#f/o tag I guess because I f/o him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarnspice630 · 1 month

Text

Fancall Fiasco - Hongjoong

"Fan service my ass! Guess I’m going to have to remind you exactly who you belong to, hm?"

•pairing: meandom!nonidol!hongjoong x idol!fem!reader

•word count: 4k

•tags: reader has an idol stage name that they go by, established relationship, mdni, smut, dirty filthy pure smut, possesive and MEAN hongjoong, degradation, name calling (whore, slut, cheater, etc), hair pulling, oral (m&f receiving), deep throating, belt restraints, spanking, slight spitting, edging, overstimulation, biting/marking up (f receiving), slight cnc(?)...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Being an idol, you have to provide fan service to your loyal followers, however your boyfriend thinks you went a little too far with this one male fan and decides he needs to remind you who you belong to.

A/N: Phew howdy this is FILTHYYYY! Longest fic I've ever written too I think. After my call with Hongjoong, I couldn't stop thinking about if the roles were reversed and he got all jealous and possessive...Definitely need him to treat me this way. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Your group recently had a comeback, and to promote album sales and meet your amazing fans, you were doing 2-3 fancall events every single day. It was exhausting to see some familiar faces and having to talk to the same person multiple times in one day, but as an idol, you have to put up with that kind of stuff and just do your job.

The outfit your stylist put you in was super edgy and went with the concept for your recent album. It was a little revealing, but you didn’t mind too much cause you felt pretty. A black crop top with a metal o-ring right in the middle of your chest, a hooded top with the shoulders exposed that had grommets and rings down the arms, and connected to this ring on the hoodie top were two belt-like chains that went down your sides and hooked together in the back underneath the hood. Many of the fans you talked to today, mostly men, but occasional female fans, complimented you and said how beautiful you looked today. It was always refreshing getting to talk to the fellow female fans, as it felt more like girlhood than the male fans just trying to get in your pants. Although there was this one fan in particular, that was unbelievably handsome. After the staff member removed the paper from the camera, you were met with a gorgeous man, around the same age as you, you assumed.

“A-ah! H-Hi Hana!” He waved to you and seemed slightly nervous.

“Hi there-!” You quickly glanced down at your note, sitting next to the album you were supposed to sign for the fan. “Felix! So nice to meet you!” You said with a smile and waved with your free hand. You stared back at the fan with sparkling eyes, and your head tilted to the side as he waved back to you.

“I’m so excited to talk to you today…ah sorry, I’m so nervous.” He covered his face with his hands but left his eyes visible so he could stare at you.

"Ahh, don’t be nervous; I’m excited to talk to you too. Actually, you’re very handsome.” You said with a smirk and leaned closer to the camera. You watched as the fan lit up with excitement and heard a tiny gasp come from him.

“Oh- t-thank you so much. Y-you’re very pretty too.”

“Oh am I~? That’s so nice to hear. Thank you so much.” You continued to smile and bat your eyes at the fan, enjoying how flustered you were making him.

“Y-yes, I actually had a question for you, if I can ask.”

“Yes of course!” You took this opportunity to look down at the album, pick your favorite picture from this specific version of the album, and place your signature in the corner, along with a couple hearts for some fan service. The fan asked their question while you were signing.

“I was wondering how you came up with your stage name?” Ah yes, the question many fans ask you because they love to hear the clever response that you came up with.

“Ahh actually, so the number 1 in Korean is "hana,” and it has a lot of importance to me. It’s my favorite number, I was the first person to join our group, and I know I’ll always be the number 1 in your heart.” You took your time saying your response to drag out the time, looking around the room to pretend you were thinking about it, and then at the very end flashed a finger heart and a wink to the fan, to which he melted and covered his face with his hands again.

“Wow…you’re so cool Hana and so pretty.”

“Thank you so much!” You covered your smile with your hand to act all shy and cutesy. As the fans say, the company's rent was due, your fan service today has been insanely good. You heard the familiar sound of the timer going off, meaning the call was coming to an end. “Aww I’m so sorry Felix our time is up.” You said with a pout and brought your hands to a praying motion.

“Aww okay. Bye Hana! Thank you so much!” He waved to you and smiled.

“Bye handsome! Thank you!” You winked one last time as you waved, and the staff covered the camera with paper and ended the call. You made sure the call was done before you let out a sigh of relief and dropped your smile. The staff member that was helping you out for the day just smiled and chuckled the slightest bit.

“You were working hard there.” She said as she grabbed the album from you, placed the sticky note with the fan's order on it, and set it off to the side.

“Ahh yeah, he was cute though! Very sweet boy. It’s fans like that that make me love my job.” You took a couple sips out of the water bottle the staff provided for you and relaxed for a few seconds before the next call started.

–

The events were done for the day, and exhausted was an understatement. You bowed to the event staff and thanked them many times before making your way out of the room and following your manager back to the designated room for your group. You quickly glanced at your phone and saw a message from your boyfriend.

Your blood ran cold. He sounded so serious. What could you have possibly done? I guess you were going to find out when you got back to your apartment. You and Hongjoong had plans to meet up after your schedules today anyway.

–

You got back to your apartment, finally wearing some comfortable clothes. You walked into the front door, took your jacket off, and started to kick your shoes off before shouting out to your boyfriend, who was hiding somewhere.

“Hongjoong! I’m bac-!” Your words were cut off by Hongjoong pressing you against the wall. His one hand grips onto your shoulder to keep you against the hard surface, and the other hand holds his phone and shoves the screen in your face.

“What the fuck is this?” He said lowly and through gritted teeth. You glanced over at the screen, breathing heavily, and saw a familiar-looking face on his screen. The video was from one of the many fan calls you had today. Specifically the really nice looking one. What was his name? Ah right, Felix.

“I don’t understand…”

“Don't play dumb with me Y/N! You’re practically fucking him through the screen!”

“N-no Hongjoong..what? L-let me see.” You reached up, took the phone from his hand, and read the post the fan had made to yourself.

The attached video had no sound, but subtitles were provided. You reviewed the video and smirked to yourself, watching the fan get all nervous and flustered again at your fan service. That’s exactly all it was. Fan service. You scrolled through some of the comments that had been made on that post by other fans.

Waahhh, omg you’re so lucky!!

SHE IS SO IN LOVE WITH YOU! IMAGINE BEING CALLED HANDSOME BY HANA? GOD YOU’RE SO LUCKY

Ohhh she wants you fr fr

You smirked again and lightly scoffed at the various reactions from your fans. When you looked back up at Hongjoong to hand him his phone back, his arms were crossed, his breathing was deep and heavy, and he stared at you with aggressive eyes.

“B-baby it’s just fan service.”

“Fan service my ass!” He snatched his phone back from your hand and shoved it into his pocket. “Guess I’m going to have to remind you exactly who you belong to, hm?”

“Hongjoong no, you don’t have to do that. I-I know that-.” Your words were cut off again by Hongjoong pushing you back against the wall again and slamming his lips onto yours. The grip he had on your arms was enough to hurt a little bit, and you squirmed at the uncomfortable feeling. “J-Joong.”

“Shut the fuck up cheater, or I’ll shove something in your mouth to make you shut up.” His behavior was so left-field for you, and you didn’t know how to feel. If you wanted to be truly honest, his possessive nature was making your pussy ache and damp.

“I didn’t d-do anything wrong!”

“Didn’t do anything wrong….listen to yourself!” He yelled slightly and slid his hands down to grab both of your wrists, then slammed them up against the wall. He pressed his body frame against you, so you were completely against the wall. His face is right in your face, leaving no room for personal space. “I fucking own you; you got that? You’re mine, and when I see you flirting and undressing your fans with those seductive eyes of yours..I get a little…pissed off. So now, I have to make sure you haven’t forgotten exactly who you belong to.”

“Hongjoong I-.” Your heart was beating rapidly, and you did not know what else to say or do. He waited for you to try to say another smart remark before he took your hands held above your head, held them in one hand, and pulled you along as he started stomping toward your room. “Stop! What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a fucking lesson.” He threw his arm forward, which resulted in you stumbling forward and dropping down at the edge of the bed. He stepped back and ripped his shirt off over his head and, with one hand, threw it to the side of the room. You were propping yourself up with one arm and leaning back onto the bed as he walked closer to you. He grabbed the bottom of your chin and forced your face to look up at him. Taking a few seconds to look at your face and smile slyly.

“Are you scared of what I am capable of, Y/N?” You shook your head from side to side in response. “Use your fucking words slut.”

“N-no!” You stuttered out.

“You don’t sound so confident~.”

“I’m not scared of you!” You retaliated, but he just smirked at you.

“Guess I'll have to make you scared of me then.” Not a moment passed before he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you off the bed, down on your knees, onto the floor in front of him. You winced from the pain as he dragged you down. You tilted your head up to look at him, hoping your expression would fill him with remorse. “Pathetic really. You think looking at me like that will make me forget what you did today? Think again.” As he spoke, his free hand fought with his belt to get it off. He snapped the belt to the side, almost like a whip, and squatted down to be in front of you. You dared not to look at him, but you could feel his eyes piercing into you. You felt his hand release from your hair. He tenderly traced his hands along your arms and brought them together, holding your wrists together again with his hands.

“I don’t want you fucking touching me, so this is how I’ll fix that.” He took the belt and tightened it harshly around your wrists, pulling the belt tought and wrapping it a few times, allowing the end of the belt to stick out as a grip for him to hold onto. He stood back up and pulled your arms up with the belt. Your head rag dolled with your arms being pulled up. At this point, you had given in to him and were ready to accept whatever punishment he was giving you right now.

Your eyes followed his hand, which was not holding your restraint, and your eyes were led to the zipper on his pants. He pulled the zipper down and shimmed his pants down just barely past his hips, enough for him to be able to whip his cock out.

“Open up whore.” He demanded, and you found yourself quickly obeying. He raised the arm holding your restraint a little higher before shoving his cock directly into your mouth. Pushing himself all the way in, not allowing you to prepare yourself at all. Your eyes immediately filled with tears, and you tried your best not to gag. Hongjoong had an average-sized cock, but that doesn't mean it was easy for you to take him. You heard Hongjoong groan above you, and you glanced up at him to see the look on his face. His head was tilted back slightly, and his mouth was agape just the slightest bit.

“God I’m gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna fuck this little throat of yours so good it’ll be hard for you to sing at your precious music show tomorrow.” You whimpered at his dirty talk, but also because your voice is an extremely valued asset to your group, and if you can’t perform at your best, it will definitely not go unnoticed. He shoved himself further inside your mouth, and you couldn’t help but gag so hard that you started to cough. You pulled yourself off and back away from him, and you continued coughing until you felt better. Hongjoong scoffed at you.

“Unbelievable.”

“Joongie please…” Your voice is nearly above a whisper, still trying to come back to you after having his dick deep in your throat. Your eyes are now bloodshot and watery, looking at him hoping he’ll feel some sympathy and realize he's going a little too hard on you.

“You should have thought about the consequences before flirting with that fan baby.” He shrugs and dismisses your cry for help. You braced yourself, thinking he was going to shove himself back inside your throat, but to your surprise, he pulled you up by the belt restraint, so you were standing up. He steadied you by placing his free hand on your shoulder and looking at you deep in the eyes. “You’re lucky I actually give a shit about your career. Be thankful I don’t completely ruin your fragile ass.” He tilted his head while talking to you, smirking at the end of his sentence.

“Y-yes, thank you.”

“Shut up. That wasn’t an invitation.” He unexpectedly let go of the belt, and your arms fell down in front of you, hitting the front of your crotch. You whimpered at the impact and felt the blood rush back into your arms. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you, so you fell back onto the bed. Letting out a grunt when your back made contact with the mattress. Hongjoong stepped closer to the bed and gripped onto your sweatpants.

“I don’t want to hear another sound out of you, got it?” You opened your mouth to agree, but quickly closed it and nodded your head instead. "Finally, you got some sense knocked into you.” He pulled your sweatpants down, and you heard a soft chuckle come out of him. “My my, you’ve made a mess down here already.” You wanted to squirm, but his grip on your legs prevented you from doing so. Your struggle must have said enough because he took two of his fingers and placed them on the wet patch on your underwear. The room was quiet enough that you could hear the squishing sound of your wetness spreading even more, completely soaking your undergarments.

“You like me treating you like this, huh?” He said as he pushed his fingers into you harder. You bit your lip to suppress the whimper that so desperately wanted to come out. His two fingers finding your clit through your underwear and massaging it delicately. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip harder. You arched your back slightly and tilted your head into the bed.

“Look at you getting all needy for me now. Bet you were not thinking about me when talking to that boy toy of yours.” His tone was so condescending. You had really pissed him off, and he was going to make sure you knew and remembered who you belonged to. He removed his fingers from your clothed pussy and pulled them down. Completely removing those and your sweatpants in the process. You felt the cold air of the room blow across your bare area and got cold chills on your body. He harshly gripped your thighs and pulled your legs further apart, completely exposing yourself to him. You felt his warm breath against you as he leaned in closer. He pushes your legs apart a little more, and you whimper at the pain of being overstretched. Hongjoong hears your whimper and slaps the side of your leg with his hand.

“I thought I told you to stay quiet.”

“S-sorry.” You muttered and felt Hongjoong slap your side again, harder than the last time. Next thing you know, he dives his tongue straight into your pussy, licking and sliding his mouth everywhere. His warm tongue collects all of your juices that have recently come out. He swirls your fluids around in his mouth and spits it right back out onto you, licking and lapping it up all over again. His nose is pushing right onto your clit. You so badly want to take your hands and grip the side of his hair, but with your hands tied, you can’t. Your body writhes and squirms underneath him, and with every movement you make, you feel him pushing that side of you back down to keep you secured to the bed. He continues to lick and tongue-fuck you, too enthralled in your pussy to notice all of the soft whimpers and moans you have been letting out. You feel a knot begin to form in your lower stomach, but just as you are about to go over the edge, Hongjoong pulls away from you. You tilt your head down to look at him, breathing heavily and wondering why he stopped. He looks back at you and uses his tongue to lick your excessive fluids that have built up around his lips. Pulling his tongue back in and letting it rest against his teeth as he smirks at you, looking at him with desperation and confusion.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easily? This is your punishment whore. Nothing good will come out of this, you hear me?”

You pouted and wiggled your arms to try to prop yourself up. You just wanted to cum so badly and get this punishment over with. Hongjoong takes this time to grab your sides and flip you over onto your stomach. Your legs are still dangling off the edge of the bed, and you feel him spread your legs apart a little bit with his hands and nuzzle himself in between. He glides his hand up your right thigh and caresses your ass cheek.

“Such a pretty ass, but it’ll look even better with my handprints all over it. Wouldn’t you agree?” You wiggled your hips to agree with him. He firmly grips your cheek before pulling his hand away and forcing it back down onto your ass. He watches as the skin, fat, and muscle recoil from the slap. You push your head into the bed to muffle any sounds that might come out of your mouth. Hongjoong not being satisfied with his work yet, lifted his hand up again and smacked your ass harshly for the second time. You started to feel the stinging and burning feeling. Your ass was now a pretty shade of pink, but Hongjoong was still not satisfied. He lifted his hand one more time and put all his effort into slapping your ass again. You heard him grunt as he swung his arm down. Putting all of his force into smacking you. You pushed your hips back, unintentionally asking him for more.

“It’s funny you think I’m going to give you what you want. Really? After what you did today?” Hongjoong massaged your stinging and red cheek as he said this, and you softly moaned at the feeling. Finally being able to feel some comfort after a couple minutes of pain. Hongjoong flips you around again and leans down, placing his arms on both sides of you to support himself. He reaches for the belt restraint and takes it off of you.

“This is not an invitation for you to touch me, got it?”

“Y-yes sir.” You whispered as you nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. He smirks for a second and tosses the belt to the side of the room. He places one arm back at your side while the other hand touches his cock to guide himself into you. Instead of slamming himself inside of you like before, he slowly inserts his dick into you. Your walls swallow him, and you can feel every vein on his cock. He removes his hand from his dick as he goes further in and places it beside you on the other side.

“God dammit you’re so tight.” He growls through gritted teeth. Pushing himself all the way, slowly. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills you nicely. Happy to finally have his cock inside you after him edging you. Your arms were sprawled out to the side, unsure of where to put them since you can’t put them on Hongjoong like you normally would.

“I’m gonna drill myself so far into you that you’ll still feel me inside you days later. So you can never forget me. Huh? Remember? You’re mine Y/N. You’re my toy to fuck and play with. Think about that the next time you want to whore yourself out to your fans. I bet he couldn’t fuck you like I could. No, he couldn’t. Cause if he even remotely got close to you, he’d be gone in seconds. No one touches you except for me. You got that? Mine…you’re fucking mine!” Hongjoong spouts off, getting increasingly louder and harder with his thrusts. He has fully leaned his body down onto you, so you are chest to chest. His dick keeps drilling inside you, and your head is spinning. His dirty and possessive words go straight to your core.

“Hongjoong-”

"Yeah, fucking say my name. Who’s fucking you this good?”

“Hongjoong!”

“That’s right you slut!” He thrusts himself into you harder and faster. You feel your orgasm building up again. You so desperately want to grab onto his arms and hold onto him as you’re cumming. Hongjoong dives his head into your neck and kisses and nips at your skin, surely leaving little marks on your skin.

“S-stop! Tomorrow…schedule!” You plead, trying to tell him not to mark up your skin since you have performances to do the next day.

“No! I’m letting all of your precious fans know you’re already taken, and there is no chance of them being able to get with you.” He mutters seductively against your neck. A few more thrusts and neck kisses, and your release bubbles out of you. You cry out his name, each one louder than the last, as you cum all over his cock. “Fuck! Yeah that’s right. I’m the only one capable of making you cum this hard.” His thrusts are getting sloppy, and you can tell he is close to his release. He is still pounding into you, which is overstimulating you. Muttering “yeah” and “fuck” to himself quietly over and over again, grunting and groaning. Eventually, he fills you up with his load. Tilting his head down and panting as he tries to calm himself down. He pulls himself out of you, and you whimper. Completely fucked out and brainless at this point.

“Just to check…who do you belong to?”

“You Hongjoong…o-only you.”

“That’s right. Don’t forget that ever again; you got it?”

“Yes Hongjoong.”

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @sanipan @10nantscompanion @xuchiya @bunnyluvr25

379 notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

Helping Hands || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten teacher! Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Strangers to lovers || Non-idol AU

Summary: Yoongi always had a knack for fixing things, and with producing getting him nowhere, he ends up working for the school his long-time friend Seokjin, teaches at. With his new job, he meets you, and although your first encounter hadn’t been the best; at least not in Yoongi’s eyes, he could have never guessed how your relationship would bloom. And Yoongi gets to show you his hands can do more than fix your faulty heating.

Word Count: 13.3k

Tags/ Warnings: fluffy, smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex (because that’s cool), they hold hands while they fuck, boobie play, squirting, boyfriends taekook, namjoon is a bit of an ick.

Notes: this idea was derived from a tiktok, but the original creator has deleted the video :’( but the idea of someone having a crush on you and helping fix up your classroom was too endearing to pass! when i thought about writing this i didn’t think it would be very long, and i thought how on earth am i meant to write a decent story from this vague-ish concept but here we are 13k words of two people falling in love. considering i’ve never had a s/o i don’t think i did too bad… but maybe this is just what i want from someone i like even if the idea of becoming a teacher makes me want to hurl. if there's mistakes, no there isn't.

edit: the tiktok that inspired this fic! thank you @devilonmyshouder for finding it! my savior 🥲

<3 <3 <3

“Have you asked for her number yet?”

“What?” Yoongi releases a long sigh, head turning so his eyes can meet Seokjin’s, who had a sly smile pasted on his annoyingly handsome face. And it’s at times like these where Yoongi wonders why he still puts up with Jin’s bullshit.

“The kindergarten teacher you’ve been staring at since we sat down” Jin points out, watching you as you laugh with a few of your co-workers on the other side of the cafeteria; in perfect eyeshot from where Yoongi sits.

“No? Why would I do that?” said man asks, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than it deserved. Yoongi has to will himself to not let his eyes wander back in your direction; like hell would he give Seokjin what he wanted. Yoongi doubted he had enough patience stored up to deal with the impending teasing that his long-time friend would surely thrust upon him if he were to prove his point correct. Plus, he was nothing more than being a little intrigued by you.

“Because you clearly like her” Jin tuts.

“Do not”

“Do too. You can’t deny your little crush. I’ve seen the way you look at her” Jin exasperates, flinging his arms above his head dramatically, catching the attention of a few other teaching staff scattered across the growingly scarce cafeteria.

Yoongi cringes, eyes squinting in distaste at his friend’s flamboyant antics that seemed to always garner the eyes of everyone around him. But Yoongi supposes with Jin’s face, it shouldn’t come as a surprise the attention always seemed to be on him, even if he was acting somewhat civilised. Yoongi had never thought of Jin as more than a friend, even if he did swing both ways; but, he could see why Jin’s face had such an appeal, even Aphrodite would have a run for her money if Jin were to rock up in those times, stealing the attention all for himself with his aggravatingly perfect face.

“It’s not a crush. This isn’t high school Hyung” Yoongi grunts, shoving his lunchbox back into his bag. Uncaring as he squashes a banana, already a little too overripe for his liking anyways.

You’d have to pay him millions before he dared touch the cafeteria food, in no way, shape or form would he risk growing a third arm from the slop they served. It’s offensive they had the gall to call it food, let alone serve it to the poor children. And he swears he saw one of the chefs spit in the pasta once, he doesn’t care if it adds flavour.

Now, Yoongi didn’t like children. Not in the slightest.

Thought they were disgusting, foul little creatures that had no sense of personal hygiene or self-awareness. With their sticky hands and voices that carried across miles, everything about children made Yoongi recoil.

And that may leave you wondering why on earth is Yoongi working in a school?

Money. That’s the simple answer.

Yoongi had a knack for fixing things, he’s good with his hands (interpret that how you will). And he really needed the money. His little ‘side hustle’ of producing only made him so much money, and as inflation increased, so did Yoongi’s bills, and slowly he had started finding it a little harder to pay bills and food for not only him but Holly; his cute little dog that he refused to believe wasn’t a puppy any longer. Jin had argued that Yoongi spoiled his dog, buying premium food and overpriced treats, but Holly only deserved the best.

Therefore, the job had to change and not his dog’s nutrition.

So, when the same Seokjin who complained about his pampered pup, had told him about the open position in the school he worked at, Yoongi was sceptical to say the least. He’d dropped out of college after a semester, taking on shoddy part-time jobs to pay for his producing equipment and clearly that had only brought him so far. So he couldn’t see any good reason to waltz back into a school.

Not only that, the thought of having to share space with tiny terrors for hours a day, 5 out of 7 days a week, the offer didn’t seem all that worth it. Until he saw the salary.

Not only was he now making 10 times more than he had been, basically teachers wages (still not enough but better than nothing), he got his own little office in the far end of campus, so he wouldn’t have to interact with any sticky babies and loud-mouthed teens unless absolutely necessary.

With his shiny new office, secluded from the crowd of teachers that gathered at lunch, Yoongi had zero intentions of sitting in the crusty cafeteria; even if his Jin Hyung had begged him for the first two weeks of his new job, to come and sit with him and his other teacher friends. He’d never enjoyed everyone gathering in one place to eat, crowds of people sounding more like squawking birds than hushed chatter that always ended up in arguments.

That was until Yoongi had met you. And suddenly the cafeteria seemed like the only place he wanted to be.

Pretty you who looked like a goddess among humans. Even with the splodges of paint staining your dress, and snotty babies clinging to you like nothing Yoongi had ever seen.

Yoongi had only been working at the school for a month, the start of the school year rolling by quicker than he had initially anticipated. And before he knew it, two weeks had passed by; and that second week on the jobs was when he had first ‘met’ you.

‘Met’ was generous. It was more a brief encounter where Yoongi couldn’t get the words off his tongue quick enough and had been left dumbstruck. Worried he had scared you off with how rude he must have been. You’d strutted out of your classroom, a model among the little children waddling behind you like little ducklings would their mother, hot on your tail as you led them to the bathrooms.

Yoongi had been fixing one of the fan units in the hallway, and you’d politely smiled up at him, making sure none of the children would knock the ladder Yoongi had been stood on, worried their little bodies would bulldoze into the wonky frame and Yoongi would be sent flying. And although that would make a memorable first impression, Yoongi didn’t want to be rushed to hospital with a concussion and his pride bruised.

‘Good morning’

Two simple words and Yoongi felt as if his heart would implode; he felt silly, coughing, and then only managing a curt nod as a reply, words sticky on his tongue like taffy. Clogging his throat as he holds his breath momentarily.

You see, Yoongi was prone to worrying, anxiety always laying under his skin like an itch that he could never get rid of, irritating but part of his life whether he liked it or not. And that night he’d laid awake, worried he hadn’t made a good first impression, scaring you away when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn your name.

And sure, he could have asked Jin, but that man had enough blackmail material already; he didn’t need to know about Yoongi’s budding interest in the pretty kindergarten teacher. If he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough then Seokjin surely would.

