#obsessed with ice’s profile

[muchosbesitos]

omg your miguel stories are tew good plz stop encouraging my obsession💀 but just in case you dont wanna listen👀... is there anyway you can do a one shot of miguel being like a laid back sugar daddy/just spoils the absolute shit out of us without giving a fuck PLEASE🙏🏾

anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3

million dollar man

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: age gap (reader’s in college while miguel’s in mid thirties), handjob, and semi-public fingering

author’s note: i loved writing this request sm so thank you for allowing me to indulge 😩 wishing you the best too <33

word count: 4.8K

The rules of the website had practically imprinted in your brain with how many times you reread them- no cat-fishing relationships or scams, no low-quality photos, and to not be abusive. The rules seemed pretty simple but you couldn't help but hesitate to accept the terms, your hand hovering the cursor. "Oh fuck, just click it already," you mumbled to yourself, accepting the small box on the right corner of the screen after a couple seconds of hesitation. Your screen flooded with what seemed to be hundreds of older men, most of them actively seeking out for a sugar baby in exchange for some kind of service in return.

You'd been wanting to sign up for a sugar daddy website after noticing how empty your pantry was, a couple ramen packets sitting on the counters collecting dust. While you knew that you could be living much worse, you couldn't help but want more than eating the same food everyday. With the amount of student debt that you were crumbling under, you couldn't afford to make extravagant purchases. The job that you had managed to sustain you for your basic needs, but you were tired of simply just floating above the debt line. You found yourself with the desire to have more.

You decided to accept on the terms of the website and set up a profile, but you couldn't bring yourself to explore the options available. You stepped aside from the computer, rubbing over your eyes as you debated the reality of the situation.

You didn't have much time to regret your decision though, your phone alarm ringing with the reminder that you had to be getting ready for work soon. You shut off your computer, deciding to face the consequences of your actions at a much later time when you weren’t running late. After putting on the uniform for the ice cream shop that you worked at, you made your way out the house out to the parlor.

"I don't really see what the problem is with having a sugar daddy. You deserve more than what this place pays," one of your coworkers, Luna, told you as the two of you cleaned up the spoons from the previous shift. "You don't think I'm being a gold digger by doing it?" You asked her, wanting to get some kind of reassurance about the doubts that'd been clouding your mind since you'd joined the website.

She shrugged, walking over to take the order of an elderly woman that walked in. "If they know what they're getting into, I don't think it constitutes as being a gold digger. They know that the relationship is purely transactional," she responded to your question after the woman stepped away with her vanilla cone.

Her words rung through your mind as you sat down in front of your computer after getting off work, deciding to explore the options that were available. Most of the names shown on the website were some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen, their name plastered onto some of the most successful buildings in the state.

You'd expected for most of the profiles to be senile men who were in the middle of a life crisis, instead getting men in their mid forties to sixties. Your nose scrunched up as you clicked through some of their profiles, most of them coming up as married with the description of 'wanting discreet fun.'

You were about to give up on your search for the night when you stumbled upon a profile of a man in his mid-thirties, one of the youngest men you'd seen in the fifteen minutes of scrolling. Miguel O'Hara. His profile revealed to you that he was divorced, his description being that he sought out for someone to spend time with in exchange for monitory compensation, a clear difference between his profile and the others you'd encountered.

To say that he was an easy swipe right was an understatement, your finger almost snapping off from how fast you clicked on your mouse. Not only was his persona more endearing than those you'd encountered, he was one of the more handsome men you'd had seen. You didn't think too much of the swipe, your eyes widening in surprise as you got the notification that it was a match.

You spent about a week talking to him about what could be expected out of the arrangement before he suggested that he take you out to a dinner. His reasoning behind the spontaneous date was that he simply wanted to see how the two connected outside of text, get a feeling of what type of person you were. As you waited for the day of the dinner to arrive, you couldn't help but be filled with anticipation and excitement.

You'd even gotten up early the day of to plan out your outfit ahead of time so you wouldn't have to do so after class, choosing to wear a pair of jeans that weren't too distressed with a black top.  Scenarios of how the dinner would go riddled your mind throughout the day, your focus of what was on the board diminishing with every second that you were in the classroom.

You showed up to dinner half an hour late due to the subway not arriving at its designated time, easily finding Miguel through the crowds of people. not only was the tallest one in the room, he was also the one with the nicest attire in the place. The black button down shirt he had on accentuated the bulging muscles underneath, the material flexing to fit around him perfectly and the black slacks that he had on fit his legs to perfection.

You caught a whiff of his cologne when he stood up to shake your hand, the pure scent of him reeking of money. He pulled the chair back for you, waiting for you to take a seat before he sat back down. You couldn't help but notice how well he filled out the seat, the pure presence of him almost demanding to be seen.

"Sorry I'm late, the subway got delayed," you started off, wondering just how long he'd been here waiting for you to show up. "While I do appreciate punctuality, I understand," he responded, handing you one of the menus from the table. You picked up the menu, noticing that none of the prices were on there but rather just what the meals had to offer.

A waiter came by a couple minutes later to take the orders, Miguel ordering steak with mashed potatoes and a red wine. "I'll just get the grilled chicken with water, please," you told the waiter, handing them your menu along with Miguel’s. They nodded and stepped away, the only sound at the table being the classical music playing throughout the restaurant.

You looked down at the plate of food dumbfounded, wondering how exactly it was that rich people got full. You were half expecting for the waiter to announce that it was a prank, to come back and fill up your plate. Upon realizing that the two bites that were placed on your plate was the whole meal, you reluctantly took a bite out of it.

"So, the terms of our arrangement would be pretty simple. I'd provide you with the funds that you deem appropriate and you would provide me with your company. I'm not expecting any kind of sexual favors in return, but I wouldn't be opposed to it if you had the desire to," he told you, his tone casual as if he were just having another business arrangement. You almost choked on the water you were sipping, setting the glass back down.

"So what you're saying is that you don't want to have sex with me unless you and I wanted to," you repeated back to him, raising a brow as he nodded. "Do you mind if I ask why?" The question came out of you without much thought, his brows furrowing in exchange. You thought he wasn't going to respond to the question as his silence turned deafening, the room seeming to rise in temperature with every second that passed. "I’m looking for this certain kind of arrangement because I know what to expect from this. My daughter passed away a couple months ago and it helped me to realize that no amount of money that I have will keep anyone next to me," he responded after a couple of minutes, his words coming out with a certain kind of precision as he spoke.

You stayed quiet as you let the words stick in your brain, wondering just what exactly it was that made this man so closed off to the world. You wanted to ask him more questions, but you figured that they weren't appropriate for the setting or the arrangement that was being discussed.

"I'd start off with giving you a short allowance for now, $500 a week just to get you started. It'll increase the more that we spend time together, a little bonus if we have to show up to an event together. Obviously, iId take care of the expenses of your outfit," he added, his red eyes boring into yours like they wanted to see through your very being. “That all sounds very promising, but I think I need some time to think about it if you don't mind," you finally spoke up, watching as his eyebrows bunched up before he nodded.

"You look unsatisfied by the meal. Was it not up to your liking?" He asked after you finished up with your meal, placing a couple hundred dollar bills on the table. "No, the meal was good. thank you," you told him, giving him a tight smile as you got up from the dinner table once the waiter came over to the table. "So if it was good, why do you look unhappy?" He pushed the question further, his eyes locked on you as the two of you headed out of the restaurant.

"Like I said, there wasn't anything wrong with the food. the portions were just a bit.. questionable," you responded, your voice dropping towards the end like you were admitting something taboo. You were expecting for him to protest after what he'd just paid, not the small chuckle that escaped from his lips.

Miguel took you to a burger joint in Brooklyn, stating that 'no other place could do it quite the same.' You'd ordered yourself a burger and fries along with a milkshake, Miguel getting the same thing as you. "Thank you for saying something, the whole meal felt like an appetizer," he told you as the two of you sat down with your trays, the juiciness from the burger looking more inviting than the piece of chicken you'd eaten earlier.

"How do you rich people put up with eating like that?" You asked him, almost moaning at the taste of the burger once you took a bite. "Most of them do cocaine if I'm being frank. I normally don't eat out unless I need to so it's few times I have to subject myself to that," he explained, watching as you stole some of his french fries with amusement.

Despite the initial awkwardness that'd been present throughout the dinner, you couldn't help but enjoy talking to him as the night progressed. His dry humor was something that you were growing to like, the way that he seemed to have a response for everything that you asked/told him.

He was honest and direct, not in a way that he used to excuse what some might deem as 'rude', but in a way that seemed genuine and vulnerable. He'd taken you home after the two of you had finished up, saying that it was too dangerous for you to be taking the subway alone at this hour. You watched as he pulled out of your house, a small smile on your face as he drove away.

The doubts about the arrangement crawled back into your brain once you were alone, absentmindedly reaching over for your laptop and signing in. You weren't sure what exactly it is that you sought out for, maybe some kind of reassurance that he wouldn't get bored with you or start expecting for you to act a certain way around him.

You opened up your browser, deciding to read a Reddit thread about the experiences that some others had as being sugar babies. While some of them described the experience as something pleasant, a few posts lingered about some other girls that had a bad encounter with their sugar daddy. You decided to close your computer after a couple minutes, coming to the realization that Miguel was nothing like the men described in those awful experiences and the decision to say yes had never been so obvious before.

You weren't sure when it was that you started seeing Miguel as more than a provider, seeing him as someone that you cared about beyond what he was giving you. He'd kept true to his promise, his daily allowance now being $700 with the time that the two of you spent together. You'd started to seek him out for the littlest things that you had to do, such as going out on grocery runs or going out for lunch.

When you'd asked him to go to the grocery store with you, you'd managed to deny the growing attraction that was slowly starting to build up by simply telling yourself that you were using him since he was able to reach the top shelf. But the more that you gave a thought about where the relationship between the two of you was headed, the more that you were certain that you couldn't live with yourself if he wasn't present in your future.

You went over to his house after feeling overwhelmed with your final exams coming up, hoping that he would just be able to spare a couple minutes and hold you. "What's wrong?" He asked once he opened the door, exhaustion and anxiety coating your features. "I just need you," you responded back to him, his face softening just the slightest bit before he opened the door to let you in.

He guided you over to his couch, his hand wrapping around your shoulders as he stroked your upper arm. The two of you stayed silent for a while, simply staring at the fireplace ahead of you. "I hope I didn't disturb you," you spoke up, knowing how busy he was.

"You could never disturb me. I like having you around, you're more tolerable than the people I work with," he responded, his thumb lazily drawing circles on your arm. "I'll take that as a compliment," you murmured, leaning against him as you felt the combined heat from his body and the fireplace lulling you into a sense of peace and security. "You should. What's got your little head all worked up anyways?" He inquired, the flame from the fireplace flickering in his eyes as you looked up at him.

"I have finals coming up. And I can't really afford to fail, otherwise I'll get my scholarship taken away. I don't know, I guess I'm just anxious knowing how much is on the line," you told him, realizing just how silly your concerns sounded out loud. “I can help you out if you’re really that stressed out about them,” he suggested after a couple seconds, the movements on your arm coming to a stop. "How about this. if you pass your finals, I'll take you on a little trip to Cabo to celebrate. We'll go on a mall spree beforehand to get you ready."

True to his word, Miguel had the tickets set up for the weekend which you would be done with finals. He'd been the first person that you told about passing them, hearing him say that he was proud of you felt like an even bigger accomplishment especially after he dedicated some of time towards helping you review.

"I knew that you could do it, you're so smart," he'd told you once you shared the news with him, his big arms enveloping you in a hug as he held you close to him. It was the first time he'd hugged you, the feeling strange to the both of you as he did. The act felt unpracticed, something he hadn't done in a long time with the way that his arms awkwardly wrapped around you. Despite that minor detail, you felt invincible as he held you like nothing could touch you.

"I'm thinking about getting my nails done. Which set do you think would look better?" You asked, handing him your phone with the Pinterest board of designs you'd saved. He grabbed his glasses from his case, putting them on the bridge of his nose as he peered down at your phone.

"Isn't it all the same just in different colors?" He noted, scrolling through your phone as he tried to find a difference in the multitude of designs you'd saved. "There's somewhat of a difference in there, it's pretty subtle since I just tend to go for what i'm familiar with," you responded, putting on your seatbelt as you waited. The two of you were heading out to the mall, but you'd come up with idea of getting your nails done after getting in the car.

Miguel ended up liking a simple red design with some gemstones on the pointer and ring finger so you gave the reference photo to the lady doing your nails. You watched as she put on the gemstones with precision, your eyes flicking over to Miguel as he waited for you in the lobby.

If he was uncomfortable in this setting, he didn't show it as he scrolled through the People magazine available. You turned your attention back to your nails, an idea sparking up in your head as she started to put on the final touches to the gem design. "Do you mind putting an initial on my ring finger?" You asked her before it was too late, waiting for her to agree before you told her what letter you wanted on there.

Your hand rested on his pants as he drove, his eyes flicking down to the design and slightly widened as he noticed the small 'M' on your ring finger. "What'd you do that for?" He asked, his attention turning back to the road after a couple moments of shock. "Figured it would be a nice little detail since you were so generous in paying for them," you responded, sliding down his zipper with a bit of difficulty as you adjusted to the feeling of the acrylic once more.

You watched as he let out a shaky breath, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. "I'm driving," he warned you as you started to palm him through his boxers. "So keep your eyes on the road, Miguelito. Just feel," you reiterated, your hand squeezing around his cock slightly. “Ay Dios, nos vas a matar.” (oh god, you’re going to kill us)

You watched as he retrained himself as he drove, knuckles starting to turn white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You picked up some of the precum leaking out through the tip of his reddened cock, lathering all over the shaft as a form of lubrication. Your hand moved with ease up and down his semi-hardened length, his cock getting harder with each tug that you gave him.

He let out a small hiss as he felt one of your nails brush up against the underside of his cock, the area a bit sensitive for him. He'd pay for your nails hundreds of times over and over if it meant he got to see them wrapped around his cock with his initial on them.

You pulled your hand once Miguel was nearing the mall, drying your hand of the sticky residue with a piece of tissue paper he had in the glove box. "Now you decide to stop?" He asked, maneuvering his way into the parking lot with such ease, parking in reverse in what seemed to be mere seconds. If it were up to you, you would've taken about twenty minutes to do the task before eventually giving up.

Your attention went back to the bulge in his pants, his cock still hard from your previous ministrations. "Well, maybe you'll get more motivated to get out of the mall now," you suggested, getting out of the car as you dusted off your attire. Miguel rolled his eyes as he followed behind you throughout the mall, his hand making the slightest contact with yours.

You stumbled into a Gucci store after a while of walking through the mall, immediately drawn into the designs of the bags. You looked around, one of them in particular catching your eye. The design of the bag was beautiful yet simple, a black leather handbag in the shape of a heart. Your eyes widened as you looked at the price tag attached, your hands making quick work to return it to the shelf.

Before you could get the chance though, Miguel grabbed your hand and turned your attention to him. "What's wrong with the bag? You don't like it?" He asked as he looked at you, expecting for some kind of reasonable answer. "No, there's nothing wrong. it's just expensive," you responded, avoiding eye contact with him as you stepped away from the shelf.

"Well, how much is it?" You heard him ask behind you before you got the chance to walk away too far, his hands reaching up for the purse. "It's almost five grand and that's not including tax. It's fine, I don't need a pu-," you started off but you got quickly interrupted when Miguel called over a sales associate to get him the bag from the back. "I thought you said it was expensive, mi cielo," he simply stated before he went off to check out with the associate that had the bag in a dust bag, taking his black amex card from his pocket as the transaction processed. You stood behind, watching as he paid for the bag with seemingly no hesitation.

The rational side of you threatened to come out, wanting to tell him that he could be spending those five thousand on something other than a bag, but you pursed your lips and watched the scene unfurling in front of you. You remembered the whole point of why'd you even joined the sugar daddy website, wanting the opportunity at having nice things.

"You may not need a purse, but your eyes practically lit up when you saw this one. I'm here so you don't have to resign to that disappointment that you've grown used to," he told you as the two of you walked out of the store, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Well, thank you. I really did like the bag,” you told him, leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. You walked around the mall, eyes glancing around the different stores before eventually walking into Nordstrom.

You picked out a couple pieces for the trip that you'd need, such as a couple dresses, skirts, and bikinis for the warm weather you’d be exposed to. Miguel went with you to the fitting rooms, sitting down on the couches outside as he waited for you to finish up. You'd changed into the shirt and skirt that you'd pulled into the dressing room, looking at yourself reflected on the body-length mirror.

You couldn't deny that the skirt made every part of your legs look good, from your thighs to your ass. Even though you were confident that Miguel would end up liking it, you still decided to call him in to get his opinion. He opened up the door as discretely as he could, glancing around to make sure that no associates were nearby as he stepped inside.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as the giant of a man in front of you was rendered speechless, eyes raking up and down your figure as he took you in. "Te ves tan hermosa dressed like that," he finally spoke up after a couple seconds, his hands wrapping around your waist as he held you close to his body. (you look so gorgeous)

You weren't completely sure what the first part of his sentence meant, but you could guess that it was something good based on the tone of endearment that he used and the way that he couldn't keep his hands off you. "Can you be quiet for me?" He asked, looking at you through the mirror as his hands splayed on your stomach. The question sounded more like he was telling you to be quiet, so you simply nodded along and watched him sit down on the small stool.

