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orchidyoonkook · 11 months

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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

2K notes · View notes

yunholuvrr · 1 year

Text

muse

summary: Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, model!yunho, fashion designer!hongjoong, photographer!reader

warnings: explicit smut minors dni, petnames (baby, love, princess), big dick yunho, semi-public sex???? pretty tame i think, lmk if i should add anything

note: taking a break from we all need love to indulge in my feelings for cosmopolitan yunho oh my GAWD he's so fine.... & i did not proofread sorry for any typos

You've worn many hats since you graduated. Interning at various clothing companies, freelance photography picking up gigs from friends and classmates, and a brief stunt as a journalist. It only makes sense that all your jobs have led to you standing in front of a glowing runway, camera propped and ready for the first model to walk out, people rushing by as they settle into their front row seats.

Not every classmate of yours was doing well in the fashion industry, but one in particular was making waves, if this event was anything to go by. Kim Hongjoong, the designer that came out of nowhere.

You chuckle at the marketing of your old friend. Anyone who knew him would know he was born to design clothes, hell, if you didn't know him you'd only have to take one look at his closet. But in the grand scheme of things, a man's gender inclusive line going viral after only 2 years in the industry is pretty unheard of.

The lights dim and you focus on your camera's digital screen, quadruple checking all your settings. Hongjoong was your biggest client during your freelancing days, and your gig tonight was to capture his show for press. Usually you'd just be doing personal events like weddings or birthdays, but these would be seen be anyone and everyone in the industry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

One model after another appears on stage, making their rounds in all types of bold, complex outfits. His work wasn't really your style, you preferred to keep it simple and comfortable, but it's hard to deny its appeal. The models he invited showed the pieces off amazingly, too. They worked on all body types and proportions, which you made sure to capture in every photo.

One man in particular stood out to you as you took every shot you could. He looked more like a traditional model, tall and thin, lean and muscular in all the right places. He could get a job anywhere he tried. The charisma oozing from his face was infectious. A few dark strands of hair fell in front of his rhinestone speckled eyes, which seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. His cupid's bow was sharp, and the smirk he sent to your lens in particular had you nearly forgetting to press the shutter release.

"That's a wrap!" A man calls from behind you. The stage lights finally fade and the crowd dissipates, leaving you and a handful of other staff to pack up. You sit on a nearby stool, squinting at the small screen and clicking through your photos. Before you can get very far through your collection, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"After party in an hour babes," Hongjoong chirps next to you, "you're invited. Thanks for the excellent photos tonight."

"You haven't even seen them yet," you chuckle and finish packing up, resolving to get ready for the party despite the exhaustion you feel at the back of your mind.

He smacks your arm playfully before insisting that every photo you've ever taken has been perfect. "By the way, did any of the models catch your eye?"

"Is there a correct answer or do you want my honest thoughts?" You pierce right through your friend's shenanigans. Hongjoong has always been quite the matchmaker among your friends, although you wouldn't call it his most successful hobby. It's almost like he just picks two names out of a hat and decides they would look good together.

He only shakes his head, "I really wanna know! They're all really nice."

You only squint before responding, "Tall guy, dark hair. He was towards the end but he really walked his ass off."

His face lights up immediately and you know you chose the right answer, "Yunho!"

"Yunho," you repeat, "yeah he's nice to look at. I suppose that's his job."

"He's the newest model I've worked with," Hongjoong looks at the runway fondly, "I didn't know if he'd bring anything special to the table at first, but he's truly irresistible."

"And you invited him to the after party and you want us to meet because we'd be such a perfect couple," you stand up, eye to eye with him now, and giggle at the little game he's playing.

"Maybe so... but listen!" You both start walking towards the exit, "I don't want you to fuck him on the first night or anything. Just get to know him, at the very least you'll get a new client. His portfolio is bare bones."

You don't even have time to process what he said before he's slipping away backstage with a quick goodbye. If you were being honest, this Yunho guy probably wouldn't be a bad hookup. You weren't really looking for anything, but he's pretty. And you can't deny good work connections.

You arrive 20 minutes after Hongjoong told you to, fashionably late. You planned to have a drink or two and stick close to him since the small buds of exhaustion have already bloomed into a fullblown headache. No one should have any questions for a random photographer anyway.

"Speak of the devil, there's my right hand woman now!" Your thoughts were immediately proven wrong when you walk in and a small group of models you recognize from the runway stare fondly in your direction. Yunho is one of them, of course, but you try not to think about the words spoken about him just an hour earlier.

"Hi! I'm y/n, we went to school together," you manage a convincing smile as Hongjoong passes you a drink.

"I can't wait to see your photos," one lady gushed, "Hongjoong showed us some of your work and your style is just lovely."

You a manage a small thanks before taking a small sip. The conversation flows into a new topic with ease and you're left in the background to quietly enjoy the party. That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Excuse me," a shy, deep voice floats above you, "you don't seem like you're in a talkative mood, but I had a question for you?"

You look up and Yunho smiles down at you. He looks nothing like he did on stage before; his piercing eyes have morphed into soft, welcoming ones and his charming smirk is replaced by a nervous grin. You nod and take another sip, letting him continue.

"Hongjoong has just mentioned you so much I thought I'd ask if you could take some headshots for me?" He fiddles with his fingers and when your eyes widen he looks away.

"What has he said about me?" You try not to sound accusatory, but it doesn't come across as nicely as you'd like.

"Oh nothing bad! Nothing bad at all," Yunho chuckles, and it might be the nicest sound you've heard at this party so far, "he just wouldn't stop talking about how great you are. I figured I'd take the hint and ask."

You shift from one foot to the other, considering his request before deciding it wouldn't hurt to get to know him more. "Is this your first modeling gig?"

"Just about," there's that chuckle again, and it's contagious, "I've done a few small things here and there, but this was the biggest scale by far."

"You know I won't lower my rates just because you're new," you tease, "or because Hongjoong wants me to."

He just shakes his head profusely, "oh absolutely not! If anything I was gonna offer you more..." you see Yunho think through his sentence as he says it, trailing off after realizing what exactly he said.

"You flatter me, but I'm not in the mood to talk business right now," you swear a slight pout comes across his face before you even get to finish.

He doesn't skip a beat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and offering it to you, "then why don't we talk later?"

You can only mutter a "smooth" while tapping your number into his contacts. You hand it back to him and watch him type something before feeling a buzz in your own pocket.

"I'll send you some info when I have a moment this week," you try not to stare at his now mischievous smirk, continuing to sip from your empty cup.

"I'll be waiting," he bends down to your height, and his voice lowers to barely above a whisper, "talk to you soon."

He's gone before you know it, disappearing into the crowd, and the brief proximity makes your insides turn in ways you don't want to admit. You have to find Hongjoong.

His bright blue hair stands out near the food bar and you quickly make your way over. The words fly out of your mouth before you even get to him, "what exactly did you say to Yunho?"

He gives you a small huh, clearly tipsier than you are, before a look of recognition washes over his face. "Oh hi love! I didn't say anything, why?"

"He said you kept mentioning me to him?" You would laugh at the state of your friend if it weren't for the sudden desire to know everything Yunho thinks of you already.

"Hm, I only said you're a great at taking photos!" He clings onto your shoulder and laughs, "and that he stood out to you on the runway tonight! He smiled ear to ear when I said that, isn't he so cute?"

"Hongjoong you did not," you grab both of his shoulders and shake him a bit, "does he think I like him or something?"

"Do you?" When you don't respond he just laughs again, "I guess my job is already done."

"I don't even know him!" You wish you could sincerely be mad at the man in front of you, but he's been correct all night so far.

"Don't you want to though?"

"I hate you, seriously," you glare at him, but he only laughs again before returning to his previous conversation. You don't know what he's gotten you into, but you don't think you mind it.

Your workdays have been packed ever since the night of the show. Being Hongjoong's right hand photographer had its perks, like the dozens of offers you've received since the articles went out, but that doesn't mean it isn't the most stressed you've been in weeks. You all but collapse by the time your lunch break rolls around.

Forget about me already?

The light buzz of your phone disrupts your thoughts about scheduling. No one usually texts you, at least not during the day. No one except Yunho.

Sorry! I've been swamped. Let me send you the form my other clients are using to schedule with me.

Aw, no special treatment for your favorite model?

You make a mental note to beat the shit outta Hongjoong for doing this the next time you see him.

Maybe if you give me a good enough offer I'll put you at the top of my list

Not even 10 minutes later, a scheduling request dings on your phone and you see the payment is three times your normal rate for headshots. You mentally curse Joong for putting you in this situation, but you're willing to play the game if it means good dick and good pay.

Am I at the top of your list now? I can't wait to see you

You can't help the way your thighs squeeze together for a moment, now eager to fit him in your schedule (and elsewhere). You wrap up your short lunch with a newfound motivation to get through your emails, making sure to leave a 2 hour slot open for him. You wonder how long you can hold off on getting back to him before he starts begging you. That would have to be a game you play another time.

The studio is empty when you show up, allowing you to quietly set up just the way you want to. Your movements are quick and practiced, dozens of headshot appointments under your belt at this point. These were supposed to be simple and straightforward, so you didn't have much to prepare besides rolling down the white backdrop and setting up your lights. There were a few other props on the side if he wanted to take more shots. You asked a couple people to help out with equipment during the shoot, but you came in early just to have some peace and quiet. Your coworkers arrive a few minutes after you do, exchanging pleasantries before finishing the job you started.

Then he walks in. You're double checking your camera settings when you hear the front door open and his honey-like voice greeting the other staff. You feel his attention shift to you, and when you turn around a playful smirk is plastered on his face. His makeup isn't as dark as it was on the runway, but he looks clean and undoubtedly handsome. His styled hair falls just past his eyes, moving with his lashes every time he blinks. He's pretty, there's no way around it, a type of face that you can't help but stare at.

"Why don't you take a photo, it lasts longer," he snickers, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in.

"That's my job after all," you motion to a stool in front of the camera, "do you want any props? We can do more than simple headshots if you'd like."

He nods and sits down, long legs crossing each other at the ankle. "I'd love that, miss photographer."

You narrow your eyes at the comment before signaling to the crew you're ready to go. One lady is on standby near the lights, another guy has a handful of reflectors ready. You try to ignore the tension between your model and focus on your craft.

"Can we try the gold?" You call out to your team, closely monitoring Yunho's face in the warmer light. After a moment of thought, you ask him to tilt his head. He's well behaved in front of the camera, following your every suggestion. You wonder if the crew can feel the heavy energy between you two.