To Yoongi’s surprise you hadn’t seemed too offended by his reply, or lack thereof, as a week later you’d greeted him during lunch; even going as far to hold the door open for him as he languidly wandered into the cafeteria, in search of Seokjin.

This time Yoongi felt a little more prepared, muttering a short ‘thanks’, small smile stretching onto his lips as he points it in your direction. He doesn’t wait for your reply, legs already pulling him out of what could be another embarrassing encounter, a little disheartened that the day he finally decided to eat with the rest of the staff (secretly hoping to see you), your encounter had been so brief.

Yoongi’s easy smile however, remained throughout the course of lunch, heart fluttering like little butterfly wings locked in the cage of his chest; and if Seokjin noticed his friend’s flushed cheeks he chose not to say anything.

The caretaker thought he was sly with his little crush, never mentioning you to Jin, only stealing short glimpses of you from across the cafeteria, that short half an hour a day enough to recharge his motivation to continue this job. And he has the gall to be surprised when Seokjin finally decides to bring it up.

“Might want to hurry up, Jungkookie might beat you to it” Jin calls out, and if Yoongi hadn’t seen a few kids running around the area, he would have flipped off the elder. But Yoongi does nothing more than wave him off, and he may have been worried if he didn’t know Jungkook was already seeing someone.

That someone being Kim Taehyung, the high school art teacher, who occasionally sat at their table at lunch. Most of his time hauled up in the art rooms where students were welcome to work during the lunch hour.

Yoongi wasn’t one to stereotype but Kim Taehyung was the very definition of eccentric art teacher. Style a little unusual, paintings so abstract Yoongi felt like he was on acid while trying to decipher the meaning.

He had seen how Jungkook looked at Taehyung, the little galaxies that shone in his eyes when he looked at his love, where each star represented one thing that Jungkook adored about his boyfriend, his gentle gaze enough to show the absolute adoration they held for one another.

Yoongi had complained, telling them to get a room on more than one occasion when they’d decided to lick into each other’s mouths during afterschool dinners. But truly he was happy they had something so precious, a love like a warm hug, infinite trust between the two of them; something that Yoongi secretly yearned for.

More often than not Yoongi felt a little misunderstood. He never meant to come off as cold or disinterested, he liked the silent company of a person as much as he enjoyed his time alone, you didn’t have to always be talking; silent comfort of another person enough for him.

Yoongi didn’t want to come off as rude, he just didn’t know what to say sometimes, happier to prove his love with acts of service than empty words that even he doesn’t know the meaning of. He doesn’t want to come off as unapproachable, but when you’re tired from work and lacking the energy to act like a ray of sunshine, much like the physical education teacher, Hoseok, Yoongi could only wallow in his own self-pity some nights. Wondering why only a select few seemed to enjoy his company, or why so many romantic relationships have been washed down the drain.

As the first semester of school progressed, the weather had started to get colder, autumn slinking by before anyone could comprehend the unusually warm summer.

Kids starting to layer uniform, and teachers turning to the heaters to defrost their fingers as they arrive early, grass still dewy with air that nips at your skin like little needles.

Yoongi jolts up from his seat at the gentle knock of his office door, his feet flying off the desk from where he’d been resting them; worried that it was his boss coming for his usual weekly check-up.

However, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find you stood in his doorway; soft-looking sweater cocooning you in its warmth, nose tinted red from the frosty morning air, tips of your fingers barely peeking out from where you try to warm them up from the confines of your sleeves. And it takes all Yoongi’s will, not to tell you he had more ways than one he would love to heat you up (though he supposes he should take you out on a date before that).

Yoongi thinks you must have been sent from the sky, pretty, even in the dim morning sunlight, kissing your skin like Yoongi would if you would let him.

“Good morning” you smile, nose twitching at the strong scent of coffee that permeates the air of Yoongi’s office.

“Morning. Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He has no time to curse himself for how blunt he must have come off, tone anything but inviting, before you’re opening your mouth to answer him.

“Yes actually. The heater in my classroom isn’t working”

Yoongi nods, pushing himself from his seat, ignoring the piping hot coffee he was moments away from drinking as he picks up his little toolbox that sat beside his desk.

“Lead the way” he motions out of the room, not daring to make eye-contact with you; worried he were to drown in the depths of your eyes, calling him in like a siren would with song.

He watches your back as you walk him to your classroom, fingers itching to hold your hands, help you warm them up as the stupid heater in your classroom couldn’t do its job properly.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what he expected your classroom to look like, never working up the courage to peek inside and take a look into such a large part of your life.

The flurry of colours was expected, paintings from what he assumes to be your classes over the years hung on the wall, with paints and pens stacked on short shelving by each wall of the room.

Your desk sits at the front of the room, little trinkets lining the edges, papers covering the surface like a blanket. And Yoongi has to stop the smile from pulling at his face from how disordered you are; just like him. And he can somewhat appreciate the beauty in the mess of your classroom, it showed it was loved, enjoyed by more than just the small group of children that spent nearly every hour in here every day, loved by you who clearly spent time lining the walls with letters and drawings all addressed to you, carefully printed and cut letters of the alphabet climbing the walls like vines and fairy lights hung like tree snakes lounging on a branch.

“This one over here” you point to the heaters under the window, and Yoongi cringes at the cool air that caresses his cheeks as he stalks the length of your classroom. Nipping his cheeks like little jaws trying to pull apart his skin.

As he kneels down, pulling his glasses from the front pocket of his hoodie, he takes a closer look at the pipes connected to the main framing of the heater. Yoongi tries not to pay attention to you as you shuffle through the mountain of papers on your desk, he tries not to focus on the way you bite your lip; the little devil that rest on his shoulder whispering for him to just kiss you.

Yoongi distracts himself with your heater, fingers a little shakier than usual as you wander around the room, picking up pots of paints off the shelves, brushes stored in separate drawers and laying them all on the little tables, perfect for the little toddlers you taught. Chairs so small they must have been the first bear’s that goldilocks had thought were too uncomfortable to sit on, they sure looked it; no amount of colour enough to mask the hard plastic they were made of.

Yoongi frowns when he finds the problem with your heater, somehow a bolt had gotten loose; he can only assume one of the children had fiddled with it. Little fingers always having to play with something, another thing he hated about kids. If it’s not meant to be touched, then don’t touch it.

He pulls a spanner out of his toolbox, fingers skimming over a screwdriver. He looks over at shelving unit by the heater, screws glimmering in the slowly growing sunlight that climbs its way over the top of the neighbouring school building.

And that same little devil on his shoulder whispers something a little naughty, something Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do. And maybe Yoongi was a little bit of a hypocrite, after just saying kids shouldn’t touch everything, but the screws looked so shiny, so inviting, a little accident that means he may get an extra half hour with you.

He peers over at you, sat at your desk, typing something on your laptop. And decides that what’s the worst that could happen? He quickly tightens the loose bolt to your faulty heater, turning the knob on the side just in case before he scoots his way over to the shelf that had been holding the paints you now had on the table.

He licks his lips, sucking in a sharp breath before he unscrews a few nails. Silently praying the shelf can hold up until he leaves the room.

You stay none the wiser, typing away on some blank document from what Yoongi can make out. He tucks his glasses back into the front pocket of his hoodie, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung to the knees of his jeans before he’s clearing his throat to catch your attention. You startle, eyes wide when they meet Yoongi’s, who thinks you look a little like a puppy caught doing something they were told not to.

He stifles his laugh, coving it with a cough, “Your heater should be working, I turned it up a little so the room should heat up quicker” he explains, motioning towards the offending object. Your shelves staring at him, and Yoongi worries you can see the guilt swimming in his eyes.

You nod, pushing yourself from your seat, you bow a little in thanks, “You’re the best” you grin, and Yoongi can feel his heartrate pick up; cheeks dusted in rosy red.

You were so pretty.

+ + +

Yoongi waits all day, ears perking up when footsteps echo down his end of the hall throughout the rest of work. Begrudgingly helping a few other teachers that seemed to have had heating problems in their classrooms too; a common theme it seems.

Or, the occasional pitter patter of kids running down the hallway like a heard of wild animals during breaktimes, or teens sneaking off to the bathrooms where they liked to make out, or a few other things if their dishevelled uniform meant anything as Yoongi wandered around for his afternoon walk.

He tries to spot you at lunch, his mood only souring when you never walk into the cafeteria, your melodic laughter not gracing the usual grating sound of stressed teaching staff, that all seemed to have a passion for complaining about their jobs.

Jin had tried to cheer him up, offering to share his homemade lunch just to get even a hint of a smile out of Yoongi, and usually the caretaker would love to bless his tastebuds with actual decent food; but it seemed nothing, but your pretty smile would suffice to sate his grumpy mood.

The minutes before the home-time bell slowly creep up on Yoongi, and on most days he would be ecstatic that he could finally escape this hellhole. He never understood why teachers would willingly return to the place that is designed to fuck over students; especially when the pay isn’t all that great. And most of them seemed to despise their jobs anyways.

Even after the bell rings, startling Yoongi from his own little reverie, he remains sat at his desk; a little quiver of hope still left inside of him that you would be stood in the doorway of his office once more.

He thinks it must be a daydream when you show up, unable to properly comprehend that you were once again stood before him. That would be the second time in one day.

He isn’t at all surprised when you give him a sheepish smile, “Do you have any spare screws? It seems my shelving has broken”

And a small flame of guilt licks at Yoongi’s heart and mind, but the pretty smile that stretches onto your lips when Yoongi only lets out a little laugh, picking up his little toolbox, is enough to expel any of his worries.

He once again gets to stare at your back as you walk back towards your classroom, pretty sweater still veiling your body; and Yoongi licks his lips at what you could be hiding underneath the layers you wear.

A blink of an image flashing behind his eyes of you sprawled across the sheets of his bed, his head tucked in-between your thighs. He knew he’d get addicted to your taste, surely with such a sweet voice, all of you must be just the same. Your arousal thick like nectar on his tongue as he pushes you over the edge to your own pleasure.

“Mr. Min?” you wave a hand in-front of his face.

Yoongi blinks, “Sorry?” he coughs, heat creeping up his neck, pinching the tips of his ears.

You point towards the mess of your bookshelf, paint pots and art supplies scattered across the floor from where the shelf had caved in on itself. A mound of mess that you would now have to tackle once Yoongi acts as your saviour; a dark knight that had secretly put you in this messy situation.

“I was putting the paint pots away when it sorta of just… collapsed”

Yoongi lets out a grunt of understanding, that same guilt from earlier tickling up his spine as he looks over the huge mess you’ll have to clear up once he fixes your shelving. He shouldn’t have taken those few screws that morning and should have just worked up the courage to ask you out instead of making your day harder. But he supposes what is done is done and now he must fix his selfish doings.

You remain sat at your desk, finger scrolling through your phone as Yoongi rummages through his little box of screws.

His fingers dip into the pocket of his jeans, shiny steel nails pricking the tips of his fingers.

“Do you need any help?” You startle the caretaker, worried smile on your face as Yoongi picks up a few of the fallen shelves.

“No, it’s alright” he waves you off.

“Would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“Black coffee is fine, thanks” he shoots you a quick smile, gums on show.

Yoongi doesn’t notice the bristly heat that burns the soft skin of your cheeks as you wander towards a cabinet in the back of your classroom. Rummaging for the granulated coffee that a few of your co-workers stored by your kettle. Not your first beverage of choice but a few of your friends took advantage of your little drink station.

As the kettle boils your water, Yoongi can see you intently watching him from the corner of his eye; and he feels his palms get clammy from your attention set so closely on him. He would have compared your eyes to those of a hawk if you hadn’t been so utterly soft; tempting Yoongi to wrap you up in his pocket and dote on you.

“How did you get so good at this?” you wonder aloud, awe evident on your face as Yoongi easily slides a shelf back into place.

Yoongi pauses, “Honestly I’m not sure. Guess I’m just good with my hands”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips at that; body jumping when the little click of the kettle finishing boiling. You whip back around to finish Yoongi’s drink, said man finding it hard to stop a little smirk from tugging at his lips at your flushed cheeks, pretty even painted in red.

You place a rounded pink mug on the windowsill by where Yoongi is working, and he mutters a quick thanks before he’s focusing back on holding the panel of wood back into the right place, silver nail balanced between his lips.

“I never got your name” Yoongi says when you take a seat at one of the student’s tables, warm mug of hot chocolate heating your cold hands up.

“Y/n” you tell him, “And you are?” you ask, only knowing of him by his surname.

“Yoongi” he tells you, pushing himself up with the help of your now sturdy shelf.

You push yourself up from the desk, placing your cup of drink down before you start picking up the scattered art supplies. Yoongi follows, tucking his screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans as he picks up the paint pots that brought him back into your room. The vibrant colours glaring at him; a reminder of his sins.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi” you tell him, but said handyman ignores you; brain replaying how nice his name sounded when it came from your lips, dipped in sweet honey, addictive in the way that makes Yoongi want to beg you to say it one more time. Something about your voice enchanting, pulling him closer like a snake charmer does a snake with its pipe.

Instead, he brushes you off, “I’ve stayed this late, what more is a few minutes?”

Your nose scrunches at that, “Sorry about that”

+ + +

“Have you asked for her number yet?” Seokjin asks.

“What?” Yoongi feels a sense of déjà vu as he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat at another table with a few other teachers. Though today you seem more focused on your lunch than any of the baseless chatter the others on your table seem to be immersed in.

“You stayed after school with her, had dinner together after that and you still haven’t asked for her number?” Jin gawks.

“No?”

“Min Yoongi” Jungkook shakes his head, “Ask the poor woman on a date or something”

“What if she was just being polite?” he asks the youngest, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip.

“She must be interested; she went out for dinner with you after you’d fucked up her shelves”

Yoongi’s head snaps in your direction, worried you'd somehow heard Jungkook, “She doesn’t know that, keep it down”

Jungkook snickers, “Seriously, ask her out. Otherwise, someone else might” he nods in the direction of your table, a stupidly handsome male laying his hands on your shoulders. Green jealousy bubbling inside of Yoongi as he just watches.

You turn to look up at him with a smile, grateful as he places a bag on the table in-front of you.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, “Who the fuck is he?” he tuts.

“Kim Namjoon, works in the high school”

“Cute dimples” Taehyung pulls out a spare chair beside Jungkook, leaning over to lay a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yoongi grunts dramatically pushing himself from his seat. His hands slam onto the table, “You guys are going out tonight, right?” he turns towards Jin who only nods, confusion evident on his face.

Yoongi storms over towards the table you’re sat at, and as he draws closer, he can only wonder where this burst of confidence came from; ignition slowly burning to nothing but warm embers as he pushes one foot in-front of the other. But when he makes eye contact with slimy looking Namjoon, a cursed smile being shone his way Yoongi’s anxiety seems to be the least of his worries.

“Y/n” he calls you, endeared by your wide eyes that flit to meet his own, happiness enveloping your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yes?” you stand when Yoongi makes it to your side, still having to stare up at him from beneath the veil of your eyelashes, ones that Yoongi finds very pretty.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight” he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards his table of friends, Taehyung waves, boxy smile an attempt to placate your worries, “And I was wondering if you wanted to… wanted to come with us?”

Yoongi knows you must be able to see the unease that swims in his eyes, and he worries that maybe he looks a little desperate, stalking towards your table unannounced; but with your small group of co-workers all staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he’s seconds away from scuttling out the cafeteria.

“That would be lovely, Yoongi” you smile.

“I’ll meet you at the gate after school?” he asks, eyes brightening in hope. You nod and Yoongi has to bite his lip to stop the huge smile that threatens to pull at his cheeks.

+ + +

“I swear he isn’t always like this” Yoongi shakes his head, turning his attention to look at you.

“I think it’s amusing” you turn towards your new friend, wincing when Seokjin, who had previously been dancing on a chair, falls onto a table. Both your eyes snap towards the eldest of the group, trying to gauge if he was okay or needed immediate medical attention.

Yoongi supposes the alcohol coursing through Seokjin’s veins was enough to help him stagger to his feet like he hadn’t just body slammed into a table, and Jungkook has to wave off a worried bar tender who had already pulled his phone from his pocket, moments away from calling for an ambulance.

Taehyung scans Jin’s body, trying to figure out if he had a concussion or not. And Jungkook tries to ask his hyung if he remembers who he is.

“This isn’t what I imagined dinner to be” you turn back to Yoongi who elegantly brings his glass of whisky to his lips, somehow looking like royalty in such a grimy bar, tucked away in an alleyway.

He hums, letting his taste buds soak in the refined flavour of the liquor before he answers you, “Me neither. Usually, we go to that shitty Italian place down the street”

“I like it there!” you exasperate, “Their dessert is really good”

“I don’t like dessert”

“What?” you breathe, “You devil, how could you not like dessert?”

Yoongi snorts, a little unattractive on his part but he couldn’t help himself, “Why stuff yourself more when you’ve just had a meal?” (Maybe you liked to be stuffed, but you thought it was a bit too soon for that conversation)

“Because you always have a second stomach for dessert” you tell him instead, “Honestly I got that vibe from you”

“What vibe?”

“Dessert hating vibes, I knew the moment you told me you liked black coffee, with no milk, no sugar that you were a dessert hater” you explain, dramatic shake to your head.

“I’m not a dessert hater, doll. I just have priorities”

“Really bad ones. I refuse to accept any dessert slander”

Yoongi opens his mouth, eyes widening a little in shock when you place a finger over his lips, “Uh uh” you shake your head.

Yoongi laughs at that, tongue poking out from between his lips to lick your finger. You recoil, nose scrunching at Yoongi who only laughs. (He had always preferred his own fingers in other people’s mouths, never really enjoying them in his own).

“Okay, lovers, we’re going home” Jungkook pushes between yours and Yoongi’s seats, “Jin’s about to pass out and I’m moments away from leaving him on the streets”

Both you and Yoongi turn to look over at Taehyung who holds up a very wobbly Seokjin, and you nod in understanding. But Yoongi feels his heart sink at the thought of having to go home already, he had started to enjoy your company, slowly peeling back each layer of your very being.

“I’ll walk you home” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder when the five of you make it out of the bar. You nod, giving Jungkook a quick hug before he helps Taehyung lug their friend home.

You and Yoongi walk in silence, nothing uncomfortable; just the two of you basking in the company of one another.

Yoongi startles a little when you take a sudden hold of his wrist, “Yoongi, let’s go there” you pull him towards the familiar, drab Italian restaurant that he’s spent way too many weekends drinking in.

The lights at the front blink, bare wires hanging on for dear life to keep the neon lights hung about the windows of the restaurant. The fluorescent light momentarily blind the both of you as you wander inside.

Yoongi makes no fuss as you pull him into a booth by the window, encouraging you even, by handing you a menu. You flip it open, “My treat” you say, ignoring Yoongi as he opens his mouth to argue.

“You can treat me, next time”

Next time.

You wanted to see Yoongi again. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through him, making him that little more delusional that you could feel the same about him as he does you.

“Fine” he drawls, motioning for a waiter to come to the table when you drop the menu with a little smile.

“Did you really have to order only dessert?”

“I got you black coffee as well” you argue, “if you don’t like them, then I’ll eat it”

Yoongi tuts, watching as the waiter brings over your tray of treats. More sugar than the mad hatter had at his tea party balanced on one rusting metal tray.

You wiggle happily in your seat, and Yoongi turns his head to look out the window, coving the blush that coats the skin of his cheeks in dusty red; and Yoongi wonders if this is what falling in love feels like, a new addiction worming its way into his heart. And Yoongi worries he won’t be able to stop himself, fingers itching to feel this again even if it’s only one more time.

“I got you tiramisu, because it tastes like coffee” you push the small plate towards him, eyes wide with wonder as Yoongi take a fork from one of the napkins, everything he does fascinating you as he holds himself with the grace and dignity a lot of people aspire for.

He awkwardly takes a forkful of cake, worried you were scrutinizing him for not eating this right. What if he hated it? And you got offended? What if you were turned off because he didn’t like the same foods as you? Is it a red flag to not like sweet things? God, Yoongi would shovel this cake into his mouth if it meant you’d give him a smile.

Yoongi thinks you must be able to read his mind, “You don’t have to like it” you remind him, picking up your own fork as you pull a plate towards your body, excitement of a child in your eyes.

+ + +

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask, turning towards Yoongi who dips his paintbrush into the can.

“Probably spend it with my dog” he shrugs, rubbing his gloved hands across his sweats, hoping to warm them up a little.

“You have a dog?” you gape, “Why didn’t you tell me?” you sulk.

Yoongi had told you he’d noticed the paint on your heaters chipping, a potential fire hazard (or so he claims), and that he would repaint them for you with heat safe paint. You’d nodded, offering to help him during the weekend, He’d shrugged, telling you it was your choice, that the room would be cold as you couldn’t paint on scorching hot metal, but you’d only giggled, telling him to pass his phone so you could add his number, and that you’d see him tomorrow. And Yoongi had felt dizzy when you’d brushed him off, determined to meet him that weekend and help.

Now he finds himself with you, both bundled up in coats, and woolly gloves to keep the both of you warm as you paint the morning away. The morning birds haven finished their songs for the day, probably ready to eat as lunch neared, afternoon sun squeezing minimal heat into the classroom through the windows.

“Do you have any plans?” he asks, foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

You shake your head, “I usually visit my parents, but they said they’re sick of white Christmases. So, my dad whisked them off to some tropical island until the end of February when it gets a little warmer”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s not that, I just have a job, and I wouldn’t be able to stay all that long with work chasing me during the holidays”

Yoongi hums, “Want to spend it together?”

Your eyes widen, turning towards Yoongi who continues to paint, acting as if he hadn’t just offered to spend Christmas with you.

“Huh?” you breathe, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude”

“On what? Me and my dog? Jin Hyung usually stops by, but I think he secretly has a girlfriend because for the last two years he drops off some cookies and then rushes out the door, without his obligatory kisses”

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They spend the holidays together, probably fucking. They can’t keep their hands to themselves” you giggle at that.

“They’re cute” you tell him, happy smile pulling onto your face as you recall the ‘dinner’ you’d had together a few weeks ago. And how much Jungkook and Taehyung seemed to be drawn to one another; you think they must the definition of love. Just pure, unadulterated love between the two of them. Two little lovebirds who are mates for the rest of their lives, always drawn to one another.

Jin had showed up to your classroom with a box of chocolates to apologize on the following Monday, babbling how unprofessional the whole encounter was. You’d waved him off, inviting him for coffee or tea during break times if he ever needed a breather from the swarm of students that always seem to gather outside his office door. All hoping to spend a little more time with the good-looking language teacher, innocent crushes pushing them to work hard in class.

He’d thanked you. Apologizing once more before he’d scuttled away with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Late for a meeting he had with the head of department, and he had already missed the meeting the month prior.

“They’re cute when they’re not sucking each other’s tongues” Yoongi grunts, nudging the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn’t fall into the pan of paint, worried it wouldn’t wash out from your sleeves.

“Let them be in love” you whine, wiggling a little in place, “Could you imagine loving someone like they do?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Never been in love”

“Really?”

“I mean I dated in high school but nothing close to love” Yoongi turns towards you, “What about you?”

Your cheeks flush, “I’ve never uhh—I’ve never dated. Like at all”

Yoongi blinks, “Not even that smarmy dick?”

“Who?”

“Kim Namjoon or whatever his name is?”

Your tongue wets your lips, and then your eyes widen, “God no” you let out a long breath, “He asked me out last year and I said no. Why on earth would a high school literature teacher ask me out?”

“Because you’re pretty?” Yoongi replies, avoiding eye contact by mixing the paint a little.

“That’s shallow of him” you scoff, “He’s a narcissist anyways, I would never be as good looking as he believes himself to be” you tell Yoongi, and the caretaker wants to bash his head against the table behind him with how oblivious you are.

“That’s shitty” Yoongi agrees, though he feels his heart constrict. Didn’t you know how perfect you are?

“You know he told me I should have studied for a more sophisticated profession, and asked why I wanted to work with kids below the age of 15” you frown, “I thought that was a little mean, so I told him to go fuck himself”

Yoongi laughs at that, “I always see him near your table at lunch”

You hum, nodding—“He’s been trying to win me over with cakes and cookies, I only smile so I get free stuff out of him”

“So, you’re leading him on?”

You drop your brush into the paint pan, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s really shitty” you look at Yoongi with guilty eyes.

“I guess if he’s a bad man then it’s a little more forgivable” he gently places his paintbrush beside your own, “But he doesn’t deserve you if he’s an asshole”

You nod at that, small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

+ + +

“Please Yoongi” you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to veer him towards the ice rink.

He only grunts, “I don’t skate”

“But it’s Christmas” your shoulders fall, and Yoongi feels as though he just kicked a puppy with your sad pout.

“Fine” he takes your hand, pulling you towards the old woman at the rental booth.

Yoongi can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, having just watched you fall onto your bottom only minutes after getting onto the rink.