Miguel placed you down on his clothed thigh, your legs spread out for him as your back fell flush against his toned chest. His hand made his way down your body, your skirt being pushed up as he did so. He cupped your clothed cunt, the expense of his hand capturing most of it.

"You look so pretty when you're all like this. All needy and just for me," he murmured into your ear, one of his hands holding you in place as the other one slid the black pair of panties you'd chosen to wear. One of his fingers went inside your cunt, the tightness of your walls engulfing it completely as he pushed it deeper inside of you. Your slick coated his finger as he opened you up in a way that only he could, reaching places that even some of your toys couldn't reach.

"Excuse me, but do you need some help in there? you've been in there for an awful long time," an associate called out, knocking on your door. Your eyes widened at the prospect of getting caught in this position, a small muffled gasp making its way out of you. "No, the dress is just stuck," you called out, hoping your voice didn't come out as needy as it sounded to your own ears.

"Well I can come in there and help you out. Sorry, it's just that we have a line forming," the associate told you, her hand coming to the doorknob and slightly shaking it as if she were trying to open it. Her attempts failed since the door was still locked on your end, the rattling of the knob stopping a couple seconds later.

You were half expecting him to remove his hand, but his fingers remained deep inside of your cunt as he looked down at you. "You weren't playing fair in the car so why should I have to play fair?" He spoke just low enough for you to hear, a hint of amusement as he spoke. You struggled to keep your voice even as you spoke, resisting the urge to just go ahead and let a moan rip out.

"Uh no, thank you though. It's just a zipper but it's almost off," you told the sales associate, letting out a small sigh of relief as the clacking of her heels retreated from the dressing rooms. Miguel pushed another one of his fingers into your cunt, moving them in a scissoring motion before he curled them upwards to reach that spot inside of you.

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt his thumb make contact with your clit, the nub already starting to stimulate just by the touch of his finger. You felt your clit throb against his fingers as he rubbed small circles on it, the rhythm in sync with the fingers he was pushing inside of you.

Your back flushed against his chest as you felt yourself getting closer to that sweet release of euphoria, your shaky breaths and whimpers getting muffled as you pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth. Just as you were approaching that all too familiar release, Miguel pulled his hands away quickly.

You were about to protest before remembering what you'd done in the car, the words dying in your throat as you got up from his lap. "Touché," you mumbled as you started taking off the clothes that you'd been trying on, watching as he wiped his hand off on a handkerchief. Miguel covered up your body with his as he stepped out of the dressing room, closing the door quickly afterwards.

"Sorry about that, she called me into help her with the zipper. stupid thing wouldn't budge," you heard him speak outside, surely talking to the associate who must be growing impatient with every second that you spent inside. You stepped back into your clothes, carrying the choices that you'd picked out as you went to go join Miguel at the checkout line.

Needless to say, the attire that you'd showed Miguel proved to be a definite yes. He gladly paid for the rest of your clothes, not batting an eye as the total came out to be two thousand. "Thank you for the excellent customer service. The concern that you show for your consumers is truly admirable," he noted as the associate handed him back his card, a small smirk creeping up on his lips as he also received the shopping bag. The two of you made your way out of the store, completing the small checklist that the two of you had made for what was needed in order to have a successful trip.

[httpdollie]

OBSESSIVE FANBOY! GETO SUGURU X IDOL! READER HC

contents warning: nsfw/dark content, yandere and stalking, manipulation, manager! geto, perv! geto. Public sex, recording, breeding kink

18+ content, minors dni and ageless blogs will be blocked

nsfw taglist and requests are open

— GETO SUGURU

Fanboy! Geto who is the most subtle and successful out of all the other fanboys

Fanboy! Geto has stanned you since predebut, he was infatuated with your y2k aesthetic especially how well you suited it

Fanboy! Geto who tells his friends he “only likes your music” and your group has good vocals but make a point to let his friends know you’re his bias

Fanboy! Geto who has a private account on twitter with zero followers he has just retweet all of ur pics and videos

Fanboy! Geto who watches all your vlogs, and has seen every season of your variety show, falling in love with you personality and weird humor but also cause he thought you were hot)

Fanboy! Geto who has every single version of your groups albums, selling all other pcs of your groups members/ trading them for your photocards

Fanboy! Geto who spends thousands and thousands of dollars on his addiction, not even caring because he feels like it was money well spent

Fanboy! Geto who attends every single concert and is front row with a mask and his hair in a bun, but never attends fanmeets up close, thinking the close proximity to you would make him too nervous to say anything

Fanboy! Geto who meets you in cafe purely on accident, you bumped into him, spilling your iced coffee all over him, profusely apologizing and offering to pay for his shirt and he reassured you on how it’s completely before he almost instinctively made an excuse to leave cause being near you made his heartbeat too fast, the interactions leaving him completely smitten over you

Fanboy! Geto who’s admiration for you completely changed after that meeting, sparking some thing inside him he never though he’d feel before, love, he was immediately enamoured

Fanboy! Geto who follows behind your car, just once, to make sure you get one safe

Fanboy! Geto who’s visits the cafes and food you recommend when you travel

Fanboy! Geto who always take double takes when he sees girls that look like you, then openly frowning at them when he realizes it’s not you

Fanboy! Geto who’s a delulu stan and felt like you were talking about him specifically when you were asked what your type is and you said “Guys with long dark hair,” after that he was sure you would love him like he did you

Fanboy! Geto who sends a love confession as fanmail but never signs it cause he thinks it’s his personal way of getting his feelings out so he can move on but can’t help but get annoyed whenever he overhears someone say they’re a big fan of yours

Fanboy! Geto was in so much distress when he found out your company was mistreating your group, especially for not ensuring your safety and not paying you, which lead to it disbanded shortly after

Fanboy! Geto who follows your social media’s closely, watching to see if you’re going to debut again because he’s been a loyal fan so long as wasn’t going to stop now

Fanboy! Geto who hates all other kpop groups because none of them are as good as yours in his eyes

Fanboy! Geto who has anonymously doxxed your anti’s before for sending hate/threats

Fanboy! Geto who worries for your safety cause you don’t have a company to protect you so he takes it upon himself to follow you home (from a distance, of course) saying he’s only making sure bad fans don’t hurt you… because you were his

Fanboy! Geto who calls in a couple favours to pull the new manager job for your trio debut once you announced what company you joined on twitter in the reply section of your profile…

Fanboy! Geto who acts super nonchalant about his job but he, gojo and nanami go absolutely crazy in their gc (that’s obviously on his personal phone not his business one)

Fanboy! Geto who’s so happy about the gap between fan and idol has closed, now your just his

Fanboy! Geto who intimidates people so he can push for your group to lean into being more sexy now that he can have a say

Fanboy! Geto who favours you in your trio but keeps it subtle by giving you gifts through the form of food and clothes and saying he’s just trying to take care of his star

Fanboy! Geto who never tell you about his obsession, no matter what

Fanboy! Geto who takes pics of you bending over in tiny little skirts, or pics of you leaning over with your chest pressed together and jerk’s off to them later

Fanboy! Geto who pushes for more sexy dances and for you to be the center, saying it’s for fan service and cause you’re the most popular but in reality he just wants to see you dance like a whore in skimpy clothes

Fanboy! Geto who compliments you everyday, his sweet yet nonchalant demeanour making your cheeks feel ablaze as his never ending comments making you practically swoon over him, just the way he wanted you to

Fanboy! Geto who loves your little crush on him, teasing you endlessly, watching you pout whenever he tells you he’s going out with someone (which is so obviously a lie but you believe it)

Fanboy! Geto who teases you when you two are alone about how cute and sexy you are, laying in your bed comfortably while you try on the new clothes he buys you and spinning around for him, not knowing he’s rubbing his cock under the blanket

Fanboy! Geto who has to practically go fuck his fist in the bathroom after you have dance practice, every single time

Fanboy! Geto who has gets you alone before asking you out, watching you get all nervous as he confronts you about your crush and he cock twitched when you confirmed you liked him, someone about how you had no idea what he did to get here, really turned him on right now, he loved your naïveté 

Fanboy! Geto who asks you out but says you have to keep it lowkey because your fans will get jealous.

Fanboy! Geto who’s so happy he worked hard to meet you cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him

Fanboy! Geto who’s into public play, and teases you under the table all the time, pushes you into bathrooms to play with you or gropes you from behind when people aren’t looking

“What would your fans think know their little songbird likes having her pussy stuffed with my cock all the time, mmh?” He whispered into your ear, slamming into your wet cunt from behind with your dress lifted over your ass. “Come on dove, use your words for me now.”

“Yes— ah fuck!” You say biting you lip trying to stifle you moan.

“Don’t hide that pretty smile baby, your on camera.” He said cheekily, slowing his thrusts but making them harder and harder with each one while he fucks you in front of his phone in the bathroom stall of a high end restaurant.

Fanboy! Geto who tells you all the time about how pretty you look when he fucks you on camera, sometimes watching it back with you while he plays with your pussy, trying to see how long it’ll take for you to become overstimulated

Fanboy! Geto who nearly cums in his pants when you tell him you wanna try it raw but he needs to pull out cause you’re not on birth control

Fanboy! Geto who’s so in love with you as you are him that you’d never suspected anything from him

“Aww come on, you look so fucked out already…” He teases, rubbing your over sensitive clit and watching you squirm while he watches you ride his cock, you movements slowing as your legs become weak. He grabs your ass, giving it a squeeze before he starts making his hips meet yours. He watches your face confront with pleasure before he switches positions with you, you now laying on the bed, but on your stomach. He pushes his thick tip inside you, teasing your hole before giving in, thrusting into you hard but slowly

“Fuck, you feel so tight!” He groaned as his paces quickens. “Want my cum in you? Huh say it pretty girl.” He continued his assault on your pussy, one hand on your hip and the other gripping hair. You babble incoherently you pathetically nod. Making him pull out completely . “Come one songbird, let’s hear you.” He coos at you.

“Need your cum in me please Sugu’…” You whine you, looking back at him. Feeling both his hands on your hips now, he rubs his cock along your puffy cunt, before slamming deep into you, making your toes curl.

All you can hear are your moans and whimpers along with the sound of skin smacking into each other. He gave you kisses along your back before he held you down, balls twitching has he emptied his load in you. Watching to squirm as he fills you up before slowly pulling out. Watching his cum leak out of your pussy.

“I think it’s time you guys had a hiatus anyways huh? We can have alone time?”

© httpdollie 2023

[lovebugism]

can we talk about the first time you suck bby boy eddie's fingers? like it's all innocent and everything but he'd be sooo turned on. because I think about it a lot

✶ ┄ EDDIE'S FINGERS !

summary: you're obsessed with eddie munson's fingers. so obviously when you have the opportunity to put them in your mouth, you're going to. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader warnings: finger sucking??? it's a little bit suggestive a/n: anon... you're so right. this is absolutely something everyone should be talking about.

( MASTERLIST )

here’s the thing about eddie

the kid’s got some gorgeous fucking fingers

and all of the rings he wears just adds to it really

he’s just trying to bake a cake for wayne’s birthday but that's seriously all you can think about

you’re sitting on the counter behind him while he tries to figure out how to work the mixer by the stove that’s been collecting dust about as long as he’s been alive

his back is to you and you can see the muscles of his back flexing through his t-shirt while he tries to put the thing together

and you try to warn him about putting it on the highest speed immediately but he doesn’t listen

so obviously he gets cake batter all over his arms

his so very, very pretty, beautiful arms—

thankfully you’re not in the splash zone so you come out unscathed

but eddie’s a total mess and so is the counter

everything (including him) is covered in batter and flour and sugar

and he just keeps adding to the mess

he’s so concentrated on making sure everything tastes right he doesn’t care about anything else

when he successfully gets the cake into the oven with minimal damage done, he starts working on making the icing from scratch

because ofc he made everything from scratch

i seriously believe that this man is a whole ass baker and no one can tell me otherwise (baker!eddie anyone???)

but he keeps taste-testing each batch and you can’t help but watch him so intently

he dips his fingers into the bowl like an animal and scoops the icing up to his mouth 

his cheeks hollow while he sucks the sugary substance from his fingers

and you watch the profile of his face contort from delight to disgust and then to confusion

he furrows his brows and scrunches his cute lil nose

and walks until he’s standing between your legs

“can you taste this for me, babe? i can’t tell if it’s good or not”

he all but shoves the bowl at you

and he’s basically holding it with the palms of his hands because 1. it’s sticky and messy and 2. his fingers are also sticky and messy with bits of icing still on them and his rings

“i don’t know… are you sure it’s not gonna poison me?”

“pinky promise, sweetheart”

and obv he’s expecting u to go for the wooden spoon he’s got sitting in the bowl

so you can imagine his surprise when you grab his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth

he almost drops the entire fucking bowl

he watches with suddenly heavy eyes as you suck the icing from his knuckles

and flick your tongue at the tip of his fingers

and then tilt your head to the side to lick off the remaining icing on his silver rings, just for good measure

your eyes flutter shut a little and you hum and the taste

and eddie’s breathing gets all heavy and his eyes glaze over

because holy shit now he wants you to do that to his dick

you pull back with a nod

“could use a little more sugar”

eddie pulls back and hopes his face isn’t as red hot as it feels

“yes ma’am”

got any blurb requests? send 'em here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply. 

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her. 

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct. 

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.” 

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.” 

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension. 

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window. 

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled. 

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

-

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

-

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at  the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—” he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

-

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.  

-

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

-

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

-

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety.  “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can’t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

-

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

-

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

-

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

-

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.  

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

 “Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

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[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 7 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond realizes he messed things up with you and attempts to reconcile at the summer carnival.

word count: 5.5k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, exhibitionism, oral (fem-receiving), fingering, kissing

note: im starting to become obsessed with them ngl 🧍🏻‍♀️

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

AEMOND POV

Aemond knew he had fucked up.

Royally, fucked up.

Something he finds himself doing quite often. It had been several days since the hot tub incident. Several days since he’d last spoken to her. Aemond glances at his phone again, watching the time change as Helaena hurries down the stairs.  

“Morning,” she calls, tossing her phone onto the couch and stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s noon,” Aemond tells her.

“Where’s Y/N?” Helaena asks, sliding onto the couch next to him. 

She lets her feet hang off the edge of the armrest, her neck straining over the cushion as though she’s about to topple off of the sofa altogether. It looks quite uncomfortable, and wildly different from Aemond’s rigid posture as he frowns over his phone. 

“How should I know?”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Helaena muses, playing with a strand of her hair, “You usually have your companions over more frequently, if I recall.”

Trying to, Aemond thinks to himself, his jaw clenched. If she’d return my calls.

“She’s upset with me,” Aemond admits, tossing his phone to the side. It’s always been hard to keep the truth from Helaena.

Helaena makes a noise of contempt.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll fix it. You’re clever that way,” Hel encourages, “Perhaps a grand gesture of sorts? Something Austen-esque.” 

A phone buzzes on the sofa. Aemond checks his anyway, though he knows it’s Hel’s as she reaches for it. 

“It’s whatever,” Aemond lies through his teeth, “Plenty of girls around for the summer.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Helaena says, twisting her body so she’s upright on the couch, “Can you calm down the fuckboy-sona for five fucking minutes?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond says, shrugging.

Helaena rolls her eyes. 

“Okay Egg,” she says with a sneer, “Manwhoring doesn’t look good on you Aem. It’s not in your nature. Doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Suits my cock just fine,” he says, causing Helaena to make a face of disgust. 

“Gross,” she says, nose still scrunched, “It’s not you.”

Aemond doesn’t answer. Just glances at his phone again. The time greets him, but no other notifications. He opens Instagram, trying to avoid Helaena’s piercing gaze. As the app opens, he notices your profile picture, signifying you’ve posted a story. He shamelessly clicks on it, revealing you were at Seasnake Scoops seven minutes ago. 

Perfect. 

“Are you in the mood for ice cream?” Aemond asks, changing the subject and rising from the couch. 

Helaena’s frown deepens. 

“Aemond-”

“Hel, unless you’re saying yes or no to ice cream, just drop it,” he snaps, moving quickly to leave the room. 

“Oh fuck you,” Helaena says, rising from the couch and following him, “You’re just scared Aemond! Fucking scared.”

He hears every word, though he pretends he doesn’t as the front door slams shut behind him, leaving Helaena alone in the house.

 The last time Aemond Targaryen was in Seasnake Scoops it was not a pleasant experience. He’d been around thirteen years old at the time, and Aegon had assured him that Cece Lannister was waiting, expecting a date with him. 

Aemond remembered how nervous he felt. Though Cece wasn’t his cup of tea, she was beautiful, smart, and held the social status and respect that Aemond craved. A date with Cece was sure to turn the tide for him.  

He’d waited all afternoon for her. Seated at a table, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves. As people wandered in and out, the lady lion never made an appearance. It was Rhaenyra who found him as the sun began to set, seated on the curb outside the ice cream shop.

It had all been a joke, he’d realized once he entered the house. Aegon was in stitches until his mother smacked him upside the head and yelled at him. Aemond had stayed solemn, walking straight to his room without speaking.