After a half hour of posing, shooting, monitoring, retouching, and shooting again, you call for a break and everyone agrees. The couch in the corner of the studio looks so inviting you nearly run to sit down, oblivious to the way Yunho follows.

"You're really good at this," you jump at his voice next to you.

"I went to school for it so I would hope so," you mumble, getting comfortable. You open your phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll before you all come back, but he just plops down next to you.

"Have you ever gotten your own headshots taken?" You shake your head, trying to ignore the way his leg is pressed against yours. "You're so pretty behind that camera, maybe we can switch one day."

You almost bump into his face from how quickly you look up at him, "I'd never let you touch my equipment."

He hums in disapproval before pulling out his own phone and leaning back into the cushions. "Fine, maybe not me. But I don't see why Joong's never put you on the runway. You're stunning."

He expects a reaction from you, but you control yourself, leaning forward to get as much distance as you can. The two of you sit in innocent silence for a while, but the tension only grows thicker. There's five minutes before you shoot for at least another half hour, and when your job is to stare at his face you're not sure you can go much longer.

"What exactly did Hongjoong tell you about me?" You sit up straight, taking a leap of faith.

"About how in love you are with me, why?" You swiftly kick his leg next to you and he chuckles, "he just said I caught your eye. He wasn't lying was he?"

"No, definitely not," you sigh, "but what I don't understand is why you like me?"

"Who said I like you? You just happen to be very pretty and talented and fun to tease."

"So you do like me," you huff in disbelief. Something in you stirs with every word he says and you have to cross your legs for some relief from the building pressure.

"If wanting to take you right now in the middle of your studio means I like you, then sure," his slender fingers trace the back of your shoulders, wrapping a secure arm around you.

"We still have all the props to play with," you scan the studio, but your team is nowhere to be found during the break.

"What if I want to play with you instead?" His breath softly blows across your ear now, voice just barely above a whisper. It takes everything in you to not kiss him right then and there.

"You're the one paying for this timeblock," you pull up your crew group chat on your phone, already making a decision.

"If we could wrap up here that'd be lovely, miss photographer," there goes that stupid nickname again.

"You can't call me anything else?"

"Would you prefer baby? Maybe princess? Or do you like meaner things?" His hand moves again to rest between your shoulder blades as he watches you type out a quick message.

"I would prefer if you shut up honestly," you press send. As far as your team knows, the client is satisfied and wants to end the shoot here for today. No one complains, you're still being paid for two hours thanks to Yunho's generous payment.

"Will you make me?" He traces a small circle with his thumb on your back, and the comment sounds more inviting than teasing. Your body reacts before your mind does, practically throwing yourself onto him out of annoyance and need. His lips are warm and soft and mold perfectly to yours.

He takes a sharp inhale as your tongue swipes past his bottom lip, his hand travelling up to hold the back of your neck. The other abandons his phone to take purchase on your hip, pulling you further on top of him. Yunho groans at the contact, resisting the urge to buck his hips up into you already. His flirting was almost as hard on him as it was on you.

"So needy," you mumble, propping yourself up on his chest to take in the view. His eyes are already blown out from lust, raking your body and letting his hands follow. His long fingers brush over your hardening nipples and you can't help the sigh that escapes.

He chuckles, "you're one to talk." He rolls his hips ever so slightly and you whine, head falling into his shoulder. He feels bigger than average below you and you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. You slowly rock your hips above him with his hands guiding you, whimpering into his skin.

"Can I taste you?" You freeze, head shooting up to stare at him in confusion. He wraps two fingers around your belt loops and tugs you forward again. "Please baby?" You nod and he sighs with relief as if his life depended on eating you out. Maybe it does.

He lays you on your back on a couch far too small for both of you like this, but you don't care. His lips are back on yours, warm and tender, as you feel both your jeans and panties slide down your legs. The cold air makes you flinch.

"Did I make you this wet while I was on the runway, love?" You feel one slender finger slide through your folds, but it's not enough. "Staring at me behind that camera all day must be so hard. I'll make it up to you," is the last thing he says before tucks his head snugly between your thighs.

Whatever snarky reply you came up escapes you with a moan just a bit too loud, his tongue flattening up against your slit. He wastes no time, too desperate to hear you above him. One hand holding you down just below your stomach, another teasing your entrance while his mouth makes quick work of your clit. You hope to the universe none of your crew left anything in the studio because your whines and wetness echoed through the room.

Before you know it he pushes one, then two, fingers into you, filling you up deliciously, and you buck your hips into him. His pace is slow and deep, opening you up to his liking. Some combination of his tongue and fingers nearly makes you scream, hands shooting straight to pull his hair. He groans into your flesh, vibrations sending sparks straight to your core, before looking up at you. His chin is glossy and a line of spit still connects you both and you nearly come at the sight alone.

"You're fucking delicious, darling," he pumps into you one last time before taking them in his mouth, sucking with a pop, "next time you should ride my face for me."

"Next time?" You watch as he unzips his own pants, shoving them down far enough for his dick to escape. It rebounds off his stomach, bigger than anything you've taken before.

"By the way you're staring," he grips himself at the base, "I think you want a next time." The way you lick your lips is involuntary.

He chuckles, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor nearby. You continue to stare shamelessly, boosting his ego as you etch his large, toned body into your mind. "Like what you see?"

"If you don't come here and fuck me right now Yunho I swear to god," and you swear you can see his dick twitch, but he simply tuts a finger at you.

"Ah ah ah, safety first princess," he slides a condom out of his pant pocket, ripping it open and handing it to you. You tilt your head and take it reluctantly, but he only smirks, "I know you want to touch me."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes, sitting up and coming face to face (face to tip?) with his member. You never thought you'd see a dick that you'd describe as pretty, but his is long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink. You wrap your free hand around the base and pump a few times to tease him.

"Not now, love," you hear a shaky breath above you and you smirk. He pulls your other hand up and you comply, unravelling the condom smoothly down him. As soon as you're done he pushes you back down, not risking the chance of you testing him again.

"Let me know if it's too much for you baby," he whispers before finally pushing in. The stretch only stings for a second before turning into delight as he fills you up completely.

You sigh out in relief, mumbling a soft "keep going" and wrapping your hands around his neck. He listens immediately, pulling back almost all the way before thrusting back in. He keeps his slow pace until he's completely sure you're comfortable.

He looks down at where you connect before finally losing his composure. "You take me so fucking well," he moans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses all over you. His pace quickens relentlessly, the sound of skin on skin filling the studio.

You scream at one particularly rough snap of his hips, but he only barely slows down. "You okay, princess?"

"So fucking good," you pant above him, his mouth still ravishing your neck. He groans at your response, fucking you harder than before. You didn't even know it was possible. You snake a hand down to your throbbing clit, so close to coming undone.

"Please come on my dick baby," he all but growls, and the way his hips falter tells you he's close too. His words, on top of everything else, are enough to finally unravel you. You shutter and jerk up into him, moaning some string of fuck's and Yunho's until your mind goes completely blank. He comes shortly after, pumping into you sporadically until he finally flops down on top of you.

You both take a few moments to come back to your senses, nothing but a mess of sweaty limbs on this cramped couch. "Next time I'll take you home so I'll have room to cuddle you after," he chuckles, picking himself up.

"I would like that," you smile softly, legs aching too much to even attempt sitting up. He cleans you both up quietly before plopping back down, letting you stretch your legs across his lap.

"So," his hand traces up your frame to cup your cheek, "can I take you out to dinner sometime, miss photographer?"

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #yunho scenarios #i need him carnally

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luneaticlab · 9 months

Text

AMORE (Chapter 1)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary!reader (female)

synopsis- Never in a million years you thought you'd end up with your boss, in bed.

Word count- 1.4k

IMPORTANT NOTE - Hey guys, this my first fic. I promise I'll improve. love and feedback are always welcomed.

•I do not own any of the pictures•

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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"come again?"

hesitantly, you repeated the words you said to your bestfriend a few seconds ago "The last time i got laid was 13 months ago..?"

"Girl, are you fucking serious?" Lena, your bestfriend not-so-aggresively threw her hands in the air.

"What's wrong with it? You know i'm not the type to have one night stands and shit" you justified defensively, delicately caressing your 5 month old persian cat, fluff.

"Dude you are in your twenties, you are hot, rich and single, what's wrong with having some fun before you settle down?" all you did was roll your eyes, ready to nag her about hygiene during sex.

"Don't tell me you still have a crush on your jackass boss" alice appeared from your kitchen, a cup of hot choco keeping her hands warm.

you were taken aback, yes, you did have a crush on your not-so-jackass boss, maybe you still do, no one knows, you are too busy with work to think about that. But something about him just makes your thighs clench.

His thick thighs which you would die to sit on, his tiddies who always threaten to come out(thanks to the buttons which do not let them), and his freaking jawline which you want to hold so bad when he kisses you.

Just to be clear the chances of this happening is 0.01% .

He's the typical rich, young, hot bachelor desired by multiple women and owned by none. Somehow you always managed to keep a very professional relationship with him so far. But what's life without some thrill?

"Jeon jeongguk? go ahead , have sex with him then. A rich man is a rich man" Lena suggests as if she's telling you to pick out some roses from the neighbour's garden.

"sure, find me a now job by tomorrow then" Lena chuckles at your reponse.

"Girl, its not that hard, he's a man and he might have needs too, if you really want him on the top then maybe wear some sexy clothes at work, you guys see each other everyday"

"Yeah yeah i'll think about it" you shrugged off the topic, not wanting to discuss it further.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

"fuck!" You finally found your release , turned the vibrator off, took a shower, slouched on your bed releasing a lazy sigh

Yes ,the vibrator did wonders when you got it for the first time, but you've become too used to it, you knew you needed more and by more you meant jungkook's dic-

you pushed your sinful thoughts out of the way and forced yourself to sleep.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:

next day , 7.39 a.m

You got out of the shower, fresh and clean. Done with the skincare and your usual makeup (nude lips are mandatory!) .you were about to pick your grey sweatshirt, Lena's words resonating in your ears.

Fuck it, it's now or never.

you put the sweatshirt right where it belonged. Took out a white tube top which covered half of your tits, wore a black trouser matching with the blazer of the same colour of the trouser. A black nano belt bag from celine completing your look. Quickly wearing your jimmy choo high heels, you stepped out of your apartment, you felt confident.

You were aware of the stares you were getting at the office, you weren't surprised, not your fault you look good with a minimum effort.