“Hey!” you point an accusing finger at him, “It’s not funny”

“Just a little, darling” he tries hard to stifle his laugh, but fails miserably when you try to push yourself to stand; stood more like a new-born doe who hadn’t grasp the concept of walking yet.

Yoongi misses the devious smile on your face when he bends down to help you stand, your cheeks warming at the pretty smile the caretaker had, warm like a spring afternoon.

“When you offered for us to go skating, I thought you’d be good at it”

You cross your arms over your chest, instantly regretting the sudden action as you wobble. You let out something akin to a squeak when Yoongi takes a hold of your arms, helping stabilise you as your stomach tenses.

“My little deer” he laughs, hands skimming down the length of your arms to hold your hands.

You feel heat creep up your neck, burning the tips of your ears; feeling some relief knowing that your nose and ears were already red from the cold, so you only bite your lip, trying not to let your shuddering breath become known to Yoongi.

He, however, sees your eyes glaze over, something he hadn’t seen from you yet. And it only feeds into his little fantasy of you sprawled out across the sheets of his bed, his name clinging to your tongue, dripping like sweet honey as you beg for more. More of what? He has yet to decide. He’s imagined eating you out, sure that you’d recoil, shy, when he tries to go down on you. He wonders what you’d look like, bouncing prettily on his cock, begging for him to help you, legs shaking as he pounds into you, if your moans would be as soft as your voice, if you’d try to cover your mouth with your hands.

Yoongi coughs, bringing his attention back to you who wobbles, another attempt to skate towards him on your own. This time, Yoongi is ready when you stagger forwards, holding onto your waist as you tumble into his chest.

“Sorry” you whisper, “I don’t think I’m very good at this”

Yoongi laughs, “Nothing a little practice can’t fix”

+ + +

“Merry Christmas Yoongi” you beam, handing him the neatly wrapped gift, little cats printed on the paper.

“Merry Christmas” he takes you hand, pulling you into his warm apartment, heat enveloping you, cleansing you from the toe biting cold of the outside world.

You startle at the wet nose that prods your bare fingers, gaze flitting towards the floor where the fluffy little dog sniffs at your clothes, a cute puff of brown.

“That’s Holly” he tells you, placing your gift underneath the small tree into the corner of the living room beside the one he had bought you.

You crouch down, scratching Holly under the chin, giggling as the excited dog circles your legs.

You wander into the living room, not so subtly peeking at Yoongi’s home. You liked it; it was cosy, and ever so Yoongi. You take a seat on one of the couches, Yoongi following suit once he’d turned the tree lights on, green like vibrant dragonflies dancing from branch to branch.

“I hope you’re okay with takeaway, I looked up how to cook Christmas dinner online, and it’s a little too advanced for me”

You smile, “Don’t tell my mother, but I’ve never been a fan of Christmas dinner”

“Perfect”

“You make music?” you gawk, “That’s so cool”

“It’s a nice side hobby I suppose” he shrugs, not delving into how deep his love for music really is; he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t know when to stop. A little too passionate about his producing than he would like to let on, the last thing he needed was for you to leave when he was enjoying your company.

“You’ll have to show me one day” you tell him, nudging his shoulder as you sit beside one another. Knees pressed snug, body heat warming one another up.

Yoongi picks up another slice of beef, placing it on your plate, “maybe” he shrugs.

“You’re very secretive” you point out.

“Private”

You hum at that, “That is a good trait. More for me to uncover”

“Yeah?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips, “What are you trying to uncover”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the as your eyes flit down his body, straying a little at the waist band of his sweats before travelling back to his lips.

“Everything” you tell him honestly, and he can see the naked emotions that swim behind your eyes; raw need.

“I suppose you should get started then” he whispers, eyes flicking between both of your own.

“Right now?”

Yoongi nods, turning his body to face you; his hand coming to cup your cheek. You close your eyes, low moan reverberating up your throat as Yoongi presses his lips gently against your own. And as cliché as it sounds, Yoongi thinks he hears fireworks somewhere in the distance, lips tingling with want as he feels the warmth of you pressed along the length of his body.

Yoongi drinks in every little sound you make, spurring him to deepen kiss, his tongue flicking to part your own. As you both pull away, Yoongi leans in for a quick peck to your lips before he falls back into his seat.

“I guess I also have a lot to uncover, huh?” he whispers, fingers tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I really like you Y/n” he admits, hands clammy as he gauges your reaction.

“I really like you too” you tell him, and Yoongi smiles at the red hue that coats your cheeks; he can only imagine his match your own.

+ + +

“We should totally go on a double date” Taehyung grins, arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“We’re not dating though” Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his seat. His gaze flits over towards your table of co-workers, you more focused on something on your phone than what they were gossiping about.

“You went on a date, spent Christmas and New Year together, kissed, confessed and you’re not dating?” Jin gawks, astonished by what he was hearing.

Yoongi had asked after your little Christmas escapade, if you wanted to spend New Year together as well. He took you out for lunch, and then the two of you milled around a little market on the outskirts of the city. He’d met a few of your students, their happy smiles when they spotted you, warming Yoongi’s heart. And God forbid he didn’t hate children as much as he used to. (They could be cute sometimes, but only when it comes to you.) As well as conversing with a few parents, more than a few commenting on how cute you and Yoongi were together.

Nothing much more than kissing had happened, and you’d found the excuse for a few more kisses when you’d spotted little brushes of mistletoe hanging from the market huts, left over from the Christmas market that plagued the streets only weeks prior. And who was Yoongi to deny tradition?

The two of you had sat on a hill on New Year’s Day, Yoongi with his coffee, and you with piping hot, hot chocolate, both a little hung over from your little festivities the night prior (with a kiss when the clock hands struck midnight), and the both of you talked about the future. Your individual futures, and the future you want to have together.

You’d both agreed to take it slow, neither of you needed to rush into this relationship. You both knew you liked each other, that much had been established, and there was a mutual understanding that you had all the time in the world to learn more about each other before defining your relationship. You both understood what you had was exclusive, but neither of you felt labels were necessary. The unnecessary shadow that would loom over your shoulders, creeping up on you until your relationship evidently crumbles under the pressure of societal labels and standards of what a ‘good’ relationship is.

“So what?” Yoongi turns towards Jin, “We’re taking it slow”

“Slow my ass, you both act like you’ve been in a long-term relationship”

“Do not” Yoongi argues, feeling stupid that his reply had come off so juvenile.

“Yeah?” Seokjin challenges, and Yoongi knows he shouldn’t take the bait.

But he does, “Yeah”

“Whose lunchbox is that then?” he points at the prettily wrapped lunch that sat before you on the table. New shiny bento box that Yoongi had ordered online especially for you, with enough layers to make sure you would eat a nutritional lunch. With how many sweets you ate, Yoongi worried you spoiled yourself, so he took on the role of your chef; making sure you were eating healthier.

Yoongi coughs, “Mine. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Tease you” Jin laughs, pushing himself from his seat when Yoongi shoots him a hard glare. Waving at the small group before he makes his descent back to his classroom, a small group of students having filled in what was meant to be an easy lunch.

“I think you’re doing great, Hyung” Jungkook soothes, smiling over at Taehyung who nudges his side.

“Kookie is right, you don’t have to rush into these things. As long as the two of you are happy, that’s all that counts” Taehyung nods.

“Plus, Jin Hyung is definitely projecting, he’s hiding someone. I just know it” Jungkook nods, head falling onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Yoongi!” you call as you skip towards his lunch table, perking up at your voice.

“Yes?” he pulls out what was once Jin’s chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“What do you think about these for Holly?” you shove your phone into his face, “I really like the blue one” you mutter.

“They’re lovely, doll” he smiles, taking your phone so the bright screen wasn’t blaring in his eyes, the images more of a blur of colours, messily mixed like paints on a pallet.

“Personally, my favourite is the purple one” you scroll down when Yoongi places the device on the table. He looks down at the little sweater you have on a website that specialises in dog clothes.

“It’s cute” Yoongi agrees.

“But Yoongs, Holly would look good in like red or something” you sigh dramatically, prominent frown pulled at your pretty lips, begging Yoongi to kiss it away.

Yoongi scrolls up, eyeing the other dog clothes they had on the website, “Why not get both? One for you and one for Holly” he shrugs, “There’s still a few weeks left of winter”

You nod, small smile now tugging at your lips and Yoongi feels somewhat accomplished. He ignores the intruding stares of his two friends sat across the table, kicking Taehyung’s shin when he opens his mouth to surely make a comment on Yoongi’s somewhat soft behaviour. Emotions on display for everyone to see.

“Okay!” you push yourself to stand, “I’m going to find my credit card” you announce and Yoongi grunts at that.

“I’ll pay” he also stands, but you push him back into his seat, shaking your head.

“No, you won’t. It’s my gift”

“Doll” Yoongi stares up at you, and he thinks he sees a crack in your resolve. He smiles when you cover his eyes with your hand.

“Don’t look at me like that” you whine, skin prickling with goosebumps when Yoongi skims his fingers down your arm, blindly seeking out your touch.

“Like what?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

“Like you can tell me what to do”

“Is that so?”

You pull your hands from his eyes, frowning down at the caretaker, “I’m leaving” you tell him.

“I’ll take you out for dinner then” Yoongi calls when you turn away from the table.

“Okay!” you call over your shoulder, “text me later” you wave at him.

Yoongi turns towards Jungkook and Taehyung who have two annoying smiles plastered on their faces.

“Neither of you say a word” he points between them, “Not one”

+ + +

“Y/n!”

You startle, Yoongi using his hand to cushion your elbow before you could whack it on the edge of the table.

Both you and Yoongi turn towards where the honeyed voice came from, and Yoongi let’s out a low grunt when Namjoon saunters towards the table you’re sat at.

Yoongi had asked you out on a little coffee date, nothing too fancy, something to help the two of you wind down from another hectic week of work.

Yoongi had bought you a cake, getting the one that had little cat ears cut from sugar paper, and got himself a black coffee. You got sweet tea, and then you told him everything you’d been up to, talking of parents that had given you gifts at the start of the semester, and that you’d have to give him one of the funnier mugs for his coffee in the morning.

Everything was serene, perfect even. And Yoongi couldn’t have asked for anything more. His favourite girl by his side, with a perfect cup of coffee. Until Kim Namjoon decided to ruin his good mood.

“Namjoon” you greet, empty smile being thrown at the high school teacher.

“Fancy seeing you here” he laughs, inviting himself to your table. Taking a seat opposite Yoongi. Said man places his hand on your thigh gently, silent reassurance that he is there for you just in case this unplanned meeting goes south. And as much as you wanted to tell him to go away, you knew you would see him around work and the last thing you needed was an awkward encounter in the halls, you could feel your skin crawl at the thought of it.

“Yes, funny coincidence” you squeeze out, turning to look at Yoongi who gives you a curt nod.

“And who’s this?” Namjoon motions towards Yoongi, acting as though he was the one who had just barged into his café date. Eyes narrowing in slight distaste.

“Her boyfriend” Yoongi tells him, smug smile unmissable when Namjoon’s smile drops.

He turns to look at you, as if asking for confirmation. You nod, only deepening Namjoon’s frown. Yoongi’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and you feel a dull throb between your legs when he does, squirming a little in place, and if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t make it apparent.

“I didn’t know you two were—” he wags a finger in your general direction, “a thing” he finishes, the words leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“Not everyone drones on about their relationships, Namjoon” you point out, finding it hard to fight off the smug smile that threatened to show. You see, Namjoon had a track record of bragging about his escapades, either it be a quick fling with a woman who worshiped the ground he walked on (his words, not yours), or short-term relationships where he would boast about every detail of his sex life. Something you had no interest in.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was enjoying my date” you motion to Yoongi beside you, a bored expression taking over his features.

“You heard her” he adds, motioning for Namjoon to leave. Translation: Fuck off.

Yoongi thinks he sees the tips of Namjoon’s ears flush red, slithering its way down his cheeks and neck, and Yoongi feels his heart swell when you lean against his shoulder; Namjoon glaring at the two of you as he stands up.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you ask when Namjoon is out of your general vicinity.

Yoongi turns to look out the window, his silent wish of you not bringing that up clearly not being heard by some higher power.

“Only if that’s okay with you” he mutters.

“Is this you asking me out?” you laugh, head falling backwards, and Yoongi turns, wanting to catch your smile.

“Y/n?” he calls, hand coming to hold your cheek as you tilt your head back down to look at him.

You hum.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

+ + +

“Okay!” Seokjin claps his hands, “News for this week. Yoongi first”

And all three pairs of eyes land on the caretaker. Now that the weather had started to warm up a little, the sun no longer shying away behind fluffy, cotton candy clouds, lunch times were spent behind the school. Away from students, and the beady eyes of other staff that had a habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. And then before you knew it, the whole faculty knew about your secrets.

Yoongi places a hand on his chin in thought, “I helped Y/n build a new desk for her classroom and put up some new blinds that she bought. Oh...” he drawls, “And she’s now my girlfriend”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, and Yoongi wants to make a snide comment, being cut out by a loud gasp from his hyung. Jungkook and Taehyung laugh from their spot opposite Yoongi, nodding their congratulations as Jin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn’t think to text me?” he mutters, mock offense lacing his tone.

“What about your partner Hyung?” Jungkook prods, not missing the wide eyes of the eldest.

“How did you know about that?” he whispers, leaning across the table.

“You were kind of obvious” Taehyung placates, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“So? Who are they?” Yoongi prods, having waited years for his friend to finally spill the beans on this secret relationship he’d been trying to hide (and clearly failed).

“I met her in the town over, she already has a kid, but the father left. We’ve been taking it slow, but I really do like her” he admits, and Taehyung can’t help the mushy smile that takes over his features.

“On the topic of children…” Jungkook trails off, giving a look to his boyfriend, who only nods in encouragement. “We’re planning to adopt”

Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise, it’s not as if the two hadn’t fiddled with the idea of adopting; he just never expected it to be so soon.

“Oh my god” Seokjin cried, “I’m going to be an uncle”

“That’s a really big decision” Yoongi nods, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips.

“It is” Taehyung agrees, “But we both have stable jobs, and a home. Neither of us plan to go anywhere anytime soon”

“What about the wedding?” Jin asks.

“A wedding can happen any time. We both know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so there’s no rush really” Jungkook shrugs.

“What about you Hyung? When are you getting married” Taehyung points his attention towards the caretaker.

“He only just asked me to be his girlfriend” your arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi scoots over to make room for you on the bench.

“Not with your friends?” he asks, hand coming to rest on your thigh as you pull your own lunch (courtesy of Yoongi), placing it onto the table.

“Nope” you shake your head, handing him a neatly cut triangular sandwich, “Namjoon came over, so I lost my appetite” you tell him, and he hums in understanding. Muttering a short ‘bastard’ under his breath.

+ + +

Perfect didn’t seem like the right word to describe your relationship with Min Yoongi. It was beyond anything you could have ever asked for. Something that not many people had during their first relationships; trial and error finally pulling you down the path of your soulmate. However, you seemed to hit the jackpot, first try.

Before you knew it a year had flown by, memories floating by like the wind would, caressing your cheek in the morning on the way to school. Days merging into weeks and weeks into months. And even with a mush of weeks and days, Yoongi always made you feel the most special, like you were the only one he had eyes for.

Yoongi had never been the most vocal man, but you’d learnt that he loved you all as much. He would pack your lunches in cute little boxes, and on Friday’s he would slip a little note into your bag with plans for the weekend or a shopping list so you could both wander around the supermarket as soon as the home time bell rigs. He would come to your classroom after school with cold drinks in the summer and overly sweet hot chocolate in the winter.

Although he would never admit it, he really did like the tiramisu from that shitty Italian restaurant at the end of street, and he thought it was ridiculous how many dates the both of you had spent in there. He’d voiced out a concern one evening, you sprawled across his bed like a dream, with your favourite candle lit, and Holly filling the gap between your bodies; he worried he wasn’t doing enough. You had told him you really didn’t care, as long as you were together, even lounging in bed for the day made you happy. And as if to prove a point, you and Yoongi had spent the whole day in bed together, binging your favourite shows (amongst other things).

You walked around fair grounds together, shared secrets between kisses, and it was the small things that he would do for you, that reminded you that Min Yoongi really did love you. Like washing your face of an evening or picking up snacks from the convenience store because he knew you’d ran out.

You remember the evening he opened up about his music, not just a silly little hobby like he had initially told you. He told you about how cathartic it was for him to produce. He showed you notebook upon notebook of lyrics that he had written from his teens through to his adult years; a little window into the man you were dating.

You know he likes dogs more than cats; you know he adores Holly. You know he hates sweet coffee, the bitter taste on his tongue somewhat of a comfort for him. You know he liked to stay home rather than melt within a crowd of rowdy people. And if the two of you ever found yourself trapped with too many sounds and too many bodies, Yoongi would place his hand on the back of your neck, reassurance that he was still there, helping ground you from all the overflowing number of stimuli that were trying to scratch at your brain.

Min Yoongi liked to cook, liked to experiment in the kitchen and he loved it even more when he could cook for you. He liked watching your face light up when you liked something, he liked the way your nose would scrunch up in that cute way when a taste was unfamiliar or too bitter.

Yoongi liked the curtains in your apartment, thin in a way the sun would caress your skin as it woke before you. As he would lay there, fingers trailing over the naked skin of your back, loving the way you’d slowly start to become conscious of the world around you. And the smile that would stretch onto your face, unconditional love mingled with tired eyes as you woke up to the sight of sleep roughed Yoongi first thing in the morning.

Yoongi liked the winter more than he did the summer. Maybe it was because that is when he first worked up the courage to talk to you.

Yoongi liked wearing the colour black, something so simple but looked so good on him. He, however, adored when you’d wear colourful shirts, dresses that complimented the tone of your skin, and he thinks if he were to turn this into a metaphor, you were the one who finally brought colour into his monotone life. An endless cycle of loneliness that he hadn’t realised he was drowning in before he had met you.

Yoongi liked that when you had moved into his home, small parts of you leaked into his, your, living space. Canvases of unfinished paintings, and photos from your childhood. His closet was no longer half empty, overflowing with a concoction of both your clothes. Odd pieces of furniture that you hadn’t wanted to let go of now filling the gaps of his once arguably scarce apartment.

Min Yoongi loved you.

He loved everything about you.

He loved how kind you were, patient in a way that only a kindergarten teacher could be. He liked that with others you always seemed a little reserved, shy in your actions, but with him you had no qualms about what you said or how you acted. Min Yoongi loved you because you always thought of him as much as he thought of you. He would feel his heart flutter when you would leave coffee on the desk in his office or help him pick out what shirt to wear to work.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last thing he would see before he went to sleep, with his arm slung around your waist, and he loved that from the minute he would wake up, there you were, right by his side.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last missing puzzle piece of his life. Fitting ever so perfectly in the gap he never knew was missing.

+ + +

“Yoongi, hold on” you gasp, head falling back into the plethora of pillows he had thrown onto the bed.

‘So you’re comfy’ Yoongi had frowned. And if you could think a coherent thought maybe you would thank him. Your head rocking up into the pillow padded headboard; pleasure licking up your spine.

You feel Yoongi’s tongue flick at your clit, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal dripping down his chin like liquid honey. And Yoongi makes sure to try and save every delicious mouthful of your essence. Something so uniquely you, so sweet, something that only Yoongi gets the pleasure to taste; because he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

Your boyfriend prods his tongue at your entrance, your legs shaking as his thumb gently brushes over your overstimulated clit. You see, Yoongi had this game, he liked to see how long he could eat you out, and how many times he could make you cum before he fucked you senseless on his cock. Leaving your clit to throb in a mixture of want and denial, swollen from being toyed with.

“One more, baby” he takes a deep breath, wasting no time in diving his tongue into you, molten arousal coating his lips, and as much as Yoongi loved it when your thighs would clamp round his head, today he wanted you bare. Spread out prettily just for him to devour. So, he holds your thighs open, straining them as he tries to push his head as far between your thighs as physically possible, lips pulling into a grin when you thrust your hips to meet his tongue; chasing your own pleasure.

He feels your fingers thread with his hair when he pushes his tongue in a little deeper, thumb still strumming at your clit. And he wonders if he could make you cum from just playing with your clit alone. He’d made you cum just from toying with your nipples once, the picture of you, flushed face, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as his teeth clamped down on your puffy nipples, red raw from his mouth, and he remembers the surprised moan you’d graced him with when you had come.

“I can’t” you moan, mouth falling open.

Yoongi grunts, pulling his face away from your cunt, his index finger sinking into your entrance.

“Yes, you can” he tells you, fingers delving, eager to find that spot which will make you see stars, groaning at the sound you let out when he sinks a second finger into your greedy cunt.

He uses his other arm to hold down your waist as you try to eagerly buck into his fingers, little whimpers tumbling from your lips, and Yoongi thinks that was his favourite sound. He had asked once to add your moans to a song, your cheeks had flushed, laughing like Yoongi had been joking. And then your boyfriend had fucked you in his home office, with your hand clamped over your mouth, a little game to see how long you could stay silent.

He was surprised how long you’d been able to keep it up, and it had become his own personal goal to make sure you moaned his name every time he played with you.

“Please, please, please” you whine breathlessly.

“Please what, baby? I can’t help you of you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he frowns, tone mocking as he slows his fingers to a gentle thrust.

“No, no, Yoongi faster please” you cry, tilting your head to look at him, and Yoongi leans up to brush the stray tears from your cheeks, sadistic smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching as you nod; pitiful as you rock your hips to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you.

Your boyfriend leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pouty lips, your sad frown enough for him to finally give you what you want.

He trails his lips down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to your nipples, tongue flicking out to toy with them as you wiggle underneath him, shuddering breath reverberating around the otherwise silent room.

“Cum one more time and then I’ll fuck you” he mutters, “Okay, baby?”

You hum, and Yoongi pushes himself off your body.

“Words” he reminds you, and you have to wrack your brain.

“Yes”

“Good girl” he pushes his head back between his legs, something comforting about being here; like Yoongi belonged, sandwiched between your thighs.

Two of his fingers strum at your clit, a breathy chuckle fanning over your sensitive cunt when he laughs as you moan. His tongue lapping up the arousal that had started to dribble from your hole.

“You’re really wet, baby”

You hum, not quite sure you heard him or not. But Yoongi laps up another string of your essence, acting more like a starved puppy than a man, but he supposes he always was a little feral around you.

“Think you can squirt for me?” he grunts, exchanging his tongue for his fingers as the wet muscle in his mouth now plays with your clit.

He suctions the sensitive pearl, teeth grazing it as he sinks three fingers into your hole. You moan into a pillow, thighs once again shaking as Yoongi thrusts his fingers into you in quick succession. He can feel your walls clench around him sporadically, tips of his fingers nudging that spongy tissue as he curls them upwards.

“Cum, baby” he grunts, wrist straining as he tries to keep a steady pace.

He feels his fingers being pushed from your hole as you squirt, his shirt soaking through with your juices. Your thighs shakes as he pushes his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in a couple of times before more of your arousal leaks onto the bed sheets.

“How messy” he tuts, pulling his shirt from over his head.

“Your fault” you argue, chest rising and falling, uneasy as you catch your breath.

Yoongi pushes himself up your body, arms flexing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips; a lot slower, more passionate than those from prior in the evening.

Yoongi brushes a wet piece of hair from your face, your forehead glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

“You did so well for me” he whispers, hands trailing down the sides of your body, an attempt to ground you a little. When he sees a little more clarity in your eyes, legs not still shaking where they rest against his thighs he presses a gentle kiss to your cheeks.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to” he reminds you.

You nod, “I’m okay, I don’t know if I can cum again though”

“Guess we’ll have to check” he pushes himself to sit on his knees.

Yoongi ignores you as you eye his sweats, hard shaft hardly veiled by the grey fabric. And you think you are moments away from jumping the man. With how perfect he looked in the orange glow of the lamplight, chin shining in your arousal. It was hard to stop your pussy from leaking, and it would have been a little embarrassing just how wet you were if you didn’t know Yoongi absolutely loved when you got like this for him.

You watch as he leans across the bed, lithe fingers tugging the drawer open. Your fingers toy with the waist band of his sweats, and Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle when you tug on them.

Your boyfriend sits up, shiny foil packet held between two fingers, those same two fingers that had brought you to your high twice already tonight.

“Can I help?” you push yourself to sit up, biting your lip at the dull throbbing between your thighs.

Yoongi hands the condom to you, scooting himself off the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You watch as he pulls off his sweats, having foregone any underwear that evening, and your eyes train on his cock.

You think that your boyfriend maybe had the prettiest cock, he took pride in grooming himself; always making sure to be clean. You can only wonder how long it must have been erected for, cockhead an angry red, shiny with Yoongi’s own arousal, little beads of pre-cum cascading down his length.

You lean forwards, taking the girthy cock into your hands, the familiar weight making you salivate a little. You run the tip over your lips, coating it in Yoongi’s pre-cum.

“No teasing, doll” he grunts, and you smile, pulling back.

You roll the latex over his shaft, leaving it to bob uselessly against the skin of his stomach as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You sure you’re, okay?” he checks, helping lay you down comfortably, lifting the lower half of your body by your ankles, his other hand grabbing a pillow to cushion your hips.