They are always going to laugh at you, he thought to himself. 

Standing outside the ice cream shop left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Seasnake Scoops was unopposing in itself; it was the memories that haunted it. A small ice cream shop with some tables outside, with blue and white umbrellas offering some shade. There was indoor seating as well with air conditioning. 

Aemond stared at the people in line to order, scanning the small crowd for you. The nervous feeling returned being surrounded by all these people, remembering Cece.

Until he saw her.

She had turned her head, reaching for some napkins as the cashier handed her a soft serve twist in a cone covered in rainbow sprinkles. She smiles politely, thanking them before licking a stripe up the side of the frozen treat. There’s something so sweet about the way her eyes light up, Aemond finds himself smiling as she licks her lips. 

She turns to leave the line and his eye meets hers. It’s as though someone switches off the light behind her eyes completely. 

Cold is the only way to describe the look she awards him, as her mouth falls into a straight line. Aemond only holds her gaze for a moment before she looks towards the ground and begins to quicken her pace. But Aemond is faster.

“Y/N,” he calls, blocking her path back up the stairs inside. 

She sighs, avoiding his gaze, assessing whether or not she can squeeze around him.

“Move,” she tells him.

“You’re not answering my texts,” he says, confusion evident in his voice, “Or my calls.”

“Yeah,” she says, “Maybe you should take the hint.”

“I haven’t heard from you all week.”

“I’m trying to eat my ice cream Aemond,” she tells him, “What are you stalking me now?”

“Viewing an Instagram story is hardly a punishable offense,” he tells her.

“Just a reminder to block you later,” she tells him.

Aemond’s heart sinks at her words. There’s no playful banter in her tone, no note of excitement. She’s deadly serious. 

“Goodbye,” she tells him, moving past him.

You’re losing her, he realizes. Do something. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Aemond says suddenly, “Y/N, I didn’t mean what I-”

“You know what, Aemond?” she says, her gaze icy, “I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean. I care about what you said.”

Aemond’s chest tightens at her words. She’s standing tall, the ice cream beginning to drip down the cone between her small fingers. She ignores it if she even notices, but Aemond’s eye follows the sticky river beginning to form. He gets a sudden urge to lick the mess from her hand and pull her towards him covering her in sticky kisses. 

Seven hells. Stop it. 

Aemond blinks as she turns away, before giving him one last lingering look.

“Will is waiting for me,” she tells him, and the ache in his chest grows.

“Will?” he asks, the one-syllable tasting like poison on his tongue.

“Yes, Will,” she says, annoyance in her tone, “People who like each other go on dates. They date each other. I know that must be a foreign concept to you.”

Aemond says nothing, just clenches his teeth so tightly together his jaw begins to ache.

“Maybe give Floris a ring or one of your other friends. I’m sure there’s someone convenient for you,” she says, turning and walking away. 

Aemond lets her go, watching as she goes inside Seasnake Scoops, the door slamming shut behind her. The second time in his life he’s been left alone there. 

READER POV

“You can’t do this!” Baela’s voice calls from the hallway, “You can’t make me!”

You quickly leap out of bed at the sound of your best friend’s distress, opening the door and flying down the stairs. After your run-in with Aemond, you’d returned to your room to sulk for the majority of the afternoon. 

Baela stands below, arms crossed, tear tracks running down her cheeks. Rhaenys stands in front of her, hands folded, a stern expression on her face.

“Baela, it is one dinner-”

“It’s always one dinner,” Baela says, through her teeth, “One dinner, then another, then ‘we have to all go together Baela, as a family’,” she deepens her voice to the likeness of her father, “Like I want to go to that stupid gala and pretend everything is fucking fine!”

Rhaenys moved forward, taking Baela’s hands in her own.

“You’re angry,” she says to her softly, “You have every right to be. But don’t shut him out, dōna jorrāelagon (sweet love). Not when he’s finally trying.”

“For her,” Baela says, quietly, “He’s trying for her.”

“Rhaenyra is trying as well,” Rhaenys assures her, “You are not replacing your mother by letting her in.”

Baela yanks her hands away, angry tears spilling from her eyes. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I can’t forgive him,” Baela insists, “I can’t do it. I can’t forgive her either.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhaenys says, “I’m asking you to try.”

“This is me trying,” Baela snarls, “Staying away, letting them play happy family! That is me trying!”

Rhaenys purses her lips.

“Laena would-”

“Don’t,” Baela warns, shaking her head, “Don’t you dare.”

Her voice has dropped to a whisper. Rhaenys sighs, looking toward the floor. The tension between grandmother and granddaughter could be cut with a knife. Rhaenys looks back at Baela, drinking in her angered expression.

“You’re so much like her,” Rhaenys muses softly, before reaching out and stroking her cheek, “Full of so much fire.”

“I’m not going,” Baela insists.

“You are,” Rhaenys says, “I’ll hear no more of it. You can go to the carnival after.”

“Y/N will be all alone!” Baela says, pointing at you.

Rhaenys gives you an unimpressed look, but you nod quickly. Anything to help your best friend. 

Though Rhaenys doesn’t look like she buys it for one second.

“I’m sure Y/N will be fine for a couple of hours,” Rhaenys says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She’s going to get lost,” Baela says, and you agree. 

Rhaenys gives you a stern glance, one only a grandmother can deliver. Baela loops her arm through yours, holding her chin high. You crack first under Rhaenys glare. 

“I’m sure I’ll be okay for a little bit,” you say quietly. 

Rhaenys smiles at her success as Baela drops your arm with a groan. You give her an apologetic smile, knowing you’ve doomed her to another dinner with her father and stepmother.

You arrive at the carnival just as the sun goes down. It’s already crowded with people, the lights from all the rides making everyone glow with neon colors. The smell of fried food and the sound of laughter fills the air as you wade through the sea of people. You decided on a simple baby blue sundress, styling your hair off of your shoulders. It’s been so hot recently, you can’t stand the feeling of having your hair down.

You glance at your phone, though Helaena has yet to respond. You promised you’d meet her at the main ticket stand. 

The minutes tick by and you’re still standing with a rope of red tickets when your phone buzzes letting you know that Helaena had fallen asleep after losing track of time. You sigh, checking your other messages. There’s one from Will asking to meet up later paired with an emoji of a Ferris wheel. 

You want to smile, but your stomach turns instead. You can’t help but think of Aemond. Will is nice, very sweet, but it was evident after your ice cream date that you don’t have much in common. And there’s no spark.

When you told Baela, she’d raised an eyebrow at you.

“Spark?” she questioned.

“You know,” you tell her, talking with your hands as you tried to explain, “That feeling just, deep in your gut. Like being pulled to another person. Something that just feels…..right.”

That wasn’t there with Will. And you couldn’t fake a spark.

You sigh, tilting your head back and looking around, trying to determine what you should get to snack on while waiting for Helaena. A booth advertising fried Oreos piques your interest before a tall silver head catches your eye.

Something in your gut tightens with an intense need as you watch Aemond say something to Aegon. He’s wearing all black, as he often is. It’s as though Aemond is allergic to color. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you don’t know whether you hope he does or doesn’t.

You need to be firm, to hold the boundary you set with him. He doesn’t get to disrespect you like that. No matter how attracted to him you are. You may like Aemond- you may like fucking Aemond- but you love yourself more. 

His head turns and you look away before meeting those violet and blue eyes. You don’t know how strong your resolve will be if he looks at you again.

“Having fun?” a voice calls, causing you to turn and meet the sapphire eyes of Floris Baratheon.

She looks gorgeous, though you can’t imagine a time when she doesn’t; clad in a skin-tight green dress with her dark curls pulled into a high ponytail. You force a smile as she walks closer, a concerned look in her cobalt eyes. Classic mean girl, Helaena had called her. She certainly looks the part but then again, all beautiful people do. 

“Not really,” you admit, feeling your chest tighten.

“Me either,” she agrees, smiling softly, “Ellyn ditched me to hook up with Eddie Karstark behind the tilt-a-whirl. Can you believe?”

“That sucks,” you tell her. You hadn’t met Ellyn, but you’d seen her around the country club.

She gives you another small smile, following your gaze and landing on Aemond. Her smile drops as her lips form a tight line.

“Is he giving you the run around too?” she asks, looking back at you.

You can feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

“Something like that,” you admit, letting your eyes fall to your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Floris says, “Seriously. It fucking sucks.”

“It’s my own fault,” you tell her, “I made things messy.”

“Aemond makes things messy,” Floris insists, “I don’t think he can help it. He’s emotionally stunted.”

“I think you’re right,” you agree. 

Floris grabs your hand.

“C’mon,” she says, tugging you along.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Funnel cake,” she says, leading you through different booths, “We need funnel cake and then we need to shoot something. Or throw darts. Or both.”

You giggle and nod in agreement, letting her pull you along.

After eating all the funnel cake your body can handle and playing several rounds of balloon darts (something Floris is scarily good at) you make your way toward the Ferris wheel. It’s huge, the largest attraction at the carnival, with roomy compartments holding small groups of people.

Floris stops in front of it, glancing at you nervously. The change in demeanor makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

Floris’s cheeks turn a bright pink as she sighs, wetting her lips. 

“Have you….heard any rumors about Aemond and me?” she asks, “or Aemond and my sisters?”

No of course not, you think to yourself. Cause that would be crazy, an incestuous orgy of beautiful girls and the ethereal man who fucks like a god? No fucking way.

You’d tried very hard not to think about that.

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head, “What rumor?”

Floris seems unconvinced by your white lie. 

“People are gross,” she says, cheeks still darkened with blush, “Look nothing happened. It’s just-” she sighs, “The Ferris wheel is a very romantic spot.”

“Okay,” you tell her.

She nervously chews her lower lip, batting her lashes up at the Ferris wheel. 

“So Aemond invited me to ride with him last summer,” she says, shaking her head, “And he kissed me because guys do that when they take you on the Ferris wheel.”

A kiss. An innocent, sweet little kiss. That’s all it was. Your heart hammers in your chest thinking of Aemond asking Floris, the romantic gesture of it all.

“That’s really sweet,” you tell her, smiling.

“It was,” she agrees, “Until I found out he did the same thing with Cassandra, Ellyn, and Maris.”

Oh. Well, there it is.

“Well, I mean Maris didn’t end up kissing him,” Floris corrects herself, “But Cass and El did. And do you know what Aemond told me when I confronted him about it?”

You shake your head.

“He said I was the best kisser. And if I wanted to be friends with benefits for the summer, that would be cool,” she says, crossing her arms, “I was so naive. So fucking flattered that of course, I agreed. I mean, who says no when Aemond Targaryen says he wants to fuck you?”

She bites the tip of her tongue, as though reminiscing just what fucking Aemond entails before shaking her head. 

“Aemond Targaryen holds his own private kissing contest, and now I’m stuck with the rumor I had an orgy with my sisters,” she groans, “Fucking perfect.”

Damn. You can’t help but feel bad for Floris. That’s a skeevy thing Aemond did. She’s looking up at the Ferris Wheel as though she wants to melt it with lasers shooting from her eyes. You’ve begun to like Floris over the course of this evening. She could’ve been rude to you, mean even. You were fucking her ex-situationship after all.

But instead, she’d seen you upset and spent the rest of the evening with you. It’s your turn to return the favor. 

“Ferris wheel orgy,” you say, matter-of-factly, “If anyone believes that, they’re fucked in the head. Totally not enough room in those carriages for all that” You wave your arm around for emphasis.

Floris bursts out into a laugh, reaching to cover her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but laugh along with her. Floris Baratheon is a-okay in your book. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” she says snickering, “Guys will believe anything.”

“They’ve got holes in their brains,” you assure her.

Floris continues to laugh, shaking her head and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. It feels good to laugh with her and forget about the drama surrounding you for a moment. 

“For sure,” she agrees, “Ugh. Do you want to go on? I promise no kissing, and no orgies.”

You laugh again at her joke. 

“Sure,” you tell her with a smile.

You walk up to the operator of the Ferris wheel and hand him your last two tickets. Everyone has exited the Ferris wheel, so you get in the first compartment. You move forward scooting onto one of the benches as Floris digs in her purse.

“Shit, I’m out!” she says with a groan, “I’ll go grab more, be right back!”

She flies down the stairs, hurrying over to the ticket booth. You glance at the conductor, knowing you must be holding up the line.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask.

The twenty-something-year-old looks as if he’d rather be diving headfirst off a cliff than operating this ride, but he sighs dramatically and nods at your request. You clasp your hands in your lap when someone else enters the compartment and sits in the seat across from you. 

Aemond.

“Out,” you tell him, frowning, “Seriously, Aemond I thought I was clear.”

“We need to talk,” Aemond insists.

“We talked at Scoops, I have nothing left to say to you,” you insist, before changing your mind, “You know what? Actually, I do. Kissing Floris and her sisters? Really?”

You swear Aemond’s cheeks flush, and he glances away momentarily, before reaching out and snapping toward the attendant. 

“$50 to send us up now,” he tells him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Aem-”

“And $50 more to stop us at the top. Fifteen minutes, tops,” Aemond finishes, adding another fifty between his slender fingers. 

The attendant’s eyes bug out of his head as he takes the money, shutting the door of the carriage. 

“No!” you say, watching the attendant return to the podium, “No! Dude, what about my friend? We have to wait for her!” Your voice is several pitches higher than you like, but it's due to being alone with Aemond. 

The attendant raises an eyebrow at you.

“Got fifty bucks?” he asks.

Your eyebrows lift in shock.

“No!” you squeak, panic bubbling in your throat.

The attendant shrugs, throwing the handle forward making the Ferris wheel begin to move. Your jaw drops as you slowly begin to ascend and watch in horror as Floris returns, her expression mirrors yours as she notices Aemond in the carriage with you. You clutch the edge of the compartment, leaning over the edge as you start moving farther from the ground.

“Asshole!” you yell down to the attendant before sinking into your seat and crossing your arms and legs. 

Aemond sits silently, though you know he must be gleeful about getting you alone. The compartments below you are empty, you’ve been sent up alone. 

“Y/N,” he says, but you don’t look at him. 

You just look over the side of the carriage at the rest of the carnival as everything begins to grow smaller and smaller. You can see the country club, the golf courses, the tents being set up for the gala. The lights from Driftmark and Dragonstone are even visible in the distance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

That gets your attention. You whip your head towards him, watching him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You still don’t speak. Too angry, too hurt, too humiliated to say anything. Your brows are knit together, lips pressed into a tight line. No tears tonight, you cried enough over him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I never should have spoken to you that way, or said those horrible things. It was disgusting and inexcusable.”

Aemond wets his lips. The Ferris wheel comes to a stop as you reach the top, the compartment swinging gently with the force of the brakes. You uncross your arms, steadying yourself. 

“I haven’t been that vulnerable with anyone in a long time,” he admits, “That’s not an excuse, believe me, that doesn’t excuse what I said, but I-” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, “You were right.”

You want to remain silent as that violet eye watches you. Surely you can sit for fifteen minutes of silence. You cross your arms once more, trying to remain strong. 

“About what?” you ask, cursing yourself.

The corner of Aemond’s mouth twitches, and something tugs in your chest as it does. You dig your nails into your bicep, trying to ground yourself. If you look at him too long, you’re afraid you’ll float away. 

“About you growing on me,” he says softly.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t know when this started, really. But since the hot tub something changed. Something inside you clicked, and suddenly you can’t look at Aemond Targaryen without wanting to kiss him.

“I don’t like…feeling out of control,” he admits, lacing his fingers together, “And you make me feel…fucking crazy.”

You want to believe him. You do. But Floris is on the ground below, and she was in the same position you were. Believed Aemond cared about her. As Aemond’s walls begin to let some light in, you can feel your own going up.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” you tell him, arms still crossed, “You said it yourself, you fuck, you talk like that, but you don’t get feelings. It’s one of your rules.”

“I’m figuring out none of those rules apply to you,” he says, observing you carefully.

You shake your head. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” you tell him, “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I haven’t been the best person,” Aemond admits, “I’ve hurt people because I was hurting. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

His fingers are laced together and he braces his forehead on his clasped hands. 

“I can’t,” you tell him softly, “Aemond I can’t.”

You don’t want to get hurt. Don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has. If you let him in deeper, it’s going to be so much more painful than it already has been. Aemond looks up, resting his chin on his hands. His gaze is soft, and a breeze rolls through causing you to shiver. 

“Let me show you,” he says softly, “Please. What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

Aemond’s hands are outspread, a pleading gesture. How could he prove himself? If he really wants to change, for the better. 

“Apologize to Floris,” you say suddenly, “She deserves it. All her sisters do.”

“Done,” Aemond answers immediately.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I want to do this with you anymore.”

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he says, kneeling forward on the floor; the compartment shakes with the movement.

Your cheeks flush when you realize what he intends to do.

“Aemond-” you say as his hands brush over your thighs, pushing your dress up.

You look over the side of the compartment, eyes wide. You’re all the way at the top, looking over everyone else. No one can see, and yet you’re dangerously exposed at the top of the Ferris wheel. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart beats wildly in your chest as Aemond’s fingers curl along your panties. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmurs, dragging the fabric down. You lift your hips to assist him.