You spot your coworker Diana at the cafeteria, she waves at you , her look telling you that she's got something for you

"Hey y/n, I've completed the list of the guests we are going to invite at the company's gala, Do you mind passing it to Mr.Jeon? I got some last minute work to do." She asked holding your hand

Bingo

"Sure, why not , I was about to give him his espresso anyway." you smile at her politely before taking the file.

Quickly making your way upstairs, you fic your hair before you knock his door.

'"Come in"

"Good morning Mister Jeon, the list for the guests for our company's gala dinner has been finalized." You said as you placed his espresso and the file on his table.

He looked up to see you, "Alright, thank you y/n, I hope you didn't forget we have to go to daegu today."

You caught him stealing a glance at your chest.

"Ofcourse sir" you smiled curtly before leaving his office, swaying your hips on purpose while doing so.

Jeongguk and you had to go to Daegu today for the monthly inspection of the company's factory there.

Being Jeongguk's secretary was undeniably challenging, but the salary was enough motivation to continue doing your job.

・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜

3.39 p.m

"Mister Jeon, we are ready to leave." You said as you peeked out your head from the door into his office.

He nodded while fixing his blue Ralph Lauren coat as he walked past you , you followed him behind, making sure everything is on the right place.

You looked at him from behind, good Lord he was so damn hot then you looked at yourself. You guys would make such a power couple in your opinion.

"Did you have lunch sir?" You asked knowing he might not have eaten given the fact that he absorbs himself too much in his work once he starts.

"I didn't have time to"

"I figured, I ordered chipotle for you, will you be okay with a burrito bowl ?" Jungkook liked having light meals on work days and he gets carsick easily so chipotle was the best option.

"Yes, thank you y/n i appreciate it." He said gratefully, flashing you a small smile which you could write a whole thesis on.

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You were driving the car and the ride was smooth, you guys talked about work related stuff. Until,

"How have you been lately, y/n?" Jeongguk asked out of nowhere.you glanced at him for a second before replying "I've been good, pretty much the same since 2 years. working on weekdays, staying at home on the weekends. Oh, and I've got a new roommate – a furry one. Adopted a cat a few months back. It's nice having someone waiting for me at home, you know?"

You have no idea why you are giving a detailed explanation instead of the typical 'I'm doing good' but it is what it is.

"Any special someone in the picture?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

You glance at him again in surprise before refocusing on the road, this guy is really picking his moments. "No special someone right now sir, how about you?" He started this.

He chuckled a little,"Not at the moment, not into relationships anyway."

well damn, at least it was worth the try.

You catch jungkook looking at you a lot of times during the ride.

"We have reached, sir." You both get out of the car and head towards the factory.

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7:51 p.m, Daegu.

It was pouring cats and dogs.

"I think we should book a hotel and stay there for the night". Jungkook suggested while looking up. All of the workers were leaving and driving in this crazy rain is dangerous.

"But i don't have any spare clothes."

"Should we buy them on the way?" Jungkook asked finally looking at you.

"I think we should."

----------------------------------------------------------

You guys found the nearest hotel, and went to your respective rooms.Jungkook chose a package of 1 night+ dinner because you guys didn't eat anything after lunch.

"Let us change then meet at the dinner hall yeah?" Jungkook said looking at you, your clothes were a little drenched, the droplets on your half-exposed boobs were visible and he can see your bra underneath the white tube top.

"Sure , sir"

You guys literally shoved your faces in the food because the meal was ten out of ten and ya'll were hungry as hell.

When you entered the elevator, jungkook looked at you for a second before speaking " Good day today"

You smiled at him. Damn that smile, he couldn't control himself , he brought his face closer to yours, literally a gap of 2 centimeters between. "Can I kiss you?" He asked , it came like a whisper.

"Please" You practically whimpered.

Just like that, his lips were on yours.

To be continued

#jungkook bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

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swanimagines · 1 month

Text

Teen Wolf: Imagine being Derek’s sister and him finding out that you’re secretly dating Stiles.

requested by anon

Note: nowadays all requests are done straight to asks, this is my old template of posting and I no longer have their asks!

Note 2: A reminder again that in all my newer fics where reader is someone's sibling/child or some other relative, they're always adopted, not related by blood!

When you first met Scott and Stiles, you wouldn’t have believed that one day, you’d end up falling in love with the latter. Your first meeting hadn’t been… good, if you were honest. You saw them as a threat, as did your brother, so your first words to Stiles had been “stay out of this, human”.

Seeing where that meeting brought you now had been completely unexpected. Stiles had somehow gotten enchanted by you, and you soon realised he had a crush on you — despite you having been so harsh at him when he had tried to defend Scott.

And more surprises were coming. Him fumbling and being awkward, at the loss of words before you, you found it cute. Cute. A human, you found a human cute.

You tried to hide it, how you were warming up for him. How he got you to smile, how you started to enjoy his company. It wasn’t logical, it was foolish. And especially when Derek hated Stiles, you having feelings for the boy just didn’t fit the picture.

But, your feelings just wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you tried to suppress them, and eventually you just had to blurt them out to him. He just stood there stunned, looking at you for a moment before he started grinning like he had just won in a lottery. And you knew that he kind of had, he had had the biggest crush on you for a long time and now you told him you felt the same way.

But you still needed to keep it hidden from your brother, in fact Scott and the Sheriff were the only ones who knew. You snuck out almost every day after school to hang out with Stiles and there you were at a park, in the shadow of an old oak, heads pressed together and holding hands.

This was one of those days. You two were sitting in the park, beside a pond full of ducks. Stiles had brought a bag of seeds with him, and you fed the ducks together. You were quieter than usual, and Stiles nudged you.

“What are you thinking about?” he mumbled, handing you a few seeds.

“I think Derek is suspecting something,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “I can’t help but think that he’s been watching us, he acts so weird. I don’t know what he will do if he finds out about us.”

You threw the seeds to the ducks, making them swarm at your feet. Stiles sighed, looking up for a moment. You knew he wanted to mutter “creep” but you appreciated he didn’t. You took his hand. “I’m not leaving you, in case you’re afraid of that. Even if Derek will try to lock me up.”

Stiles nodded, squeezing your hand back. “I know.”

You sat there for a moment longer, until the seeds ran out and Stiles shook the bag towards the quacking ducks, before throwing it into the trashcan and leaving the park with you. You walked in silence for a moment, before Stiles turned to you. “Wanna come watch a movie? Your brother can’t follow us there, Dad has too many security cameras for that.”

You scoffed. “As if that’d keep him away. But you’re right about it being safer there. He might not want to come in and risk your dad seeing him threatening you.”

He took the jeep keys from his pocket and fumbled with them for a moment. “So… you’re coming?”

You nodded, taking his arm. “Yeah, I’d like to have a good laugh with a comedy before going home.”

—

As the credits rolled, you realised how late it had gotten. The clock had struck midnight a while ago, and you could almost picture Derek tapping his foot impatiently like the Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh. So you reluctantly retreated from Stiles’s warm embrace, stretching out before looking at him. “I should go.”

He sighed, absentmindedly running his thumb across your hand. “Yeah, you probably should.”

You stood up from the couch, swinging your bag over your shoulder, letting Stiles walk you to the door. Once you reached the porch, he leaned against the door frame and you looked at him, biting your lip. “Thanks for tonight,” you mumbled. “I had fun.”

Stiles nodded. “Me too.”

You thought for a moment, but then decided to take the leap — you stepped closer to him. “I think a proper good night wish could be better than just saying it.”

Stiles’s cheeks turned slightly red, and he stuttered slightly. “O-oh?”

“Yeah.”

And then, with one last breath, you gently grasped the collar of his hoodie and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss you see in movies, it was rather short, in between a peck and a proper kiss. But still, when you stepped back, Stiles grinned like he had won the lottery all over again, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He blinked, straightening up. “Goodnight.”

Then you turned, walking into the night with the biggest grin on your face. The night was chilly, but you felt like your heart was jumping around so much that it almost overheated you. Not that you minded, you were happier than in a long time, and almost felt like skipping through the forest.

Crack.

You stopped dead in your tracks, looking around. “Derek?”

Sure enough, he stepped out from the darkness, and you froze. “I… I was just on my way home.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t lie. I saw what happened.”

You cocked your head, trying to act clueless. “Saw what happen?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The kiss. I saw you kissed him. Didn’t you just tell me there’s nothing going on with him?”

You tried to play stupid and test the waters, laughing. “Nice try. You haven’t been near me today, I haven’t smelled you.”

He shook his head, sighing. “Which is exactly why I’m concerned. You’re losing your focus. What if the Hunters will get you because you’re too busy staring at Stiles’s eyes?”

You kept walking, pushing past him. “You’re overreacting. It was just a kiss.”

He turned around, starting to walk with you. “Just a kiss, and numerous secret dates after school for weeks, or is it months now?”

You groaned, figuring it’s no use to keep pretending. “Alright! We have… something going on with him. But it’s still early, and I’m not abandoning the pack because of him if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“He can’t protect you. The Hunters will use him against you,” Derek said quietly. “You could die because of him.”

“His pack—”

He interrupted you, “He doesn’t have a pack, he’s not one of us. Even if he pretends to belong in Scott’s pack, he isn’t, and will never be, one of them.”

You sighed. You knew he was mostly right. Stiles, being a human, could easily be used against you. He hadn’t learned about everything yet, nor Scott had in that matter. You had tried to guide them, to help, but so far it was going slowly. And you knew that each day, the risks grew. You understood your brother, you had gone through the exact same feelings, wondering and pondering and pacing around your room, before finally concluding you weren’t able to keep it inside you. You had brought up all your worries to Stiles once you decided to tell him about your feelings, and he assured you that Scott would help if any problems came up. You still had doubts, but chose to push them aside for the sake of living. You had done what you could, telling him and Scott about the risks and Stiles still wanted to see what would become of you two.

You stopped, looking up for a moment. “I know it’s dangerous, Derek. But what do you expect me to do? Ignore my feelings, end my relationship? It wouldn’t be fair for me, even less for him. He signed up for this, because he wants to be with me.”

Derek stopped as well, stepping in front of you. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you to ignore how you feel, but you need to be smart about this. Think about how many times we watched our friends get hurt because they got too close?”

“We’re not children, we can look after ourselves just fine,” you groaned.

He raised his eyebrows. “Can you? Because to me, it looks like one of you will be dead soon, and—.”

You shook your head, raising your hands up. “Stop.”