He drops your legs back onto the bed, watching as you smile up at him.

“Come here” you tell him, and Yoongi obliges, humming into the gentle kiss you place on his lips, your own cum still staining the taste of him.

He wraps your thighs around his waist, one arm holds him up as he lines himself with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open into a silent ‘o’ when he pushes the head in, and Yoongi always makes sure to watch your face when he finally fucks you; not only as reassurance that you like what’s happening but so he knows just the right spot to drill into you.

Yoongi holds your hips as you try to rock forwards, his own hips stuttering in anticipation; but he holds himself back, liking the intimacy of having you sprawled out beneath him, fully trusting that he’ll take care of you. There had always been something so fulfilling to Yoongi about these intimate moments with you, your bodies joining to become one, your body pliant to his every move.

His hands leave your hips, skimming up your body before lacing his finger between your own.

“You good?” he whispers, unsure if he could utter anything more with how warm and wet you were, cunt clenching rhythmically around his length.

“Yeah” you whisper back, fingers tightening around his own when he gently pulls out before thrusting back into you.

Something akin to a squeak, tumbles from your lips when Yoongi picks up his pace, hands never letting go of yours as his hips snap forwards, thighs slapping against thighs with nothing more than the music of your bodies filling the silence of your bedroom.

Yoongi can only describe the sounds coming from you as pornographic, his thrusts pushing you up a little on the bed, he feels your nails dig into the skin of his hands, his own grunts mirroring your own pleasure.

“So close, so close” he chants, using whatever strength he has left in his arms to lean down, greedily sucking your left nipple between his teeth, teasing nips sending jolts of pleasure down your body.

Your boyfriend can feel your legs shake as he sucks a love bite just above the sensitive skin of your nipple, your hips bucking to meet his own.

He lets go of one of your hands, “Play with yourself, pretty. Let’s cum together”

You nod, sweat trickling down your neck as you trail a hand down your body. Slicking up your fingers from where Yoongi thrusts into you, your fingers start to play with your clit, jolt of pleasure causing your cunt spasm around Yoongi’s cock.

“Gonna cum” you whine, Yoongi’s teeth clamping around your nipple enough to push you over the edge.

Your legs tighten around his waist, stopping Yoongi’s sloppy thrusts, as you push him as deep inside of you as humanly possible. Your mind a blank slate as it rewires, slowly trying to become conscious of your surroundings.

You feel his cock twitch, his own cum shooting him the condom.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, a rush of air squeezing from your lungs when he lands with a dull thump.

“Ouch” you giggle, not protesting when his arms snake around your waist, flipping the two of over so you lay gently on his chest.

Yoongi’s fingers brush through your damp hair, “You did so well for me, pretty” he tells you, golden glow of the lamp illuminating him in that post-orgasmic bliss. If you though Yoongi looked good on a normal day, you had been utterly in awe when you’d seen him after he’d came.

“Thank you”

“For what?” he laughs, chest rumbling under your ear.

“Making me cum three times”

“Nothing I like more than my girl feeling good”

You hum at that, trying to push yourself up. Yoongi grunts, tugging you tighter against his chest.

“Yoongs I need to pee, and I feel all sticky” you complain, fingers toying with the divot of his collarbone.

“5 minutes”

“Min Yoongi” you laugh, pinching the skin of his neck.

“Fine but be quick” he loosens his arms. When you push yourself to sit, he pulls you back down.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Need a kiss first” he puckers up his lips, and you indulge him this one time, never in a hurry when it came to kissing your love.

And as you wash up in the bathroom, door slightly ajar where he can see you milling around, his fingers play with the little beaded bracelet you’d gifted him when you spent that first Christmas together.

Yoongi loved you a lot, more than he would ever be able to describe in words. He loved that he could give you a helping hand no matter the situation, and the shiny little ring, hidden away in his nightstand shrouded in a pretty, purple velvet box was his promise to you; that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.

4K notes · View notes

m00nsbaby · 10 months

Text

The invisible barrier.

(Jake Lockley x F!Reader)

Tags - Warnings: Jake doesn’t know about Marc or Steven. Angst, smut, fluff, everything. Most of Jake’s dialogues are in Spanish, most of reader’s are in English except in November - December. Word count: 4,9 k. (Lol, sorry) Summary: A whole year trying to understand Jake Lockley. (Literally)

January.

"¡Hola!" (Hello.) The sudden voice next to you made you jump as you made the most important and complicated decision of the week.

Would you choose pretzels with dark or white chocolate?

Reluctantly, you turned to your side to see a man standing just a few inches away from you. On another occasion, you would have probably jumped back or fled to another aisle in the supermarket, but the apologetic smile on his lips and the puppy-like look in his eyes told you that he didn't want to be in this situation either.

"Perdón, ¿Podrías decirme qué dice aquí?” (Sorry. Could you tell me what it says here?) The words came out quickly from his mouth and you furrowed your brow in confusion. Your fleeting and ridiculous Spanish classes had never been of much use, even less now that you had the opportunity to help an attractive man.

"I don't... Huh." You cleared your throat, searching for a way to say, 'Maybe I can't help you, but I'll move heaven and earth to try.' Dramatic? Yes, of course, but what more could be expected from a hopeless romantic? Many love stories began like this in your mind; this was a scenario you had imagined at least twice before falling asleep. "No hablo español." (I don’t speak Spanish.)

The man blinked a couple of times, as if realizing that he had gathered courage for about 15 minutes only to lose his dignity like this.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, nodding afterward. "Thanks," he said shyly, as if trying to hide his accent.

"No, no, let me help you. What do you need?" You turned the bag of Cheetos he was holding in his hands so you could see the list of ingredients on the back as he was asking. Both of you were guessing what you were saying. Your gaze scanned the list, nodding your head when you detected the problem. Everything was written in English.

Sure, your aisle companion had an extra problem on top of that. The letters were too small for his poor eyesight, and he would rather ask for help from strangers than give up on the idea of using glasses.

"Give me a second." Your fingers quickly handled your phone as you took the bag from his hands.

You took a photo and the app took care of the work for you, translating every word on the red packaging you held. You didn't hesitate to take a step forward and extend your hand far enough for your phone to be at the stranger's ear level, who didn't question your methods for a moment.

He just stood still, listening.

"¿Colorante rojo número 6?” (Red dye number 6?) He questioned when the voice function finished. And you quickly scanned the phone screen, trying to find the part on the list that seemed closest to what he had just said.

Well, seis = 6, that one was easy.

"Yes, 6." You saw him smile and take the bag back from your hands to shake it in a celebratory manner. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why 6?" He guessed based on how you tilted your head to one side what you were asking.

"Soy alérgico al número 4, o al menos eso creo.” (I'm allergic to the number 4. Or at least, I think I am.) He pointed to his throat. "Siento comezón en la garganta cuando como cosas que lo tienen.” (My throat itches when I eat things that have it.")

Did you understand anything he said? No, nothing beyond the number 4. So, you smiled and nodded, eliciting a warm laugh from him.

He was cute.

"Gracias." (Thank you.) It seemed like he understood the basics, just like you. It was better to use his words than to deal with the pronunciation of the "t" and "h" together.

"It's okay." You shrugged while continuing to smile in a friendly manner. It wasn't because the stranger was incredibly attractive; you always behaved this way with people, or at least you tried to. "Enjoy your Cheetos."

Another giggle. "Cheetos," he repeated, imitating the way you pronounced the brand's name.

You rolled your eyes playfully and went back to the pretzels without saying anything else.

Well, there went the potential love of your life. Both of you were too shy to engage in casual conversation. You were aware that pretending to have the confidence to do so would be a lie.

Silently, you paid for your pretzels covered in white chocolate, looking around in case the guy was still nearby. After a few seconds, you gave up. Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary, even with one more chance, you wouldn't have approached him. More than 20 dollars for a bag of chocolate covered pretzels? That must be a crime, the first time you bought one . . .

"Hola de nuevo.” (Hi again.) The leather of his jacket brushed against your skin as you bumped into him. He was in the exact same position as you, one hand holding his Cheetos, the other clutching the receipt he was trying to read with squinted eyes.

You almost had a heart attack.

"Hi." You smiled, your cheeks betraying you as they turned rosy just from being around him like this. You had to take a step back after the clumsy little push you gave him.

"¿Tienes cómo regresar a tu casa?” (Do you have a way to get home?) You frowned at the question. This only confirmed that your crazy fantasy wasn't going to work out; there was a huge barrier between you.

He could see the confusion on your face so he pointed outside. It was raining heavily.

"Oh." You had been so engrossed in your pursuit of him that you hadn't thought about that. It wasn't a terrible problem, though; you could just wait until it calmed down.

You could spend another $20 on an umbrella in the worst case. Or call a car to take you the 10-minute walk to your house.

"I'll just wait." You had to remind yourself not to get too deep into your words.

"Yo te llevo.” (I'll give you a ride.) He quickly said. "A ride." The way the 'r' rolled off his mouth was enough to make you dizzy.

"Are you sure?" This couldn't be happening. This genuinely couldn't be happening.

"Of course, I'm sure," he repeated, smiling. This couldn't be happening.

It couldn't.

That night, you ran together to his car in the rain, laughing. He opened the door for you, even though it meant a few extra minutes of water poured on him.

You gave him directions through your phone, and you learned how to say "cuadras" (blocks) to guide someone next time, and he kept telling you something you didn't understand, but he noticed you were just nodding for him to keep talking.

He said goodbye with a kiss on your cheek. He used a word similar to "custom" to justify it, ‘costumbre’ maybe.

Oh, and you exchanged numbers. It turned out the stranger, Jake Lockley, worked as a taxi driver most nights. You understood that because the words "taxi" and "noche" were in your mental dictionary.

February.

Your first date was a disaster.

You never considered that to spend the day together, you had to exchange more than 5 words, and Jake stained your beautiful pink sundress with an ice cream that didn't even taste that good.

Oh, at some point, you tripped too. You were so focused on trying to understand one of the anecdotes he was telling you that you ended up on the ground with a scraped knee.

That wasn't so bad, though. I mean, you had Jake on one knee, checking yours. He even had you step on his thigh so he could clean you up with his ice cream-covered napkin.

When the day came to an end, he took you home. You noticed he had memorized your address, making it easier for both of you. You hummed a song together to cover the silence of two people who had to resort to other means of communication than talking.

"I had fun." Lie, this hadn't been anything like you imagined a first date, not after reading books or watching movies.

He nodded silently as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

And even though the date was a complete disaster, Jake kissed you.

He kissed you against the closed door of your apartment, holding you by the waist as if you intended to escape from his arms, begging you silently not to separate from him.

"¿Repetimos la próxima semana?” (Second date next week?)

March.

Text messages flowed throughout the weeks. Depending on the day, one or the other used the translator to send messages that the other could understand.

Sometimes they were just silly pictures, mostly of cats. You found a silly liking for sending him videos and photos of different animals in romantic situations, hugging each other and such, with only the description 'us.'

Jake responded ‘nosotros’ with different emojis depending on the day. He liked the white heart.

His car became familiar to you, as well as the late-night drives with music. You wondered if Jake had started neglecting his work to spend more time with you, and although it sounded selfish, you didn't care much.

You enjoyed his company.

April.

Your fingers played with his curls while both of you rested comfortably on your bed, you on the pillows, Jake on your abdomen.

He was surprisingly interested in one of the old books you hadn't touched in a long time.

"Jake?" He immediately put the book down to look at you. "Can you help me with a word?"

"¿Ahora?" (Now?) he asked.

"Right now."

"¿Cuál palabra?" (Which word?) He closed his eyes as your fingers continued to enjoy playing with his hair. It was so soft that the gentle caresses you gave were enough to mess it up.

"Boyfriend."

"Novio." You stretched your free hand with difficulty. He opened his eyes again, looking at you with interest as you struggled in the least attractive way to open one of your drawers with one hand. Something cracked in it.

You put the bag of Cheetos on his chest, clearing your throat afterwards.

"¿Quieres ser mi novio?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend?)

May.

"Jake?"

The car hadn't started yet when he turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong. You stretched enough to touch his knuckles, which were marked with a purple tone and scraped.

Your gaze went to him. It was as if both of you knew how to communicate through looks.

"No sé qué me pasó. Mi teoría es que golpee algo mientras dormía.” (I don't know what happened. My theory is that I hit something while asleep.) He frowned as he extended his fingers to get a better view of them. It looked like he had beaten up someone, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, especially when he gripped the steering wheel of the car.

"Are you still having those strange dreams?"

"Weird dreams," Jake whispered to himself as a way to remember your words. "Sí, sueños raros.” (Yes, weird dreams.)

You pursed your lips without saying more as you brushed his knuckles with your thumb, as gently as you could.

"Let's go." You finally gave in, returning to your seat with an unconvincing gesture.

June.

"I don't understand football." You said as you walked hand in hand, leaning some of your weight against his body.

Technically, neither of you were drunk; you were just flushed from the heat of the alcohol, giggly and a little tipsy. Jake had mentioned how funny it would be to go to one of those bars where they show football games for fans, even though neither of you were fans. Choosing a team randomly to support, drinking things with strange names, and maybe sharing spicy wings sounded like a good plan.

That was your Friday night.

"Tampoco yo.” (Neither do I.) Jake was doing his best not to laugh. He failed miserably.

When you reached his car, you leaned your body against it, and your hands ended up on your boyfriend's shirt. He immediately knew what you wanted, bringing both hands to your waist and leaning forward, closer.

"Is it hot here, or was it the 4 margaritas we drank?" You whispered while trying to contain your smile.

"Debe ser ese vestido.” (It must be that dress.) His lips brushed against yours. The sudden change in his voice made you shiver, so husky. “O por lo menos es lo que me está poniendo caliente a mi.” (At least I know that's what's making me hot.) It was the last thing he said before kissing you as if his life depended on it.

You moaned into his mouth, pressed between his body and the car. The kiss was wet as his mischievous hands slid under your dress, squeezing your ass firmly enough for it to hurt. Not in a bad way. "Jake." You complained as you looked around to make sure no one was walking by to see you.

"Date la vuelta.” (Turn around.) Apparently, your Spanish only worked in moments of convenience because you obeyed immediately. You turned your body with difficulty, mainly because he refused to let go of you. You felt his erection against you as soon as your cheek collided with the cold metal of the car. He was rubbing against your ass while biting your neck to his liking, sucking and licking your skin until he marked it. "Fuck, Jake." You whispered with your eyes closed. You could have cum right there with just his kisses and soft touches. Fortunately, he was more considerate because one of the hands that rested on your waist little by little went between your legs, your dress was already raised enough to only have to worry about your panties, he brushed his fingers over your abdomen before sliding his middle finger between your lips. First he wetted it well before moving up to your clit. His touch made you tremble and hiss. "¿Un par de besos te tienen así, corazón?” (A couple of kisses have you like this, sweetheart?) You could hear the smirk on his lips as his finger traced circles against your most sensitive area. "Imagínate como será cuando esté dentro de ti.” (Imagine how it will be like when I'm inside you.) A shameless moan escaped from you. "Eso quieres, ¿No?” (You want that, don't you?) He kept talking in your ear while he distributed one or two kisses between your neck and your shoulder. “Sentirme duro. Profundo.” (To feel me hard. Deep.) He simulated thrusts between each word, his hip pushing yours harder against the car and against his hand that kept playing with your pussy to make you whimper. You nodded without opening your eyes. "Con palabras." (Use your words.) He said clicking his tongue.

"Yes please." You begged desperately while trying to get air through your mouth. "Buena niña.” (Good girl.) You swallowed the complaint of feeling him take his hand out of your panties, just because you immediately heard how he started to unbutton his jeans. "Escupe.” (Spit.) You could feel his girth between your legs, letting you know that there were no more clothes involved. You took a few seconds to be able to clean the fingers that were inside you before with your tongue, making Jake groan just by imagining what you would do with your mouth in another situation. When you were satisfied you spat into the palm of his hand as requested. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and covered it with your saliva. He used the same hand to accommodate it between your lips. A sigh of relief left your mouth when you finally felt it inside you. A muffled whimper accompanied the way your muscles suddenly relaxed, as if that was what you needed. "Mierda, amor." (Shit, love.) As Jake's forehead rested against your shoulder, he muttered under his breath. "Voy a terminar rápido si sigues apretándome así.” (I'm going to finish fast if you keep squeezing me like this.) His voice made you dizzy, you mentally thanked all those days you spent understanding each other because his words could have been enough to push you to the limit. It didn't take long for both of you to pick up a delicious rhythm. When he pushed his hip forward, you pushed back to make him go deeper. When he was pulling back, you were pulling forward almost taking his member all the way out to prepare for his next thrust. You were so close you had to bite the hand he put to your mouth to keep from screaming. "¿Vas a terminar para mi, mi vida?” (Are you going to finish for me, my life?) He whimpered. Oh god, he fucking whimpered. He had a desperate tone to his voice, almost like he was comforting you. "Déjame sentirlo, por favor, por favor.” (Let me feel it, please, please.) This time it was he who was begging. Your saliva had started running against Jake's hand. You were seeing stars from squeezing your eyes shut, and how close you were wasn't helping at all. The spasms had started around him, and without warning, the inevitable happened. He finished inside of you. His cum being pushed deeper inside you with each thrust he took to finish his orgasm was enough for you to reach yours. "Amor, carajo.” (Love, damn it.) His voice cracked at the sensitivity combining with your walls squeezing him every few seconds. You were milking him. "Te amo.” (I love you.) He whispered as his breath interrupted each of his words. That was the first time he said it.

July.

The only thing that relaxed you was that this 360° turn apparently had nothing to do with you.

Jake was someone else.

His flirty and playful personality was just a memory to you. Under his eyes, there were huge dark circles since his dreams had become crazier and more frequent.

There were unexplained wounds on his body, according to him. Or sometimes there were none, but he felt the pain throughout his body, as if a truck had run over him, he said.

He became silent, as if he felt he was talking too much when he started to let out words about what was happening. He still hugged and kissed you, still spent afternoons with you and continued to respond “nosotros" to your silly animal photos.

But something wasn't right. There was something so... strange.

You did what you could to work on it, to let it pass.

Even if it cost you the trust in your relationship.

August.

Your hands trembled as you dialed his number for the tenth time that night. Maybe you were being dramatic, but Jake always made sure to let you know when he had returned home.

The sudden change that had occurred in him over the past 3 months didn't help at all. You wouldn't last a lifetime without wondering why his body kept producing wounds he claimed not to remember, or about those days of complete dissociation on his part, when he swore you were playing with him when you told him it was Saturday and not Wednesday.

"I just want to know you're okay." You whispered with a broken voice to the voicemail. "Please, just tell me you're okay."

There was no response that night. You couldn't sleep either.

The next day, when he showed up at your doorstep with the dark circles you had learned to get used to over the days, your body's first reaction was to push him with all your strength. It was only enough to make him stagger.

"You're an idiot." You spat the words, your eyes flooded with tears.

"Me quedé dormido anoche, perdón.” (I fell asleep, I'm sorry.) He didn't even seem to believe the words coming out of his mouth, but how could he explain to you what was happening in his life if he didn't even know what the hell was going on?

"How much longer do you plan on lying to me?" You didn't care that people passing by on the street saw you both as crazy. You in your pajamas, him leaning against the car as a method of protection.

"No te estoy mintiendo." (I’m not lying to you.) He raised his voice a little, letting out a lot of the feelings he had been suppressing for a while.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" The worst part was that you also had things bottled up inside you, the worry for him being the thing that choked you every day, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Creo que no quieres entenderme.” (I think you don't want to understand me.) He was angry. You had never heard him like this, especially not directed at you. "Creo que ni siquiera estás intentando.” (I think you're not even trying.)

Damn the day you started to understand his words.

"I'm not understanding you, Jake?" You had already broken into tears. Your finger collided against his chest in an accusatory manner while he seemed unaffected, even though inside he was falling apart.

It was too much for him. Everything was too much.

"I've been trying for months to ignore what you're hiding from me." It was so difficult to argue in this way that frustration was suffocating you.

"¡No te estoy ocultando una mierda!” (I'm not hiding shit from you!) You snapped.

With fear.

Mid-sentence, Jake had reached out a hand to push you. Not with much force, just enough to separate you from his chest.

In seconds, he became aware of what he had done. If the car wasn't behind him, he would have moved even further away from you. He was overwhelmed by fear too.

He was losing himself as he had suspected.

"Me tengo que ir.” (I have to go.)

"Jake Lockley, if you leave, I don't want you to come back." Tired of seeing him run away from the problems, you resorted to the last card you would have liked to play.

You were foolish to think he would risk hurting you again. The last thing you heard was the sound of the engine accelerating to get away from you as fast as possible.

September.

The first part of September is blurry. You did your best to survive without him, but the days passed so quickly that you began to question if you were alive or just living in a bad dream that had lasted longer than necessary.

It was as if Jake was dead to you, without any sign, without any notice, nothing.

He simply disappeared.

The clear countdown of the days begins on the 13th, when your phone lit up to notify you that he wasn't doing much better than you.

✉: ¿Podemos hablar? (Can we talk?)

✉: Estoy perdido. (I'm lost.)

It hurt not having him, but it hurt more to see Jake's well-being. Not knowing how he was, where he was, what he was doing after that tragic day tormented you.

You replied, and the most important relationship in your life turned into a series of midnight calls where you tried to understand what your ex-boyfriend was mumbling from the solitude of his car.

You had friendships that had started in stranger ways than this, you could endure this.

Make it work.

October.

"Trick or treat." Mentally, he slapped himself for how ridiculous his way of reappearing was.

A half-smile appeared on your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with an embarrassed Jake, wearing your favorite leather jacket and both hands in his pockets as if he was waiting to be scolded by you.

"I doubt any of these things don't have artificial coloring number 4." That was your only response as you leaned your body against the door frame. With one hand, you held the huge container of candies that came out of hiding every Halloween.

"Estaba por aquí.” (I was around here.) Jake pointed back, the path that led to the supermarket, or at least that's what you assumed. He had a very lame excuse to see you, but that worked for you. The interest was enough. "Y pensé en venir a saludar.” (And I thought of coming. To say hi.)

"I'm watching Friday The 13th." You looked behind him. Children approached with shyness, seeking candy. "Come in, let me finish with the candies."

Your smile was so genuine that Jake's heart skipped a beat. How had he lasted so long without you? Those lost 3 months would always be present in the multiple mistakes he made.

That night, you kissed until it hurt. Until your lips hurt from bites, until the skin of his neck burned from love bites, until his fingers became imprinted on your waist. "I love you." You said between moans as the movie gave you an almost unreal vision of who the love of your life was. Flashes in white, in red, even in black showing you how beautiful he was from any angle or lighting. He made your sofa creak as he raised his hip toward you, thrusting into you even deeper if that was possible. "I love you, Jake." You repeated with a broken voice while your little jumps gained more strength. Your body was already exhausted, your legs were shaking and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck from sweat but emotionally you refused to get away from him. "Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.” (I love you. I love you. I love you.) His whispers mixed with his panting. You both seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Don't go away again." Your fingers tightened on his chest, scratching at his skin as you had done many times before. "Don't ever leave me again, Jake." The way you said his name burned in his heart. He brought a hand to one of yours to squeeze them on his chest, making you feel his agitated heartbeat. There was no need to say more, not while your kisses, movements and moans spoke for themselves. That night, as you rested on his chest after an orgasm that made you both shake from head to toe, he promised you never to leave. "Mi vida.” (My life.) He repeated as his fingers untangled your hair and your weight on him increased as you drifted off to sleep. "Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” (My darling. My heart.) He whispered in your ear. "Mi todo." (My everything.)

November.

Everything with Jake was stupidly easy.

Laughing, singing, existing.

As easy as in the romantic comedies you used to love watching before you met him. And it's not that you had forgotten about those because of him, but now you enjoyed watching action movies, those that allow you to get distracted without losing track of the plot.

You didn't press him to talk about what happened in those months, knowing that there were still a thousand secrets between you because you still saw strange bruises on his body, marks on his knuckles, or felt him getting up in the early hours of the morning when he stayed over with you.

"Leave me alone!" You ran down the hallway, laughing with him trailing behind. Probably restraining himself because it would be impossible for him not to catch you with his eyes closed.

He wrapped an arm around you to press you against his chest and used the other to prevent both of you from crashing into the wall. He was laughing too.

"Do you give up?" He squeezed you tighter with his arm.

"Never! Let me go!"

The laughter almost made it difficult for you to speak.

"Come back to me, and I'll let you go."

The seconds of silence churned his stomach.

"What?"

"I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Officially. Would you be my girlfriend? Please?"

It almost seemed like he was begging you.

You reassured his fears with a kiss.

December.

"I don't understand how you can eat these things." You took a deep breath through your mouth, sticking out your tongue, already reddened by the red dye number 6, to seek some relief from the burning sensation.

Jake was setting down a fifth box from his arms. He sighed, tired.