It’s almost unconscious, the way your body reacts to him. He plays your body like an instrument; every touch has you melting into him, bending to his wishes. Aemond removes your panties, placing them in his pocket for safekeeping. His violet eye watches you, waiting for what you say next. You bite your lip in desperation, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand under your ass, keeping your center propped off the seat. 

He holds you with ease, letting his other hand slip under your opposite thigh. It’s driving you crazy. He’s driving you crazy. 

“Y/N,” he says, voice a desperate whine, like it’s taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy. 

You’re already wet, you can feel it. There’s no use, you can’t ignore the feeling in your chest, the desperate ache between your legs. You want him, you need him so bad you feel like you might go insane without his lips on you. 

“Please,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it, “Please Y/N.” You can feel his hands trembling against you, as though he’s ready to snap.

“Yes,” you tell him, and with a desperate growl, he dips his head below your skirt.

His mouth glues itself to your dripping slit, tongue diving between your folds as you bury your hands in his hair. You sling your legs over his shoulders, desperate to push him deeper, and harder against you, especially as his tongue moves to circle your entrance. 

“Fuck,” you mewl as the warm, wet muscle dips inside of you, and Aemond moans-fucking moans-as he moves it in and out. 

Your heels are digging into his toned shoulders, nails raking against his scalp but if it pains him, Aemond doesn’t let it show in the slightest. He’s simply devouring you, groaning with every shudder and stifled moan you award him. With every movement of his head, his nose rubs pleasantly against your clit, sending waves of pleasurable warmth coursing throughout your body. 

Aemond pulls away suddenly, his mouth shining with your arousal, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and begins sucking on them. He meets your eyes before dipping his head down again between your thighs, fingers replacing his tongue and stretching into you. He curves them upwards against your tender, spongy walls, and your spine arches off of the seat, mouth falling open in pleasure. 

“Fucking missed this pussy,” he groans, lazily fingering you before bringing his mouth to the apex of your thighs.

His tongue swirls around your needy clit and you can feel your stomach tightening. 

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on top of your clit before swirling his tongue around it once more.

“That’s not fair,” you answer, breathlessly, “Oh my fucking-oh.”

You can feel Aemond’s smile against you, feel him flatten his tongue on your clit before rubbing steady circles with the warm muscle of his tongue. He strokes your sweet spoke with his fingers effortlessly, your legs trembling on his shoulders. 

“Please,” he says with a groan, “Please, I can’t fucking stand it-”

“Oh!” your nails dig into his scalp as you clench around his fingers, your release barrelling through you.

Aemond slowly removes his fingers, pressing them between his lips and licking them clean before you grab him by the shirt collar pulling him towards you. Your mouth is on his in an instant and it feels like fireworks have gone off in your brain.

He kisses you ferociously, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and anchoring you against him; the other wraps around your waist, pulling you off the seat and holding you flush against him. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel how hard he is underneath you. You’re kissing him desperately, it's all clashing teeth and gasps as you press yourself against him harder. You can’t be close enough, can’t be held tight enough. It's not enough, not enough. 

The Ferris wheel begins to move, slowly but surely beginning its descent and you pull away, gasping for breath. You’re both breathing heavily, so close you can feel the brush of his lips against yours with every exhale. 

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers, voice breaking as he strokes the back of your head.

“I know,” you whisper back, kissing him softly.

You untangle yourselves from each other as the Ferris wheel comes to a stop, pushing yourself back onto the seat to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, your dress is long enough because there was no time to put your panties back on and you’d rather not have your bare ass on the seat of the Ferris wheel.

The attendant opens the door, none the wiser to what you and Aemond were up to in the middle of the air. 

You exit the compartment on shaky legs, turning back to Aemond.

“Forgive me?” he asks, watching you.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, walking down to Floris, who is now holding a half-eaten fried Twinkie.

“Dude, that took forever,” she tells you, “What did you even talk about-”

“Floris,” Aemond calls, walking over.

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, cheeks darkening as he approaches. But Floris Baratheon doesn’t back down. No matter how she feels about Aemond, she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eye.

“I owe you an apology,” Aemond begins, “For everything.”

Her chin tilts higher in the air.

“I was cruel to you when I shouldn’t have been,” he continues, “And I should have shut down those rumors when I heard them. I shouldn’t have treated you or your sisters that way in the first place and I’ll be telling them that as well.”

“Well Maris is in Oldtown,” Floris says cooly, “She stayed for the summer to do research.”

“Next semester then,” Aemond agrees.

Floris looks him up and down.

“Thank you,” she says and Aemond nods. 

Her phone buzzes in her chest and she hands you her twinkie as she reaches between her boobs to grab it. She frowns.

“El needs rescuing,” she says, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her, “I’m good, really.”

“I had fun tonight,” she tells you, “Let’s hang out again.”

“We could always use more help on Seasmoke,” you tell her.

“Cool, later Y/N,” she says, “Bye Aemond.”

As Floris leaves you turn to begin walking as well. Baela should be here by now and hopefully, Helaena has found her way down here. Aemond grabs your hand, stopping you.

“You won’t forgive me?” he asks.

“I said I’d think about it,” you tell him, still being cautious.

“Y/N-”

“Look, there’s something here,” you tell him, “Definitely, but…” I’m scared.

You can’t finish the sentence but you read it in his eye too. 

“Go with me,” he says suddenly, “To the gala and the auction.”

“What?”

“As my date,” he says, “Be my date.”

“You don’t date.”

“I do now,” he argues, his voice insistent, “I date….I want to date you.”

He steps closer, taking your other hand. There’s that feeling again. Deep in your gut, pulling you toward him. A fire ignited within you, sparked by his touch. 

“Come with me,” he says softly, “Please.”

You stretch up onto your tiptoes capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s the only answer you can give right now, but the only answer he needs.

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

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[redsaurrce]

SEVENTH

SYNOPSIS: Where Jungkook is more than just somebody's fianće.

PAIRING: YANDERE SERIALKILLER!JUNGKOOK x DETECTIVE COP!FEM READER

GENRE: SMUT (minors DNI), Crime and thriller au, wedding planner au

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

WARNINGS:Mature content, YANDERE and OBSESSIVE themes, Profanity, kissing, mentions of gun, cheating, breast play, grinding, cuming, this time we gonna use ice at forbidden places cuz I'm mentally fucked up

--

MA-RR-Y-ME-LO-VE

You breathed the words as you read it in sequence with your nails piercing the skin of your palm.

It was the sixth murder in a row. Each one was a woman in her twenties, shocking similarities was that they were all going to be married soon. But what was even more shocking were the letters engraved in the skin of their ring finger.

First woman had - MA

Second woman had- RR

And this went on till MARRY ME.. you thought that the psychopath behind the murders wanted to have these woman as his love interest or something so you tried to dig in the profiles of the victims.

You didn't know whether to call it unfortunate or rather fortunate that there were no people in their lives to track down to one common person.

You grabbed your forehead as you sighed, you thought the killer was done after writing MARRY ME by killing three women but you were wrong.

Another two murders added the word LO-VE in the sequence and this time one thing came out in common. The wedding planner-- the last two victims had their wedding planned under the same wedding event organizers- The Sierras.

"Mam we should bring The Sierras owner to question them." You turned your head towards your junior police officer who said it, Dino.

You clicked your tongue as you shook your head, "that won't be fruitful, no serial killer would kill his customers inside his own shop."

Officer Wen Junhui, your colleague in ranking clicked his pen on table and started scribbling on his notepad, he said "Y/N is right. There's high chance The Sierras have been targeted for us to think the way Dino thought while the serial killer is on the loose."

"Then, our every operation is failing. People are scared to even marry now. If this continues, a rampage will occur soon with police of other divisions to suffer even more." Officer Ryujin reasoned.

You nodded and paused for thinking a bit more.

After a moment you shot your head up, "I'll go undercover." You said and looked at everyone's faces. They were caught off guard with your suggestion but then again when every trick failed, your last resort was to go undercover to face the criminal head on.

Officer Ryujin raised her eyebrows, "What are you thinking officer Y/N?"

You looked at her with a confident smile, "Let's catch the serial killer before he kills anymore. Operation Six Lives!"

-

You took a job in The Sierras under the disguise of a wedding planner, it was normal for any work place to not disclose their client's information or only share limited information. So far the killer has only left only one lead, the Sierras.. there was a 50-50 chance that if the killer does plan on killing more, the victim might be from here.

It was better to give your shot at this single clue rather than just sit and think. 3 women in their twenties have contacted The Sierras for their marriage arrangement this month.

1. Ahn Se-jeong (bride) and Lee In-woo (groom)

2. Kim Ri-ha (bride) and Jeon Jungkook (groom)

3. Yoo Nam-ra (bride) and Kang Ji-ho (groom)

You immediately had the police look out for these three women to monitor and keep them under surveillance.

Inside the workplace you were assigned as the wedding planner of the 2nd pair of client, Ri-ha and Jungkook, they were coming to decide the venue and today you were going to meet them for the first time.

When they finally arrived, you fixed your skirt and collar a little, if you were going to pretend to be a wedding planner, you were going to do it properly.

You put on a friendly smile as the love birds stepped inside with their arms interlocked.

"Welcome in Mr. Jeon and Ms. Kim. I'm Seung Y/N and will be your wedding planner." You cooed.

Jungkook scanned you from top to bottom before removing Ri-ha's arm to step forward and offer a handshake to you. You shook his hand as an act of agreement and proceeded to shake hands with Ri-ha.

They both sat on the sofa across you as you laid down the catalogue of venues and marriage destinations on the glass table.

While both of them flipped the pages, you were carefully observing them, none of them looked quite satisfied. But after a moment Ri-ha's eyes lit up at a certain page so she was going to place forth her choice, "How about Pa--"

"What do you think Y/N? Where should we marry?" Jungkook cut her off.

You blinked, this is not how it was supposed to go, "Uh.. Ms.Kim has a place in her mind." You looked at Ri-ha.

Jungkook smiled softly, "I meant to ask you that because you are our wedding planner, I assumed you might have more expertise in choosing the best destinations. Isn't it?"

"Ah-that.. right." You nervously chuckled, "No one before has asked me for planning their wedding venue so I acted this way, I apologize... um.. you can choose Paris?" You said as you quickly glanced on the page Ri-ha had opened to mention.

Ri-ha's eyes sparkled, "Thats great! And it's alright Y/N, plus you can address me by my name, Ms.Kim sounds way too formal and also makes me feel old." You grinned, "Sure Ri-ha if that's what you want."

"How about you honey?" Ri-ha held Jungkook's arm with a loving gaze on him. Jungkook nodded with a smile, "Of course you should call me Jungkook instead." Ri-ha's pouted, "Not that- I meant about Paris."

Jungkook's eyes flickered, "Ah- i- I see." He cleared his throat to erase awkwardness in his voice, "Yeah of course."

"Alright then, we'll discuss the place with our parents, after confirming we'll contact you and will come for the dress and the jewelry next Sunday." Ri-ha said as she and Jungkook got up from the sofa.

"Sure thing." You said and accompanied them to their way out.

-

You were writing down on your notepad about the jewelry Ri-ha and Jungkook were choosing. "Babe do you like it?" Jungkook pointed at a necklace and looked at you, leaving you confused for a second then he looked at Ri-ha who looked at him after eyeing a blue stone pair of earrings.

You shook your head mentally and continued writing down their choices and prices to discuss later. Then they went on to the dressing section.

First Jungkook went and chose his clothes along with Ri-ha while you stood at the counter sending the pics of ornaments selected to Jungkook's and Ri-ha's mother separately on their respective mails.

Ri-ha came back after Jungkook went in the trial room, "Y/N, Jungkook asked for you too to see his attire, he thinks a professional knows best." She chirped.

You smiled and nodded, "Alright."

You both went into the room next to the trial room, after a moment you saw Jungkook come in wearing a black tuxedo with gray stripes and a black shirt underneath with matching black pants. Sure he looked good but that's more like he was attending someone else's wedding and not his.

He seemed to read your mind and therefore he asked, "What is it Y/N? Don't you like it?"

Ri-ha looked at you with her eyebrows raised, you cleared your throat, "it looks good but it's not fitting a wedding attire. Have you chosen any white suit? That'll look better." You placed forth your opinion.

Jungkook felt relieved at your words, "See Ri-ha, didn't I tell you she'll know what's best for me?" Yeah.. that kinda sounded a bit weird but Ri-ha didn't seem to mind it, she giggled, "Yeah yeah of course." She said playfully and gave you a big smile, you returned the gesture.

The next attire Jungkook wore was entirely white and you both couldn't help but burst into little laughter together. "Wha-what's wrong?" Jungkook was baffled.

Ri-ha said while suppressing her laughter, "If you were to stand in front of a white wall for a picture, only your face will be caught on camera." You couldn't help but a laugh a bit more and Ri-ha lightly nudged you in the arm, "Don't you agree Y/N?"

"Completely." You said while chuckling. Ri-ha liked your frank and friendly nature, while Jungkook liked it a bit more.

He sighed and smiled, "Y/N how about instead of laughing you help me out?"

You nodded, "yes I'm sorry." You said and told him what you had in mind, "You should wear a tuxedo of off white colour, a shirt of white color and the pants should be off white as well.. and.." You paused for a bit, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting you had with Ri-ha over tea two days ago in her house, she had invited you to finalize the designs and tell you more about the things she had on her mind to make her wedding grandiose.

I want the dresses to be as unique and pretty as possible. Her words played in your head.

".. and?" Ri-ha waited for your answer.

"Oh and the bow tie should be of a faint shade of peach color, I'll discuss it with the designer and make the veil of the bride match some designs of the same color." You said, even if you were originally a cop, the whole police station knew that your fashion sense was immaculate and unbeatable, even officer Jay who was known to be a walking fashion icon, would come to you on days to take your opinion.. maybe that skill was helping you out pretty well at this situation.

Ri-ha clapped her hand, "amazing! I'll try on the dress I have liked and you can go ahead and make the changes."

You smiled and nodded at her.

Ri-ha had tried on several dresses and after Jungkook took your final opinion, you went with the finalized dresses to sketch and make the changes. After few minutes you returned from the designer with a tabloid in your hand, the designer had changed the colour shades and added a bit more detail on it.

When you showed them the final sketch, Ri-ha couldn't hide her happiness, even Jungkook was amazed at what your suggestion made the sketch look like.

"Wow this is really pretty, you can go ahead with these dresses and you shall come to my home for deciding the dress of my parents for my wedding, they've taken a liking to your choices and they wanted their dress also to be stylized by you." Jungkook said with a fond smile.

Your lips took a form of a big smile, "I'm honored to have impressed your parents. I'll come with the dresses." You said.

-

When you arrived at Jungkook's house after a week, his parents treated you like their own family, they were really friendly and not stereotyped at all. You wondered how lucky Jungkook was to have such sweet parents, it was showing in his behavior as well.

You suggested that they should wear hanbok to their son's wedding and they very much liked your color preferences.

After a while when you were having casual talks with them, Jungkook came in with his phone and kept it inside his pocket. He sighed, "Ri-ha can't make it today, she has a very important meeting in the company."

Jungkook's mother looked disappointed, "That means we can't see her try this dress on today? We already made our time out of our busy schedule, who knows when we can again be free?"

Jungkook's father clicked his tongue, "This is bad- wait! Y/N can you try on the dress for us?"

Your eyes went a little wide, "Pardon sir?"

He softly chuckled as he found your dumbfounded state funny, "We just want to see how the dress looks when somebody wears it, Y/N.. you and Ri-ha don't seem too different in body proportions, isn't it honey?"

Jungkook's mother smiled wide, "You are right honey. Y/N dear please can you do us this favor?"

You shifted awkwardly in your place, "Um.. okay."

You followed Jungkook as he gestured you to follow him with the dress, you guessed that the room he welcomed in was his. "If you are wondering, this is my room." He said as he opened his cabinet. There was a narrow space joining to another room, "And this is my dressing room, you can change here." You nodded and stepped inside.

When you came out after trying it, Jungkook felt at a loss of words, he blinked a few times to snap out. When you went to the main hall where his parents were sitting, they were equally stunned, any bystander couldn't easily figure out whether they were stunned by your beauty or the dress.

"She looks perfect!" His mother said gleefully. You smiled awkwardly, "I guess the dress suits your taste mam?"

She gave out a breathy laugher, "Of course dear of course. Don't you agree with me, son?" She looked at Jungkook who couldn't utter a single word, he felt so enchanted just by looking at you as if the world only had him and you and no one else.

His father tittered, "What have you done miss Y/N, looks like my son can't speak." Jungkook snapped out of his daze and felt his breath stuck.

He gulped, "Okay Y/N we're done." He said and told you to follow him back to his room.

When after changing into your clothes you came out in his room, you saw him standing looking out of the window with arms crossed, his side profile looked gloomy and you wondered why.

"What is it Jungkook?" You raised your eyebrows in question and he slowly turned towards you.

"Y/N today Ri-ha couldn't make it, do you think she's not happy with me in any manner? That day she looked so happy about the dress, the meeting she said as an excuse could have been held later too.. I think I'm not giving her what she deserves." He looked down.

You contorted your eyebrows, "Uhm.. I don't see a reason for Ri-ha to think like that."