You stood there in silence for a long while, before Derek crossed his arms again. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

You huffed. “No. I can only promise to come to you for help if I need any.”

He thought for a moment, and pursed his lips. “Alright. But don’t expect me to like it, or him.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Derek.”

He didn’t say anything, just turned, and you followed him home. Maybe things between Stiles and Derek would be alright in the end after all.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #reader insert #my works #romantic

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holdinbacksecrets · 9 months

Note

Hi! Can you please write BTS version of the voicemails they will send hinting their feelings? Thank you 😊

thank you for requesting 🖤

voicemails from bts, hinting feelings

namjoon: “i was in a bookstore the other day and started to imagine a book you wrote being on the shelves someday. everything you do, down to the indentation of your steps, leaves behind a story. do you remember your birthday two years ago? you drank one glass too many, and it’s like the fiction unleashed. i recorded a voice memo, but i never played it for you. i want to.”

jin: “are you scared? this morning you sounded really scared on the phone. i’m sorry i didn’t say more or say enough. i was caught off guard because you’ve never showed me scared before, not like that. i’ve seen your apprehension. i’ve seen your insecure. i’ve seen your anxiety, but this was consuming fear. i’m making dinner, and i feel like you probably haven’t eaten today… if your anxiety gives anything away about your scared. come over when you’re off. i’ll greet you with a hug and bowl of soup. or two bowls. i have cheese and bread too. the good bread. the loaf you turned me on to.”

yoongi: “you used the notes app on my phone to write out your grocery list, and i’m amused. it sounds like you’re having a conversation with yourself: right now, i want rice crispies, but i’ll probably change my mind once i’m in the cereal aisle. trust your gut, or get two boxes. you’re 26. no one is stopping you. oh! get some apple juice too. i keep having dreams about twelve year old me at a friend’s house. we’d sit at the kitchen island after school with graham crackers and apple juice, and i miss her. i miss those simple conversations. you’re so pure and magnetic. sometimes i wonder where you came from, but then i’m just glad you made it here—tumbled into my life because you did tumble. you’ve always made the story sound too elegant. the tumble was charming, i promise.”

hoseok: “you’ve been sharing recipes with me, or i guess i should say the final product of your recipes has been shared with me, repeatedly, and now i’m starting to wait for the knock on my door or the ring of a text. is that bad? i wouldn’t want you to ever think i’m demanding treats, but i love… i love the time we spend together when you bring them over, and your eyes sparkle when my expression changes because of how good everything always tastes… i love that too.”

jimin: “did you say everything you needed to yesterday? i swear your lips parted and you leaned in so many times to never say anything. i know it was a busy place, and it’s not that fun sitting at a table for twelve. but i was ready to listen. i’ll be ready at 2 am too. whatever you need. there’s something to this, right? to the ease of our conversations. you trust me?”

taehyung: “do you want to sculpt clay with me? i bought a whole bag and a bunch of tools. i thought about booking a private lesson, but i wanted my record player and access to a kitchen and the ability to get my hands dirty whenever i want to—need it. do you need it too? if not, keep me company while i try to make something?”

jungkook: “can i pick you up today? this is going to sound ridiculous, but your smell used to linger in my car, and i can’t quite make out the notes of your perfume anymore. i can imagine them, but they don’t meet me when i open the door… i can’t leave this as a voicemail on your phone. can i leave this as a voicemail on your phone? i sound insane.”

bonus: “i’m calling to tell you i’m proud of you. sometimes when we were kids, i used to think our dreams wouldn’t make it higher than the trees. i thought they’d get caught in the leaves, die on branches come winter, but look at us. look at you. you’re incredible. we did it.”

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loving-strawberry · 1 year

Text

✶Stray Kids reacting to their s/o ignoring when she's being sexualized✶ (HCS)

Summary: You are being sexualized by people because of your body, but you're so used to this, that you simply choose to ignore that.

It was a request!

A little note: To the person who requested, if you read this, I'm really sorry for what is happening to you:( Also, I couldn't really do exactly as you asked me, because my brain is refusing to cooperate with me sometimes! But I hope you like it!

Warning: Swearing. Some comments about body parts. Mention of food and drinks. Probably some writing errors.

Genre: A bit of angst. Fluff. (I don't know other ones???)

Pairing: Bf!Skz x Fem!Reader

Bang Chan☆

He was simply shocked when this happened for the first time in front of him

You two were just taking a stroll in a park, enjoying together your little time off both of you had that same day, which is a pretty rare occasion

And all of a sudden you hear some nasty and disgusting comments about your body coming from an old man

While poor Chan was feeling sick hearing that someone could say something like this in the a public space, without feeling ashamed of themselves, you simply ignored it

"My love, how could you just ignore something like that? Do you want me to go and talk to him??"

"Channie, it's ok. I'm used to it by now."

Now he's even more shocked

What do you mean used to it???

How many times did this happened???

Why didn't you told him anything yet???

He has so many questions and he feels so bad that there's not much he can do about your situation...

Lee Minho☆

This was happening as the two of you were on a date at a restaurant

And one man who was sitting at the next table, was looking intensely at your chest, even throughout your shirt

You just ignored his gross looks and focused on other things

But your boyfriend couldn't

He was pissed.

He doesn't want to accept that someone is looking at you like you're some kind of object and you to just ignore it like it's a normal thing

Even if it is normal for you, unfortunately

"You need to stand up for yourself when this happens!"

"Why? It's much more easier to just ignore them and don't show any reaction. They wouldn't understand anyway."

If you don't stand up for yourself when this happens to you, he will

And next time this happens, Minho will send deadly glares towards the people who dares sexualize you in any way

If that doesn't work, he'll go and have a little talk with them

You will need to stop him before getting his ass in trouble with JYP

Seo Changbin☆

This one takes place at the gym

You were doing some squats, and a group of men was constantly checking your butt and disgustingly smirking at each other

And of course, doing unnecessary comments

Wants to have a little talk with them part 2... Even though he's outnumbered

But stops when he sees that you don't give a flying fuck about this whole situation

"Babe, you really don't care? The way they commented about your body is unacceptable and disgusting..."

"Bin, I'm used to it. It's happening more often than you think."

Now he's all pouting, sad and disappointed with himself for not noticing sooner

And of course, disappointed with the people who can do such things

"You shouldn't be used to this, babe..."

Hwang Hyunjin☆

During one of your photoshoots for modeling, the photographer was starting to make you pose more and more sexy

Indecent actually

Like, almost Playboy style

But you just tried to brush it off

On the other hand, Hyunjin, who came along with you just to keep you company during this session, wasn't exactly happy about what just happened

He's having a pit in his stomach after all of that and you can tell he's angry

He will just tell the photographer to fuck off and takes you out of that place as fast as possible

"Hyunnie, what's wrong??"

"You're seriously asking this...? You've just been sexualized and you're asking me what's wrong?"

"It was happening so many than you could think off... I just don't care too much anymore."

Now he's furious and grossed out.

Of course Hyunjin wouldn't let you go back to the same photographer, despite your reassurances that everything is fine

And he'll search himself for someone else who to be trusted with you

Han Jisung☆

(I don't have any ideas of scenarios here🙃)

You two went out for some ice cream, and suddenly someone says something like 'I have something better for you to lick'

Han is about to go and deal with him, until you stop him

"Ji, don't waste your time with that."

"But-..."

"Just ignore him."

He's honestly confused as to how unbothered you are

Makes him question himself how many times did this happened before and never noticed

"Does... Does this happened frequently...?"

"Yeah."

"HUH?!?"

He'll start from now on to look after you and pay attention to your surroundings constantly

Lee Felix☆

You both were at a TV show when this happens and having an interview

After a while, the hosts attention is focused just on you and starts telling suggestive jokes about you

Probably to entertain who's watching the show

But you don't pay attention at all to them

Felix by now is mad.

And a little disappointed that you don't react at all about this

You know the expressions he always have when he's jealous/mad about something?

Yeah... That's how I'm imagining him right now

Moving on...

After the show is over, of course he'll start questioning you

"How could you just brush those jokes off like you being sexualized is a normal thing???"

"Because it's a normal thing, unfortunately."

"What...?"

Poor Felix, he will probably start crying after hearing this :(

Kim Seungmin☆

(Out of ideas part2)

Location for this one?

The beach.

You are wearing a one piece costume, not feeling like showing too much skin this time

But this never stopped two man to approach you

And starts make unnecessarily comments about how you should wear a bikini instead, because that's what men wants to see

Seungmin went to get you two drinks, and right when they said those gross things, he came back

He expected you to say something back to those men

But you straight up ignored them and started scrolling on your phone

Leaving Seungmin to get rid of the pests

He just fake tripped on his own feet and threw the cold drinks, with ice in them, on the men skin

Skin that probably was warm of because how much they stood in the sun

They just scattered away in the contact with the extremely cold liquids, and muttering some curses under their breaths

"I didn't know you can be so lame to not talk back in these situations."

"I talked back enough. No one listened. So I don't bother anymore."

"... I'll go grab other drinks..."

Most likely feels bad for saying that now that he knows you're struggling with this everyday

Will make sure to be the who speaks up for you next time something similar happens again

Yang Jeongin☆

I.N was doing a live, with you being somewhere in the background, laying in bed and minding your own business

You were also reading some of the comments that people had left in I.N chat, from your phone

Both of you saw a pretty nasty comment left from a "fan" about your body and how hot you looked laying like that in bed

But neither of you said anything about it

I.N didn't said anything, cuz he hopped you didn't saw it

You just ignored the comment, truth be told

Shortly after that comment was left in poor boy's chat, he ended it, feeling too sick to continue the live

"Are you ok, Innie? You look a little pale..."

"Y-Yeah... It's just... I read a comment that made me feeling unsettled."

"Oh? The one about me? I just ignored it. I've gotten even worse."