"No puedo creer que no me estés ayudando.” (I can't believe you're not helping me.) He approached you to steal one of the Cheetos from your bag while you licked your fingers. "Te dije que uses palillos chinos, así evitas el polvo.” (I told you to use chopsticks, that way you avoid getting your fingers dusty.)

"The dust is the best part." You popped your thumb out of your mouth.

"Disgusting." He feigned a look of disgust as he settled between your legs, resting a hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

"You didn't say that when..."

"¡Dios mío!" (My God!) He gasped, biting his lower lip to suppress his laughter. He leaned forward, stealing a chaste kiss from you. "Compórtate.” (Behave.)

"Are there many more boxes left? I didn't think you had so much stuff in your apartment." You pushed the box aside as you leaned forward to prolong your kisses.

"This is my apartment." He whispered with a smile against your lips.

"Touché." Your fingers slowly roamed his shirt collar before pulling him closer with a tug on the fabric. "What if you take a break?"

Jake's hands were already on his pants, figuring out how to unbutton his jeans without separating from your body.

"I'm never going to stop unpacking." He complained as his lips began to descend towards your neck.

Ok now that I have written happy endings for the three of them I’m sick of them, lol, I’ll try to get angst-ier with these thingies

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector #Steven Grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #Moon Knight #moon knight x you #marvel #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you

568 notes · View notes

tswhiisftteedr · 5 months

Text

Gamer ‘Friend’ ☆ Chapter 1: Panty Incident(s)

☆ Pervy!Dom!Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader : On a Thursday night, Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia Shroud bumps into a fellow gamer, and that happens to be you, someone that had become infamous on campus. Being new to this world, and having the headmaster stingy with money, you had yet to experience this world’s gaming. But not to worry, after all Idia Shroud the professional gamer that he is, is here to help, in more ways than attended…

(In this version reader eats breakfast alone not with her friends, lol)

Warnings : Mature content, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Somnophilia, Panty Stealing, Masturbating(male), Cumplay(Idia cumming in readers panties), Degenerate Fantasies, mentions of; Choking, Tying up, Spanking, Slapping, Denigration, Humilation, but no actually action. (It’s mention in a book the reader has.) (Okay, it’s my first fic so sorry if tag this wrong). Reader is said to be curvy about twice. IDIA IS CANONICAL 18.

Note: Reader is; a heavy sleeper(or maybe not👀), shorter than Idia, a masochistic degradee, an airhead, fucked up, unhinged pervert. And Idia gets horny very easily around the reader, since they are the first girl he’s ever seen in real life, besides from his family and the S.T.Y.X employees. Things move really fast because Idia is loke an obsessive pervert. Also when y/n is written it only refers to the first name. Idia is a bit/lot occ, not proofread.

Chapter 1 | Next Chapter |

☆ More under the cut. ☆

Idia was walking through the halls of Night Raven College, avidly trying to avoid unnecessary attention. His flame-like hair glowed a light blue, and his yellow eyes darted around the halls. He hoped to reach his dorm room without any issues.

However, that was not the case when he accidentally bumped into you. With his scrawny physique, he was almost knocked over by the collision.

“O-oh, I’m so so sorry! Are you alright? Sorry again I wasn’t paying attention!” You tell him, Idia's eyes widened as he nearly fell over. His hands went out to catch himself on you, grabbing hold of your wrist, leaving faint marks of his presence behind. He quickly let’s go when he realizes he is making contact with you. "Y-Yes, I'm fine..." He muttered softly, trying hard not to sound annoyed. Finally, he gathered enough courage and turned around to face you properly.

"Um- So.. h-hello?" He stammered nervously, unable to meet your gaze directly.

He noticed how small and curvy you were compared to him. Your soft and smooth hair was like a magnet pulling him in, making it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from your features. The way your hips swayed with each step had an odd effect on him; one that made him extremely horny.

“Uh, hi?” You reply, questioning the interaction.

"Umm... uh..." Idia stuttered, unsure of what to say next. His hands fidgeted nervously with his his tablet case. "I-I'm Idia Shroud, the Housewarden of Ignihyde." He managed to croak out finally, offering a weak smile that barely reached his eyes, still unsure of why he was introducing himself. But his brain told him to continue.

"And you are?" He asked tentatively, hoping he hadn't crossed any lines by asking such ‘personal information’ so soon after meeting you. Of course to an antisocial guy like himself, such question was considered personal.

“Oh, I’m f/n l/n, and I guess I’m the prefect of the Ramshackle.” You tell him, with a bright smile. He then remembered the whole story behind the girl who had been summon from another world, apparently she had stop 2 Overblots already, he usually didn’t pay attention to normies so he didn’t look into her. But he does remember commenting to himself how she was like an anime protagonist, getting isekaid into a reverse harem type of world….

“Oh, nice to meet you f/n l/n." Idia said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, feeling heat rise in his cheeks at the mention of being associated with someone so currently relevant, well at least on campus that is.

"So... uh, what brings you here?" He asked awkwardly, hoping it would steer the conversation away from himself and onto something else entirely.

"I was heading towards the library to get some reading material. You would be surprised how many of the books there are not school-related.” You informed him,

Idia blinked a few times, trying to process your words. "R-Reading? That's... nice," he muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I should get going too then." He mumbled quickly, turning around and speeding away down the hallway, hoping you wouldn't follow him.

“Bye Idia, I hope to see you soon!” You speak up for him to hear,

"Y-Yeah... see you later..." Iida called out softly after you, his voice trailing off as he rushed towards the exit door of the school building. He wanted to arrive at the mirror chamber and reach Ignihyde as soon as possible, in order to return safely to his dormitory. Once alone in his room, he leaned against the door, panting heavily. His heart raced wildly inside his chest, and sweat formed on his palms.

He closed the door behind him, locking it tightly before collapsing onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow. What did you mean when you said ‘You hoped to see him soon’. How could someone like you—so beautiful and confident—possibly find anything interesting about a loser like him? He berated himself internally, feeling more worthless than ever.

Meanwhile, you went to the library and found what you were looking for: smut books. You picked up two books, one with a vanilla and soft theme called 'The White Lily', and another one that was right up your alley - a dark romance novel that contained all hardcore explicit content in its plot. It was called 'The Trap of Mr. Sota'.

Here’s a summary of both of the books.

Title: The White Lily

‘"The White Lily" is an adult romance novel that tells the story of Ella, a successful businesswoman who has everything she could ever want, except for one thing: true love. Ella has never felt a real connection to anyone she's dated, and she's starting to think she's destined to be alone. That is, until she meets Michael, a charming and handsome stranger who shakes up her world in the most unexpected way.

As Ella and Michael start spending more time together, they discover that they have a deep and meaningful connection, and they can't resist the attraction that grows between them. But just as their relationship begins to blossom, past secrets and old wounds from Michael's past threaten to tear them apart. Will Ella and Michael be able to overcome their differences and find their happy ending? Or will their love be doomed to never be fulfilled?’

Title: The trap of Mr. Sota

‘"The Trap of Mr. Sota" is an alluring adult romance novel that delves into the depths of human desires. This captivating story follows Sakura, a young woman on a journey of self-exploration and sexual awakening.

As Sakura explores BDSM, she discovers her masochistic tendencies and finds comfort in the hands of Mr. Sota, a dominant figure who pushes her boundaries.

Sakura willingly surrenders to the degrading words and experiences pleasure through being tied up, spanked, slapped, and choked by Mr. Sota.

But Sakura's desires go beyond that. She enjoys being provocative and being disciplined by Mr. Sota.

In "The Trap of Mr. Sota," Sakura explores her submissive desires, becoming an object of pleasure. As pain and pleasure intertwine, Sakura and Mr. Sota embark on a journey of self-discovery, testing their limits and forming a deep connection.’

As you signed out the books, the elderly librarian gave you a knowing look, ‘they must have read them before-‘.

Afterwards, you left the school building, returning to your dorm, the ramshackle, and followed your nightly routine. This included cooking dinner for you and your magical beast roommate, Grim, taking a shower, doing your skincare routine, completing a bit of school work, and now, the newly added activity before falling asleep, reading a couple of chapters of 'The Trap of Mr. Sora’. And commenting on the books chapters using some sticky notes, after all it was still school property.

The next day..

Idia woke up late, or more exactly, on time, his alarm having failed to go off. He hade made habit of waking up early to avoid interacting with other students at breakfast. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and stretched his stiff muscles before getting dressed in his usual attire: a black t-shirt and his NCR school uniform pants paired with his signature hoodie and shoes. The bayou blue hoodie featured a zippered pocket on the front and a white triangle design on the sleeve, adding a unique touch to its appearance. Its lightweight and breathable material ensures comfort and dryness in various weather conditions and occasions. The shoes, designed with a unique combination of white and blue colors, feature a white sole and a blue stripe.

He gathered his belongings and made his way downstairs to the Ignihyde common area. Stepping through a magic mirror, he arrived on campus and headed towards the cafeteria, where breakfast was being served.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at one end of the many tables, engrossed in a book. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he quickly looked away, feeling guilty for admiring someone he shouldn't be attracted to.

"Morning, Shroud," greeted another male student, an Ignihyde student, one he had encountered a couple of times. "You look like shit today." The students adds on.

Meanwhile you were engrossed in your book, currently reading ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’. As you muched on a syrupy pancake for breakfast, a spicier scene form the previous one begin, the sentence were extremely descriptive, which caused you to get a bit flustered, maybe a hint of arousal.

Idia winced at his dorm-mate’s blunt comment, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed himself something on the sweeter side to eat. "Thanks... uh, yeah, I didn't sleep well last night." He told him, trying to end the conversation quickly. As his mind wondered back to the thought of you, he decided to do something extremely bold for someone like him. After Ortho prestred him last night about not getting your contacts, especially after you had told him ‘you wanted to see him soon’, Idia made the decision to seat with you at breakfast or at least try his best to.

He sat down across from you, his eyes flickering involuntarily towards your exposed cleavage when you lifted your glass of orange juice. You usual wear a bow around your neck, but the days started getting hotter since yesterday, so you had opted for no bow and 2 unbuttoned buttons.

‘Damn it’, he scolded himself internally, forcing his gaze back to his own plate.

"So, umm..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. “How was your morning?" He asked, hoping the question would allow him to steer a conversation away from personal topics.

"Ah, hello Idia! I didn't notice you here. My morning has been going well so far. I woke up on time and caught up on some reading. How about you? What have you been up to this morning?” You told him.

"Oh, uh... well, I guess it was alright. Just another morning at school." Idia mumbled, avoiding eye contact with you as he stirred his meal.

In reality, however, his mind drifted back to last night's encounter with you—your soft voice, your scent mixed with the faint hint of vanilla from your perfume, and those enticing curves that made him ache with desire. He shook his head forcefully, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind before they consumed him entirely.

"So, uhm, have... y-you ever thought about joining any clubs or extracurricular activities around here?" He asked abruptly, hoping to change the subject once more.

"Yes, definitely! While there isn't a visual arts club, which was a big disappointment to me, I'm considering joining the board game club. Have you given any thought to which clubs you might want to join?” You asked him.

"Oh, nope, never really had any interest in joining anything like that. Also I heard that club wasn’t so great.." Idia replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his orange juice.

In reality, he was lying through his teeth; there were several clubs and activities he wanted to join, particularly ones related to technology, plus he was actually a member of the board game club. The thought of being around people was one he disliked,—but an attractive girl like you—made him break out in cold sweats, how was he suppose to beat Azul if you were around to distract, just by exiting.

"I mean... I enjoy playing games alone in my room," he added quickly, hoping it would end the conversation sooner rather than later, this was already too much for him.

“Oh, really, that’s fun! I used to game a lot in my home world, but now that I'm here, I can't. The headmaster is stingy with money, so I can't buy any games, much less a console or laptop to play on.” You explained, begin excitedly but ending with a pout.

"H-Hey, wait a second. I... I could help you out with that!" Idia blurted out before he could stop himself. His heart raced wildly in his chest as he realized what he'd just volunteered to do.

"I have some old games and consoles lying around my room, that I could bring around." he continued nervously, hoping you wouldn't reject his offer. "We could play sometime, maybe after classes?" His palms grew sweaty at the mere thought of spending time alone with you in his messy abode.

"Sounds good! Let's meet up in the library after class. I gotta go now too, so I'll see you later Idia!” You say, putting your school bag around your shoulder, and taking your leave for class.

But what you didn’t realize at that time, was that you had forgotten your two borrowed books on the cafeteria table, ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’ wide open, right at an explicit scene.

Idia's heart had skipped a beat as he watched you leave, his eyes lingering on your figure moving gracefully down the hall. He couldn't believe you had actually said yes to playing games with him.

But before he could savor this victory, his attention was drawn back to the books you left behind. His gaze locked onto the juicy scene described in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora', and despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to look away.

With trembling hands, he picked up the book and flipped through the pages, reading the explicit content with increasing interest. The characters engaged in taboo acts that ignited a fire within him, making his cock throb against his pants.

"What am I doing?" He muttered under his breath, trying to snap out of this dangerous thought spiral. “I can't... I should just put these damn things away." But instead, he continued reading, devouring every word like starved monster.

Idia's heart raced faster as he read through the book, his fingers tracing over your notes in wonder. The way you fantasized about being treated like a mere object, used and discarded without mercy, sent shivers down his spine.

He couldn't help but imagine himself as Mr. Sora, dominating and controlling this perfect girl named y/n. His mind spiraled out of control, filling with images of him tying you up, spanking your plump ass, thrusting into your tight hole—all the things you wrote about yourself wanting.

"No... no, it's wrong," he muttered under his breath, closing the book tightly. Standing up abruptly, he headed back to his room in Ignihyde, pacing the small confines of his room, trying to shake off these forbidden thoughts.

Class was now over, Idia finally managed to calm himself somewhat, although his heart still raced like a wild animal trapped in its cage. Gathering up the courage, he leaves the books on his desk—his mind still clouded with forbidden images of you—and hurriedly made his way to the library.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at the same table, already engrossed in another book. His gaze briefly lingered on your figure before he forced himself to focus on setting up the old console and games he'd brought from his room.

"Uh, hey y/n," he said nervously, clearing his throat. "Ready whenever you are." He says setting the console in front of you and taking out an old laptop to use as a monitor, or a second control.

“Hey, Idia! Your old console looks great. Also, can you help me familiarize myself on how to operate it? I'm not used to this world's gaming system or games, so your expertise would be a big help. Are you up for a tutorial?” You ask him,

"Oh, it's no problem!" Idia replied eagerly, plugging in the console and turning it on. He selected a simple racing game and handed you the controller.

"Just press these buttons here," he said, pointing to the symbols on the screen. "And use the joystick to move your car around the track." His hands trembled slightly as he demonstrated, his eyes fixated on yours.

The scent of your perfume mixed with the faint smell of books filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to concentrate. "Umm... so, uh, what games do you usually play back home? Maybe I know some similar ones we could try?" He asked nervously, hoping this would engage a conversation.

“Well I like games like open world rpg, where you needed to collect material to craft items, especially the ones where you could choose classes like swordsman, craftsman, mage, etc. But I also enjoyed puzzled games or visual novels type of game!” You state,

"Oh, I know some games like that!" Idia's eyes lit up with excitement. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out an old copy of 'The Ancient text: Cloudium', a game known for its expansive world and flexible character creation system.

"This one fits the bill," he said proudly, handing you the disc. "You can create your own character and choose from different classes like warrior, mage, thief..." His voice trailed off as he watched you insert the disc into the console.

As the loading screen appeared on the laptop screen, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, so... uh, do you want me to help you set up your character or should I just... leave?" He couldn't bring himself to watch as you crafted your perfect avatar without asking first, fearful of what it might spark within him.

“Oh no stay! I might need you, after all you seem to already know the gimmicks of the game. Plus I wanted to game with you, sure I like doing it by myself, but I also greatly enjoy playing with others!” You explain, bugging him to stay longer.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest as you moved closer beside him, your legs brushing against each other ever so lightly. He forced himself to focus on the game screen, trying hard not to think about how your body felt pressed against his side.

"Alright, well, let's start with creating a new character," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "You can choose between male or female... and uh, what race do you want?" His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out whatever you desired.

“Does the gender affect the game experience, like do you get favouritism from NPC if you chose one or the other?” you question, Idia nodded, "No, it doesn't really matter for this game."

“Okay then I’ll go with a female character.”

Idia's typed in your request, his hands shaking slightly. "Alright, female it is," he managed to croak out, “what race?”

“Oh you can choose.”

He decides to select the race of Snow Elf for you due to its ethereal appearance and agility. "And what class?" He asked timidly,

“I want to be a scout.” You inform him.

"A scout, huh? That sounds interesting," Idia replied, typing in the appropriate options. "You'll be able to move quickly and deal damage from range. Sounds like a good fit for you."

He handed you the controller again, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before pulling away quickly. His heart was racing wildly in his chest as he waited for you to continue with the game setup, as you customize your characters clothing.

“Okay, I’m done! Let’s start playing!”

Idia's heartbeat slowed down slightly as he launched the game, and soon enough, you both found yourselves exploring the vast world of Cloudia. Idia guided you through the character creation process, explaining various abilities and skills that would come in handy during the adventure. Than with other laptop he connects to his older game account, and joins your character.

As you navigated through the snow-covered landscape, the two characters interacted with nonplayable characters (NPCs), completing quests, and fighting off fearsome creatures. The atmosphere shifted dramatically whenever they entered dungeons or dark caves, casting eerie shadows across the screen.

"Do you like it so far?" Idia asked nervously, his eyes fixed on yours. He couldn't help but notice how well you controlled your character, effortlessly dodging attacks and landing devastating blows.

“It’s great! Also Idia I got a question for you.” you tell him,

"Yeah, go ahead," Idia replied eagerly, his voice cracking slightly.

“Actually I got two questions, sorry.. my first one is if you know where the book I was reading this morning went, also the other book that came with. When I realized I had forgotten them it was to late and I had to go to class, but when I came back to the dinning hall during lunch they were gone. So I’m wondering if you saw anyone take them when I left?” You ask him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you mentioned the book he hadn't been able to resist peeking at earlier. "O-oh, uh... I... ah..." He cleared his throat nervously. "I-I didn't see anyone take them," he lied, hoping you wouldn't press further.

"But I did notice they were left on the table we shared today," he added. "Maybe one of your friends picked them up accidentally?" His mind raced with guilt and excitement, wondering if you would confront him about it later.

“Oh okay!”

Idia's heart was pounding in his chest, as he tried to focus on the game. His mind drifted back to your body moving so gracefully with the controller in hand, imagining how it would feel against his own…

"Uh... what's your second question?" He managed to croak out, breaking the awkward silence.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry if this is a bit direct.. but..” you turn your head to look at him, “do you perhaps own old copies of more adult-rated games, like explicit and erotic content type of stuff, that you wouldn’t mind giving away. Sorry this is weird thing to ask lol.”

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you turned your head towards him, your eyes meeting his. His mind reeled with shock and confusion at your boldness, but a part of him found it oddly thrilling.

"W-well... uh... I mean..." He stuttered, struggling to form coherent thoughts. "Y-you know, some stuff like that might be in my collection," he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I-I mean, we're supposed to be just playing normal games here!" He added quickly, trying to deflect the conversation back to their shared activity.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t play those games around you, they would just be for ‘me time’ lmao” you tell him with a chuckle.

"O-oh, uh... well, I guess that's fine then," Idia stammered, feeling a mix of relief and unease wash over him. He couldn't believe you had actually asked him about such things, but it also made his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Uhm, so, uh, do you need any help with the game?" He changed the subject hastily, hoping to redirect his wandering thoughts elsewhere.

In reality, he was already formulating a plan in his mind: tonight, after everyone else was asleep, he would sneak into your room and leave those explicit books on your bedside table, along with some games that fit your request. Perhaps steal one of your panties, maybe even the one you wore to sleep…; He was definitely going to steal that specific pair.

“No it’s alright, I’m just enjoying playing with you!” You tell him with a smile,

Idia' break out of his trance, heart racing as you continued to praise him, his mind whirling with the possibility of what could happen between you later.

"Well, uh... nice playing with you too," he managed to croak out, clearing his throat nervously. "I-I think we should call it a night for now."

Standing up, he gathered his belongings handing you the console, old laptop and two games to keep. He then walked towards the exit, trying hard not to look at your figure swaying in front of him. Once outside, he hurried back to his dorm room, his thoughts consumed by images of you, naked and eagerly awaiting him.

Time had passed and you were already asleep in bed. You were only wearing a t-shirt and panties, as a pyjamas.

Meanwhile Idia waited outside your building, his heart hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for what he was about to do. After ensuring he heard no noise, meaning you were sound asleep, he quietly pick the lock of the front door and climbs the stairs to your floor and crept down the hallway towards your room.

His hand trembled slightly as grabbed the handle of your door, holding his breath as it beeped softly. Slowly, he turned the handle, pushing the door open a crack. The dim moonlight filtering through the window cast eerie shadows across your sleeping form, sending shivers of desire coursing through him.

With practiced ease, he slipped inside the darkened room, closing the door behind him softly. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, honing in on the bedside table. Carefully, he placed 'The Trap of Mr. Sota' and 'The White Lily', onto your desk, with a copy of erotic visual novel game called ‘maiden of the abyss’, a game that would definitely fit your taste.

Then, he approached your bedside, reaching out tentatively to brush aside the covers covering your legs. He paused, taking a deep breath before, with shaking hands, he removed your panties from your body. Leaving your bare glistening cunt in plain sight.

You gasped in your sleep at new and colder sensation with the lack of fabric covering you.

Startled by the sound of your soft voice, Idia froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't meant for you to wake up! Panic surged through him, but he quickly composed himself and grabbed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket before dashing out of the room.

He closed the door behind him, his pulse racing wildly. Had you heard him? Was he caught? His mind raced with worry as he hurried back to his own dormitory, trying to calm down. Inside his room, he paced nervously, unsure what to do next. But he soon decided that the best course action was returning to his dorm.

He was now in his room, splayed out on his bed with the adrenaline form the thrill still coursing through his veins, and the image of your body still fresh in his mind. He needed to jerk off…

Idia's breath hitched as he slid his hand downwards, running it over the silky fabric of your panties. The familiar warmth and scent enveloped him as he brought the article closer to his face, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through his veins.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the image of you, spread wide open for him, begging for him to claim you. His fingers traced along the edge of the panty waistband, savoring the softness against his skin before bringing it to his mouth, licking it with a soft moan.

"Oh god, yes," he muttered, his voice cracking with need. "You taste so good." With renewed determination, he removed his pants and briefs, freeing his throbbing member from its confines. Gripping the base firmly, he began to stroke himself vigorously, imagining how amazing it would feel to bury himself inside you.

Idia's eyes stayed shut tightly as he continued to pleasure himself, his dick throbbing in sync with each thrust of his hand. The panties now draped over his cock, adding an extra layer of sensuality to the act.

"Oh god... I want you so much," he panted, his breath coming heavy and fast. "I need you." His pace picked up, faster and harder, his hips rocking back and forth in rhythm with his hand movements. Sweat trickled down his forehead, staining his pillow.

He imagined himself inside you, claiming you as his own, marking your body with bites and bruises. He would make love to you slowly at first, savoring every inch of your tight, warm passage. But soon enough, he'd lose control, pounding into you mercilessly, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

Idia's climax hit him like a tidal wave, his cock exploding in his hand, covering the panties with thick, sticky cum. He groaned loudly, his body convulsing as he rode out the wave of pleasure.

His breathing gradually returned to normal, and he carefully cleaned himself up before slipping back into his pants and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Tucking the panties away in his drawer, planning to steal a new pair tomorrow and put the used ones in your laundry basket as if he didn’t steal them. He switched off the light and crawled into bed, trying to banish thoughts of you from his mind.

The next day…

Idia woke up feeling heavy-headed and sore, his mind still replaying last night's encounter with you. Groaning softly, he opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains.

After stretching, he got out of bed and dressed in his usual uniform, avoiding eye contact with anyone who crossed paths. He knew he had to face the day ahead, hoping nobody would notice anything amiss about him.

As he descended the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day you confronted him about what happened yesterday. His heart raced at the thought, both dread and anticipation warring within him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as he entered the dining hall and saw you sitting at your usual table, engrossed in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora'. You we’re already there, even though had returned to his early morning schedule. His gaze lingered on your figure for a moment too long before quickly looking away, his face flushing crimson with embarrassment.

"Good morning, y/n," he managed to croak out, trying to sound casual. "Uhm, er... uh... did you sleep well?" He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah it was alright. Also you know what, when I woke up this morning I found both of my books placed on my desk!”

Idia's falters as you mentioned the books, his eyes darting nervously around the empty cafeteria. "Oh, uh... I-I see," he stammered, trying to sound contrite. "I thought they went missing... er, but I guess they just reappeared, maybe some type of spell..." he lied knowing full well he had broken into your dorm the previous night and put them on your desk for you to find.

His voice trailed off, and he quickly shifted the conversation towards safer territory. "So, uhm, how about we continue our game later today? Maybe after classes?" He cleared his throat again, hoping his proposal would diffuse the awkwardness between them.