He shot his head up and shook his head, "You're wrong Y/N, she's got plenty of reasons to think that way, she likes people with experience, she likes people who are at the top of their games, she only knows that I'm great at communicating, great at handling our company, I only tried to show her my best side but-" he gulped, "I can't stall anymore about my experiences in bed, I don't even know who to ask help from other than you. You're the only woman I know after Ri-ha."

Your eyes went wide at the sudden revelation. He spoke so much to you in just a few words, first about Ri-ha whom he thinks doesn't like him enough, where to be honest whenever you saw them together, Ri-ha always seemed head over heels for him.

And experience in bed? Ask help? From you?

What the actual fuck?

"Excuse me?" You were shocked to say the least. His face morphed in a bit more sadder expression as if, if you said anything against his favor he might have a breakdown.

Your eyes flickered, "What do you mean?"

He took a sharp breath, "Y/N please help me, I've never slept with anyone before."

You scratched your nape, "in that case you should ask help from someone else, I'm not too good at it myself."

"That's totally fine, it's better to embarrass myself in front of a novice rather than to embarrass myself in front of a veteran." He said as if he was explaining some group project.

You shook your head, "what about Ri-ha? This is still morally wrong Jungkook."

He looked confused, "How exactly Y/N? I didn't call Ri-ha a veteran for no reason, if she could sleep with people other than me, why can't I do the same?"

You were baffled, "But it's different now Jungkook--" "It's not! It's not as long as we haven't married each other. I'm begging you Y/N, I am willing to do everything for my woman." He said while decreasing the distance in between both of you, "help me Y/N, I'll make sure to put a good word to your boss for you." He said as he captured you in between the wall and him.

Just how far were you willing to go to play pretend? To keep your job at The Sierras? Jungkook's family looked influential and you didn't know what word he might put if you didn't listen to his request. "Are you threatening me now?" You looked at him with sharp gaze.

His gaze turned dark as well, "No. I'm begging Y/N." His desperate voice and words were contrasting his gaze.

You were not sure if you could keep your job of disguise any longer if your employer found out that you couldn't satisfy even your very first costumer.

You gritted your teeth, in order to access more of the records and documents, you needed to proceed as Ri-ha and Jungkook's wedding planner. You closed your eyes to keep your cool. "Alright, for your woman and my client, I'll show you how to be good, at least as much as I know."

-

Jungkook was beyond happy, he continued to switch back and forth between your eyes, he gulped and said, "today is Thursday, I'll send you the place on Sunday." He stepped back.

Afterall deception starts with a lie and a successful deception needs chain of lies. The lie Jungkook said now was about Ri-ha's meeting, he knew Ri-ha had a really important meeting, he knew Ri-ha cannot make it today because of her tight schedule and that is exactly why Jungkook called you over today.

Was it ethically correct? No.

Professionally? You couldn't tell. Two days later the couple came to buy matching rings and shoes for their wedding day.

So far none of the officers who were keeping an eye out reported anything suspicious about the women, till now you have collected the information on the dresses, venues and ornaments of the victims as you gained access to those files.

Today you were looking out for an opportunity to put your hands on the rings and shoes information as well and hence you were eagerly waiting for the couple to leave and you'd get to your undercover work.

But what happened next was something you never imagined.

Jungkook was kissing you passionately in a secluded room while Ri-ha waited for him thinking he went to the washroom. Jungkook's words - "please help me out Y/N, Ri-ha has said before I am not a good kisser, pleaaase help me Y/N. Today I have a date with her and I can't disappoint her anymore." He said with pleading eyes and tone and thus here you were, trying to teach him the correct way to kiss.

And he listened pretty well.. his kiss was soft, intense and slow, like you were in a daze lost in middle of flower fields with the sunshine dancing and sparkling over the petals.

After several moments when you broke the kiss to pant for air, you reminded him to not stay any longer and return back to Ri-ha.

After they left you sat down to analyze your actions, apart from having a great kissing sesh, you couldn't quite let go off that heavy feeling in your chest, the feeling of betrayal or cheating. Though you can't exactly call it cheating given Jungkook's reasoning, yet this was still wrong no matter whatever the reasons were.

Earlier they had selected the shoes from a well known expensive store and the rings were also bought from a grand store of your city. You remember while talking with Jungkook's parents, his father had mentioned that he owned a jewelry store and it shocked you when he told the name because that name is really famous and often is tagged with rich people's taste since it was normally affordable by them.

It wasn't exactly surprising for Jungkook to have the rings from there for him and his bride-to-be.

-

Sunday came and you were not sure if you should go ahead with his request. Jungkook didn't seem someone with bad intentions, he just looked like a lost puppy trying to get his answers. Getting scolded without getting told why you got scolded really sucks. You should know what mistake you made so that you won't repeat it.

But there was no one for Jungkook to tell his mistake, to guide him. You felt like the light he was searching for after he was thrown in a completely dark tunnel.

Jungkook's wedding was next week and preparations were ready except this- as he claimed, therefore here you were looking eye to eye sitting on his bed in close proximity.

He leaned in to kiss you at first as your fingertips grazed on his neck. You bit your lips slightly and let out a little moan which turned him on even more.

He pushed his tongue inside and both your tongues were spiraling around each other in their own rhythm. He then proceeded to put butterfly kisses on your mouth then your jaw, going down to your neck and lastly to your collarbone.

Suddenly your hand movements stopped when he started unbuttoning your shirt. He looked at your face in confusion and he realized what expression you had on your face.

The expression of guilt.

He sighed, "Y/N this won't go any further if you feel awkward, can't you just see me as me tonight and not someone who's about to get married? Hm?" He moved a loose strand of your hair to keep it behind your ear.

His touch was so gentle that you felt like melting while he looked at you dreamily.

Just this once.. it's all gonna get over. You mentally noted as you bit your lower lip and nodded.

Jungkook took notice of it as he caressed your lips. "What should I do next Y/N?"

You looked at him, "Everyone has their own preferences, some people like it rough, some people like it gentle, I can't tell what Ri-ha likes exactly just by looking at her face--"

"What's your preference?" He asked you.

"Mine?... " You blinked several times. "Yes, yours. I'm going to repeat everything, including the questions with Ri-ha so it's better if you stop mentioning her, I'd like to completely want to immerse with the person in front of me." He said as he held your hands.

You looked at down at your hands cupped in his, "Gentle and something creative." You whispered. He smiled, "okay."

Because, he actually knew that very well, so far Jungkook has been nothing but gentle, even though being gentle wasn't exactly Jungkook's type but in no way he would disappoint you.

He had stalked you enough to know what kind of a woman you are in bed.

"Most people have different kinks, I personally like breast kink." Jungkook's mind was already filled with vulgar pictures of you but he couldn't wait to actually to not just see it but feel it too. He went to the kitchen and came back with a small tray of ice in his hands.

He kept it on the bed and opened your shirt while you opened his. Then he laid you down and opened your bra, he hovered over you and then leaned down.

He kissed the area around your right nipple while his one hand was busy rubbing the ice on your other nipple. You let out a shaky breath as he bit your nipple, one nipple getting bitten while the other getting frozen really was overwhelming. He then took another ice in his other hand and rubbed it on your left nipple- the one he was biting on. He removed his mouth and leaned to the already hardened cold nipple, he took the ice in his mouth and kept rubbing on it.

Then he took both the ices in his mouth as he traced his wet mouth down to your belly while both his hands working on your wet and cold breasts.

He then opened your trousers leaving you in just a panty. He took another ice in his mouth and then kissed on your pussy which was already soaking with your juices.

Next he tore apart the light feather like cloth off your groin and kept the ice directly on your vagina.

He was rolling the ice on your pussy with his tongue as his hands worked on opening his own pants and undergarment.

He took another ice and kept it on your pussy while the ice previously he was rolling, he took it back inside his mouth.

He came back up and let his dick rest upon the ice that was over your pussy, he then leaned down again and attached his mouth to yours, letting the ice covered in your juice play like a dice inside both of your mouth.

Due to the immense heat from both of your groin, the ice on your vagina melted quickly and thus he grinded his dick on you. Thankfully he didn't let it in.

Who knew that Jungkook actually wanted to do that so bad but he's gonna save it for later. He rejoiced internally.

-

The next day when he woke up, he saw you were gone. Not surprising though, last night you already told him after you both had a steamy, rather icy session that you both have nothing more to contact each other for.

Which of course hurt Jungkook a little but he couldn't show it, he was willing with complying to all your demands. But he knew, soon enough, you'll come back to him.

And the moment you do, he's never going to let you go, ever again.

-

You looked at the text message Ri-ha had sent you in the evening.

Kim Ri-ha: Hi Y/N I thought the rings were out for delivery, I've only received the shoes.

You: Are you sure? Maybe Jungkook has picked up for you?

Kim Ri-ha: Nope! I had already asked him as well as contacted his family too, none have received it.

You: I think some error has happened, I'll go and check.

You frowned while replying, your head was already clouded with last night's activity and now this!

Wait- this is actually better, you have somehow managed to look at the records of the shoes but you couldn't get a grip over the record book of rings, both of these were actually trivial if you were to connect these to The Sierras but better be careful than to regret.

You quickly dialed Officer Junhui's number and told him to gather the information about all the victim's wedding rings, like where they were bought from, if there's any lead that could be helpful, etc.

Then you quickly drove to Jiwe Stones- the shop Jungkook and Ri-ha had bought the rings from.

You went to the counter and showed them a special pass The Sierras had provided you with, it's a pass given to their wedding planners to go through the accessory records in other shops from where their client had stuff purchased from.

After entering something on the keyboard, the person at the counter asked a lady over the telephone to bring a hard copy of the record book you had asked for.

The lady came and she had opened the page where the details about the Kim-Jeon couple's rings were present. Strangely the page had a Delivered and received stamp on it.

You blinked in confusion, when you were about to ask the staff about it, you received a call from Junhui.

Hello?

Hey Y/N, the team has found out the wedding rings information and strangely all of them are from Jiwe Stones! You should take a look at the rings, I think there's something fishy.

You cut the call as you let out a short exhale, looking here and there for a second. Then you flipped to the index searching for the past month's records of the victims.

All of the names were there.

You immediately took photos of the ring designs and the information mentioned on it when on the 4th victim's page you noticed something strange. Then you went through your gallery to look at the previous three designs.

You noticed tiny shapes on the inner side of the rings, you looked at the other designs of the rings apart from the victims' drawn inside the book but none of them had these strange patterns.

Your eyebrows contorted at the realization.

"It's fucking Morse code!" You covered your mouth with your palm.

The Morse code writing MA-RR-Y-ME-LO-VE on each rings one by one just like it was found on the ring fingers of the victims.

What frightened you even more was that the ring of Ri-ha had MARRY ME LOVE written completely and wholly in Morse code.

Fuck! Ri-ha was the next target. You quickly went to contacts in your phone to call Ri-ha but just then another call came.

Hello Ryujin?

Y/N! Ri-ha's found dead in her apartment and there are no signs of the serial killer, her ring finger is empty though, there's nothing written like previous victims.

Your breath felt stuck. FUCKING HELL! You quickly ran out to the car when it struck you-

Jungkook!

It was his father's company after all, he wasn't the killer was he?

You shook your head in denial but then again- what we see isn't always true. So instead of going to the crime scene you drove to Jungkook's place, the place you had you spent your last night in.

You reached to his house and climbed the stairs to his unit, on knocking the door you found it was unlocked.

You swiftly took out the gun from your pocket and switched on the flashlight of your phone as it seemed dark inside.

You took careful and silent steps inside. After looking around the main living room you were approaching the bedroom when -SHUT!

You heard the main door shut close and the lights were back on, when you turned you saw Jungkook standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

Your suspicions felt true with each passing second. You pointed the gun towards him.

He chuckled, "It took me seven murders to make you come here to me, you're finally here Y/N!" He grinned widely.

You removed the trigger safety to shoot him, your lips twitched "Why did you kill them?"

He let out tiny airy laugh, "So that I could have you come here by yourself Y/N" He took out a box and on opening you saw the same ring made for Ri-ha.

"I didn't know my Y/N likes to be gentle in bed, I thought you'd be into something more hard and violent since you are a detective cop." He raised his eyebrows while smirking.

What the hell?! He knew you were a cop- he knew you from the start- perhaps he did this all knowing you'll take the bait, it was all a setup to lure you in- just like you were pretending, Jungkook was playing along too.

He smiled widely, "Y/N we're the perfect match, opposites attract after all. You are perfect for me and I'm perfect for you. Marry me love!"

And you realized it wasn't Ri-ha who liked perfection but it was him. What was worse that this wasn't a proposal, it was a statement.

-

Based on this ask ♡

Tysm for making till the end! Hope you enjoyed, your feedback is a diamond I can't afford from Jiwe Stones💗

[mint-yooxgi]

{9} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 9,094

Warnings: Whore Knee Thots, another lotr reference, I don’t think this one is too bad for things. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I forgot to add that a certain line of dialogue Yunho says in this chapter is cutesy of @synthetickitsune​ so thank you!!! And so part two becomes two of three lmaoo, I honestly did not expect this one chapter to get split into three, but with what I still have planned, it would have ended up like, 30k words by the end of it lmaoo. Hope you all enjoy, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Mini Masterlist

It only takes a moment for them to all catch up with you as you ride the escalator back down to the first floor. The only downside seems to be that you’ve closed off your mind from them again, your void almost perfectly back in place.

With difficulty, they all attempt to control their breathing for the time being; each male desperately tries to ground themselves, doing their best to keep their entire bodies from shaking as pure need courses through their veins. They didn’t think that they could fall anymore in love with you than they already are, but then you went and did this.

Anyone else have the desire to completely fucking ravish her until she passes out from pleasure right now? San’s gaze is locked onto your back as he licks his lips shamelessly, eyes dark and full of need.

That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Mingi swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, gaze roaming freely over your figure as you head towards the cash line with them in tow.

Did you see the way her personality just flipped in an instant? Wooyoung is nearly panting at this point, barely keeping it together as he stares at your ass.

I didn’t know she had it in her. Yunho replies, somewhat breathlessly. 

Pride swirls in his chest, reflected in his gaze as he recalls every detail of your instructions. He only hopes that they were able to impress you with how well they served you just now. Based off of the lingering thoughts he could hear echoing in your mind before you closed your void, he knows that that is most certainly the case. The fact that you seem grateful towards them, too, is simply icing on the cake.

Could she get anymore fucking perfect for us? Seonghwa bites his lip, needing to suppress the moan that shamelessly builds in his chest as he thinks back on the events that have just occurred. He can still feel his shoulder tingling from where you touched him earlier, too.

She has to know how this affects us, right? Jongho shoots them all a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes, seeing as he’s still standing next to you for the moment. The way you seemingly lean into him for support has a pleased growl building in his chest. What it means to us?

I’d be more than happy to show her. San’s lips part, taking some long, and what are supposed to be calming, breaths. Instead, it only makes his desire for you grow, becoming surrounded by everything you as his senses are overwhelmed. He swears he can practically taste you already on his tongue.

This day is turning out much better than I could have ever imagined. Yeosang admits, eyes roaming the side of your profile before taking a step closer and joining in on your conversation with Jongho in the next second.

I don’t think any of us could have imagined these pleasant turn of events. Hongjoong finally speaks, managing to calm himself down just enough to get his thoughts in order once more. 

Ever since he saw you turn around upstairs after you had finished your little condemnation of that bastard, he couldn’t help but be consumed by his fantasies once more. All Hongjoong could picture was the two of you standing side by side, vanquishing your enemies together, followed immediately by the most passionate love making of his entire life as you bathe in the blood of your victims. He nearly had to adjust himself there for a minute, until he managed to calm himself down enough on the small journey back to the first floor.

At least all of them can agree: you will become theirs soon. Officially. In every meaning of the word. You just have to. They’ll make sure of it, for they don’t know how much more of this that they can take. You drive them so crazy, and you don’t even realize it yet. Or maybe, you do.

Though, they still would never force you into anything you were truly uncomfortable with. They just want you, and bad. To rule at their side. To love and to cherish. To have and to hold. To protect and to keep forever as theirs, just as they are yours. Until the end of time.

Finally, it’s your turn to be cashed out at the front of the line after a few more minutes of waiting. Making your way over to the register, you begin to pull out your wallet.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang’s voice catches your attention as he walks up with both you and Jongho.

“Paying for my books.” You reply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“My Dear, I thought we already told you,” Yeosang smiles softly at you as he places a hand overtop of yours to prevent you from pulling out your wallet any further. In the next moment, he begins leading you out of the store. “Just let us take care of you.”

You blink, protests dying in your throat as you look back to see Jongho already holding a bag full of what you’re sure are your books. A second later, and they’re both ushering you out of the store to wait in the hallway for the others. As soon as they’re all in front of you once more, you’re crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“You know I don’t expect you all to pay for everything for me, right?” You shoot them all an expectant look.

“We know,” Hongjoong smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“It’s different if we want to do so.” Yunho says, somewhat matter-of-factly.

“We’ve already told you,” San gazes at you with a fond look shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about a single thing when you’re with us.”

“We are all more than ready and willing to provide for you in any and every way we can.” Jongho adds, eyes soft as he meets your own.

“Whatever you want,” it’s Mingi that draws your attention to him next, his eyes crinkling as he smiles widely at you.

