” Amary looked at the shadow on the wall.

Raven shivers at the thought of the grand duke, eyes darting to every shadow that jumps out at her. Black feathers bristling from anticipation.

The shadows on the wall were deceptively calm and almost mocking as they tried to create a false idea of safety. Amary raised an eyebrow, before looking over at the jewels in the nearby decorations, as well as many metallic objects. “His eyes are everywhere where precious stones and metal resides.”

Raven shudders before snapping her head to one gem in particular. She grumbles then snaps her fingers, purple mana glowing from her hand. She grumbles harder when the gem dims a bit and a cold presences takes its place behind her, much like a grim reaper.

A dark cloak threatens to engulf her, almost as if making a parody of a comforting embrace, golden eyes glowing as the grim aristocrat spoke, “Greetings, dear one, I heard that you have been curious as to my whereabouts. Have I satisfied your curiosity now? I should be compensated for such a service with a dance.” Amary cleared her throat and reprimanded him, “Clipsy knock it off, you are scaring her. Don’t make me take your Wi-Fi again.”

Raven snorts and looks over her shoulder at Eclipse with a raised brow, “You have Wi-Fi? Old man?”

The Grand Duke made a slight grumble a cranky purr, huffing “I do prefer to watch certain documentaries on that “inter webs” you children use nowadays.”

“Pfft! ‘Inter webs’?” Raven covers her mouth as she shakes from restrained laughter. Her wings flapping in amusement. She looks at Amary with an expression that says, “I’m sorry but I can’t help it”.

Amary giggled as well “Isn’t he adorable? You should have seen him when he was trying to write something on the phone, his claws were so hard to type with and he kept poking the phone!”

Raven snorts again hearing the duke harrumph behind her. She clears her throat, trying to act serious. But it was like trying to keep a wave upon the sand. “I’m sorry, my lord.” She bows to Eclipse, snicking.

Eclipse merely smiled, conjuring a beautiful dark spinel gem, “Amuse yourself all you wish, the sweetest laugh is the last one. I am still hoping you would one day accept my offer and bear this jewel I give to you. Immortality awaits you, little bird.” Amary cleared her throat, “Clipsy, could you give me the security report while you are already trying to entrap poor dear Raven?” Eclipse made a slight grumble, “The perimeter of the castle is secure, although I did sense some dark energies from the Purple Threat. My shields will hold him.”

Raven sighs and rubs her temple, “Those freaks have been trying to breach the defenses for a while…thank you duke for capturing one!” Then she crosses her arms while looking at his offered gem, “and I would rather share a dance with the viscount and marquis than become your slave.”

As soon as she said that, a playful cackle came from a nearby painting, as Viscount Sun came out of it as if it were its own living dimension “truly? Did I hear that correctly?” A nearby shadow began morphed into an orchestra of darkness, Marquis Moon appearing as the musical maestro. “We do accept the dancing offer. No take-backsies, little bird.” The twins were quite silly. Amary reached for a glass of wine to sip on “It is fascinating how my boys manage to both handle such complex security while trying to seduce people.”

Raven rolls her eyes playfully, “I’ll say…I think it was last week when I was working on preparations for the festival when a certain marquis thought it’d be funny to dump a bucket of paint on me.” Raven puts her hands on her hips, “Any of this ringing a bell Moon?”

Fittingly, Moon conjured a pretty little golden bell and began to ring it “Gracious goodness, it does seem to ring one! Do pardon my mischief, it was all to bring laughter, nightingale.”

Raven covers her mouth as she snorts, amused by Moon’s antics. She turns to face Amarynthia once more, “I do hope you’ve been enjoying the festivities and not only patrolling the area.”

Amary reached at the nearby tray of food and took a cupcake, “indeed! I love the entirety of the decorations and the happy vibes that are gathered in these halls tonight. Not to mention that Moonie here will be bringing his spooky band later to play some symphonies.”

Raven nods her head, smiling at Moon before giving him a small bow, “I look forward to your performance!”

The Archivist straightens up, the feathers on her wings shifting with the occasional breeze. One of her raven familiars flies down in front of Amary as Ravenwriter reaches into her cloak. “I got you something actually…” With a shout of joy, Raven pulls out a small box with small leaping cats carved into the wood, “This is one of those…uhm Special items you’ve been looking for! I hope you will find them useful!” The actual raven on the ground lets out an affirmative caw.

Amary makes a happy noise as she accepts the gift, “Thank you so much, my dear Raven! I have some treats for you, as well!” She waves her hand and suddenly a large red box appears. She opened it, revealing magnificent chocolates, “All for you!”

“Oh my goodness!” Raven squeals, taking the offered box of goodies. “These look amazing! And the designs are adorable.” Each chocolate piece was shaped either as a sun, or crescent moon…and there were a few cat themed ones as well.