“Yeah definitely!.. But there’s also something else that happens to me last night..” you tell him softly.

Idia's heart dropped into his stomach as you continued speaking, his eyes wide with fear. "What happened?" He managed to choke out, his voice cracking slightly.

"I... I think someone stole my panties last night," you begin, getting closer to his ear, lifting off your chair a bit, and whispered to him matter-of-factly, with your lips curving into a sly smile. "They were missing from my body when I woke up. Plus there also was a copy of an erotic game on my desk." You sit back down normally, with a small confused pout on my lips, wondering who was the panty thief.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest, feeling a mix of terror and excitement course through him. He forced himself to remain composed, placing a placating hand on yours reassuringly. "I-I... I... well, I-I don't know anything about that," he stuttered, his voice cracking slightly.

"Someone else must have taken them," he insisted, though his mind was racing with the possibility that you had caught him red-handed. "Maybe someone wanted them as souvenirs?" His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to steady them on his coffee cup.

“Chill out, I never said it you lol. Plus.. as weird as it sound I find it kind of cute for someone to do that, it’s like having a secret admirer. But in this case they steal your underwear off of you when you sleep, instead of sending anonymous gifts, we’ll I guess the erotic game counts as one lmao.” You say in an unhinge like some crazy pervert.

Idia's heartbeat calmed slightly, though it was still racing faster than usual. "Well, I... uh... thank you," he managed to croak out, his face turning even paler than its natural hue, when he realized what came out of his mouth.

"I mean, that's... nice of you to say, it’s not like I was that pervert that did that to you!" he added, lying, then clearing his throat awkwardly. “So, about our game... after classes, yeah, let's meet up at the library again." With that, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his tray and carrying it away swiftly, leaving you alone at the table.

As he walked away, his mind raced with conflicting emotions: terror, shame, and an unwelcome desire that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would like him if she found out he was the pervert who did that to her. Would she like him to touch her while she was asleep? Would she be aroused if she found herself covered in his cum when she woke up in the morning?

Idia hurriedly moved towards his class, trying hard to calm down and focus on his studies. However, the image of your exposed body and the thought of touching you while you were asleep played like a looped video in his head.

As the day progressed, he struggled to concentrate on anything else but you. During breaks between classes, he finally, in a moment of desperation, he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally). Grabbing his phone, he searched online for tips on how to calm down aroused individuals without resorting to masturbation….

Finally, it was finally time for their scheduled gaming session at the library. He gathered his things and headed over, hoping you wouldn’t mention last night's events again.

“Hey Idia!” You call him out,

Idia's heart fluttered a beat as he entered the library and saw you sitting at your usual table, already booted up for their gaming session. "Hello y/n," he managed to croak out, his voice cracking slightly.

He set down his bag on the empty seat beside yours and pulled out his laptop, trying hard not to stare at your exposed cleavage peeking out from your unbuttoned top. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he opened Cloudium and began loading the game settings. "So, uh, ready to continue our adventure?" He tried to change the subject, hoping to divert his thoughts away from last night's escapade.

“Yeah! Also I got something for you,” you reach into your bag, pulling out a small bag of a double dozen homemade cookies. “I don’t know if you like sweets but I went back to my dorm during lunch, for us to munch on while we game!”

Idia's eyes lit up at the sight of the cookies, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Oh, thanks!"

Placing the bag on the table between you, he took one of the treats, biting into it slowly, savoring the flavors melting on his tongue.

"These are great," he complimented between chews, glancing sideways at you, taking in your beauty once more. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for another cookie, unable to tear his gaze away from yours.

He continued setting up their characters in the game. "So, where do you want to start today? Any particular location or quest?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him.

“Thanks, it was no problem, really! And no, there isn’t any thing I wanna start with in particular today. You choose, I’ll just follow your lead!”

Idia nodded, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. "Alright then," he said, selecting a random location on the map. "Let's head to Greyjog. We need to speak with James Berkeley about joining the Tornadocloths or the Imperials."

As your started their journey in game, Idia's mind drifted back to last night's events. He couldn't shake the image of your bare glistening pussy, and wiggling hips as he stole your panties off of you. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder against the fabric.

“You okay Idia?” You turn to him, “You look red,” you put one of your hands on his forehead and then your own forehead on the backside of said hand, measuring a possible difference in temperature. Your face inches away from his. “well you don’t feel hot to me, doesn’t seem like you have a fever.” You say then pull back, taking your hand and head away from his.

Idia's heart hammered in his chest, his body on fire with desire. "I-I'm fine," he managed to choke out, clearing his throat nervously. "Just a little tired, I guess."

As they continued playing the game, Idia tried to focus on their surroundings, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if you noticed how hard it was for him to concentrate today. Would you tease him about it? Or maybe... he shook his head violently, dismissing the filthy thought. No, he couldn't think like that. Not here, not now.

After hours of adventuring and battling monsters together, they finally reached Greyjog. Idia led them inside the castle, trying hard not to steal glances at the contour of your form as you played, making your character followed closely behind his.

“It’s already 7 p.m., let’s save our progress, and return to the game tomorrow. Since tomorrow is the weekend maybe we could game at my dorm or yours! Well, only if you’re down to do so, it’s totally your choice.” You tell him,

Idia nodded, relief washing over him as you suggested calling it a day. "Sounds good to me," he agreed, saving the game before closing the lid of his laptop. Standing up, he gathered their belongings, careful not to let his bag brush against your leg accidentally, savoring the feel of your warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your skirt.

"Thanks for today, y/n," he muttered, his voice low and husky with exhaustion and desire mixed together. "Have a good night." With that said, he turned away briskly, walking out of the library, leaving behind the intoxicating scent vanilla perfume and books lingering in the air.

You headed to your dorm, cooked dinner for Grim and yourself, ate, took a shower and did some skincare, reviewed some schoolwork, read a bit more of ‘The trap of Mr.Sora’. Then headed to bed in your usual sleepwear, a t-shirt and panties, no bra.

Idia returned to his own dormitory, his mind still racing with thoughts of you. Once inside his empty room, he locked the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, removing his uniform piece by piece as he did so. His body ached from hours of sitting in one position, but that wasn't the only thing that needed relief.

Reaching into his nightstand drawer, he pulled out the used panties from last night, admiring the mix of your sweet perfume and his own musky scent on them. A smirk spread across his lips as he imagined how they belonged to such a perfect angel like you.

Later that night…

Idia waited patiently outside the Ramshackle dormitory, his heart thumping in anticipation. After ensuring you had retired for the night, he silently unlocked the door by picking at it just like he had done the previous day, and tiptoed down the hallway, up your stairs, towards your room. Carefully, he opened the door, peeking inside to ensure you were asleep before creeping closer.

His hands trembled as he reached out, grasping the edge of your blanket to lift it slightly. His eyes locked onto your exposed thighs, ached with desire as he slid his hand underneath your panties, tracing along your smooth, silky-soft skin. Reluctantly, he pulled them downwards, exposing your beautiful pussy to his hungry gaze. He was so entranced by it. The accumulation of his horniness and the fact you had admitted to enjoying the perverted acts he had committed. His mind went haywire and he decided to do something bold; He was going to jerk off using the fresh pair of underwear, while looking at you.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside me, positioning himself between my spread legs. He wrapped the newly acquired panties around his cock, and started jerking off while observing you.

As Idia waited for any sign of movement, his heart raced wildly in anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a soft moan escape your lips. His eyes widened in delight and terror as you shifted slightly, unknowingly grinding your body against the bedsheet.

Pushing aside all rational thoughts, he continued to stroke himself faster and harder, groaning softly as he watched your perfect breasts rise and fall with each breath. Each thrust of his hand matched the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of the panties. He could feel his orgasm building up inside him, reaching its peak.

Without warning, he erupted, coating the fresh pair of panties with his seed.

He then decided to do something crazier, something even more fucked up then the ones he had done before. Slowly unwrapping the cum covered panties from his cock, he then lifted your hips and legs, sliding the underwear pair back on, slightly higher than intended, causing the fabric to dig into your folds. He observes with a shaky breath how his hot semen made contact with your cunt.

His heart raced as he watched idly, his breathing heavy and labored. He had gone too far this time. Could you ever forgive him? Would he lose everything he held dear because of his perverse desires?

Without giving himself time to think, he hurriedly got dressed, he quickly throws takes out the panty pair he stole yesterday from his pocket and throws them in the laundry basket in the corner of your room. Carefully, he tiptoed out of your room, closing the door quietly behind him. As he headed back to his own dormitory, he wondered if today was finally the day he complete lost his sanity and any sort of moral compass he previously had.

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are Open)

168 notes · View notes

daaydreamy · 1 year

Note

can u do a blurb about eating out priestrry before a morning service and now he’s all fucked out

forgive me

summary: harry’s impatient.

warnings: coarse language, smut, anal fingering (m receiving), rimming (m receiving)

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“Oh, f-fuck please, fuck.” Harry whined into Y/N’s mouth, one of his arms slung around her shoulders while the other stayed down, his hand gripping the edge of his wooden desk as he sat upon it. He was so noisy and needy, absolutely gagging for it, unable to stop himself by begging over and over, despite not even knowing what he was begging for at that point. His hair had gone a little frizzy from all the sweat that built up on his head and it felt like he was on fire under the shirt he was wearing, because he hadn’t bothered to take it off before they started, too eager.

“What? What is it, hm?” Y/N smiled before kissing his cheek sweetly, before he groaned again, desperately trying to grind against her fingers, looking as pathetic as ever, panting heavily as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Y/N had such an amused look on her face as she watched, enjoying how fucking filthy he looked, how needy and out of it he was. She lightly pressed the pads of her fingers against that sweet spot of his and he gasped wetly, back arching involuntarily a little, his hand gripping the edge of his desk so hard it felt like he could break it off.

“There, there, yes, fuck.” He mumbled out and Y/N could barely understand him, making her chuckle softly.

“Here?” She said in a playful tone, pressing her fingers against it again and making his body tense up from the feeling, legs threatening to close even though he didn’t want them to.

“Yes, please, please, Y/N.” He panted out and Y/N hummed softly in reply, leaning down to mouth at his sweaty neck, her lips traveling down to his collarbone, until she eventually pulled away and took his arm off of her shoulders, making his brows furrow in confusion as she moved to stand between his legs instead of beside them, lowering herself until her knees hit the floor with a soft thud.

“What are you doing- o-oh.” Harry gasped, looking down at Y/N as he felt her wet tongue around the fingers that she had shoved inside of him, both hands now gripping the edge of his desk. He forced himself to look at the clock on the wall and saw that people were going to start to come in and placed a hand over his mouth to hopefully muffle his moans, unsure of how he was going to fix himself afterwards.

a/n: hope this was okay!!!! sorry god i guess 🤕

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @sad1esgf, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @purplefishingline, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite (couldn’t tag you!), @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry

#sub!harry #subrry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #sub!harry x do #sub!harry x dom!reader #dom!reader #dom!y/n #priest!harry #writing

390 notes · View notes

creamsickle-writes · 2 years

Text

Naïveté: Luffy x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, oral sex, stomach bulges, and vaginal sex

Luffy must’ve had an interesting upbringing.

Even though you didn’t know much about it personally, you knew that had to be the case with how straight-up clueless he was. You really liked Luffy, but if he were raised in a barn, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

His lack of boundaries and common sense sometimes led to awkward moments. For example, your crewmates had been talking about their sexual exploits over a couple of drinks. Some things surprised you while others you had found to be predictable.

Nami decided to talk about a sexual conquest as well. You and your crewmates leaned in as she was about to describe the experience, except for Chopper, who was not around as you all decided should not be hearing this conversation.

“I was going to give him a blowjob, but-“

One crew member seemed more than just mildly interested at that, and that was the straw hat-wearing man himself.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?” You ask, whipping your head around to face Luffy.

“What’s a ‘blowjob’?”

Zoro snickered, and Nami shook her head, “Geez, you don’t even know what that is? How clueless are you?”

Luffy picked his ear, “Uh, I dunno. Just never heard of it before.”

You swallow, “Uhm, it’s like…”

Your captain turned his attention to you, expecting you to now answer his question. You felt everyone’s eyes on you. Your face heated up.

“Why don’t you just show me?” Luffy smiles, clueless about what he is suggesting. Nami is quick to correct his behavior with a slap upside the head.

“She can’t do that! That would just be weird! Stop asking about it, Luffy!”

Luffy pouts and rubs his head, whining about the harsh smack.

Everyone seems to move on from the topic, deciding to talk about something more appropriate. But you don’t miss how Luffy’s eyes linger on you.

_____

When you’re tidying up the crow’s nest the following day, an unexpected visitor pops in.

You stop sweeping for a moment to greet your captain; he’s got his usual carefree smile on his face. Your heart warms at the happy sight; it’s always good to see his smile.

“Hey!” He greets you, and you can’t help but match his smile.

“Is there something you need, Captain?” You ask, setting the broom aside for a moment.

“Yeah, I got a question!”

He approaches you, and you flush at his closeness. Your heart races as his adorable face comes close to yours.

“U-Uh, what is it?”

“You still never told me what a blowjob was!”

Your face goes red, and your eyes break away from his. But he persists, leaning in so close that your noses almost touch.

“Nami isn’t here to be mean, so you can tell me now!”

You clear your throat and gently nudge him backward. You like him being close, but in this instance, you wish he’d disappear, “Well, it’s like um, when you put your mouth on a uh, y’know….”

You fidget, and he blinks a few times before he speaks up, “On a what?”

“O-On a penis.”

“Oh, that?” He laughs, “I know what that is! That’s called sucking somebody off, not a blowjob!”

Your face goes bright red at his vulgar terminology, “W-Where did you hear that but not blowjob?” You ask incredulously.

“My big brother Ace.” He says, puffing his chest out with pride, “He told us about all sorts of stuff to do with girls!”

“Oh well, I guess I don’t have to show you then!” You laugh, going to pick up the broom again so you can exit this conversation as fast as possible. Luffy grabs your hand.

“Wait,” he whines, “We can still do it!”

“Why would we do that?” You stutter out, your skin feeling hot where his hand touched you.

“Because I like you!” Your heart immediately squeezes tight.

“Well, Luffy, I don’t know if you like me in that way-“

“But I do! I know I do ‘cause my dick gets hard when I think about you!”

You bite your lip, your ears going red.

“So, can we?”

Your heart races in your chest, and before you can entirely think it through, you sink to your knees instinctively. You had to admit that you found him attractive. His jet black hair, the scar that adorned his chest, his big, goofy smile- you found it all alluring. Luffy has the biggest smile on his face.

“That must mean you like me too!”

“Yes, Captain. I-I do… I always have.”

You reach for his zipper and undo his pants. You pull his shorts down to his ankles and press a kiss to his clothed bulge. He grunts a bit at your actions.

“Why’d you kiss it like that? It’s still in my underwear.”

You flush slightly, “Some people like that…”

He looks at you, confused for a moment, before you reach for his underwear and pull those down as well. You gasp when he springs out of his underwear. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what stood before you. He was slender and lengthy, the tip of his cock swollen and pink. A nice vein sat on the underside of it. You licked your lips.

You tentatively kissed the head, and Luffy let out a quiet grunt, his cock jumping at the action. You felt your own arousal throb at the sight. You press another kiss before lapping at the head slowly, wetting the tip with your tongue. Luffy balls his fists by his sides, unabashedly moaning for you. Leaning forward, you take his tip in your mouth, sucking on it gently. His hands instinctively move towards your head, gripping your hair.

You sink down on him slowly, taking as much as you can within your mouth. And Luffy loves it.

With a hiss, he grips your hair even tighter, “Feels good…! Never felt this before!”

You stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hands. It’s a bit of an undertaking, working his cock in your mouth, but you do the best you can. You choke a bit on his shaft, and his eyes land on you.

“You okay?” He asks, and you nod, focused on sucking him off.

As you continue your technique, Luffy groans for you, gripping your hair even tighter. You glance up at him to see his face contorted in the most lovely of ways, and his cheeks dusted a pretty pink.

“Gonna cum-“ he warns you, and you pull off, stroking his cock with your tongue sticking out. With a few more tugs, he shoots rope after rope of sticky fluids over your tongue. You take it all, only tucking your tongue back in your mouth when he’s finished. With a gulp, you taste his cum, and you honestly grimace a bit. It wasn’t the tastiest. You blamed it on all the meat that man ate instead of fruits and vegetables.

“Okay, now let’s have sex!” Luffy exclaimed, barely giving you time to process his request before he lifts you up to your feet. He bends you over one of the benches in the crow's nest, and you begin to stutter out, asking him what he’s doing.

“Huh? You don’t wanna do it?”

“I-I want to. I guess I’m just surprised! I didn’t think you’d want to do anything more than what we just did.” You say, looking back to face him, “Besides, you just came, so you shouldn’t be…”

You trail off as, when you look between his legs, you notice his cock is still standing at full attention. You swallow. Just what kind of monster stamina did you sign yourself up for?

“I shouldn’t be what?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. You shake your own head.

“N-Nevermind.”

He shrugs before hooking his hands under your waistband, pulling down your bottoms and underwear in one go. You whimper as your ass is on full display, Luffy’s eyes hungrily taking it in.

“Your butt is nice.” He says unapologetically, grabbing at the flesh enthusiastically. You gasp as he kneads it, his warm hands cupping your rear.

“Hnn, Luffy…” you whine, arching your back so that your pussy will hopefully get more attention. But Luffy doesn’t get the hint, instead gripping and pulling apart your cheeks.

You flush, knowing what you have to say.

“Please, fuck me already.”

Luffy’s ears perk up at your request, and immediately you feel his blunt head prod at your hole. He slams in, and immediately you’re seeing stars. You shouldn’t have expected that he would take things slow. But your world is still rocked as he pounds you right off the bat, his hips never stuttering for a moment. Your eyes roll back, and you call out for him.

“So tight-!” He moans, draping himself over your body as his hands grip your breasts. He fucks you deep, his full balls smacking against your clit with every thrust forwards:

You feel like your soul is leaving your body with how he drills you. You grip onto the wood of the bench, hoping to ground yourself but to no avail. You could only moan for more, your brain already melting.

“More, more!” You squeal, and Luffy bites the side of your neck.

Suddenly, you feel fuller, your insides being stretched to accommodate more. You feel his cock brush against your cervix.

“Is this enough? I can give you more!” He laughs, and suddenly it hits you: he decided to use his devil fruit ability on his dick.

“Give me any more, and you’ll break me!” You moan, and suddenly you wish you could take it back when you hear Luffy laugh once more.

“That sounds like fun!” He says, and immediately, your cunt feels even fuller. You look down between your legs and notice your stomach bulging. You whine as you feel so stuffed. Your face went hot as you watched him thrust in and out of you, your stomach reflecting just how much of him was in you.

You didn’t know how much longer you could last like this.

“Luffy!” You whine, “I think- I’m gonna-!” You don’t even get to finish your statement before you gush, your cum coating his cock as he rammed it deep inside.

But Luffy doesn’t stop. He fucks you straight through your orgasm, never letting up. Your legs shake, and your vision goes dark as you are overstimulated. You call out his name repeatedly, unsure if you’re begging for more or for him to stop.

But it doesn’t matter as, within a few more thrusts, you hear him grunt above you, his seed filling you up. He pants openly, laying over your back for a long while before finally pulling out, his cum dripping out of you.

“That was really good…” he drawls, wrapping his arms around you from behind, “Can we do sex stuff again?”

You smile and reach behind, scratching his head, “Of course, we can, Luffy.”

_____

Later that day you’re lounging on the Sunny when suddenly you hear Nami scream. You bolt up from your tanning chair to see her tugging Luffy by the ear.

Nami is dragging him towards you, dropping him off at your feet.

“Get a hold on Luffy, will you? He’s telling your business.”

Luffy pouts, “But you guys got to talk about sex yesterday!”

“That’s different!” Nami huffs, “We were talking about doing it with people who aren’t on this ship. Hearing you talk about sex with her is like hearing you had sex with my sister!”

“What’s so bad about that?” Luffy furrows his brows as he lays in a heap on the floor. Nami lets out an exaggerated groan.

“You might wanna tell your boyfriend that sharing what happens in the bedroom isn’t acceptable.”

Nami walks off, and your face goes red as you look down at Luffy, who was rubbing at his ear.

Boyfriend…?

You could get used to that.

#monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #one piece smut #anime #fanfiction #x reader #cream's fics #monkey d. luffy

1K notes · View notes

ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Note

Congratulations on the milestone!✨✨

I wanted to request a bts headcanon! There was this one trend on tiktok last year that was like “you’re not dating but you’re not just friends either” lol so I guess like a bts in a situation type of thing? Thank you thank you! 💕

tysm!

i know exactly what trend you're talking about and i was never sure if that was supposed to be, like, an actual situationship or like that more cutesy in-between crush & dating stage so i'll try to do both.

once again tag teamed this with @hot-soop bc i have no original thoughts.

come tell me how wrong i am :)

headcanons: bts in a situationship

seokjin —

has the least situationship energy out of all of them imo. mr. domestic king of commitment probably wouldn't be able to handle the uncertainty of it, but could be convinced if the other party wasn't ready/didn't want to commit.

(let's be real, it's impossible to not be in love with him, so [rihanna voice] good luck with booking that situationship u speak of.)

thinks he's being chill and in actuality is being the least chill person alive. red ears & neck 25/8.

does the "let's just play one more round of mario kart" con until the next thing you know it's 2am and the only way you're getting home is an overpriced rideshare, so whoops, might as well stay over, what would you like for breakfast?

strikes me as the type that'd be similar in that in-between stage, too, but way more acts of service.

picnics in the park, polaroid pictures of things that remind him of you, beats that video game level you're stuck on without you even having to ask, rambles on and on about his webtoons, chill weekends spent together at home.

yoongi —

completely down for a situationship. might be made for it, actually. you don't even need to ask.

however. realizes he's Emotionally Compromised and has his "oh shit wait what the fuck" moment months in. good luck sorting that mess out!

yoongi: it is very obvious i have feelings for this person and it is very obvious where we stand with one another.

also yoongi: disappears for a week bc of work and doesn't say a word.

also also yoongi: casually shows up at 3am and wants to hang out like disappearing without a word wasn't at all weird and confusing as fuck.

also also also yoongi: has the nerve to be confused when you call it off because he doesn't seem interested.

spends the next few months overthinking literally everything and reappears with a wall of text detailing everything he likes about you.

in that more cutesy in-between: playlists, "do you wanna hear what i've been working on?", open the door please it's 1am and yoongi's outside with takeout, absolutely giddy when he gets to teach you about his interests.

hobi —

can't see him being all that different from the way he'd be in an actual relationship, tbh, which is both a blessing and a curse.

a f f e c t i o n a t e

(but is it "i like you and want to be with you" affection or "i do this with literally everyone there is no way to tell if it's something more" affection?)

king of overcommunicating! good morning texts, phone calls before bed, memes and silly pictures throughout the day.

wants to trade ootd pics. sends you one everyday even if you don't reciprocate. pouts for days if you playfully roast his fit, but sometimes he needs someone to be honest about those questionable shoes he wears.

somehow knows literally every person to exist. has a friend who works at that cool new club downtown. the gallery with that hot new exhibit. knows someone who knows someone who works with that band you can never get tickets to see.

ensures you will never want for anything while you're with him.

namjoon —

ooh boy.

quiet. a lil obsessive. observant. can definitely be jealous. the kind of guy who loves to think he's good at situationships until he's in one and realizes very quickly he's not.

has a natural urge to play games to test you then have an existential crisis about whether that makes him a bad person.

wants to have all of your attention but will not ask for it. wants intensity but questions whether that’s sustainable long term.

ghosts when he’s in his feelings but writes you long, thoughtful paragraphs when he’s drunk. "that one guy who jerked you around in college" vibes.

will break your back and your heart at the same time.

in that cute in-between: museum dates. meetups in the park in the middle of the night to stare at the stars and get all philosophical. let's go try out that new distillery and catch that new arthouse film after. does this guy even have friends? because it's been 8 years and you still haven't met them.

jimin —

fun until it isn't.

lively and sweet and easy until it isn't.

flirts with literally everyone but gets real petty and kinda mean if you do the same.

thinks he isn't good enough. wants compliments and validation. another chronic overthinker. playful banter until he takes it too seriously and needs reassurance that you do actually like him.

not a ghoster but also not good at ending things so just lets it go stale and wither away.

dates? drinking and dancing. maybe one of those sip and paints. tickets to the ballet. competition shows at his place with takeout.

cuddly and affectionate but why does he call all of his friends his soulmate?

in the in-between: loves showing you off. would probably love to do your makeup. sickeningly sweet comments on all your ig selfies. always holding your hand.

taehyung —

intense. has a tendency to get a lil self-centered and disappear in that big noggin of his.

physical rather than emotional. will blow your back out in 10 different ways before he tells you he likes you.