“Whenever you need it,” Seonghwa breathes out, and only the eight of them truly understand the double meaning behind his words.

“Seeing you happy is all that we really want.” Wooyoung’s voice is gentle as the corner of his lips tug upwards in a grin.

“Just let us take care of you.” Yeosang repeats his words from only moments before, his hand settling on top of yours once more.

“Fine.” You let out a long exhale through your nose, lips tugging slightly downwards in defeat. “But I’m buying you all drinks later, or something.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Um, no.” You raise your hand, stopping the rest of the protest that begins to fall from Mingi’s lips.

“We don’t expect-“

“Ah-ah.” You wag your finger at Wooyoung next. “None of this ‘we can treat you, but you can’t treat us’ crap.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” You round on San, quirking your eyebrow as you look between all of them. “Just let me treat my men to something, okay?”

They all blink, caught momentarily off guard by your admission. Pleased growls build in their chests as your words sink in, Though, from the way you continue, it’s as if you haven’t even noticed you’ve said them, or the affect you’ve just had on all of them.

“If it’s not mutual, I don’t want it.” You shake your head slightly, as if to emphasize your point, turning around in the next moment to begin walking down the hall. At seeing them still standing exactly where you left them after taking a few steps, you’re turning to look at them from over your shoulder with a quirked brow, “coming?”

In an instant, both San and Wooyoung are on either side of you, that single word enough to snap them all out of their daze. The others fall in line shortly after, following close behind as you lead them around the mall.

Just as you walk past your local game store, a product in the window draws your gaze.

“No fucking way,” your jaw drops, blinking in mild shock as you pause in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” It’s Yeosang who follows your gaze immediately, a furrow to his brow at what could have possibly drawn your attention like this.

There, in the front window of the store, sits a giant Snorlax beanbag chair. Though, from how it’s stuffed into the display, he looks a little squished in your opinion.

“Free him,” you chuckle, already making your way over to the storefront to see how much he costs. At the price you see glaring back at you, your eyes widen, “never mind.”

Immediately, San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all begin to make their way towards the entrance. The only thought on each of their minds is buying that Snorlax for you, arguing with each other over who gets to pay. That is, until you’re stepping in front of them, successfully blocking their path to the store.

“No.” You shake your head.

“What did we just tell you?” San quirks a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest expectantly.

“I don’t care.” You shake your head once more. “It’s not a need, or a necessity.”

“Yet, books are?” Yunho quirks a brow at you this time, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Books are different,” you begin, noticing Wooyoung attempting to step around you only for you to match each of his movements. For a third time, you shake your head. “I’m putting my foot down for this.”

“If you truly don’t want us to, then we won’t.” Hongjoong says, shooting a stern look at the younger demons who look back at him with pouts on their faces. We can buy stuff for her later, when she can’t complain about it. Or stop us for that matter.

“Thank you.” You tilt your head in acknowledgement in his direction, a soft smile adorning your features.

Hongjoong smiles back, following your lead once more as you continue on down the hallway.

I’m coming back for that later. Yeosang immediately projects, quite sternly, into his brother’s minds. All of you find something else to buy for her.

Fine. Wooyoung replies, a bit grumpily. I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from, anyways.

Exactly. Hongjoong hums, noticing how you enter a store full of soaps, candles, and fragrances, amongst other products, next. I simply believe she isn’t used to being gifted the things she wants, especially when we don’t expect anything in return but her own happiness.

I still wish she’d let us treat her, though. Seonghwa grumbles, walking over to the display of colognes off to the side. Without pushback.

She will, Hongjoong replies, testing out a moisturizer on the back of his one hand. Eventually.

Yunho, keep an eye on her mind. Mingi adds, both him and San helping you decide on some candles as you continuously bring the different scents to your nose to test them.

Already on it. He grins, watching the scene fondly from the front of the store as Jongho and Yeosang stand beside him.

“Oh, I wonder if they have- they do!” Your eyes widen as excitement takes over your features.

In an instant, you’ve taken a few steps to your left, grabbing a specific candle off of the shelf and removing the lid. A smile tugs at your lips as your eyes flutter closed, a content hum escaping you as you take a deep breath in.

Each male cannot help the way their mouths suddenly go dry, that small sound of pleasure ringing through their ears just as it did last night.

“Mahogany teakwood,” you breathe, extending the candle out for both San and Mingi to smell. “My favourite scent.”

San leans in first to sniff it, smiling back at you in response as he straightens to his full height. 

It’s musky. Mingi comments to all of them after his first whiff of the candle. Definitely something a male might wear.

Are there any colognes of the scent? San turns, spotting Seonghwa by the display.

Immediately, Seonghwa is scanning the labels, attempting to find the one he’s looking for before San can finish making his way over to where he is. Luckily for him, he spots the bottle a moment later, snatching it off of the display in an instant. It was the last one, too.

You bastard. San growls, noticing how the eldest grins smugly at him while waving the bottle in the younger’s face.

You snooze, you lose. Seonghwa repeats the youngest’s words from earlier in the day, beginning to move off to a different section of the store.

Relax, there’s also a body wash. Wooyoung comments, already pulling a bottle off of the shelf to check the label.

Immediately, it’s like a race between San and Seonghwa to make it over to where Wooyoung is standing. Each male practically shoves the other out of the way as they reach the shelf, arguing amongst themselves about who gets to use this particular scent as their own.

You can only blink from across the store in shock, an amused snort escaping you as you watch the chaos unfold before your very eyes.

“Are they always like this?” You lean into Mingi who has yet to leave your side.

He sighs, a small quirk to his lips upwards, “you’d be surprised.”

“Honestly, you’d think there’s a sale on toner or something, with how they booked it across the store.” You mumble, chuckling to yourself as you turn back towards the candles. “Oh, fresh pine!”

Taking another candle off of the shelf, you’re quick to open the lid. Again, a smile tugs at your features as you inhale the earthy scent deeply. Almost immediately, you’re extending it out to Mingi who leans in without another thought to smell the candle.

“Another one of my favourites,” you admit, tucking it into your arm beside your mahogany teakwood candle.

Yunho- Mingi glances at his brother from across the store.

Already on it. Yunho grins, heading over to the display to pull two bottles of cologne off of it. I’ll grab the body wash, too.

Mingi nods subtly in the other male’s direction, following you once more through the store as you go to check out the seasonal candles.

See if you can find out what other scents she likes. Jongho’s voice echoes through all of their heads, even if his comment is directed at Mingi for the moment.

Already on it. Mingi repeats Yunho’s words from mere moments before, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches your eyes light up.

“Fresh orchard? Don’t mind if I ‘yes’,” you reach for the candle shamelessly, eyes widening as the faint, crisp scent of apples reaches your nose. Your face light ups. "And the apples aren’t overpowering everything. Hell yes!”

Mingi cannot help but share in your excitement as you extend the candle out for him to smell. He has to agree, the scent of the apples isn’t overpowering the other aromas found within, giving rise for the subtle vanilla, cinnamon, and oak to come through.

Looking up, he catches gazes with Jongho who stands just outside of the store. An understanding passes between them, Mingi subtly nodding his head at the youngest in an instant.

Only, you turn your head just in time to notice him looking at something outside of the store. Following his gaze, that’s when you see both Yeosang and Jongho still standing in the hallway of the mall, the few bags from the bookstore held in their hands. Your brow furrows.

“Sometimes all of the scents overwhelm them and give them headaches,” Mingi informs you.

“I had no idea,” a small frown pulls at your features, lips tugging downwards as you continue to stare at the two males outside of the shop. 

It’s then that you feel two subtle caresses brushing against your void, the water rippling beneath their touch. Tentatively, and probably against your better judgment, you’re opening your mind.

Little do you know of the way such a simple act warms their hearts.

Please, do not feel bad about this, Dearest. Yeosang’s voice is the first you hear resounding in your head. It is not your fault.

We are more than content to see you happy like this. Jongho adds as they both send you reassuring smiles.

You smile back softly, a subtle nod to your head before you’re closing off your void to them once more.

“I didn’t even know you guys could get headaches.” You say, turning back to Mingi beside you.

“It’s rare, but we can still suffer from the same ailments as you,” Hongjoong voices, walking up beside you with a few products in his hands. “Well, minus a few things, of course. Like cancer.”

“Huh,” you hum, nodding along with his words. “Interesting.”

“Granted, we can either let the ailment manifest, or heal ourselves immediately,” Hongjoong adds, watching as Mingi walks off to go grab some things of his own, including that fresh orchard scent for Jongho.

“It’s a little difficult to imagine you guys with something as trivial as a stomachache, if I’m being honest,” you reply, looking through the rest of the display before you.

“Yeah, that tends to only happen if we’ve ingested a really nasty soul,” Wooyoung pops up on your other side, reaching across to grab at a particular body lotion on display.

“Though, there are certain ailments that can affect us, but not you,” Hongjoong tells you, stepping out of the way as you go to move around him. “Others that affect us could potentially kill you if you ever caught them.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so assured,” you mumble, walking passed him for the moment.

“Don’t worry, Gorgeous, we’d take care of you,” Wooyoung grins, stepping in line beside you as you reach the back of the store. “We know all of the cures, anyways. If it ever came to that.”

“Not to mention we could just heal you if you got sick,” Hongjoong reminds you, the conversation he had with you about injuries in the garden flitting through his mind.

“Right,” you nod in acknowledgement, and he just knows you’re thinking back to that moment, too. “I remember you telling me that.”

“Or, we could just feed you our blood.” Wooyoung comments nonchalantly.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “excuse me?”

“It would be the fastest way to heal you,” Hongjoong says, shooting a pointed look towards Wooyoung for just dropping that little tidbit of information on you. “Quicker and more effective than our healing abilities, with some added side effects.”

“Side effects?” Your brow furrows.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” Hongjoong assures you with a small smile. “We would never let you get to a point where you would need to ingest our blood to heal yourself, anyways.”

“Good to know,” you huff out a small laugh, lips quirking upwards in slight disbelief at the conversation you’ve just had with them.

Hongjoong smiles back at you as the others all come to join you in the cash line, seeing as they’ve also finished looking around for the moment.

“Got everything you need?” Seonghwa asks, a soft smile painting his features as you nod back at him in response.

“They stopped carrying my other favourite scent a while ago,” you sigh, a slight pout to your lips. “So, this is good for now.”

“What one was that?” San is a little too eager in his inquiry.

“Sea island cotton.” You reply, somewhat wistfully. “It was really light and soothing.”

Hongjoong’s brow furrows, holding out one of the bottles of lotion in his hands, “you mean this?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you see the label facing you, your free hand coming up to snatch the bottle right out of his hand. Then, you meet his gaze. “Where did you find this?”

Hongjoong points over his shoulder at the back corner of the store, blinking at you in mild shock at the wide-eyed look you send him.

“I’ll be right back,” you immediately go to step out of line, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“I’ll grab it for you,” Seonghwa offers, not even giving you a chance to deny him as he steps out of line, already halfway to the display in the blink of an eye.

Hwa, can you- Yeosang doesn’t even get to finish his question before the eldest is replying.

I’ve got you covered. Reaching the display, Seonghwa grabs a few different bottles including a body mist, body lotion, and a few body washes before heading back over to the cash line.

As soon as you see the bottles in his hands, your eyes light up, and each male practically swoons at the sight. All save for Seonghwa, who instead feels his heart fluttering in his chest as you look at him like he’s just brought you the greatest gift you could ever ask for. He swallows thickly, attempting to keep his arms from shaking.

Yeah. They could all get used to this.

“Here, why don’t you give us your stuff and go wait outside with Yeosang and Jongho?” Yunho says, already reaching to take the few items that you’re holding from your hands.

Again, the protests you’re about to say die in your throat as Mingi grabs the final item from you. In the next moment, Wooyoung uses his free hand to begin turning you around gently, ushering you to take a step towards the entrance of the store.

“Fine,” you grumble, a slight pout tugging at your lips as you cross you arms in front of your chest, beginning to make your way out of the shop.

Both Yeosang and Jongho smile as soon as they see you, having gotten a glimpse of your excited expression only moments before curtesy of their brothers. They absolutely adore the fact that you choose to stand in-between them, too, even if you still have your arms crossed in discontent for the moment.

A few minutes later, the other six are all walking out of the store, bags held in their hands. You attempt to reach for some of them, only to be brushed off by each male holding a bag. Even when you complain that you can carry something, they assure you that it’s fine. They don’t want you worrying your pretty little head about anything today, or ever for that matter.

You pout once more, leading them further down the hall and towards the direction of the foodcourt for the time being. Still, you cannot help but mutter about those damn demons once more under your breath, causing smiles to pull at all of their faces.

“If you want to hold onto something that badly,” San begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes that his brothers know all too well, “hold on to this.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed your hand in his, interlocking your fingers together without a second thought. He can just feel the jealous glares of his brothers on his back as he watches your eyes widen, a momentary falter to your steps as he catches you off guard. At the way he cheekily smiles at you, you can only avert your gaze somewhat shyly in response, a heat rising to your cheeks.

The best part? You don’t pull away.

“I am curious, though,” you say after a little while, San beginning to swing your interlocked hands gently back and forth between you as he hears Wooyoung complaining to him about holding onto your hand in his head. “How exactly do you guys get the money for all of this stuff? It’s hard to imagine you all working any type of retail job.”

“Could you imagine us working at a grocery store?” Wooyoung laughs. “Seonghwa would bite someone’s head off within five minutes.”

You half expect the oldest to complain about what Wooyoung’s saying about him, but at the subtle nodding of Seonghwa’s head, you let out a snort of laughter. 

Instantly, he’s turning to meet your gaze, a sheepish shrug gracing his shoulders as he grins back at you. “Guilty.”

“Jongho and Yeosang definitely wouldn’t have the patience to deal with difficult customers.” Yunho observes, receiving a loud ‘hey’ in protest from the youngest.

“San would be throwing out nearly all of the produce, complaining that it’s not fresh enough to be stocked on shelves,” Mingi joins in with a chuckle, a large smile painting his features.

“It’s true, though!” San retorts, an exasperated look pulling onto his features.

“Yes, yes, we all know about your two hour long rant on produce quality,” Yeosang practically rolls his eyes in response to the male’s reaction, eliciting another of the sweetest giggles from your lips.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong is drawing your attention to him as he speaks for the moment. “To answer your question, My Love, we acquire our wealth through many different means. The main ones being investing, and through real estate. We’ve been around for quite a long time, that we’ve learned a few tricks of the trade.”

“We are also the Kings of the Realm with the whole wealth of the underworld at out fingertips.” Jongho adds, nonchalantly.

The way you nod, clearly impressed, has pride filling their chests once more.

“That’s not to mention our other means of acquirement,” Wooyoung wiggles his brows at you suggestively.

“Never pictured you guys as strippers, but oddly enough, it’s very fitting.” You reply without a second thought, a store up ahead catching your attention.

Mingi nearly trips over his own feet as Wooyoung bursts out laughing, causing some heads of passers by to turn to look in your direction.

“We’re not-“ Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head at the younger demon with the skunk dyed hair. “We’re not strippers.”

“Ah,” your eyes go wide as you draw out the syllable, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Shame.”

“What Wooyoung meant to say, is that we sometimes acquire wealth through other, unfavourable means as well.” Hongjoong explains.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Elaborate.”

“Gambling, the black market, assassinations: you name it,” Yunho informs you, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Honestly,” you let out a sharp puff of air through your nose, “that doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.”

“Well, we are essentially demons.” Yeosang voices with a small shrug.

“Demonic entities,” you say, somewhat breathlessly, recalling the very first night when you learned of their true nature. “What does that even mean? Aren’t you guys essentially gods?”

San smirks, “you could say that.”

Then, as if recalling another one of your memories, you continue, “you all flinch whenever I say phrases referring to the catholic religion. Or at least, I think you do.”

“Force of habit,” Mingi replies honestly. “It’s difficult to not remember a time when people would use those phrases to curse our names.”

“Would it help if I told you that I don’t really believe in them, and I say those things more as a reactionary phrase just to say them over anything else?” You quirk a brow. Then, quickly, you add, “but I’ll never say them again if it hurts you.”

All of them are touched by your consideration for them right now, that they cannot help but fall even deeper for you in this moment. You all still may not be on the best of terms, but if today is anything to go by, you are both very receptive and accepting of them already. In the little time that they’ve actually been with you, they’ve been able to make tremendous progress. A fact which makes them beyond joyous in this moment here in time.

“It does indeed help.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, probably the most touched out of all of them by your sudden consideration. “Though, don’t feel as if you have to stop saying those phrases now. Especially if you do not actually believe in them.”

You nod, turning your attention back to the front as you continue to walk down the hallway.

“Then, what do you believe in?” Jongho asks the question on all of their minds, curiosity reflected in all of their eyes as they shift their focus back onto you.

You stare ahead, blinking a few times as you watch the shop that you want to check inside of get closer and closer. Then, the corner of your lips is twitching upwards as you decide to let your thoughts actually be vocalized for the moment. You figure that there’s no harm in letting them know.

“I believe in all of you.”

For the second time that day, tears line the corner of Mingi’s eyes. Both Yunho and Jongho cannot help the way that their breaths hitch in their throats, while both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have to place one of their hands over their beating hearts to keep them from bursting right out of their chests. Yeosang pauses momentarily mid-step as his eyes close, his hand coming up to cover the lower half of his face as he absolutely revels in your words.