Amary smiled and squeaked with joy, “I am glad you like them, Raven! Anything for our Archivist, you deserve the best with all the hard work you do for our castle. I see so many lovely guests have gathered.”

Raven beams, looking out fondly at the crowd of creators enjoying the festivities. Some even choose to bring their families, friends, and partners.  It was a night of joy.

“Indeed. I’m so honored to have so many residents under my protection. And I’m thankful for all they do to help out.” Raven turns and looks at Amary, “Thank you.”

Amary conjured a cute pair of Sun and Moon plushies, “Before you go, take these, for protection! They are very powerful!”

Raen chuckles, “Do you mean actual power, or just their adorableness?” Both plushies were soft to the touch and incredibly cute. Raven thinks back to her littlest sibling as she looks at the toys.

Amary giggled, “a little bit of both! The more you love them, the more power they gain as shields and good luck charms!”

Raven smiles, “In that case, prepare to be the smothered in an avalanche of affection you humble plushies!” She laughs and places the dolls and chocolates in her basket. Then she looks back up at the vampires behind Amary. “I’m afraid I have more duties to attend to, my lords. That dance will have to wait.”

The three vampires made rather adorable disappointed noises and pouts as if they were spoiled puppies. Sun and Moon in particular, “We shall be waiting nevertheless! An eternity if we must!” The Grand Duke was about to say something, but a stern glance from Amary made him remain quiet. He knew he had to be a good boy now.

“Well, I’ll let you continue keeping all of us safe.” Raven smiles, “once you’re done with your patrol, why don’t we hang out with the others for the rest of the festivities?”

The vampire twins perk up in joy at hearing that, “does that mean you shall dance with us, precious Archivist?” Once more, Eclipse too was about to say something, but he comically elbow nudged by Amary, losing his breath. Amary happily spoke “of course! It would be my pleasure!”

Raven chuckles before giving one last bow to the creator and her vampire guards. She then heads on her ways, wings shifting to better accommodate to her steps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thank you @amymaleneart and @amarynthian-chronicles for your amazing writing! It was a blast and honor to work with you both again!

If you guys don't know who these creators and their AUs? GO check them out! That was the end of pt. 2! Head here for pt. 3

[miutonium]

I can simply just draw Utonium normally with a stupid rectangle head but I need to make this boring man as hot as I want him to be and let me tell you, adding an extra line at his jaw is probably the best creatuve decision that I made 😗

[cetoddle]

okay. i am going to continue being stupid. and lowkey embarrassing. and a big stupid fucking idiot. i don’t know what’s wrong w me just ignore me forever okay? okay <3

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone. 

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically. 

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short. 

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.” 

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties. 

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks. 

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you. 

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below. 

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him. 

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth. 

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling. 

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible. 

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear. 

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer. 

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states. 

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump. 

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.” 

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

[heechwe]

but daddy i love him | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated.��

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Hypnotic Affection

Yandere Merman x Mermaid Reader x Merman

TW: manipulation, hypnotism/ drugging, tentacles, kidnapping, yandere themes, delusional behavior, etc.

Since you were young, you had been betrothed to a shark merman named Marin. Marin was a cantankerous individual and was quite rude to you since you weren’t a shark mermaid. The only reason the two of you were even betrothed was so your clans would stopped fighting… yet you knew you’d be miserable with Marin.

You often attempted to court him with various shells you’d find but he’d always rebuff you. “These shells are too small, you’ll need something better than some measly clams to have me look your way longer than a few minutes.”

His words were always as sharp as his teeth. His clawed hands would always chuck your clam shells away no matter how pretty they were, it broke your heart. You really wanted to make this marriage work… maybe he’d budge if you found a conch shell?

You bowed your head to your fiancè before you headed off back toward the sea. Marin had no idea this would be the last time he’d see you in awhile…

You swam farther and farther from home until you spotted a conch. You were on the edge of deep sea territory, so it was best to be careful or else you’d get swept up in the current… but it would be worth it if you’d gift the conch to Marin and he’d finally accept you, right?

Your eyes lit up as you slowly swam towards it but you were quickly snatched up in large tentacles, a screech left your lips when the tentacles tighter around you.

A different merman quirked their head at you as they shimmied out from their hiding spot in the coral. “A-a mermaid? I’m sorry.”

The coral colored tentacles quickly released you before ghostly pale hands began to examine your body in worry. “I just thought you were a fish… I hadn’t meant to lunge at you.”

You were surprised by how shy this merman was, his hands trembled as he shakily checked your arms to make sure there were no marks.

“I’m perfectly okay, I’m (your name). What’s your name?” The octopus merman’s cheeks went aflame when you asked him for his name.

“I-I’m Ren! I’m an octopus.” Ren’s tentacles folded into one another as if they were comforting his nerves. “I still apologize for scaring you… I’ve never seen another mermaid before.”

You smiled at Ren and offered him your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ren. I hadn’t meant to trespass your area… it seems I wandered a bit too far.”