If I.N wasn't pale before, he is now

He just couldn't understand how anyone could say something like this so easily

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

✧ Masterlist ✧

✧ Tag List ✧

@bangchansbae @tattywood @nebulousbrainsoup @https-skzology

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hoonigiris · 2 months

Text

— things we never said

s. jaeyun x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k genre: angst (i think) content: exes!au, mentions of alcohol consumption, aespa's ningning and winter cameos for naming purposes only. normal people inspired. misc. notes: thank you to the jake fuckers (@gluion @mosviqu) for being my motivation to 1) write this drabble and more importantly 2) Finish this drabble. kept you in my thoughts when i wrote this xoxo. also a specific thank you to @sungbeam for being the first person to read it in full. and lastly, a special thank you to paul mescal for being just the perfect amount of pathetic i needed in bbc's miniseries normal people.

synopsis: in which it's heeseung's wedding, jake's had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say.

jake’s shoes squeeze too tight around his toes.

realistically, through the haze of the alcohol, he knows he should be worried about other things. maybe any other thing, like how he needs to figure out how to get this champagne stain out of his shirt before his company dinner on friday, or how the bass of the dj's last set is still ringing in his ears, or how he's pretty sure this little escapade would probably qualify as date-ditching, considering the way yizhuo has been texting him 'where r u??' for the past twenty minutes.

jake's head buzzes, the aftertaste of his last beer resting firm on his tongue. in retrospect, perhaps the fourth glass he filled right before they cut the cake was one too many, but it’s too late to regret it now. the glass is sitting empty on the table, and instead of being out on the dance floor with the rest of his friends, jake is here—under the gazebo, heart in throat, phone in hand. his thumb hovers over the contact, still saved, and stares for a long time.

he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t.

(not that it really matters. knowing better and doing better are two things jake has never been very good at keeping the same.)

he hits call.

the dial rings and rings and rings. jake can’t tell if he’s breathing or not, he just keeps listening to the endless tinny trilling. and then—

“hello?”

“hi.” his voice catches. “it’s me.”

you pause, the silence crackling over the speaker. “what’s up?”

jake’s throat goes tight, tongue heavy as he tries to fumble his way around his words. your voice is just like he remembers, intimately close even from the speaker. he wonders what he can say, to make up for the months of not speaking to each other. how are you? how’s work? do you still set 5 alarms in the morning before you have to wake up so you can enjoy the feeling of going back to sleep?

“it’s heeseung’s wedding today,” he says eventually. you didn’t show up.

there’s a beat of silence, before:

“i know,” you reply gently, the silent accusation he doesn’t mean to throw landing softly between the two of you. “i already called him this morning to say congratulations. there’s a wedding gift that should be shipped soon, actually,” you continue, as if it makes your absence any better. “i think he’ll like it, you know. he’s been talking about getting that coffee grinder on his wedding registry before that registry even existed—”

“y/n.”

the line goes completely quiet, like you’re bracing yourself for what he could say next. normally he would leave it be, set down the phone and apologize and go back to the venue to celebrate with the rest of his friends. but right now, jake is drunk, and his head hurts, and all the sounds ring around him and merge together into a single sound, pressed tight against his ear. his chest feels rubbed raw, the burning question flickering and coming out all in a rush. “did you not come because of me?”

“jake,” you chide, almost immediately. he missed the way you say his name, even like this. “you know that’s not it.”

he laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, feeling scolded. just like old times. “isn’t it?”

there’s a disapproving noise on the other end, like you take offense in him even having doubts. “you know i wish i could have been there.”

jake hesitates, just a little. it’s a stupid thought, and it would be even stupider to say, but he supposes he should keep the streak going, since he’s already started tonight. “you could still come.”

you let out a small laugh, entertaining the thought. “yeah?”

jake nods, as if you can hear it. maybe you can. maybe you didn’t have to, to know. “yeah, the night is still young. i’m sure everyone would be happy to see you again—you could come right now, if you really wanted to.”

“and do what, exactly?” you tease.

he shrugs, smiling. “give a belated toast? we all gave one, you know.”

“oh, and heeseung agreed to that?”

“as if he could stop us,” jake counters. “we had to make sure the bride knew what she was marrying! one embarrassing story from each of us!”

“and pray tell,” you say, bemused, “what story did you share with the audience? no wait—let me guess.” you hum, as if tapping your chin for the exaggerated effect. “the time he tried to flirt with that senior in the library and fell on his ass because he missed the chair? or the time when—oh! what about when he got drunk and wanted to get matching tattoos with everyone and then started crying the second it started cause it hurt so bad?”

“no, actually,” jake laughs. “sunghoon and jay already took those. mine was about when he accidentally hit on riki’s mom the entire night and found out the morning after.”

“you better have turned those stories into anecdotes about how happy their marriage is going to be,” you warn wryly.

jake waves you off. “sunoo and jungwon got the sentimental part. we were in charge of making sure minjeong knew what she was getting herself into.”

you sigh exasperatedly, something rustling on your end. maybe the papers you were reorganizing on your desk, or the tinfoil on the table as you tried to heat up a late night snack. “so much for adulthood—all you boys are the same.”

the same. as if he wasn’t here and you weren’t there, so, so far away.

“you could still come.” jake repeats. it’s a sobering effect. at least, he’d like to think so, but he’s still trying his hardest for his tongue to not stumble over some words, and he can’t look at the fairy lights adorning the top of the gazebo for too long before his head starts to pound again.

“you could tell your favorite memory of heeseung to make up for ours,” he continues, “write down your congratulations on the wedding book yourself. they’re even playing your favorite song right now, you could come and show everyone how it’s done.” jake fumbles with the ring on his index finger, twisting it with his thumb. the heel of his shoe scuffs once into the wood below his feet. it’s all too tight. “come—have fun. we could even pretend not to know each other.”

the line goes quiet. a breath drawn. and then, softly, “i would never pretend to not know you, jake.”

he blinks, swallowing hard. it would be funny, if it weren’t so sad, the way jake was the one who called you, yet he’s the one without anything to say. rather, the things he wants to say, he can’t. you would have cried at the vows, he thinks. the exchanging of promises at the altar, rings slipped onto each other’s fingers. you were always soft for those kinds of things.

(everyone looked at heeseung and minjeong when they said their vows. the words creep up his throat; he pushes them back down. i thought of you instead.)

jake is sure everyone knows, to some degree, at least. it’s why heeseung looked at him a little strange when he saw his date at the entrance, why everyone seemed to avoid mentioning your name like the plague around him. it’s not for lack of trying—moving past you. it’s why he brought yizhuo along in the first place, why he’s been doing everything he can to distract himself, why he’s been trying his best to not think of you again.

but tonight was different. tonight, where all his friends are gathered to celebrate, and the alcohol in his system warms his skin as the evening air grows chilly, and everyone he loves is here within reach except for you, jake finds that he’s still admitting it to himself, even months after.

(i miss you. more words he can’t say to you anymore. i miss you, i miss you, i miss you.)

“sorry,” he says eventually. jake isn’t really sure what for. maybe all of it.

“i…” you start out, but it trails off into silence. maybe it would have been an apology to match, but he thinks you knew it wouldn’t have sounded right either. there wasn’t really anything left to say. jake is here, and you’re there, and that distance isn’t really something either of you can fill anymore.

across the garden, jake can hear his name echoing across the venue. he’s pretty sure it’s sunoo, telling him to get his ass on the dance floor to get down to the dj’s newest rendition of apple bottom jeans, but it all sort of meshes together between the bushes and the trees.

“you should go,” you say lightly. “dance off the rest of the alcohol so you don’t wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow.”

you knew. jake burns a little out of embarrassment, feeling a bit like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that you could tell he was drunk from the beginning, or the fact that this meant you knew the first person he thought to drunk-dial was you.

“oh, don’t act surprised.” it’s a light-hearted jibe, but jake’s heart crawls up his throat and sits there, thick. “your pronunciation always gets sloppy when you’ve had too many drinks.”

of course you knew. you always did, like he never needed to say anything at all.

“you got me,” he responds, hoarse.

“what did you get this time? whiskey? margaritas? no way you got this drunk off hard seltzers—”

“beer.” sunoo calls his name again, closer, more insistent. “one too many.”

you laugh, and he wants to drown in it a little more, until he remembers it enough to not miss you anymore. “the great jake sim, taken down by an IPA.”

maybe he should thank it, if it got you to speak to him again. the skin sitting underneath his ring burns red. he needs to take off his tie. his shoes are still too tight around his toes. “i wish you were here.” maybe there were some things he needed to say, after all.

you smile, fond. he can’t see it, but there are some things about you he just knows, too. “bye, jake.”

but in the end, this is all there is to it: a him, and a you, and two versions of each other that you both can’t come back to. not anymore.

and that’s something that never needs to be said.

jake looks at the center of the altar, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of something else—the afterimage of love, a vision of two people left stranded from time. it disappears as quickly as it came. his breath hitches. there’s nothing left but this.

“bye, y/n.”

#enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #jaeyun x reader #jake scenarios #enhypen angst

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sweet-evie · 1 year

Text

I have so many thoughts and headcanons about the Gojo clan... You have no idea. 😭 Also, I'm talking out of my ass and everything I say is fictional and from pure imagination... Don't take it seriously.

The Gojo clan may or may not span 40 generations based off of how long ago Suguwara Michizane lived...

and ummm... That's a lot of generational wealth 🤯.

Imagine if you married into that -- married Satoru Gojo. You're automatically the highest-ranking woman in the family, on top of having access to all that money. 😆

Listen, some of the world's richest families like the Rockefellers currently span 7 generations and they're worth billions of dollars.

Damn I really need a full backstory on the 3 major clans. I need to know how rich they are and how they maintained and/or grew that wealth until the modern day.

There's plenty of drama and info on the Zen'in clan. We get crumbs and pieces about the Kamo clan...

But info on the Gojo clan is close to nada, and I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM DAMMIT! I'm so thirsty for more worldbuilding in JJK, you have no idea.

At this point, just seeing Satoru's parents would make me happy.

I have a headcanon that Gojo's family, apart from being sorcerers and political powers in the jujutsu community, are probably mixed bags of company shareholders, politicians, lawyers, philantropists, etc.

Yeah, it's said that the Gojo clan is a one-man army that consists of Satoru Gojo, but I interpret that as Satoru outshining every other family member -- especially every other practicing sorcerer in the family. (There's simply no surpassing the wielder of the Six Eyes and the Limitless technique).

The Gojo clan is a sorcerer clan first and upper tier members of Japanese society second.

Some of Satoru's male relatives are probably Shinto and Buddhist monks. The point is to have a foothold in influential religions among non-sorcerers.

I like to think that maybe one sorcerer in the clan has Limitless... maybe his grandpa, but the man was never as efficient with it as Satoru Gojo.

Maybe the majority of the sorcerers in the Gojo clan fight with Grade 1 cursed tools and good-old hand-to-hand imbued with cursed energy. Maybe other cursed techniques exist within the Gojo clan too... It's all just overshadowed by Satoru.