A soft smile tugs onto Hongjoong’s features, nothing but absolute fondness and adoration shining in his gaze as he looks at you. His heart swells in his chest, his throat bobbing as he swallows all of the words he wants to say back to you in this moment, in order to simply bask in this glorious feeling.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San wiping at his cheek with the back of his free hand.

You blink, worry taking over your features immediately as you halt right in your tracks, conveniently right in front of the store you want to enter. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not,” San squeezes your hand reassuringly, bringing it up to his lips to place a tender kiss onto your skin as he holds it there, revelling both in the feeling and meaning of this moment here in time with you.

“It just means a lot to us.” Yunho clears his throat, voice suddenly rough with the rawness of his emotions as he is overcome by the significance of your words. “What you’ve just said.”

“More than you’ll ever know.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, his eyes shining with something that you don’t quite understand, but once it finally sinks in, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You take a moment to look around at the eight men surrounding you. You can see the adoration clear in their eyes, the fondness shining within causing your heart to race. No one has ever gazed at you so lovingly before. A fact of which causes your heart to then swell with an unfamiliar emotion, but a pleasant one, nonetheless.

For the first time in your life, you understand what it feels like to be someone’s first choice. You understand what it feels like to be wanted, to be desired by another person in a way that you are starting to desire them. You feel safe. You feel cared for. More than all of that, you feel comfortable in your own skin around them.

For the first time in your entire life, you understand what it feels like for someone to be in love with you. You, and only you.

A soft smile graces your features as you squeeze San’s hand back, looking between all of them once more as you all share in this tender moment together.

“I want to know more about you guys,” you say, watching as their features all light up in excitement. “But first, let me head in there to see an old friend,” you point to the jewellery store across from you as you gently drop San’s hand, much to his discontent, “and then we can all talk over drinks.”

Smiles pull at all of their lips, and you see a few of them nod their heads eagerly at your words.

“Sounds good,” Hongjoong meets your gaze, tone reflecting the happiness on his features.

“Great,” you smile, already heading towards the shop mere steps away.

The jewellery store is small in size, more of an antique shop than anything else as gems glitter in the display cases surrounding the area. In fact, a lot of the items look hand made, for each piece is unique in its design. Some of the pieces are rare, and some are odd: not typical items one would find in your average jewellery store. 

There only seems to be one person sitting inside behind the counter at the moment, scrolling through his phone. However, as soon as he looks up to see you walking into the store with both Seonghwa and Hongjoong in tow, his eyes are widening.

An excited gasp of your name slips past the male’s lips as he hops off of the stool he had been sitting on in order to practically tackle you in a hug. At the way you hear two pointed exhales behind you, you can just tell the two eldest are staring daggers at this man right now. You chuckle.

“David, hey!” You smile, pulling away to hold him at arm’s length. “It’s been a while.”

“You’re telling me, Missy.” He shoots you a pointed look, voice full of sass. “I thought I was going to die of boredom if you didn’t come to see me again, soon.”

“You’d die of boredom, anyways,” you roll your eyes, smacking his arm playfully.

“Guilty,” he grins, a small shrug to his one shoulder. “Anyways, how’ve you been? I heard you’re no longer working at the mall, which is why you haven’t come to visit in a while. Thanks for letting me know, by the way.”

“Oh, you most definitely don’t sound upset about that,” you snort, rolling your eyes teasingly in the next moment. “I meant to tell you, I really did! Just, shit happened.”

“Oh my god, was it Henry?” Immediately, concern is written all over his features.

Behind you, you can practically feel both Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s chests rumbling with suppressed growls. So, for the first time, you attempt to do to them what they’ve done to you. With difficulty, you envision reaching out to them with your void, hoping that they’ll be able to pick up on it if they’re still constantly monitoring your thoughts. You’re sure they are, especially if their sharp inhales are anything to go by, which can mean one thing, and one thing only. It worked.

“No, no, luckily not,” you’re quick to shake your head. “I have a feeling he’s not going to be bothering anyone ever again.”

“Bastard finally got his comeuppance, did he?” David quirks a brow at you.

“A well deserved punishment dealt swiftly, and quite flawlessly, if I do say so myself,” you smile, and you fail to realize just how proud you’ve made the two males (and the six in the hallway) standing behind you at your words.

“Thank fuck,” David breathes, closing his eyes momentarily as a sense of relief washes over him. Then, it’s as if his whole demeanour flips, a bright smile painting his features as he meets your gaze once more. “What brings you in today?”

“Can’t I come in to see my lovely friend?” You quirk a brow, grin tugging at your lips.

“And here I was thinking you came to pick up that necklace you commissioned from me.” He replies, already moving back behind the counter.

“Necklace?” Your brow furrows only momentarily until realization is crossing your features. With so much going on, you completely forgot about the fact that you had him make one for you. “Oh, right! That necklace.”

“Honestly, woman, how do you survive?” He chuckles teasingly, opening the door to the backroom to peek his head inside. “Suzy, can you bring out order eighty-seven?”

“I honestly forgot about that,” you chuckle, somewhat nervously. You just know that this has grabbed the two male’s attention behind you. Two male who have remained unusually silent for the moment as they pretend to browse through the store on their own.

In the next moment, a shorter woman appears almost eagerly, holding a somewhat large black velvet box in her hands. As soon as she sees you, her eyes light up, an excited squeal of your name escaping her lips. “I just knew it was you as soon as David told me to grab this order!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Suzy,” you smile at her enthusiasm.

“Well, here you go,” she hands the box to you and you turn to place it on top of the counter. 

David now stands across from you while the two demons step in behind you, casually observing from over each one of your shoulders. They have no idea what this necklace could be, considering your thoughts are closed off, and all they’re getting from both Suzy and David are how excited they are to see your reaction.

Slowly, you begin to open the velvet box in front of you. 

A gasp escapes you as you take in the elegance of the design, noting the little details of the craftwork as you lift the necklace carefully out of the case. The way the gems gleam in the light has your eyes sparkling in awe. Your breath catches in your throat at the amount of effort you know David put into this for you, and you cannot help the way your heart warms at that fact alone.

There, dangling like the brightest star in the night sky, is a perfect replica of Arwen’s Evenstar necklace.

“I’m sure you two know all about her little obsession with that favourite series of hers.” David grins, directing his comment towards the two males standing beside you at the moment. He’s noticed how close they’ve been to you since entering the store, not only physically, but with how they seem to watch you carefully, a tender look in each one of their eyes.

“Believe me,” Seonghwa breathes out, projecting your beautiful, awestruck expression to his other brothers currently waiting outside in the hallway.

“We know.” Hongjoong concludes just as breathlessly, his own eyes catching on the way yours reflect the light just like the piece of jewellery in your hand.

“David,” you meet his gaze, the sincerity shining in your own, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You commissioned it.” He grins back, seemingly shrugging off your praise for the moment. “I’m just glad I could deliver.”

“How much do I owe you?” You begin, settling the necklace back in its box for the time being as you softly close the lid.

“You already payed for it, remember?” He chuckles, reaching over and grabbing your free hand that you have resting on top of the counter before you, giving it a gentle squeeze in the next second.

“Right,” you chuckle along with him, “I did.”

“Sometimes you have to treat yourself to the things you want most.” Suzy directs her comment at you with a smile, repeating your very words back to you that you had told her when you first commissioned this piece of jewellery. “You should indulge yourself more often; let yourself have nice things.”

You smile softly. “Right.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it because it’ll make what I’m about to tell you less painful,” David leans against the counter, motioning behind you to a specific display with his chin. “It sold.”

Your jaw drops, immediately turning and stepping across the store to take in the case that held one of your two favourite items in the shop. “No way.”

“What sold?” It’s Hongjoong who asks the question, casually looking over all of the items in the case before him.

“Only her favourite jewelled dagger.” David grins, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze for the first time since he entered the shop. “It was ceremonial, too."

For the second time that day, Hongjoong needs to lean onto the display in front of him for support. His breathing nearly comes in jagged pants, were it not for the way he manages to control himself for the time being. Barely. Still, he cannot help the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine at learning this specific fact about you.

“You don’t say,” his voice is airy, turning to look at the way you circle the glass case before you.

“I’m surprised whoever bought it didn’t buy the matching sword.” You hum, noting the jewelled handle with the same exact design as the dagger.

“I tried to sell them as a set, but the girl that bought it only wanted the dagger,” David replies with an exasperated sigh.

You scoff, “shame the set was separated, but they are both expensive items.”

“I guess so,” David sighs once more, resting his head in his open palm as he continues to lean against the counter. “Perhaps it’s a sign that you should buy the sword.”

At the suggestive wiggle of David’s brows, you let out a puff of laughter. 

“You know that if I buy myself a sword, I’m buying a replica of Anduíl.” You shoot David a look, shaking your head in the next moment, muttering under your breath, “just wish it wasn’t over two-fucking-thousand dollars for one.”

The two eldest share a look.

“I didn’t know you liked blades,” Seonghwa voices, attempting to control himself as well for the moment. The mental image alone of you holding one of his swords in your hands has his knees weak, throat suddenly parched as he looks towards you for the time being.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just the stereotypical bisexual in me,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “I’ve always had an affinity towards them. Swords, knives, daggers, you name it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’ve got a knife kink,” David waves you off, standing back to his full height with a teasing grin on his face. “Goes hand in hand with that blood kink of yours.”

Your mouth falls open in horror, a heat rising to your cheeks. “David!”

Even Suzy looks caught off guard by his statement, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she leans against the wall.

Most importantly, though, you don’t deny it.

Little do you all know of how this little admission affects the two males in the shop, but especially one in particular. Now, Hongjoong barely suppresses his pleased growl, his mind running wild with this new information. 

Perhaps he should take you to see his knife collection at some point, letting you pick out the ones you like most to use as you play out all of his darkest fantasies with him. The trust alone you would have for him at that point in your relationship sends a shiver down his spine as he envisions it now. Not to mention the added effect of you and him covered in blood, laving your tongues over each other’s skin to drink in the victory of vanquishing your enemies together.

You literally could not be more perfect.

“At least we still have the other item you always love to stare at when you’re here,” David breaks the growing tension in the shop, voice cutting through the silence as he moves back to his original spot by the stool.

“Really? It still hasn’t sold?” You choose to move on from the embarrassment you’re still feeling, hoping that the two males won’t bring up what they’ve just learned about you any time soon. Though, with how dark their gazes are as they look at you, you know they won’t be letting this go so quickly.

“Even I’m surprised,” Suzy adds, seemingly back to her normal, chipper self after those scandalizing comments from David about you.

“What is it?” This time, it’s Seonghwa who asks.

A knowing smirk pulls onto David’s features, “I’ll show you.”

“No, David-“ you don’t even get a chance to protest as he’s unlocking the cabinet in front of him and pulling out the item in question.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa cannot prevent the way their breaths catch in their throats at the object now presented to them. Moans nearly spilling from their lips as they take in the sight before them.

There, on a red velvet display pillow, resides a beautiful crystal crown. Diamonds and white sapphires sparkle along the base, interwoven between the opaque quarts gems rising into a sharp point from either side. Small chains adorn the bottom, and as David lifts the crown, they fall, only to dangle with more small crystals hanging off of the ends. The intricacy of the design alone takes their breath away. Not to mention how it absolutely glimmers beneath the artificial lights of the store, each gem sparkling beneath their gaze.

Truly, a crown fit for their Queen.

“I think today should be the day you finally put it on.” David directs his comment towards you, seemingly nonchalant as he quirks a brow.

“We couldn’t agree more,” Seonghwa replies breathlessly, as both he and Hongjoong turn to look at you, eagerness shining in their eyes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure of what to do.

“Oh, please?” Suzy whines, eyes shining and hopeful. “I’ve always wanted to see you wear it.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as all four of their gazes are now locked on you. Even as your eyes drift past Seonghwa’s head, you can see the six males waiting in the hallway just outside watching on intently, an almost pleading eagerness to their own features.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, voice but a mere whisper on the air, “Alright.”

Stepping towards David, you begin to do whatever you can to steady your nerves. You know this will mean more to the eight of them than to you right now, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you have always wanted to wear a crown. You’ve just never had a reason to have one before now.

For a moment, the shared memory of you in that field with Yunho flashes through your mind, and you cannot help but to smile softly. A sentiment which is shared by the tall male in the hallway as he catches a glimpse of that moment flitting through your mind. At least this won’t be the first time one of them is seeing you in a crown.

Shifting your attention back to the situation in front of you, you notice Hongjoong standing before David.

“May I?” He asks, and you think that this is the most regal that you’ve ever seen him.

“Be my guest,” David grins, handing the crown over to Hongjoong without a second thought.

Hongjoong’s hands are shaking, whole body trembling as he turns towards you with the crown now held in his grasp. Even Seonghwa, who stands slightly off to the side, is having a hard time keeping it together at this very moment as he supports himself with one hand on top of a display case. Both cannot help but to hold their breaths, waiting in anticipation for what is still yet to come.

Then, as if your body already knows exactly what to do, you take a knee, lowering your head as Hongjoong approaches you. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his presence before you, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Ever so slowly, and with the grace of a thousand moons, Hongjoong places the crown gently upon your head.

The moment you feel its weight on you, your eyes open. In the second it takes for him to take a step away from you, you stand back to your feet, lifting your head to see all eight of them already looking towards you.

The sight of you, standing before them in a crown, nearly sends them all to their knees right then and there for the third time that day. 

The first had been when you turned around in that bookstore, your condemnation of that bastard fresh in their minds as they all nearly went wild from your change in persona. The way you commanded their attention, and dealt your judgment, made them feel like a true ruler stood before them. Their Queen.

The second was when you told them you believed in them, only solidifying the fact that they are always ready and willing to do anything for you. They are so desperately in love with you, and to know that you trust them, that you believe in them, made them so unbelievably happy, their souls ascending like never before. Their confidant.

Now, they are finally able see one of their greatest desires coming to fruition before their very eyes, and none of them can deny the way that you look absolutely stunning. Words cannot even begin to describe your beauty to them right now, nor how much this moment means to them at this point in time. The love of their lives.

If they could, they would be on their knees in a heartbeat, worshipping and praising you in every and any way imaginable. After all, it’s what they’ve always wanted, and it’s what you’ve always deserved.

“You look absolutely regal.” David’s lips part in a gasp, pulling upwards into an excited smile in the next moment.

“I always knew you were a queen!” Suzy comments cheerfully, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Our Queen. Growls of approval build in their chests as they continue to take in the ethereal sight that is you before them like this.

If you don’t buy that for her right fucking now, Wooyoung begins, the sentiment being echoed by all of his brothers in this very moment, I will.

In your fucking dreams, I’m buying this for her. San retorts, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness as he turns towards the younger male beside him.

As much as I agree, you guys can fight over this one, Yunho voices. I’ve already given her a crown of my own.

At this, all five males standing around him turn to glare harshly at Yunho. Were it not for the fact that they are in public right now, Mingi’s hands would already be wrapped around the elder male’s throat.

“How much is it?” Hongjoong’s voice manages to draw all of their attention back into the shop before them.

At the way your eyes widen significantly, you’re quick to take the crown off of your head and place it back onto the plush pillow on the counter.

“Don’t answer that.” You shoot a pointed look at David, shaking your head subtly as he glances at you out of the corner of his eyes. 

Then, he’s making a quick zipping motion across his lips, shooting you a wink in the next moment before turning back to face Hongjoong.

“Sorry, brother,” David sighs, putting the crown back inside it’s case. “Lady’s wishes.”

The snarls you can see beginning to tug onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s features have you reacting quickly.

“Anyways, we should get going!” You cut in, reaching over to place a hand each onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s shoulders to turn them around and guide them out of the shop. Only, just as quickly as your touch comes, it’s gone, you reaching over to grab the velvet box with your necklace in it in the next second, shaking it slightly in your hand. “Thanks again for this, you don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” David responds, coming around to give you a big hug once more. “Stop by anytime.”

“Come see us again, soon!” Suzy adds, scurrying around the counter to give you a hug of her own.

You chuckle. “I will, I promise.”

Waving a final goodbye to the two of them, you turn back around, noticing how the two eldest seem to be having a silent conversation with the six males outside of the shop. It’s only when you gently tap their upper backs, helping to guide them both out of the shop, do they move.

Stepping back up to the other six, you’re quick to continue making your way down the hallway once more. Only, there’s a slight nervousness to you now. They can see it clearly in the way your shoulders are tense, your hands gripping onto that velvet box for dear life.

It’s Yeosang who manages to break the sudden tension between the nine of you.

“Can I see?” His voice is soft as he falls into step beside you, eyes briefly glancing to the box held in your hands.

“Huh-“ you blink, seemingly pulled out of your thoughts as you turn to look at him gazing at you so fondly. You smile softly, “of course.”

Carefully, you open the case, slowing your pace to make sure you don’t accidentally drop the necklace now held in your hands. Again, that same twinkle in your eyes makes an appearance as you continue to gaze at it in awe, your heart racing in your chest.

“Would you like to put it on?” It’s Wooyoung who asks you, voice kind and caring as he glances between the necklace and your eyes.