“I-it’s no issue at all!” Ren beamed, his dark eyes filled with stars while his tentacles flailed in excitement. “If you want, you can stay in my burrow with me! It’s quite comfy in here.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” (Your name) beamed at Ren who ushered her inside. The merman began to become a bit jittery when she accepted so easily. He’s been wanting a mate for so long… and now she was finally here!

Ren sealed his den shut as soon as she swam in. His tentacles blocked the exit watch a large boulder. “It’s to keep predators out!” Ren reassured her as he lead her around his small home. She marveled at the various jars and vegetation he kept. “I’m a sea witch.”

“Wow! That’s really fascinating!” Ren blushed again when you didn’t mock him for being a sea witch. It made his heart flutter. You were so sweet and that made him even happier… the only issue was that you were a different species than him…

“How about I show you a few tricks?” Ren was so happy when you accepted. The octopus merman showed you a very simple spell that made his home brighter. He was thrilled when you clapped your hands and smiled. Ren was so happy to no longer be alone… and he would never let you go.

Ren offered you a meal and you happily ate with him. The vegetation made your brain a bit foggy, but the taste was delightful. Had Ren always been so attractive?

Ren smiled at your sleepy form as you yawned. “Here, how about you spend the night? It’ll be so much safer for you that way.”

You nodded and allowed him to lead you into his den. His tentacles pulled you into an embrace as he smiled. This was just too easy…

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you entered Ren’s burrow since Ren would often feed you every time you tried to leave. Ren made you such lovely meals that you slowly began to forget what even brought you to this end of the sea. You really liked Ren, so why did you have to leave again? You felt as if there was some strange phenomenon happening around you and yet you didn’t care anymore… you liked being with Ren!

Meanwhile, Marin was in shambles. You had been missing for a week now. You always showed up every other day with your stupid smile as you held up some shells you found to him… you were never away from him for long. Marin searched your home in the anemones and he searched all the reefs around yet you were nowhere to be found… were you okay? You didn’t try to go find a bigger shell for him, did you?

You didn’t know it, but Marin always gathered up all the shells he’d throw. He just wanted to look tough in front of you… but now he knew it was a mistake. You wouldn’t risk your life for a shell when you were already engaged to him, right? You were already enough… you were always enough.

A month had went by and you were still missing. Marin now took more desperate measures of swimming out farther and farther… until he spotted a conch. The shark merman rushed towards the shell and began to examine the ocean floor until he spotted a sealed off den. The merman quickly swam toward the rock and searched for a crack until he could peek in there. The sight before him horrified him.

Ren’s purple appendages slid up and down your delicate tail as his hands grasped at your hips. “Would you like to be my mate, (your name)?” Your head felt so dizzy and you could only nuzzle into him. Ren smiled down at your obedient form. What a perfect mate you’d be! It was just so easy to ensnare you and to hypnotize you with his potions… it was all so easy-

Ren was shocked when the boulder to the den was shoved open and a shark merman lunged at him. Ren screamed when one of his appendages were bitten off by the shark. Marin’s large gray form quickly scooped you up and made a swim for it. Ren tried to snatch you back, but Marin easily evaded the tentacles. Ren began to scream as he tried to give chase, but the blood gushing from his missing arm would attract more sharks… he’d have to come back for you another day…

Marin didn’t look back once until the two of you were an hour away. The shark set you down on a rock as he began to examine your body for any wounds. “You’re okay now… we’re going home.”

You tilt your head to the side in confusion at Marin’s words. Who was this merman and why did he seem so familiar? “But I was home? I live with Ren.”

Marin felt a sob rack through him before he bent down and pulled you into a hug. What had that octopus done to you? Marin would protect you this time, he’d help you get back to normal. “You’re safe now… you’re safe.”

You often sat in a trance in Marin’s den. It was as if you were in a whole other world despite being next to him, a world where Marin could no longer reach you.

“Look! I have all the shells you gave me on the walls.” Marin gestured to the various colorful clamshells with a smile. “I’m sorry I was mean before, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like you! I really do care for you, I swear.”

Marin was filled with hope each day when you’d glance at the shells but his hopes would always be dashed when you’d tilt your head off to the side. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Marin... I’m your fiance.” Marin was so frustrated that you couldn’t remember him. He had tried everything… from taking you to every spot you two grew up together to your old den, yet nothing clicked. You only ever wanted to ask about that damned octopus merman.

Marin often cuddled beside you when it was time to sleep. His muscular arms felt so strange around you compared to Ren’s slender ones. You really missed Ren…

“Psst, (your name).” You perked up when you heard Ren’s voice. You gave him a big smile before you slinked out of Marin’s arms. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly swam towards the octopus merman who scooped you into a tight hug. A big smile on his face when you accepted him. He almost felt bad for Marin if it wasn’t for the fact that the shark merman was the entire reason the two of you met! What a sucker…