I also think the Big 3 actually tend to keep to themselves (e.g., the Zen'ins having their own military unit). Their spawns don't ALL go to Jujutsu High, do they? It's a choice for them rather than a necessity. Like, Jujutsu High was established primarily for sorcerers who come from "somewhat normal" backgrounds, unlike people from the Big 3. Satoru was born into jujutsu sorcery and it's the only life he's ever known, whereas people like Suguru who come from non-sorcerer families are brought into Jujutsu Tech to learn about what it means to be a part of jujutsu society, and to teach them that they're not, you know, mentally ill because they can see curses.

Quick side note, I imagine Jujutsu Tech as the bridge between the branch of the Japanese government that is aware of the existence of curses and the jujutsu society as a whole. It just kind of makes sense that way, especially when you consider where their funds to pay people come from -- not from thin air, that's for sure. I mean, how else do the higher-ups get the funding to pay their actively practicing sorcerers, especially the special-grades? Does jujutsu sorcerer pay roll come from citizens' tax money?

Also... On top of Satoru Gojo having access to his clan's generational wealth and assets, how much is he getting paid as an instructor at Jujutsu Tech? Is that salary separate from his special-grade sorcerer salary? Is he technically working 2 full-time jobs?

Man is rolling in cash...

Anyway, I want to circle back to the point that Satoru Gojo is the most active sorcerer in the Gojo clan when it comes to interacting with the higher-ups and being a constant presence in Jujutsu Tech. Obviously, his fingerprints are all over Jujutsu society politics as well.

I headcanon that Satoru comes from a big family, actually. Satoru is an only child, but I imagine lots of cousins and aunts and uncles and distant relatives, and the Gojo estate is probably one massive compound where most of the family lives. Like, they can live in that huge ass ancestral property if they want too... There's plenty of room.

The clan also likely owns several other properties and probably small temples or shrines across Japan. They have one ancestral seat and other properties. That goes for the Kamo and the Zen'in clans as well.

That real estate portfolio be popping.

As for actual size, think Heian estate in ancient Japan big. It's expansive.

Maybe the sorcerers in the family would be fond of living in the Gojo estate. The others, especially the ones who hold positions in the government or the military or who have public-facing jobs have their own homes registered under their own name, and not... you know... registered under the family with the clan head.

Another headcanon is that the clan head is capable of assigning properties and other clan assets to family members if he chooses to. Satoru Gojo can give away houses if he wants too, like a nobleman or European feudal lord. But for real, the Gojo clan might have been part of the nobility in ancient Japan, only losing their noble titles after the Imperial family changed the rules around the 1940s.

Speaking of, it's probably not a reach to assume, that the clan head has his fingers in many many honey pots. 🍯 That is to say, Satoru Gojo has access to more money than he can spend in a single life time. And after he's passed, maybe the money just goes back to the surviving members of the clan.

I need to know Satoru Gojo's net worth.

I think each of the Big 3 has their own hierarchy and their own family politics. Again, the Zen'ins are a prime example...

For the Gojo clan, I headcanon that there's a small council of elders -- people way older than Satoru. Satoru's own father is probably part of that. Put his grandfather and a couple of uncles and aunts in there too.

How do they work? I imagine it's pretty similar to how the Small Council functions in Game of Thrones. Like, there's someone in charge of managing finances, someone who keeps an ear on clan politics, someone who has a foothold in the national military, etc.

I imagine they have a bi-weekly gathering. They offer counsel, but the final decision in any dilemma they discuss always falls to the clan head -- Satoru Gojo.

I also headcanon that Satoru has a penthouse somewhere in Tokyo -- a place he considers as his own residence, away from clan politics and the rest of his probably snobby family.

But Satoru is always busy, so his penthouse is way too clean. It looks like no one lives there.

This is the vibe of the penthouse... I have his penthouse in my Sims 4 game.

Speaking of snobby... The Gojo's clan general reputation? I would say... They're intellectual people, some of them are likely obsessed with history, and rigid and formal when it comes to observing traditions. I imagine they have a tendency to be really elegant.

Whenever the Zen'ins look at them, the stereotypical thought is, "Look at those pompous, snobby, jackasses."

In the succeeding years since December 7, 1989, the Gojo clan's sense of pride has only grown, because well... The most powerful and strongest sorcerer of the modern age came through their lineage.

Needless to say, Satoru Gojo is the pride and power of the Gojo clan.

Satoru's parents were practicing Grade 1 sorcerers... really active in the field, and Satoru's grandfather was Clan Head for a time.

Satoru's mom retired from fieldwork after she married Satoru's dad and after she got pregnant and became a mom. I love my headcanon that she's a shrewd politician and is all about maintaining good standing with the elders while doing intelligence gathering. The woman maintains a network, so she's always in-the-know.

Satoru doesn't make it easy for his mom especially when he goes around and does what he wants. e.g., Becoming a benefactor to Megumi, saving Yuji and Yuta, etc. She's actively working to cover his tracks wherever she can.

Satoru's mom is actively looking for a wife for him, for obvious reasons. The plan never came to fruition because of the Shibuya incident and Ch #236.

Satoru's father is more politician than actively practicing sorcerer by the time Satoru was studying in Jujutsu Tech. He's all about maintaining solid relations with the other clans, the elders, and collaborating with the branch of Japanese government that knows of the existence of jujutsu sorcery. He probably works with the Japanese government too.

Satoru Gojo visits the family estate once in a while... for other business, but primarily for hearings and clan meetings. It's peculiar to look at during these meetings because Satoru is the only person in that room who isn't wearing traditional clothes. Like, I headcanon that he shows up in casual attire, or his Jujutsu Tech uniform, complete with the blindfold.

His mom probably tried to talk him into wearing traditional clothes for these meetings when he was younger, but it just never stuck. Satoru is Satoru, after all.

After Satoru Gojo passes away, I like to imagine the Gojo clan takes a bit of a backseat. It's probably the wiser course of action too, considering everything that's happened in Japan after October 31, 2018.

[I know some people think he's the only survivor of the Gojo clan, but you gotta think of the fact that he learned about Hollow Purple from some people. Someone taught him FBE as a kid.]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #gojo clan

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bigfan-fanfic · 1 year

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Brother Mine (Winchester!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester PLATONIC)

@xweirdo101x Hello, hope you are having a good day/nightI was wondering if I could request a Sam and Dean having an older brother (maybe by one or 2 years) maybe they haven't seen reader in a couple years. The brother's finally get to see reader when he pulls them out of trouble?

(okay, author's note in that Sam is 22 at the start of the show and Dean is 26. The show spans the same amount of time as in the real world, technically, so Sam ends the show at 37 while Dean ends it at 41. Meaning this elder brother is probably 28 at the start and ends it 43. Good lord, that show went on for a while lol)

"So, explain to me why the two of you chuckleheads are in jail in freaking Kentucky? Because last I heard, Sam was going to college in California and you were still hunting boogeymen with Dad."

The two young men in front of you share a glance as you bail them out of some podunk town's drunk tank.

"Dad's... in trouble." Sam sighs, finally, to a harsh glare from Dean.

"Good riddance to bad assholes." you growl, and Dean clenches his fist

You and your little brothers don't exactly have a great relationship.

With the better part of seventeen years of your lives dedicated to hunting what lies in the darkness, spurred on by your domineering and obsessive father, Dean always has blamed you for "abandoning the family" and "breaking Dad's heart" because you left the life at nineteen and left seventeen year old Dean and thirteen year old Sam behind.

You did the amateur boxing circuit for a while before you were hired on to an indie security company and ended up catching the eye of the owner who trained you until you took over, eventually buying the company and running it.

You know a lot of your money was sent to help pay off any expenses Sam had, but you don't know if it was used for that or blown for motel stays or alcohol or sawed-off-shotguns or salt slugs for Dean and John.

You tried to stay in touch with Sam, but it was awkward. And he wanted space away from "family."

So you know neither of them would ever contact you unless something real bad happened (and apparently Dean's grudge was so strong that he wouldn't even inform you that John went missing)

Though to be perfectly honest, it wouldn't really matter to you anyway, and that's a matter to discuss with your therapist.

"I can't believe you called him." Dean grumbles, like a child.

"Sam apparently knew you'd need a responsible adult." you snark, and he grimaces. "Now, care to tell me why you're road-tripping?"

Sam looks at you. "My girlfriend. Jess. Whatever got Mom... it got her too."

"And you think that Dad is close to tracking it down and that's why he vanished." you sigh.

"Lemme guess, you're gonna tell us that there's nothing that goes bump in the night?" Dean sneers, looking at Sam.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna tell you that it's not your job to chase it. It's not your duty."

"We save people. We hunt things. It's the family business." Dean growls.

"Jesus, Dean, do you hear how you sound?" you groan. "It's this kind of obsession that I tried to get away from! A terrible thing happened to Mom, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It's not our fault, and it's not our responsibility to chase whatever did it down!"

"It's just gonna keep hurting people. We've seen it happening. It's gathering other people like Sam."

"Fuck." you growl.

Dean senses an in. "You were even better than me, back in the day. Remember when you ganked that skinchanger?"

He says "you were only 14" with as much reverence and awe as you do disgust and shame.

"I can't convince either of you to... let the chips fall where they may?"

"Nope." Dean pops the "p" sound.

"Sorry, no." Sam adds.

"I don't wanna kill things anymore, Dean. Not even bad things. But I do care about you both. So here. I'm going to help you, on one condition. We're going to all come back to my place in California, and Sam is going to apply to fucking law school, and you're gonna think about what you really want with your life, Dean."

They think.

They look at each other.

They nod.

"Welcome back." Dean grins.

"You better not still drive that shitty Impala and listen to crappy 80s rock."

Sam winces.

#male reader #sam winchester x male reader #dean winchester x male reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural headcanons #headcanons

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anyaeras · 1 year

Text

Extra Help || N.Romanoff

Paring || Profesor natasha x reader

Summary || The student and profesor have some unprofessional relationships. They both tend to enjoy the company of each other

Warnings || smut ,, top!Natasha ,, bottom!reader ,, AFAB!Reader ,, They/Them pronouns ,, Legal age gap ,, mention!wandnat ,, semi!public!sex ,, cunnalingus ,, strap!on ,, pet!names ,, praising ,, hair pulling if you squint.

A/N || I used a lot of Russian in this, I am a Russian speaker so work with me please.

Master list

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Up and at it, it's 11:30am which you would think would be a nice time to get up at, but not for the college student who just so happened to not get home till around 4am the "night" prior, y/n wasn't a party person, but they were a let's hang out with friends and forget about all the problems in the world kind of person which just leads them into parties.