(and only does this at 5am when he's drunk and just spent the last half hour crying to jimin on the phone.)

insecure so he plays it carefree and silly, but, dear reader, it was not, in fact, carefree and silly.

golden hour. takes the best photos of you on film. paints you silly things and nearly cries when you actually display them. can't cook but tries making a date of cooking together anyway; cons you into paying for the takeout after it inevitably fails. record stores. red wine.

jungkook —

either a major fuckboy or the most sensitive man on the planet there is really no in between here.

either never commits or is ready to get married the second time you hang out.

no chill. someone please remind him to be normal about this.

j e a l o u s !

facetimes you in the middle of the night just because.

learns all your favorite songs on guitar. loves a photobooth; keeps the film strip in his wallet. teaches you how to play video games but gets really pouty when you wind up being better than him. diners at 2am; a milkshake with two straws. obnoxious gym selfies. pretends he doesn't want to sing your girl group songs at noraebang yet suspiciously knows all the choreography.

shy shy shy

#work: 1kfm #bts headcanons #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jewel answers #jewel writes

250 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized 4/9 If You Have Ghosts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

She was just "S" on his phone.

It was a stupid thing to do, but she checked.

He had left his phone casually on the table, and it was such a sign of trust that she was shocked. Not that she could hack into it even if she wanted to – which she did not – but because she could see if someone sent him a text, or called…

At first, she hadn't meant to: what she meant was to dig up a particular photo and show it to him when he came back in from the smoke he was having. An old picture where she was a teen and looked like a little monster with a growth spurt and braces and a Nirvana shirt. But something in her brain told her to send it to his phone with the accompanying words That's a school girl for you and then go check the notification that appeared on the screen.

And she took advantage of that trust in the spur of the moment, like a jealous little idiot.

"What are you doing?"

And another thing that always escaped her was how Simon could be silent if he so wished. A guy of his size should've made more of a ruckus when he came in, but he seemed to defy the laws of physics as he stepped into her living room, quiet as a spectre.

"Um..."

The scene looked exactly as shameful as it was. She stepped back when he went to his phone, picked it up…

"Right… Busted." He was looking at the notification of her text like it was a message from some other girl he didn't want her to know about.

And she was the one who was busted here. The whole situation had left her red as a beet and humiliated to the very core. Everything was going so well, and she had to just shit all over it.

"You have trust issues?"

"I'm sorry. That was totally uncalled for. I…" She spread her hands and sighed. "I have no excuse."

"I asked if you have trust issues." He didn’t look or sound angry. Only methodical.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"Why were you looking at it?"

Ok, he wasn't about to leave her. Instead, he wanted to talk it out like adults. It made her a little too relaxed.

"To see what kind of lock screen picture you have?"

He stared at her with a look that said You didn't pass this test. But then, a warmth settled in his eyes, the kind of soft glint he had when he was amused with something — amused with her.

"I think I know why."

His patience was soothing. It wouldn't hurt to ask directly instead of tiptoeing around the subject and making a fool of herself.

"Yeah. I would just… very much like to know if you have this kind of thing going on with other people."

"No. Do you?"

"No."

Another small smile. The warmth in his eyes had turned into a solid glow. Perhaps it was a test, after all: Simon didn't casually do anything, least of all leave his phone unattended like this.

"Simon… Why do you want to be with me?"

"'Cause you're a Bond girl."

It made her laugh, but on the inside, she was shedding tears.

"I'm not a Bond girl, Simon. I'm a student with a lot of debt."

"I could help you with that, you know."

She was so taken aback by his suggestion that she couldn't speak for a moment. Simon wasn’t joking: he had tilted his head slightly and waited for her to accept his offer.

They hadn't even had The Talk yet, and he was ready to support her financially. It made her delighted and suspicious; was she stepping into an affectionate relationship or a transactional bond if she accepted? The last time he had offered her money ended in her slapping him.

"You want to be my sugar daddy now?"

"I'm serious. You could focus on your studies."

It appeared they were approaching the centre of his issues as well, and she sighed.

"Does it bother you that I work there?"

He didn't betray any emotion, as was probably to be expected from a man who worked in covert operations.

"Does it bother you that I shoot people?"

She, on the other hand, found herself blinking again from Simon’s flat way of describing the nature of his work. To be honest, she hadn't given it much thought. Deliberately, because she had wanted to enjoy him to the full and see where this one would go. It was no use getting upset about something that possibly wouldn't even be a part of her life.

But here he was again, in her living room, after a good round of morning sex, smelling of tobacco and about to finally take her out. She was missing classes because of him, had even lied to him that she didn't have any today — not knowing whether he could tell she was lying and keeping it to himself so he could take her out.

Her answer proved to be quite simple, even if a bit naive.

"No, if they're the bad guys."

His face lit up with a sly smirk, and his words were smooth, gilded gravel this time.

"They are. I'm practically saving the world."

She rolled her eyes at that. Overconfident, cheeky bastard… She would soon catch actual fucking feelings, catch more than just an infatuation for this man.

"I'm sure the whole world would descend into darkness without you," she said dryly, and he laughed, this time in a perfectly spontaneous way. The tight grip on her heart only tightened more.

"Simon, seriously speaking, does it bother you?"

His face slowly straightened again, but he wouldn't give her an answer. She would never have thought that it actually might upset him — after all, he was the one who had visited such a place. He had come there to see her grind night after night.

"I like dancing. It's a good workout."

"As long as the only thing you work out is that pole." It was uttered slightly under his breath, and she tried her everything to hide a confused little grin.

Was he…

Could it be that Simon "I kill people" Riley was not only jealous but possessive?

Of her?

Wow.

---

He didn't take her to a fancy restaurant but to a museum that had Albrecht Dürer's engravings and woodcut prints on display.

"You really did your homework," she commented on his choice. How the hell did he know that she was interested precisely in this kind of stuff? The rich symbolism of Renaissance humanism and the overly gothic Northern period?

"Again, not rocket science."

He had probably seen that the book he had glanced through wasn't a loan but her own. Noticed the hearty amount of notes she had scribbled on the pages... Of course. Not rocket science, but still pretty impressive, especially when the exhibition was on show only for a month. She was studying this stuff, and she hadn't even noticed.

He asked her to give him a tour and curate the display. She laughed and told him that was not exactly what curators did but proceeded to tell him as much about the works as she could.

"I have a soft spot for this one. She's like an angel fallen from heaven. Brooding, because the stairway to heaven is right there, but she can't ascend."

They had stopped to study the print Melencolia I, and she feared that she was boring Simon to death — along with feeling lame for trying to impress him with knowledge that was yesterday's news. But it turned out he had never even seen the engraving that was in her world, one of the most iconic pieces of art history. He even got curious about the heavy symbolism embedded in the work; he asked about the sleeping dog, the hourglass, and the wings on the melancholy figure.

"That's a woman?"

"Yeah. I mean… That's the usual interpretation."

The fact that he hadn't seen it from the start made her smile. Or perhaps it was the notion that Simon seemed genuinely interested in the display and her knowledge on this type of art.

"They used to think that depression was a pathological condition caused by black bile and blamed it on the planet Saturn.”

The smug look on his face told her that the conversation was about to get interesting.

"What causes being pissed off all the time?"

She would never have guessed that Simon had anger management issues. He was always so cool and controlled.

"Anger is associated with being choleric. Too much heat in the body."

"I'm too hot?"

Way too hot.

"According to the Renaissance people, yeah."

He turned to look at her, and she could feel the tingles in the air between them.

"And which planet is to blame for being too beautiful?"

"That would…. probably be considered a gift from Venus, the Roman goddess of- "

He pulled her into a kiss, and she was soaring to the sun again. How a man surrounded by such heavy darkness, who concealed his face with human bones, could hold an entire sun within him was a mystery, even more compelling than the enigmas of the Renaissance. She imagined the man with all that death draped over him and concluded that Simon was the most enthralling piece of art she had ever seen.

He broke the kiss but didn’t let her go, and she finally felt like he was someone she could trust, a man she could feel safe with. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but she was full, perfectly satisfied under the austere lights of the museum, amidst the whispering tourists who had no idea there was blood and sun and love in the middle of the room. His eyes weren't those of a soldier, not even those of a hungry man in a strip club. Simon was something completely different from what she had originally thought.

"Why do you wear that skull?"

His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, a tiny betrayal of her having succeeded in surprising him again.

"Because I used to fear it."

That was solid reasoning, in her opinion. She could respect him for it. She liked the symbolism, the poetic, tragic beauty of it. The whole man was alluring… a tall, dark stranger although he was pale and blonde. His darkness was on the inside, but even that was savagely beautiful.

They went to the museum cafe after, and she ordered sparkling wine because, in her opinion, high culture demanded sparkles. This whole occasion demanded a toast — but then she noticed that Simon ordered tea. Not a glass of wine, or a beer, not even a coffee, but tea.

She had seen him drink at the club, just one scotch, but still. It wasn't a big deal; they didn’t need to celebrate what finally seemed to be a blooming relationship. But what was a big deal was that Simon seemed to disapprove of her having a glass of bubbly in the middle of the day.

"You drink often?"

"Um... no?”

She was feeling giddy, and not just because of the drink she was having. Simon’s question came out of nowhere, and the restless look on his face told her he was sincere. And then, another question followed.

"Have you done drugs?"

The situation had turned from fun to absurd so quickly that she bit her lip to hold back from smiling like a person who had something to hide. She hadn’t expected a man like Simon to give her a lecture about the dangers of recreational drugs.

"No." Technically, she had tried marijuana a couple of times at a party, but that couldn't be described as doing it.

"Good."

"Have you?"

"Never."

He was pleased enough with her answers, and the conversation seemed to have come to an end. She wanted to ask him more about this strict code he appeared to have, but before she could do it, Simon looked out the window and enlightened her.

"Father drank a lot."

It was a piece of information that equaled him giving her his gun. Giving her ammunition to shoot him with if and when the time would come. It also explained a lot.

"That sounds… awful."

"It was."

Simon had joined the army at a young age, and she had thought it meant he really wanted a career in the military, that there was a calling. But it appeared it might have something to do with wanting to get away from home as soon as possible.

"Is he still…?"

"He's dead."

---

She woke up in the middle of the night with the extremely uncomfortable feeling of not getting enough air.

When she came to, the first thing she felt was a forearm of steel pressed on her throat. In fact, there was a massive weight crushing her all around, but the most harrowing thing was the gaze she was met with, his eyes staring at her in a blank, cold, calculated rage.

"Simon..."

Those eyes were like lead, almost inhuman, and she tried to utter his name while her thorax and throat were being compressed with a gradually increasing weight.

"Simon."

He finally woke up from whatever flashback this was a reaction to and seemed to start breathing again at the exact moment the mist of icy wrath drew back from over his eyes.

"Fuck… " He took his arm from her throat, and she gasped for air and stayed still, fearing that the killer would come back any second.

"Shit. Sorry." Simon's eyes were wide and scanning her wildly, inspecting if he had done permanent damage. He slowly rose off of her and scrambled backward as far as he could go without falling from the bed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, clearly more than a bit shocked.

It shocked her even more than the actual choking episode — to see Simon so visibly afraid.

"It’s okay," she said, wondering how many times she had told him everything was okay when it wasn’t. "I'm okay."

She rose to sit and reached out to touch him, but he flinched. Seeing a man of his quality recoil from her touch wasn’t just baffling. It was chilling.

"Not… right now," he said as he raised a hand to shield himself from her. The fresh frost in her chest only spread.

"Does this kind of thing happen often?"

What she had meant to ask was whether he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. Although it was pretty clear that he did.

"Don't know. I usually sleep alone."

He swallowed, and she could hear the gulp. Simon was still breathing heavy, and she was rattled too, but the worst thing was yet to come as he got off the bed.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said without taking even a pillow with him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she grabbed his arm when he was already headed to the door.

"There's nothing ridiculous about this," he said, looking more distraught by the second. And perhaps it had started to dawn on her, too. What if it happened again? What if he used even more power and actually killed her through sleep? If he had really meant to, he could've easily crushed her windpipe just a while ago. Still, seeing him so evidently shaken hurt her even more.

"You can't sleep on the couch every time you come here."

Technically, he could, but she didn't want him to. She tried to find humour in the situation, to crack some kind of a joke, but everything she came up with sounded bad and morbid. Perhaps he needed some space right now. She would just have to deal with it.

"You want to be alone?"

He stared at the floor and gave her a sullen half-shrug. He wouldn't move, and she felt bold enough to view it as a wordless beg for intimacy. She rose from the bed and walked to him, then wrapped her arms around him in an awkward hug when he continued to stand there completely frozen.

The ice melted eventually as he returned the hug. A deep sigh echoed in her bedroom, but her shock had started to shift and turn into something else. Simon wasn't a perfect man anymore, not in a way that made her a helpless woman. He was perfect now with flaws and stretched the space within her heart more and more by revealing he was a human after all.

"What would James Bond do?" She whispered while pressing her cheek against the warm, broad chest that had only now started to represent safety in her world. Even after what had just happened. Something in him finally latched tightly in place, like a puzzle piece that had collided against her the wrong way but now finally found the perfect angle and fit.

He huffed. It was only a little chuckle, but it was a start.

"I bet he wouldn't sleep on the couch," she continued, and he gave her a solid squeeze this time.

"I’m not James Bond," he muttered, and it felt like another magazine to the gun she had lately been provided with.

"That's okay. I don’t even like him."

#ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc

317 notes · View notes

raccoon-eyed-rebel · 4 months

Text

Axes and O's

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU)

Summary: Sy invited you and Walter to his family's cabin, where you get to spend a few days alone with them before the holidays.

Word count: 8250

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), very very soft!femdom (? Don't ask me how, really), near-safeword experience, still that astonishingly strong bromance, and polyam vibes.

A/N: Alright well, now, hello. Here we are with the sequel to "Don't knock it till you try it", where we make another very decent attempt to stuff every available hole with as much man as we can handle... No? Not the right kind of introduction? Alright well just read the damn thing, then, I guess?!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (I can't tag either of you, tumblr won't let me...)

There was something soothing about the predictability of the situation; you had asked the boys to turn the heat in the car up, they complained that it was already a sauna in there. It wasn’t. And you were freezing. You pulled the sleeve of your sweater up to show Sy the goosebumps on your arm, to which he responded by reluctantly turning the heat up a little bit.

“How can she be cold?” Walter grumbled from behind the wheel while Sy pulled his sweater over his head.

“Here,” Sy said, rolling his eyes, “in case your Majesty still isn’t warm enough.” He tossed the sweater at you, and you contently pulled it over your head. Walter’s sweater had been serving as a blanket for about an hour now, and with the addition of Sy’s, and the few extra degrees on the heater, you were finally comfortably warm.

“Good,” Walter mumbled, “because I’m not taking off anything else for you in this car.” It was the ‘in this car’ that made you chuckle.

“That’s a shame,” you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him in the rearview mirror as you leaned over and put your arms around Sy’s neck. “Would you?”

He turned his head and sighed. “I have before, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you got something in return,” Walter responded, “and I don’t think that’s happening today.” Oh, he was so fucking right about that… You’d freeze to death, even with him there.

The rest of the drive, you sat in the back, finally nice and warm to the point where you thought you might actually be able to fall asleep — and then all of that came to a very abrupt end when Sy had Walter pull over and he turned towards you, handing you a thermos.

“Here, sugar,” he said with a faint smile, “brought you some tea to keep you warm. We’re going out to get ourselves a tree.”

Get a tree? What did they mean ‘get a tree’? You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by… Well, fine, surrounded by trees, but surely they didn’t mean they were going to… Before you had even finished that thought, the guys grabbed their coats off the backseat — which would be missed greatly as they’d been keeping your feet warm — and hopped out of the truck.

Either it was completely coincidental that it had stopped snowing, or the guys had decided to get the tree now because it had stopped, but either way, you were happy, because you could see them clearly; bickering for a moment before making a decision, and making their way towards the tree of their choice.

It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth swing of the axe that you realized you were biting your lip and holding your breath. It had to be illegal for them to look this sexy while chopping down a tree, right? You could watch them do this all day, but unfortunately, they were done after about fifteen minutes.

“Nice show, boys,” you said as Sy got behind the wheel and Walter took the passenger seat, “can we go now?”

Sy looked over his shoulder once and grinned. “Sure thing, sugar.”

The rest of the drive would have taken about ten minutes, if Sy hadn’t managed to take a wrong turn. Neither of you were going to let him forget about that anytime soon.

“Finally,” you fake-yawned when you pulled into the driveway of the cabin about thirty minutes later.

“Shut up,” Sy grumbled, “or I’m shutting the water off when you’re washing your hair tonight.” Now there was a serious threat...

Sy took you inside while Walter took care of the tree — which included a pretty lengthy process of making it as snow-less as humanly possible on the front porch. You secretly thanked the universe that he was smart enough to think about that beforehand, because you were fairly sure that you’d have been the one mopping half the house if he hadn’t.

The cabin was very nice. Big, spacious — it had to be to accommodate Sy’s family — and just luxurious enough to make you wonder how the hell...

“I have this uncle,” Sy simply said. Of course. There was always an uncle! Sometimes a weird one, like in normal families like your own, and sometimes apparently a scandalously rich one.

“Thank him for me,” Walter said as he walked through the door, dragging the tree behind him. It was on a blanket. Maybe the guys were smarter than you occasionally gave them credit for.

“Will do. Let’s get that tree up, and then I can give you guys the tour?” You and Walter both nodded.

The boys had the Christmas tree up in no time, and you watched them from the couch — after rolling yourself into a blanket burrito with a throw you found hanging over the armrest of the couch. It looked like something Sy’s grandmother or mother had made.

He laughed when you asked about it. “My cousins and sisters all helped. They still spend the holidays knitting or... the other thing, with the one little hook-thing, I don’t know—”

“Crocheting,” you filled in, “continue.”

“Right. That. Every year they make a few more squares to add to that thing. That’s why it’s so big. You’re welcome to use it, but please do be careful with it.” The way he looked at the blanket was endearing. You knew Sy as a guy who cared a lot about family, whereas Walter had just about the worst relationship with his folks you could possibly imagine. It was no wonder he’d be spending the holidays with the Syversons instead of with his own family.

“Eh, Sy,” Walter said, and he pointed at the small stack of wood next to the fireplace.

“Right,” Sy replied, “my uncle mentioned something about being low on firewood. Apparently, the stash outside is not what it should be, either. We’ll get to that in a bit.” He sat down in front of the fireplace and within a few minutes, a small fire was burning.

Sy got up and gestured at you and Walter to grab your bags and follow him, and he led you up the stairs. The second floor of the cabin was also gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you’d have expected. The rooms weren’t big, per se, but they were very nice.

“You can take my room,” Sy said to you, while pointing to a door to his left. “If you don’t mind, we’ll share the main bathroom — I’d like to keep the place as clean as possible for when my family gets here, otherwise there’s no way ma will ever let me go here early ever again.” You and Walter both nodded, and you had trouble stifling a gasp when you stuck your head into the bathroom. It was absolutely gorgeous!

“My uncle’s room has an en-suite with a hot tub and a sauna,” Sy huffed when you commented on how nice it looked. “Me and my dad remodeled this one two years ago. Ticked every box on ma’s and aunt Jen’s crazy list of demands.” It was always fun to watch Sy as he talked about something like this. He was clearly proud of his work, and he could get so cocky, but for some reason he wore it well.

Over the past few months, you’d come to find Walter much more sensitive than you initially thought. He was considerate and kind, and sometimes really surprised you with kind gestures — like the time he’d sent you flowers when he’d noticed you were feeling off that week. The card had just read ‘hey, friend’, but you knew they were his — which was later confirmed and rewarded, of course.

Of course, you’d seen him get a little arrogant. One particular instance came to mind when Walter had unexpectedly bested Sy’s bench press PR. Sy was a sore loser, and Walter was not a very nice winner at all, which meant Sy had moped around all night while Walter showed you that he didn’t do cocky with even a shred of the amount of grace Sy did. It really should have bothered you that neither of them had shown their best sides that night, but they’d been half naked, so it was safe to say your critical thinking skills had been severely impaired at the time.

“Sugar?” Sy waved his hand in front of your face.

“Yeah?” you asked, snapping out of your memory, back to reality. Both guys were looking at you with a slight hint of worry in their eyes.

“Did you hear what I just said?” Sy laughed when you shook your head. “I’ll grab the boxes of decorations from storage, can you get started on the tree while we go out to get some firewood?”

You nodded and followed the boys downstairs again, where Sy disappeared into a closet to retrieve some boxes.

“Alright, knock yourself out with the tree, I’ll put the rest up where it’s supposed to go, later.”

You were actually excited to get started on decorating the tree, and then fate decided to steer your interest in a different direction; the spot where the guys were chopping wood was clearly visible from the window, and good God, was the view distracting... After a few failed attempts to stick to putting lights on the tree, you gave up and stood by the window.

There was something about these guys swinging an axe that made you feel hotter than the puny little fire in the fireplace ever could. You and your friends regularly joked about how entirely un-feminist that strangely primal urge to swoon over big men with big muscles was. It was nice to feel protected — and Walt and Sy had proven themselves very useful in the club on several occasions, and all your girlfriends loved them because they were very intimidating pretend-boyfriends, and therefore absolutely came in handy when the time came to fend off handsy, horny drunks.

Soon, those rational thoughts and memories faded to the background and were replaced by some of your favorite moments from the nothing-short-of-magical nights you had shared with Sy or Walt — both of them together hadn’t happened since last summer, and you had spent most of the past half year thinking you were okay with that, but there was this feeling deep inside you that absolutely wouldn’t mind...

“Well, well, well...” Fuck.

“Why are we doing all the work while she just gets to stare at us?”

“Was she staring at us?”

“I think she was...”

“Now, why on earth would she do that...”

“Oh, because the two of you are so incredibly hot, I could just drop to my knees right here...” you sneered while rolling your eyes. “Make the fire a little bigger, would you, Sy? And go take a shower. You both stink.”

“Alright, that looks amazing, sugar!” Sy said when he came downstairs again. The whole shower had taken him about ten minutes, in which you’d managed to make some serious progress on the tree, and now he was back to distract you with his grey sweatpants and the old t-shirt he slept in. He pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips to your temple. “Think we can pull off a—”

“Absolutely not, Sy,” you laughed as you pushed him away. “We’re just going to hang out, watch a movie, go to bed early. Okay?” It wasn’t exactly what you were after, but whatever they wanted to do couldn’t happen now.

Sy groaned, clearly disappointed, and you felt his breath on your ear. “Come on, sexy,” he whispered, his fingers digging possessively into your hip, but despite enjoying his attention very much, you turned away.

“Nope.” You smiled at the way he looked at you; he made no effort at all to hide his disappointment and frustration. It made you feel strangely powerful to realize you had that kind of effect on him — on both of them, if you were being honest.

“Fine,” he huffed, “let’s get the rest of these decorations up, then.”

By the end of it, after another hour or so of getting the cabin holiday-ready while employing your absolute favorite tactic of conspicuously putting your ass in Sy’s line of sight — and Walter’s, once he came out of the shower and joined you — you were fairly certain those Christmas decorations weren’t the only things that were... up.

“My turn to shower,” you decided when Sy announced that you were done, and without waiting for an answer, you hurried up the stairs. Truth be told, all of your hard work turning the boys on hadn’t left you unaffected, either.

While the hot water warmed you up and slowly chipped away at the tension in your back and shoulders, your thoughts ended up with those memories from before again, making you wish you weren’t alone in the shower right now. Without thinking, you put a hand between your legs and ran a finger along your slit, dipping slightly between your lips. You were soaking wet — you had been nearly all day, and it was your own fault for taking on this trip wearing your favorite toy; a small, stainless steel butt plug with a crystal base. It was surprisingly comfortable, even after all this time, and you had no intention of taking it out just yet, even though you knew the next few hours would be absolute torture. You brought your fingers to your clit and quickly worked yourself to an orgasm, knowing it would only make it that much more difficult to keep the promise you’d made to yourself: tonight, the guys would have to come to you, not the other way around.

It was probably a good thing you weren’t going to be sleeping in a tent, minimizing the chance of having to knock on either of their doors for warmth.

You made your way downstairs after about half an hour, wearing your favorite pajama shorts and a tank top. As soon as you stepped into the living room, the boys groaned.

“Absolutely not,” Walter muttered, while Sy took the less subtle approach — as usual — and outright told you to ‘put those tits away, sugar’ because they were, according to him, very distracting. Good.

You politely declined his request and sat down on the couch between them, snuggling into Sy’s side while putting your feet in Walter’s lap. It was all part of the plan; you already had Sy on edge — which wasn’t a very impressive feat — but Walter usually took a bit more work. A bit.

The guys picked the movie — their choice surprised you; it was a cheesy Halmark Christmas movie. The kind that you loved, but they certainly didn’t. Were they just trying to get you in a good mood? It sure as hell was working...

You turned a little and let your legs fall open a bit, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing as you watched Walter clench his jaw. You were 100% flashing him right now, what with those pajama shorts being so... short, and everything.

His fingers trailed lightly up and down your shin, while Sy’s hand rested on your stomach, and it was difficult to pay attention to the movie when your thoughts kept drifting to all those other things you knew those hands could do.