Now very hungover, a little hungry and in a rush y/n was throwing on a quick fit, that was comfortable yet still appropriate for a college lecture, cleaning themself up, brushing through their hair, and throwing on a little bit of make up before grabbing there bag being out the dorm door by 11:50 to make it to their 12 o'clock Russian lecture.

Stumbling into the classroom a moment before the lecture would begin making direct eye contact with the Russian redhead who ran the class, now this wasn't the first time, Miss Romanoff and you had a special bond you could say, she was definitely a mentor...well and more.

Sitting in the same spot you have the whole semester. It was on the right side of the classroom nearing the front row relatively close to Romanoffs desk, you made quick eye contact, but the blaring migraine wasn't helping y/n learn anything they got to the point where they prompted to just put their head down and listen, they were pretty sure this wouldn't go over well with the older Russian, yet y/n got away with it for a hot second before feeling a tap on the shoulder, pulling them back to reality, causing them to look up seeing a taller women looking down at them with sharp green eyes, and the look alone was enough for y/n to sit up correctly in the seat.

«Stay after class милый» (sweetie) Natasha bent down to say that to you softly, already having given out the assignment, the class was distracted by the devices going through the digital worksheets, quickly picking up on this you nodded to what Natasha had said but quickly got it work so you didn't look out of place.

The lecture went on about verb conjugations for another hour, the Russian lecture would only meet two times a week, yet you seemed to be meeting with Natasha Romanoff, to which the class called миссис Романов (miss Romanov) to keep It more professional, yet the Russian professor had explained multiple times, she didn't enjoy being called miss as it was seen as calling her old in Russia, but it was hard to break the American school system habits these young adults had formed over many years of schooling.

The class went on, yet y/n was far distracted, more worried about being asked to stay after class rather then learning more Russian, she was sure Natasha maybe even her wife would be willing to tutor the younger learner.

Slowly students begin packing up their electronics and putting their notes back into their bags before heading out, yet y/n didn't move for at least 2 minutes, then even slower they managed to pack up their items into their bag, they aren't scared of Natasha they just enjoy playing games, if you know what I mean? Finally sitting up and making their way towards the front of the room where Natasha stood waiting, yet they didn't stay there long.

"I have some work to get done, I'd like to move to my office" the Russian stated before leading the younger one to her office, which was only a few doors away from the lecture hall, yet every step the professors heels clicked on the floor echoing through the clean university hallways.

Unlocking the door with the keycard which is usually sat around the Russians neck digitally unlocking the door before shutting the door behind the two of them and locking it with a click.

«Late night детка?» Natasha asked softly yet with strong demands behind her voice pressing for an answer.

"I just went out nothing much" y/n responded nonchalantly to the older women, knowing damn well you were getting over a hangover still, and really weren't feeling one of the lectures coming your way, knowing it would get back to Wanda making you have two upset hot women on your plate.

"Y/n I'm sure you didn't let anyone touch what's ours" Natasha asked, she trusted you, so did her wife, yet y/n is a college kid so it's always imported to check.

"Of course not! I would never disrespect you guys like that!" Y/n snapped back being shut off with a kiss from Natasha.

«so good for us Моя дорогой » (my dear) Natasha praised continuing to kiss the younger ones lips before moving down to their semi-exposed chest and neck leaving small love bites along the way.

"Now I need to get some work done, while I do that do you think you could be good for me милый?" It was more of an order as it came from the red heads mouth, soft yet stern, she reached for your wrist guiding you to her desk before pushing you under it, there was plenty of room for you, plus you were hidden, as the older professor sat down in her chair, moving closer you could now see directly up her skirt, where she had no panties, giving you easy access to her core.

Y/n knew what she wanted from them without the Russian even needing to be explicated about it, as the red head started to grade papers it was almost to much as she felt y/n's mouth get to work, eating her out with skill, and what can the older women say, she's who taught y/n how so she was aware of how well y/n was with their mouth.

Muffled moans came from Natasha who was trying to not be to loud, as the sounds of sex filled the room.

«Just like that дет��а» Natasha prompted as she wrapped her fingers into the younger ones hair, pulling y/n into her closer then they thought was even possible, as she reached her climax practically grinding on y/n's face, Natasha raised her hand to her mouth to muffle her scream as she finally let go onto y/n

Natasha moved back from her seat at her desk after a moment, pulling herself together, before helping y/n off their knees, and into her lap, quickly pulling y/n in for a deep kiss, which didn't brake until they both were desperate for air.

"So good for me I think you deserve a reward hmm?" Natasha stated with her smirk plastered on her face

The Russian stood up picking up y/n along the way moving them onto the desk they clean off prior, setting y/n down leaving them with a sloppy kiss before parting ways. Without a word Natasha stepped back walking over towards a file cabinet, which held more then files that was for sure, pulling on a specific handle, a box, which looked nothing out of the ordinary sat inside the cabinet. Both people in the room knew the truth about that box, as Natasha reached inside pulling out a faux cock and a harness, sliding it up getting the harness situated onto her hips.

The older women made her way back to the college kid sitting on her desk, swaying her hips along the way, eventually stopping between y/n's legs. Natasha tapped on y/n's pants as a way of asking for consent to remove their clothing getting eager nods from y/n, as they even helped Natasha strip them of their clothes before sitting back on top of her russian teachers desk.

«Hmm let's see, maybe you learned something in my class, tell my what you want На русском?» (In Russian) Natasha was playing with fire, now messing with y/n, she knew y/n tried in her class, she's known that ever since y/n started coming to Her wife, and herself for extra Russian help, which may have lead to more than 'russian help' yet, you could say their doing just fine in the class. Y/n had to think about it for a moment, their Russian wasn't fluent at all, so they knew this would be a struggle by they did know how to curse and how to say ''me'

«Черт возьми меня» (fuck me) slipped past y/n's lips as they hoped that would be enough to get Natasha just to fucking ruin her.

"Ahh so good for me, it seems you picked up some words I haven't gone over yet" the professor joked before lining up, she slipped the faux dick threw y/n's folds getting it slick before lining up, slowly sliding in, whispering sweet nothing while doing so, allowing y/n a moment to adjust to the size.

"Y-you can move" y/n managed to stutter out, it's not like y/n was a virgin it's just Natasha was rather large.

With y/n's okay, Natasha started to pull out before trusting back in, she moved slowly yet trusted back in hard causing y/n to Yelp with the first trust, a low groan came from y/n's mouth. Natasha started to pick up speed, groaning as she listened to y/n's moans fill her ears, she eventually started to rut into y/n's forcing y/n to use Natasha to stabilize themself enough while balancing on the office desk.

"Fuck nat!" Y/n yelled out as Natasha was quick to move one of her hands to cover y/n's mouth, in hopes to muffle the yell as they were both still in a place of profession. Natasha was well aware y/n was coming close to her climax, to which the Russian started to use her hand which you removed from y/n's mouth to stimulate their clit, which was enough to push y/n over the edge causing them to let out loud moan holding onto Natasha tightly as they let go, evidently collapsing on top of their professor after.

Natasha held y/n close for a moment helping her come down from her high, helping the younger one relax before pulling out and starting to clean up.

After Natasha had cleaned up her office, she went back to y/n giving them a soft kiss on their lips before helping them get re-dressed after she dressed herself of course.

Looking over at her phone Natasha saw a missed text from her wife, which read.

«Bring them home for dinner, you can share Моя любовь»

The message brought a smirk to Natasha's face, packing up her items before turning to y/n.

"Come on sweetie, the misses is waiting" was all Natasha said, and that was enough for y/n to gain her composure and follow behind the red head right out the door.

#lgbtqia #marvel #marvel mcu #writing #fanfic #marvel edits #marvel fic #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #mommy natasha #black widow #wlw smut #marvel black widow #scarlett x reader #scarlett johansson #scarjo #anyaeras

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 1 year

Text

Swapped places

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Sinister Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: Here's another one of my old fics. I have edited it and added some extra bits to it, as I thought it could be improved. I hope you like it. Thank you @strangelockd for the ideas to add :)

Summary: Stephen returns home after a 2-week-long mission, and he seems desperate to touch you. But the Stephen you give yourself to, isn't the Stephen you knew and cared for.

It had been two weeks. Two long weeks. You had been left alone, all by yourself in the New York Sanctum. It was weird staying there without Stephen. But he had work to do. Before he left he had informed you that he needed to go on a mission. A rather important one as well – because the girl he was trying to help also had the ability to travel throughout the multiverse. And you wanted to go. Really, truly did. Stephen, however, had insisted that you remain behind. It made you feel good to know he didn't want you to get hurt, and you appreciated his kindness, but you still loved being by his side.

You could never say no to him in the first place. It was impossible. And you weren’t about to argue with him and go against his opinion and word. You liked him far too much for that. Genuinely liked him. It started off as a simple and innocent crush, and that crush developed into rather strong feelings, and it led to you falling head over heels for him. But he didn’t seem to understand.

Despite your best efforts, you were never able to get him to react the way you wanted. Dropping hints, being affectionate, and responding to him in a flirtatious manner was one of your favourite things to do. There were times when you would look at him with a bright, shy smile, and he sometimes smiled at you in response. The act alone was enough for your heart to skip a beat. But that was all he gave you. A smile. A bright, wonderful smile that often made you feel faint… but that was all. You had decided that either he wasn't paying attention to you as much as you were paying attention to him, or that he wasn't as interested in you as you were in him.

*******

You were alone in your room, inside the big sanctum without another soul to keep you company. You were in the upstairs room, trying to study, but your mind was stuck on Stephen – like it usually is. But you were worried. He had been away on his mission for quite some time. The same thing had happened before: he had left for days upon days when busy with a mission, but the longest he had been away was only about a week. Stephen had been helping that girl for quite a while.

For a moment, you wondered if you should go looking for him. Maybe he was in need of assistance. Perhaps he was trapped somewhere, desperate for help. But leaving the sanctum unguarded wasn’t an option. He would never allow that.

You tapped a finger against your chin, wondering where Stephen could be. What was he doing? Was he okay? Who was he with? Was he thinking of you as well?

There was a sudden noise downstairs that forced you to focus on your surroundings and let go of your thoughts. It was the sound of the sanctum doors opening. You bolted out of your seat, moving quicker than you ever had before. You were surprised you didn’t fall right down the stairs as you practically flew down them. Soft pants were escaping your lips when you made it down them, and then you saw him.

Stephen.

You sighed happily, your heart skipping a beat upon sight of him. He looked as handsome as ever. His eyes were darting around, and you moved over to him quickly, so eager to hear his voice, to see him up close.

“Hi,” you beamed up at him. “I missed you so, so much.”

Stephen said nothing. There was silence between the two of you, and you stared at him curiously. You focused on his eyes and noted that his own were stuck on you. His gaze was intense. Dark. He was staring at you with slightly narrowed eyes and a tilted head. The look he gave you was unlike anything he had ever given you before. It made your cheeks flush red, because you were certain he was staring at you with a look of want in his eyes. With a look of desire.

Your eyes scanned his features, trying to capture every detail. Something was different about him. The goatee on his face was longer than you remembered. There was no sign of his cloak of levitation that always seemed to drape across his shoulders. When did he change so much? And why?

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, not sure what his response would be.

“I’m fine,” he answered quickly, his voice a little nervous sounding. “Why are you asking?”

You shrugged at him. “You just look so different. Your goatee is longer.”

“I’ve been gone for so long. And I haven’t had time while I was away to trim my goatee.”

Oh, that made sense. You gave him a nod. “I see, so that’s why you look so different. But where’s your cloak?”

You noted that he seemed uneasy. His body appeared stiff, his eyes darting here and there. It was like he couldn’t get the answer out. Just as you were about to repeat the question, he blurted out a quick reply.

“It’s in another room,” he told you quickly.

You raised an eyebrow at his words and thought about his response for a moment. That didn’t really make sense. As far as you were aware, the cloak never left his shoulders unless it was for a valid reason. Like trying to save someone from falling.

“But I know your cloak never leaves your shoulders,” you told him quietly. “Unless you have a reason to take it off.”

Stephen’s cheeks seemed to go red at that, his eyes widening slightly. You could have sworn you saw him sweating a little. Why did it look like he was about to faint? You'd never seen him look that way before.

Just as you were about to ask him if he was alright, you suddenly felt his lips on yours. His tongue pushed in between your lips, a moan escaping his mouth. You gasped, your eyes widening as you tried to comprehend what was happening. Stephen was kissing you. Your Stephen. The Stephen you had such strong feelings for. The Stephen you had wanted for such a long, long time.

It was a wild kiss. Intense and deep. It was hard not to whimper as you got lost in the taste of Stephen's soft, warm lips. Having craved his touch for what seemed like a decade, you found yourself kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. As he pulled you closer, the kiss became even more heated, your bodies pressing against each other without an inch of air between you.

You then felt his hands reach down more and more until they landed on your ass. He cupped you, squeezing you tight, and you let out a soft whine. It felt so good to have him touch you, to feel him, to have him. Finally.

But why? Why was he suddenly all over you?

Placing your hands on his chest, you pulled away from Stephen, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. “Why… Why did you kiss me like that out of nowhere?”

“I’ve been waiting such a long time to kiss you, Y/N,” he told you, his voice gravelly.

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Haven’t… Haven’t you been feeling the same way?”

“I have. I have for such a long time. But… But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Stephen said nothing after that. He just leaned back in and started kissing you again, his tongue once again pushing between your lips. Another whine left your mouth, getting lost in the sensation of his lips on yours once more. The kiss got wilder and wilder, and you soon found yourself getting wet from the act alone. It was the same feeling you got when you looked at Stephen. When he smiled at you. When he made you want to pounce and pull him close and have him touch you.

And it seemed as if Stephen could suspect exactly how you were feeling, because he pushed one of his big hands into your underwear, a long finger pressed up against your clit. He rubbed at it softly at first, using your wetness to coat the bud, playing with your clit with gentle circles.

“Oh, Stephen,” you let out with a whine. You gripped his shoulders tightly, letting the new pleasure take over.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he whispered into your ear. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You whimpered at his words. “Please do it. Please fuck me. Want it so bad.”

With that, he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around him, staring down at him and noting the lust in his eyes as he moved. Taking you to his bedroom, he climbed on top of you immediately after placing you down on the bed. The two of you kissed, your limbs tangled on his bed as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

Pulling away from you after yet another wild kiss, he cast a quick, straight-to-the-point spell. Your clothes were suddenly off, leaving you both lying there in the nude. It was noticeable that his magic for that particular spell was a vibrant purple. It was different. However, you pushed the thought aside... Stephen was always learning new spells.

He then got back on the bed and quickly spread your legs apart. Your teeth bit into your lip as you watched him settle between your legs. There was a darkness in his eyes that you had never seen before. Watching him squeeze his cock, he pumped it a few times before pressing the swollen tip against your entrance. Then he moved into you slowly, pushing into you inch by inch.

Feeling pleasure take over, you let out a gasp. “Oh, Stephen!”

A grunt left his own lips, and you wrapped your arms around his form, your nails scratching up and down his back. Moving in and out of you, he took you with slow thrusts, pushing into you with gentle pumps of his cock. You knew why he was moving in and out of you with such gentle strokes: he was giving you time to get used to his cock, to adjust to his length. It made your heart soar, thanking him in your head for his kindness.

But, you wanted more. You wanted to feel him really take you. There was only one thing on your mind: you wanted it hard, deep, and fast.

“Please… Please move faster,” you begged him with a whisper. “Oh, please, want it faster.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes at you. There was such intensity in his gaze. He had a hunger you had never seen in him before. It was as if complete and utter desire had taken over. He did exactly as you had asked. He fucked you hard and fast, his thrusts suddenly rough. He filled you up to the hilt, stretching you out as he took you. You gasped, feeling a whole new kind of pleasure. You could feel yourself dripping on his cock, coating his length with your juices as he fucked you. He made every thrust count. Every one.

The headboard banged against the wall, the noises blending in with your own whines and moans. Your nails sank into the skin of his back as you whimpered. You were sure you would leave him bleeding, but he was making you feel so good. With each pump of his cock, you moan loudly, and with half-opened eyes, you stare up at Stephen. There was a smile on his face. A satisfied smile. You could tell he was happy, seemed to be in awe that he was making you feel so good.

It was all so wild. So intense. You had no idea Stephen could be so rough and raw during lovemaking. It wasn’t a complaint. You absolutely loved every second. Every move, every touch felt like heaven. You didn’t want it to end.

“Mm, please don’t stop,” you pleaded.

“Oh, I won’t, darling, don’t worry,” Stephen muttered back at you.

The word alone made you squeal. Darling. It sounded so good coming from his lips. So filthy but good.

Suddenly, you felt large fingers wrapping around your throat. Stephen placed his hand on your neck, grasping you firmly. The feeling wasn't enough to hurt or choke you. But it was enough for the room to suddenly spin, your vision blurry as you struggled to let out any sound. With those same dark eyes, Stephen stared down at you as he fucked you, keeping his hand firmly on your throat.

“Fuck, you take my cock so fucking well,” he grunted. “So fucking good.”

He then released his grip on your neck, and you gasped, letting out a happy cry.

“Oh, that feels so good,” you whined. “So, so good.”

“I know, my love, I know.” He moved in close, kissing you again, your lips moving together as he continued pumping his length in and out of you.

He didn’t let up. Not for a second. Every thrust of his cock was so deep. You could feel his swollen tip hitting that sweet spot deep inside your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. The feeling bloomed quickly, and you couldn't control it. Your eyes shut. Your toes curled. You were so close to meeting your peak. So close

“Mm, I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

Stephen moved, getting up on his knees quickly. He grabbed your hips with his hands, holding you tightly as he fucked you. He pumped into you hard and fast, and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head. The room was spinning and your heart was racing and your skin felt so hot. Your centre felt like it was dripping with each thrust Stephen gave you, your pussy getting wetter and wetter. The sound of skin slapping skin hit your ears, mixing in with the sounds of your moans. A shrill cry then escaped your lips as you arched your back.

“Cum on my cock, darling. I wanna feel you come undone around me,” Stephen said, and his words had you whining.

“Oh, Stephen!” you managed to let out. All it took was a few more pumps of his cock to send you over the edge. That feeling inside of you suddenly erupted, your pussy gushing around his cock as you lost it. “I’m cumming!”

Stephen grunted. Your pussy squeezed around him tight, pulling him in deeper.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna cum for you, darling,” he muttered out a second later.

“Mm, please cum inside me,” you licked at your lips. “Please.”

Grunting again, Stephen pushed his length into you three more times before his eyes shut and he let out a deep “fuck!” He exploded inside of you, filling up your little slit with drop after drop of thick ropes of cum. He emptied himself inside of you, your pussy completely draining him as he moved in and out of you, his thrusts still deep and hard and wild. Like he had never felt anything as good as you.

You whined at the feeling of him cumming inside of you, your slit filled with his dripping, hot cum. He gave you one more deep thrust before he pulled his length from you, settling down next to you on the bed. You looked over at Stephen, taking in his still dark eyes, red face, and messy hair, feeling more satisfied than you'd ever been before. You couldn’t believe how rough and intense he had been. But you loved every heated second.

Your eyes remained fixed on him as you moved closer to cuddle with him. There was a look of satisfaction on his face as well. You nuzzled into his chest, hearing the sound of his heartbeat. You took a few shallow breaths. You had never felt anything so extraordinary. Your body still felt hot, covered in a light layer of sweat.

“That felt so good,” you whispered.

“Agreed,” he smiled. “That was amazing.” He moved, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close.

It only took a minute for you to fall asleep. You were so tired after what you had just done, and so happy and relieved that Stephen was back. And finally, he was looking at you in the way you had craved for so long.

You let out a soft, happy sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. You were exhausted, and you fell asleep there on Stephen’s chest, happier than you had ever felt in your life.

******

Stephen didn’t hide his smirk as he watched you. You were sleeping peacefully on his chest, letting out soft, little noises. He was proud of himself. Mighty proud. He had finally got what he had waited so long to get. He had been using the Darkhold in his own universe to watch you, spying on you every day, so desperately wanting to feel your touch…

You had no idea who you had just given yourself to. The Stephen you had grown to love and care for wasn't the Stephen that was laying in bed with you. No. Deep down, he was different from your Stephen, even though he looked almost identical to him.

The Stephen in your bed was an evil variant of the real thing. And to make matters worse: your Stephen was trapped. Trapped in an incursion universe, which was home to the evil Stephen you had just slept with, the evil Stephen you were lying next to, the evil Stephen who was staring down at you with a look of complete and utter darkness.

He had finally achieved what he had been seeking. He got you. Despite having to pretend to be someone he wasn't... It was worth it in the end. For he would do it a thousand times over just for your touch.

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @ssinimbrn-catsr0pia @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

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