Aside from the horrible tension, you were comfy and content with the situation, and you could tell the guys were, too. You turned on your side again, making sure to brush your foot past Walter’s groin, and a hand dangerously close to Sy’s. Completely accidentally, of course. The boys groaned.

“Mean,” Walter snarled, and Sy was quick to agree.

When the movie was over, you announced you were going to bed, not giving the guys any indication that they should come with you — although you weren’t exactly worried about spending the night alone.

Doubt started to set in when you checked the alarm clock next to the bed. It was almost midnight, and it seemed your plan had backfired after all. After deciding it was pointless to stay in bed, tossing and turning — and cursing yourself for being so stupid for thinking you were special enough to these guys to be able to play with them the way you did and have them come running to you — you got up and snuck across the hallway to the bathroom to get yourself a glass of water.

Just when you were about to walk back to your room, you heard footsteps in the hallway, and decided to wait a beat before going back to bed.

“Guess we had the same idea, then?”

“I suppose. You gonna tell me to back off?”

A gruff chuckle that could belong to either of them follows the question. “No. Are you gonna tell me to back off?”

The way they challenged each other made you weak in the knees, and you quickly gathered your courage to step out of the bathroom.

“Maybe you both need to go back to your rooms,” you said, faking a yawn as you tried to walk to the bedroom door — which was difficult because the guys were leaning on either side of it, and as soon as you were standing between them, their arms appeared in front of you, blocking your way.

“Now, sugar,” Sy said, leaning in until you felt his breath on your ear, “if that’s what you want, you know we’ll go. I’m just fairly sure…” A single finger trailed lightly up your spine, and you shivered.

They stepped closer to you until their chests hit your shoulders, but they dropped their arms. Without hesitation, you pushed the bedroom door open and walked into the room. Much to your surprise, they stayed put.

You glanced over your shoulder and pouted. “Are you guys coming or what?”

Walter beat Sy by a fraction of a second, and surprised you with a harsh hand on your hip while he growled at his friend to hold off for a second. Then, a few swift smacks landed on your ass. “That’s for teasing me the way you did. I noticed your little surprise, too. Are you still wearing that?”

Instead of answering, you let your shorts fall to the floor and stepped out of them as you made your way to the foot of the bed, where you spread your legs slightly and bent over.

“Well fuck me,” Sy stammered when he saw what Walter had been getting at.

You looked at him over your shoulder and gave him the sweetest smile. “That was the plan, sugar,” you purred. “Well… half of it, anyway.”

Walter slipped a finger into your pussy without warning and whistled through his teeth. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “How long have you been wearing that thing?”

“Since this morning,” you admitted shyly — why were you feeling shy all of a sudden? Embarrassed, even, possibly? Were you really even entertaining the thought that they wouldn’t like it?

“Goddamn, baby…” Sy sounded impressed, and a bit of your confidence returned to you.

“No wonder you’re soaking wet,” Walter said, his tone nearly as teasing as that finger that he slowly pumped into you, leaving you squirming and clenching your muscles in a feeble attempt to get more friction. “God, you need it, don’t you. Too bad, love. You made me wait, now you can wait.” You whined as he pulled his finger back, hated him for the way he chuckled when you leaned into his touch as he swirled his fingers around your clit a few times. “Get on your knees for me, love.”

You refused, not realizing how much it hadn’t been a question, and soon you felt a hand on your shoulder that pulled your upper body off the bed as he made you stand before him. Sy watched quietly from the corner of the room, clearly amused.

Walter looked directly at you, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. “No flamingoes?” he asked sincerely, and you shook your head.

“None whatsoever,” you said with a beaming smile. You heard Sy chuckle in the corner. You used the same safe word with both of them — not that things typically got so rough you really needed it, but it was good to come prepared.

Walter gave you a quick kiss before ordering you to your knees again, and this time, you obeyed, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes, desperate to hear your favorite words — but he denied you. Instead, he nodded approvingly when you raised your hands, curling your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear.

Before doing anything else, though, you turned to Sy and batted your eyelashes at him, beckoning him to come closer.

“The only thing more fun than sucking dick, is sucking two,” you said nonchalantly.

“I’m happy to watch,” Sy said with a wink.

“Liar,” you snorted. “Now get over here.”

Having both of them towering over should have felt intimidating to say the least — instead, it just made you incredibly excited. There was even a slight chance you were a little too enthusiastic when you pulled their pants down and grabbed their cocks, because the boys chuckled.

“Goddamn, sugar, we don’t deserve you,” Sy groaned when you looked up at him — then hissed when you gently rubbed your thumb along the underside of his tip.

Walter was the less patient one today, grabbing your head and pulling you towards him. With a defiant look in your eyes, you stared up at him, but he wasn’t having any of it. A decisive ‘no’ and demanding ‘open’ were enough to make you listen.

You stuck your tongue out and carefully licked a salty bead of precum from his tip, relishing the not-amused eyebrow he raised in response to your teasing. In his defense: his instructions had been clear. In your defense: you were in a mood.

“Hm, not as well-trained as I thought, I see,” Sy chuckled, struggling to keep a moan off his lips when you moved your hand lazily over his length. You shot a mischievous glance up at the boys, clearly siding with Sy in this one.

“Oh, we knew she was a handful, right?” Walter laughed. The sound turned into a low moan when you finally took the head of his cock into your mouth for a moment.

“No, you two are a handful,” you quipped before teasing Walter again.

“Mouthful,” he corrected with a wink, finally having lost all of his patience, thrusting into your mouth. You were still holding him at the base, meaning he only made it about halfway in. Walter’s hand gently closed around your wrist, his eyes quietly asking you to let go — and you obliged.

It was tough to pay any attention to Sy while Walter pushed his entire length down your throat, but he solved that problem himself by thrusting lazily into your hand. You felt his eyes on you, felt his cock twitch in your hand, and you fought back a chuckle.

Sy had never struck you like a man who got off on watching his girl suck another man’s cock — apparently you’d been wrong.

He’d also never come across as much of an impatient, whiny, little bitch. You’d been wrong about that, too.

“You were right, sugar, I’m not happy to watch,” he growled after a while, and you retreated for a moment so you could look at him. He didn’t take kindly to the smug look on your face, because he was a lot less subtle in his… persuasive techniques than Walter had been. That is to say; he pulled you towards him and took advantage of your surprised gasp by shoving his cock into your mouth.

From then on, you tried your best to divide your attention adequately between the two equally demanding guys, and to your surprise you managed really well. It helped that they both wanted it roughly the same way — but there was one of them who just couldn’t see a blowjob as a full meal…

“I’m done with this,” Sy hissed after a while, but Walter groaned.

“I’m not,” he complained. It was cute, in a way. Walter had made sure you knew how much he loved it when you gave him head, and you felt bad for him that he didn’t get his fill. Now, if only there were a solution to this heartbreaking problem…

Sy hauled you off the floor with disturbingly little effort and bent you over, grinding his hips against your ass just because he could. You hesitated before taking Walter into your mouth again. This particular setup hadn’t exactly worked out last time.

When Sy pushed into you from behind, you moaned, relishing the feeling of the skin-on-skin contact. You’d ditched condoms with both of them a while ago — something the guys had been a little happier about than you would have liked. Sure, neither of them had ever complained about using them, and you yourself were perfectly happy that they weren’t in play anymore, but still…

You allowed the rhythm of Sy’s thrust guide the movements of your mouth around Walter’s cock, which worked out well. Last time, you had at least felt somewhat in control — over Sy, at least — but now that they both towered over you, tall and dominant like never before… Your legs trembled, and you couldn’t stop moans from spilling freely over your lips.

Every last one of Sy’s movements reminded you not only of the cock in your throat — which was admittedly pretty hard to miss to begin with — but also of the butt plug you were still wearing, which intensified every sensation, every thrust…

Your fingers dug into Walter’s hip in an attempt to steady yourself — not just physically — and before long you gave up on the blowjob, letting your hand do the work instead while you muttered profanities under your breath. Until Walter pulled you up.

“God, darling, you’re a mess,” he said with a smile, a hint of concern hidden somewhere deep in his eyes. He pulled your tank top over your head and used it to clean your face up a bit. “You’re not crying, right?”

You shook your head, and opened your mouth, but before you could speak, Walter reached around you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you against him, using the other to push Sy off. “Stop.”

Of course, he did stop — you’d never for so much as a single second expected him not to — and he stepped closer until you felt his chest against your back.

“I really thought I’d be okay with it,” you whispered. “With being used like that, but…”

“Sorry if we were too rough on you, sugar,” Sy said, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“Not too rough,” you said, with both a slight tremble and a sharp edge to your soft voice, “too mean. I’m your friend, not your fucktoy.”

“Right,” Sy said, and you could just hear the grin in his voice, “you may be a whore, but you’re our whore.”

That earned him a slap on the shoulder, both from you and Walter. “Oh, right,” you sneered, “as if you two sluts have a right to talk.”

Sy wrapped his arms around you and kissed your neck. “No, we certainly don’t.” Another soft kiss sent a shiver down your spine.

“I say we get her into bed and show her how much we care about her,” he said to Walter, who smiled deviously in response. The concern in his eyes hadn’t quite subsided — in fact it was as present as it had been before — but there was a hint of careful optimism that they could turn this around.

“So very, very much,” Walter said, slowly trailing his fingers over your upper arms, apparently taking the involuntary twitch of the corner of your mouth into a half-smile as a sign that you were okay to keep going.

Two pairs of devilish blue eyes looked at you as they slowly pushed you back towards the bed.

You managed to suppress a chuckle as you considered how incredibly in-character these two behaved, even — perhaps especially — now that they had committed their time and attention to making you feel cared for. Walter held you in his arms, pulling you closer every time his lips landed somewhere on your body, dedicating an indecent amount of time on your neck, no doubt leaving marks all over your skin. He relished your moans, whines and the sight of your writhing body, every plea that fell from your lips luring a chuckle from his.

Compare that to subtlety-of-a-freight-train Sy, who dove straight for your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple while his hand impatiently rushed between your legs.

“Is he any good at that?” Walter whispered in your ear, and you laughed.

“Not nearly as good as you,” you replied, looking down just in time to see Sy raise his gaze to meet yours, squinting slightly in protest of your words. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t so much as an iota of a lie to your statement. Hands were Walter’s territory. “There’s something he does better, though.” The sweetness of your own voice surprised you, and the smile on your face seemed to tick Sy off almost as much as you had planned.

“Now, sugar, if you’re asking me what I think you’re asking me,” he said slowly, moving his lips to your ear, “ask me. Nicely.”

He clearly hadn’t caught on to the little switch in dynamic your near-run-in with your safe word had caused — but he’d find out soon enough. A single firm push was enough to relocate him from the bed to the floor next to the bed, and you sat up on the edge of the mattress as he tried to get up.

“Down.” You warned him with your eyes more than with your voice, and to your surprise, he stayed down on his knees instead of getting up and hovering over you like he normally would — and you’d normally let him.

It was obvious from the way the muscles in his jaw tightened and the fierce eyes that stared up at you defiantly, that Sy was neither used to this nor made for this, but Walter’s hand on your thigh gave you the courage to lay down the law that the quiet man next to you had caught on to already.

“The two of you forfeited your right to boss me around back there,” you said, nodding towards the foot of the bed. There was something addictive about the sight of Sy on his knees in front of you. Below you. “I’m in charge now.”

Behind you, Walter groaned. There was a hint of a chuckle to it, but you didn’t get much time to think about it, because you swiftly became preoccupied with the movement you felt as he moved to sit behind you.

“Yes ma’am,” Sy said, his signature grin slowly spreading over his face, “as you wish.” He hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed before grabbing each leg behind your knee and pushing them up.

The new position forced you to lean back, where Walter was waiting for you, his arms eagerly wrapping around you, providing some much-appreciated warmth, and you unconsciously snuggled into him. The sight made Sy chuckle as he looked up at you, one eyebrow cocked and still grinning.

“May I?” he asked. The remark had a sarcastic exterior, but the defiant glint in his eyes was nowhere near as strong as you’d expected it to be.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” you said with a smile. “Oh, and Sy… No teasing. I want to cum.”

He hissed another ‘yes ma’am’ through gritted teeth before deciding he’d better get to work.

“Don’t push it,” Walter whispered in your ear, pinching your nipple to drive his point home. Of course, it was foolish of him to think you’d even be able to pay attention to him while Sy was working his magic so effortlessly that you’d almost think he’d been eating pussy for breakfast every day for the last five years. Actually…

Walter made you whine softly when he put his lips on your neck again, his hands roaming your chest and giving your nipples some well-deserved and overdue attention, and he chuckled softly. He lived for the soft, high-pitched sounds of pleasure you let out when he drove you wild with nothing but his hands.

Sy, on the other hand, made it his mission to make you scream — preferably his name, but he wasn’t exactly picky — and swear, and to no one’s surprise but much to your satisfaction, he managed every single time. This time was no exception; as soon as you felt his tongue against your pussy and his fingers eagerly tracing a line along your slit, finding your entrance, you hissed.

“Fuck,” you whispered, already out of breath from sheer anticipation, your body begging for Sy to make quick work of this like you knew he could, so you could move on to fulfil your other burning needs… Only he didn’t.

Just as you were about to remind him of your order to not tease you, you realized something else was the matter. Something else entirely. He wasn’t stalling. He wasn’t teasing. He was… struggling.

A tiny little sliver of a thought crossed your mind for a split-second, begging you to taunt him and ask him what was taking so damn long, but you mentally crushed it with a bat and moved on to more productive ideas as you felt Sy lean his head against your thigh.

He sighed. “You messed with my head, sugar,” he admitted.

“Only because you let me,” you scoffed. “Sy there’s no one who does what you do. Now show me you’re the man I know you to be and finish me off, because I need it.”

“Careful what you wish for, sugar,” he said with a grin, looking much more like the guy you knew than he had a moment before.

From the moment he put his mouth back on you, it was game over, and you knew you were about to get everything you had asked for — and so much more. You moaned when he pushed two fingers into you, reminding you — just for a moment — about the time you’d asked him about that. Because he sure as hell didn’t need his hands to get you where you needed to be, so why involve them at all? The simple answer had been that he liked the way you squeezed him when he pushed you over that edge. You’d called him a smug bastard, and you still stood by that assessment. In fact, he was well on his way to prove your point to you again.

“Fuck, Sy!” you cried out when a flick of his tongue finished you off, and you felt your muscles spasm uncontrollably around his fingers. It was annoying that you were aware of it now, because you knew it made him feel extra good about himself.

Your moment of ecstasy was cut short by a pained grunt and a sharp smack on your wrist from Walter. “That hurts, darling,” he growled, gesturing at his arm, where you’d dug your fingernails into his skin — not deep enough to draw blood, but still leaving quite a mark.

Sy chuckled, and without taking his mouth off you, he looked up — at Walter, not at you. This look that they shared, you decided even though you could only see half of it, you did not like one bit — an educated guess that was confirmed when Walter reached for your legs, pulling them back even further.

“Still good?” he asked you while Sy looked around in search of something before checking the drawer of the nightstand and triumphantly retrieving the bottle of lube you’d stashed there. This time, it was not your hair-lube. It wasn’t your first rodeo, after all.

“Sure,” you answered Walter, sounding far more sarcastic than you intended, “being manhandled like this is my favourite pastime.”

“It’s not?” Walter asked, not buying into your act.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sy said, diving back between your legs before you had a chance to say something snarky in response to his uncalled-for attitude. He licked the length of your pussy before settling at your clit, making you moan and roll your hips against him impatiently. It wasn’t until you felt his fingers move towards the base of the butt plug you were still wearing that you remembered he’d grabbed the lube at all — and the thought disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced because Sy never took his mouth off your pussy.

You moaned loudly when he took it out and even louder when a finger slowly took its place. “Oh God,” you said, leaning your head back against Walter’s shoulder while you tried to make sense of everything you were feeling.

“Nope, just me, sugar,” Sy said, making part of you want to kick him in the head. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be possible because of the iron grip Walter had on your legs. Shame. Besides, why would you even want to kick him when he was about to make you cum again? The answer to that question would have to wait, because yet another expertly executed move toppled you over the edge into bliss for the second time that night — and judging by the look on Sy’s face as he used the convenient moment of relaxation to work a second finger into your ass, it was nowhere near the last time that night you’d be trembling under his touch.

Your thought was confirmed when you heard Walter speak up, his voice breathy and drenched with lust: “One more.”

“Orgasm or finger?” you asked without thinking, to which his reaction was simply: ‘yes.’

Of course, Sy, diligent as ever, got to work immediately, flicking his tongue over your clit like it was his job, while his fingers pumped into your ass. Walter trusted you to keep your legs apart, letting go of you purely so his hands could get back to giving your boobs the attention he thought they deserved.

It was impossible to put into words how much you enjoyed being the center of attention, and if they hadn’t realized that by now, they probably wouldn’t — but you’d find that extremely hard to believe, especially with the way you were reaching for and grasping at both of them while Sy pulled a third orgasm from you. And then a fourth. And a fifth.

He didn’t stop until you were gasping for air in Walter’s arms. “I’m tapping out,” you panted, sucking in quick breaths between words.

Sy laughed and, without pulling his fingers out of your ass, got up to kiss you. His beard was wet, you could taste yourself on his tongue, and as far as you were concerned, you might as well have died and gone to heaven. When you opened your eyes, so did he, and you could see the longing in his eyes; a violently burning need that you immediately recognized.

It just so happened that, over the past six months, Sy had never actually gained backstage access, so to speak. It had never come up, and the one time he did ask about it had been so close to this trip that you’d denied him, hoping his first time — fine, his first time with you — would strike a poetic parallel with Walter’s.

“Do I ask, sugar?” he said almost mockingly, but still gentle enough that his remark just served as a reminder that you were still in charge.

“No,” you said, waiting just long enough to continue to give the man some idle hope, “you fucking beg for it.” Speaking of parallels with last time…

They were both going to have to swallow their pride — it just so happened that Walter had a hell of a lot less of it than Sy did. Alternatively, he just had far less trouble getting over himself.

“I swear to God I’m going to die if I don’t get to fuck you,” he growled in your ear. “Please let me.”

You bit your lip and giggled before looking at Sy with a raised eyebrow. His turn.

“Sugar, I’ve been dreaming about that sweet ass of yours” — his tone was calm, but his eyes were pleading with you in the most endearing way — “would you please finally let me find out…” His voice trailed off.

You looked at him for a moment before nodding, and you got up.

“He’s been missing out?” Walter asked while he took your place at the edge of the bed before grabbing your hips and turning you around, so you were facing him. Sy scoffed and mumbled something inaudible that you decided to pay no attention to.

You were too busy climbing on top of Walter, anyway, straddling his thighs but in no hurry to get railed just yet. He inhaled sharply when you reached between your bodies to grab his cock. That lengthy session with you as the sole focus of it had definitely taken its toll on them — neither of them were probably going to last very long.

You kissed Walter, slipping your tongue past his lips while you got up on your knees to allow him space to line himself up with your entrance. He moaned when you lowered yourself onto his cock slowly, taking your time to enjoy every inch of him.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he grunted softly when you finally sat all the way down.

You shrugged. “Your fault.”

“Excuse me?” Sy said, his tone offended. “I want my credit.”

“Credit, my ass,” you teased, hoping Sy would take that for the invitation you intended it to be. Luckily, he did.

You dug your nails into Walter’s shoulders when Sy pushed into your ass, not because he was hurting you or anything — you wouldn’t have endured that, and they knew that. Not that they had any intention of hurting you to begin with… — but mostly because you were completely overwhelmed by the feeling of the two of them inside of you.

A soft chuckle escaped you when you noticed Walter taking on the role Sy had last summer; studying your face for signs of discomfort and checking in with you to see if you were alright.

“I’m good,” you said after letting out a very dramatic sigh, causing Walter to look at you as if you were lying. “Fucking amazing. Promise. Kinda missed this.” You swallowed hard and relaxed into the feeling of being completely filled with cock. “Whew!”

The guys both laughed, which made you kind of want to smack them — but you didn’t. Because you were nice. Right?

“As long as neither of you has ever taken a dick up the ass, I don’t wanna hear it,” you warned them, and the laughter died down suspiciously quickly. Still, even though you were convinced that they were convinced that you were okay, they didn’t move.

“You’re in charge,” Walter said, shrugging indifferently and taking the slap to the shoulder in stride. Apparently, it was worth it to see you get a little worked up over their shenanigans. Needless to say, you did not agree with that assessment.

“I came on this trip to get railed,” you said, “fuckin’ make it happen!”

It was all the encouragement they needed; Walter lifted you out of his lap slightly to give himself room to move, and Sy pulled back a little, and precisely those two small moves made it very obvious to you that you’d made a huge mistake. Quite possibly the best mistake of your life, but a mistake, nonetheless.

You couldn’t help but scream when they both slammed into you, practically knocking the air out of your lungs. Walter fell back onto the mattress with you in his arms, and you let him drag you along without protest.

“Relax,” he whispered, “we’re not gonna last, anyway.”

You took his advice, burying your face in Walter’s neck while muttering ‘fuck’ with every single brutal thrust. They weren’t going to last; you could hear it in the grunts that escaped them, the way they breathed and their wavering rhythms, but damn if they didn’t put what little time they had to good use. ‘Fucking you six ways to Sunday’ would have been an understatement, even though you couldn’t for the life of you come up with something better to describe what they were doing to you.

Much to your surprise, Sy managed to outlast Walter by a few thrusts — which was no doubt going to make him insufferably cocky, but you’d deal with that later. When they tried to pull out, you stopped them.

“Gimme a minute,” you muttered, wanting to hold on to the feeling a little bit longer. It made you realize you didn’t do this nearly as much as you’d like to. Maybe it was time to bring that up?

“Did I lie?” Walter asked Sy, his voice as neutral as he could manage — but you could see the smile pulling ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth.

“Not a word,” Sy said. “Sugar, let’s get you into the shower.”

“No, I’m tired,” you complained, but apparently your time in charge had ended as soon as they’d both pumped you full of cum, because they raised their eyebrows at each other and manhandled you all the way to the bathroom and into the shower. You took revenge by insisting you were freezing — which wasn’t a lie — and demanding hotter water.

The boys played an annoying game of ‘trying to get your hair wet’ while they quickly washed theirs — with bodywash. Bodywash! — which made it really tempting to punch them both in the dick, but you decided against that. After all, you’d be needing those. Both of them.

After the shower, the three of you stopped in the hallway for reasons that weren’t immediately obvious to you — and then you saw what the guys were hesitant about. Both of them stood there, looking at you, at each other, and at their respective bedroom doors, before looking back into the bedroom the three of you had just had all that fun in.

“If you two so much as think you can sleep anywhere but next to me tonight,” you said sternly, “you’re sorely mistaken.”

Sy was the first to notice the small crack in your voice at the end of that sentence, and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. From there, it was impossible to fight back the tears that welled up in your eyes. “Not goin’ anywhere, sugar,” he said, wiping the wet trails off your cheeks before kissing you softly.

“I’m also not as comfortable naked right now as I was ten minutes ago, so I’ll be right back,” Water said before disappearing into his room.

He kept his promise — not that you’d expected anything else — and climbed into bed with you moments later.

“Don’t push me out again,” Sy chuckled before pressing his lips to your shoulder, and you playfully nudged him with your ass, causing him to grab you and tangle his legs with yours.

It took a while for the three of you to settle on positions everyone was comfortable with — especially since you demanded that the boys touched as much of you as possible, while they appreciated touching as little of each other as possible.

“Do you like sharing me?” you asked quietly when you were snuggled up nicely against both of them.

“No, I hated every minute of what we just did,” Walter said, accompanying the remark with a dramatic eyeroll and a deep sigh.

Sy snorted derisively. “I know there ain’t no stupid questions, sugar, but I vote we make an exception for that one.”

“Okay, well,” you said, your voice still trembling, “answer the only stupid question in existence, then. Please?”

“If you think I invited y’all up here to torture myself or practice my self-control or whatever, you’re kiddin’ yourself,” Sy muttered before pressing his lips to your temple.

“And to actually provide a yes-or-no answer to your yes-or-no question,” Walter said. “Yes. We do like it. We’d actually been talking about how this was… overdue.”

“I agree,” you said, attempting to swallow the lump in your throat. Now came the hard part. “There’s one thing I don’t agree with, though.”

The boys both raised their eyebrows at you, and wrapped their arms around you a little tighter when they felt your whole body tremble against theirs. “I know we said… pre-exclusive” — meaning you’d agreed to fuck other people using condoms — “but I don’t think I want either of you screwing anyone else. I know it’s probably selfish, and—”

“Sugar, shut up,” Sy said, sealing his lips over yours so you were forced to stop speaking.

“We haven’t been screwing anyone,” Walter added. “Well, except for you, of course.”

It was clear the two of them had taken some time to talk this through as well — without including you in that conversation, apparently. That stung, but you got it.

“We only talked it over because we felt it would be a matter of time before you… made a choice,” Sy muttered, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I did make a choice,” you replied, “I’m picking both of you.”

#syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall #syverson smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

70 notes · View notes