You take a moment to consider his words before you nod gently in response.

Without wasting any time, Wooyoung takes the chain from your hand, undoing the clasp as he steps in behind you. He can practically feel you shiver against his touch as his fingers brush against the back of your neck, securing the necklace in place in the next moment.

He can’t help it. Wooyoung trails the tips of his fingers of his one hand along the nape of your neck and all the way to your shoulder as he steps around you to see the piece of jewellery now hanging from your neck. The way you shiver once more beneath his touch has the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

Despite the fact that it’s not something that they have gifted you, each male cannot deny how perfectly the jewel suits you. The gem gleams beneath their gaze, seemingly making you shine brighter than before. A fact which makes them swoon for a second time that day.

“Beautiful,” Mingi breathes, a gentle smile gracing his features reflected similarly on all of his brother’s faces.

Again, you avert your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck as you clear your throat. “So, how about that drink, then?”

[banjjakz]

➡ Lie.

“I got lost,” is your answer.

Entirely unconvincing. Who would believe such a ridiculous tale? The backstage area is clearly labeled as restricted, and the dressing rooms have all of their names spelled out on the doors for fuck’s sake!

And yet, Yuuta regards you with nothing but the utmost sincerity. “Oh, no,” he murmurs, pulling the door shut behind him as he enters farther into the space. There is a soft little click that punctuates his full entrenchment into this increasingly strange situation – was that the lock, you just heard?

“Did you come from the concert, just now? Do you need some help finding your way back?”

He doesn’t stop his slow advance. So kind, always so kind. This unthinking, unwavering compassion is exactly why you fell for Yuuta in the first place.

“Yes please…” You dodge the first question, hoping against hope that he doesn’t notice. “Would you mind?” Why does he keep getting closer? Is he suspicious of something? But his expression is so serene…

Nothing could possibly prepare you for the ice-cold grip on your wrist. Despite the frigidity, Yuuta’s fingers are surprisingly gentle as they handle you, deftly, like a kindly stranger’s hand upon the rough coat of a stray cat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “I actually don’t believe you.”

Your eyes widen. Breath sputtering to death in your throat, you are frozen with a fear so primal it roots your skeleton to the structure of the building. You are unable to move – to breathe, to think, even.

“You’re just so cute when you lie for me.”

…?!?!

“H-huh—”

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” he continues, eyes half-lidded with something too close to amorousness than you can quite process. “Why do you think I left the door open, princess?”

‘Princess’? Surely, he doesn’t—he can’t—

Leaning in, Okkotsu silences the remnants of any coherent thought in your mind, like two deft fingers extinguishing the end of a wick.

“After all these years, you think I wouldn’t know who you are?”

And then he whispers your name – not your online handle, or any of your digital aliases used across multiple platforms. No, he uses your real, actual name: the name by which those closest to you call out in moment of affection, grief, frustration, resignation; the name to which you are conditioned to respond, as any simple creature of habit is trained to do, with pert ears and an almost childishly open vulnerability.  

Understanding breaks through the raging, tumultuous waves of your roiling sensibilities. Despite the temptation to continue living on in disbelief, you choose the word of Yuuta over the word of wisdom, of even internal wisdom: he would never lie to you. That’s not who Yuuta is, not to you.

Not only does Yuuta recognize you as @princess-okkotsu, but he also knows you as you – you from all those years ago, before the wota antics took full control of your online activity, when you were young and foolish enough to interact with his social media accounts with your local profile which still bore your publicly-identifiable name.

“Y-Yuuta-san—”

“That’s not who I am to you,” he murmurs, drawing back just far enough to thunk his forehead against your own. “You know who I am. What do you really call me? Come on.” At your demurring, he nudges his head into yours, a gentle yet insistent push. “Don’t be shy.”

“Yuu-chan…”

So embarrassing!!!!!

It is every wota’s worst/best nightmare/fantasy to have their oshi actually have seen all the embarrassing, mushy-gushy posts made in the throes of starry-eyed adoration! He was never supposed to have known that you think of him as a cute, endearing specimen caged behind glass against which you cannot keep yourself from rapping obsessively…

A full body shudder possesses his body upon your hesitant utterance.

“Again,” he pleas, voice pitching up into whiny territory. “Again, again…”

Daringly, one of your hands rises to cusp the nape of his neck. Is this allowed? Are you really being granted with this otherworldly opportunity. Instead of brushing you off, he leans completely into your touch.

“Yuu-chan,’ you repeat, this time with less of a tremor. “You’ve been waiting a long time, haven’t you?”

Wordlessly, he nods – but there are no expressions in any language that could possibly convey the literal meaning of the way his bones shift and sway, melting at the heat in your charged inquiry. Spurred on by his enthusiastic invitation, you tangle your fingers in his lanky locks, cementing a solid grasp before yanking back hard, forcing him to expose the erratically bobbing column of his throat.

“No more waiting,” you whisper into his trachea. “I’m right here. Isn’t that just the best? Aren’t you happy, Yuu-chan?”

“S-so happy,” he almost sobs. “Can we—can you—”

“Let’s sit, baby, let’s sit down—”

And this is how you find yourself seated on the rough, tiled floor, mere centimeters away from the remnants of scorched cigarette butts and the carcasses of unidentifiable creatures. Yuuta lays halfway on top of you, his back cradled in the crook of your elbow, knobby spine protruding through his oversized tunic and digging into your thighs. He’s propped up in your caring embrace, eye-level with your sternum, and mouth-level with your…well…

“Please,” he groans, nosing into your bosom. Your top had promptly been ripped off within moments of descending upon the floor, and now your bare flesh prickles with nervous, antsy goosebumps. Even though his breath washes over you in hot and heavy pants, it does little to dispel the involuntary shivers wracking through your frame. In fact, the proximity of his moist, red, gaping mouth only makes your body quake even harder.

The words come through you like a message sent from somewhere beyond. Your body is nothing but a conduit for pure, carnal desire. “What do you say, Yuu-chan?”

“Thank you for the meal.”

And with that, Yuuta latches onto your nipple, sucking hard and desperate.

You, for your part, somehow resist the urge to throw your head back and clench your eyes shut with a pleasured groan. It’s tempting – truly – to lose yourself in the all-consuming spiral of pleasure. But you could never forgive yourself if you missed even a fraction of a second of this glorious moment.

The sight of Okkotsu Yuuta – the love of your life, ultimate idol, and forever oshi – suckling on your breast, needy and whiny and sweaty like a bitch in heat, is an experienced that must be forever branded into each individual fiber of your being.

When his squirming legs threaten to topple you onto your back, you finally decide to pay him some attention where it matters the most.

“Oh? Is Yuu-chan excited?” You feign surprise at the conspicuous tent in his trousers. Vaguely, your higher sense of reasoning kicks in long enough to produce the question of how is there even enough room in that leather entrapping for a boner to even tent in the first place?

And yet, there is an undeniable bulge revolting against his fly. It’s an act of mercy, to unzip him as though unwrapping a treat, decadent and illicit, shamefully pleasurable. Head swimming with the headiness of it all, your hand moves on its own accord, creeping underneath his pants, twitching excitedly at the revelation that he’s gone commando tonight, the dirty boy.

“No underwear?” You muse, proud of the way your breath hitches only slightly as he continues to maul your boobs. “Were you expecting something, Yuu-chan? Did you know I’d find you tonight?”

“’Was gonna find you,” is the indignant mumble he huffs into your chest. And here you were, foolishly thinking that your underwear could not get any more soaked.

His long, calloused bassist’s fingers carve desperate crescents in your flesh when you start to stroke his long, hard length. It’s a painfully dry friction, one that brings tears to his eyes and a tortured groan to his throat. Taking pity on his poor soul, you raise the offending hand to his mouth, a wordless instruction for him to spit. Of course, the two of you are so in sync that he obeys your unspoken command, mewling in ecstasy when you whisper a soft, gushy good boy into the crown of his head.

“Does it feel nice, Yuu-chan? Am I treating you well? Aren’t you so glad we were finally able to embrace one another?”

The room is filled with nothing but the obscene squelches of your hand working diligently up and down on his painfully erect arousal, the intimate suckling of his mouth and teeth and tongue and lips around your sore, puffy nipples. He releases you for a harrowing, nearly painful moment, to reply:

“Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank youthankyouthankyouthanky—”

“Shh, enough of that – ahnnn, there you go, that’s a good boy…”

You shove his head back into your tits, busying his mouth with other, more pressing matters. From there, it takes little work to rile him up to a hip-bucking, toe-curling precipice. With each twist of your wrist does Yuuta grow closer and closer to imminent release. He must think you a tyrant for releasing your grip after one particularly thorough tug, which sees his mental collapse into lust-addled disarray. At your hand’s departure, he cries aloud, a wounded animal.

Hushing him gently, you bring one hand to smooth down the sweaty hair at his temples as you rock him back and forth like a babe. It lulls him into settling, even just for a moment. His howling betrayal when you inevitably rob him of completion once more is entirely understandable.

By the fifth and final denial of his impending orgasm, Yuuta is a wet puddle of sweat, precum, snot, and tears, loosely contained by your own moist, slick arms. This time, when he begs you, his voice is unrecognizable from any performance or live stream, any pre-recorded vlog or variety show content; you take a moment to relish in the fact that you are the only one who gets to claim knowledge of this side of his (up until this point, he’s maintained his virginity – you’ve made sure of this).

“Puh—puh—puh-lease,” he bellows, syllables accented by his endearing dry-heaves. “C-c-can I, can, w-will you—”

“Ask nicely,” you simper, your hand languidly toying with the slick head of his oversensitive cock.

“Plllllleasenn, ah! Please….can I cum?”

What else are you supposed to say, when he looks up at you with those wide, all-seeing eyes of his? Normally, Yuuta inspires feelings of simultaneous awe and dread in the hearts of his onlookers. Right now, all you can hone in on is the flush high on his cheekbones radiating lethal amounts of heat, the split petals of his pink, swollen lips.

“Can Yuu-chan show me how good he feels?”

Hysterically, Yuuta nods.

“Alright then. Go on.”

The final wail of completion wells inside of him like the pre-eminent receding shore of a tsunami: at first, he shakes apart in unsettling silence, sliding to the floor without sound, a corpse collapsing to its final resting place. And then, when the wave crashes down upon him, upon the both of you, he screams into his forearm, biting down hard against the muscle and tendon shoved between his teeth in a fruitless attempt to muffle his ecstasy. The wave of pleasure only crests higher, only crashes down harsher, when you ignore his feeble pleas to sssstopstopstopsosensitivestop, opting instead to milk his sorry, spent cock for all that it’s worth.

When you’re finally satisfied, you release him. Immediately, he shuffles backwards on his elbows to curl up in your lap, limbs entwined around your midsection with unrelenting affection. It’s all you can do to rub his back and shift your weight from hipbone to numb, floor-bruised hipbone, humming low and quiet in the back of your throat.

Yes, you’re soothing him just fine with your gentle touch and rumbling tones – but the black blanket wadded up in a sad little ball, just a few paces away, calls to you. It only takes but a second to rise, assuring Yuuta that you’ll be back faster than he can start crying again.

Swaddling him in the soft fabric is cathartic for you both. You have to admit, the patterning is more than a little odd – scores of wide-open eyes peer up at you from the obsidian background, made unnervingly distinct by the bright, electric blue irises.

“Is this your blanket?” You coo, softly.

Yuuta confirms with a groggy nod. “Mhhm… bought it ‘cos I thought of you…”

Oh, wow. Is that your heart you feel, clawing at the back of your throat?

“Thank you…Yuu-chan cares for me so much…”

A sweet gesture in its own right, you are moved to bashfulness at his earnest admission. And while the sentiment really is adorable, you can’t help but be skeeved out by the unblinking assessment of those stitched eyes. The neat columns and rows lining the blanket are evenly spaced and impossibly equidistant, no matter how rumpled the fabric becomes. It’s impossible to count just how many there are – you end up having to re-start the tally several times over. Oddly enough, each total you add up is some multiple of six. Strange. Yuuta’s favorite number is four.

Due to your steadfast loyalty and commendable levels of cunning, you will abscond from the scene with Yuuta’s LINE ID safely stowed away in your phone, as well as the multi-eyed blanket which he insists you keep as a memento of your treasured tryst.

The giddiness will settle, at some point, into a contentment which runs so deep you actually feel at peace for once in your anxious, chaotic life. No longer is Yuuta an untouchable object you must admire (and cry and bleed and fight for) from afar…no, now you possess the intimate knowledge of what it feels like to lay with your idol and have him begging for your consideration. You won’t even make it one hundred meters away from the venue before your phone will light up with a notification from a new LINE user, with several messages already vying for your attention.

On the walk home, you will log into your usual SNS haunts to rave and scream about ShinShow’s excellent performance – and, obviously, about how Yuuta’s stellar skills elevated the show immeasurably. Your numerous fancams receive hundreds of re-posts and comments within moments of their publishing. As is to be expected of such a well-known fan-account as your own.

Despite the sudden development in your relationship, you possess no disillusionment. Yuuta is still your oshi. You will always serve the greater goal of his happiness, success, and satisfaction.

No matter what.

[ROUTE CLEAR.]

next suggested route: Geto Suguru

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[foreverrandomwritings]

Emily Prentiss x Girlfriend Headcanon

Summary: This is some things I imagine would happen being Emily’s girlfriend. The last five are all 18+ Minors DNI. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x afab!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, sex 18+ MDNI uhm that’s it???

Word count:604(I had to stop myself because I could’ve gone on forever)

Masterlist   M’s PMC Masterlist

~Emily never came out to the team of profilers as bisexual officially. 

~She just kinda figured out they knew.  

~She also never told them that she had a girlfriend.

~So when they had decided to have a family meal at Rossi’s house(Mansion) and she just kinda brought you along they were all surprised.

~The both of you walked inside hand in hand and everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at you.

~Garcia was the first to break the silence and introduced herself to you. They all followed suit after that. 

~You formed quick bonds with everyone.

~They all completely adored you and were so happy to see Prentiss happy.

~You stay at her apartment when she's gone and take care of sergio.  

~You honestly practically live there already but haven’t made the move official.

~You hang out with Garcia when the team is gone on a case. Oftentimes you fall asleep in her office spending late nights with her. 

~The team really appreciate you being there for her since she's locked away in her office all day and needs some human interaction that isn’t just a phone call. 

~She’ll send you flowers all the time, the cards have little quotes from books you’ve read together or poems that Reid feeds to her when she asks.

~However when Emily is in town she likes to keep you to herself.

~Completely obsessed with quiet nights inside. 

~Making dinner together, reading or doing a puzzle together, drinking a bottle of wine and topping the night off with some ice cream. 

~Sex isn’t that important to her but she loves other forms of intimacy. Like cuddling on the couch or showering together, you playing with her hair, holding hands whenever you can, hugs, forehead/cheek/lip kisses. 

~Will love to show you off when out in public however, literally holding your hand and giving you small pecks here and there. 

~Doesn’t really have social media, kinda an occupational hazard putting too much about herself or her significant other on the internet. 

~She did a very thorough background check on you when you first started talking. 

~When you found out via Garcia telling you Emily thought you were gonna be mad but you were actually really understanding and thought it was kinda cute. 

~Her pet name for you is probably in a different language and you call her like babe or love or something. 

~She waited like 6 months into dating to say she loved you because she was afraid you were going to leave her because her job took her away so much. 

~But one day you broke down and told her you loved her and she folded and said it back instantly with tears in her eyes.

~She told you about her past pretty early on, which was a relief to both of you. 

~She hadn’t opened up to many people about what happened and you liked being able to understand her better. 

~When you guys do have sex she loves it to be soft and gentle, her job is so rough and graphic she needs soft touches and whispers of reassurance. 

~Very focused on your pleasure and likes to lay there cuddled up together after you guys are done.

~Your head laying on her chest as she runs her fingers through your hair and tells you how much you mean to her. 

~You pepper kisses on her chest before another round is starting. 

~Giggly sex happens when you are both a little tipsy either from a night in sipping on wine or a night out with the team or some of your friends.

A/N:Emily Prentiss is the love of my life and she is my Wifey. Another gif of my honey cause I can’t get enough of her. 

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

❝ ʙɪɢ ꜰᴀɴ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 3.8k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, public displays of affection

↣ notes :: welcome to the first chapter! 💕 I hope you guys already for the rollercoaster between these two.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you see my thick thighs, lost when you look into my brown eyes, see my little waist can make you switch sides. you've never seen the devil in disguise."

- be honest, jorja smith-

ｗｉｎｔｅｒ

A low hum of people chatting over the Lo-Fi beats filled the area. Glasses clinking, some munching, all sounds that Kiara Smith grew familiar with. Though the crowd was more significant than the last exhibition she attended, it was starting to become all the same. 

She could remember the very first exhibit she went to and all the nerves it brought. She was a bumbling mess—sweaty palms constantly being wiped on her dress that she may have also used as her prom dress while her stomach frequently threatened to release her breakfast all over the floor—as she watched the few people who also attended like hawks. So insecure about the words those people chose not to share. So insecure about their lips pressed into taught smiles. Were they being genuine or just keeping up appearances? Was her art worth anything, or was she going to flop and end up having to get a shitty job just to make ends meet? Those same nerves would never fade, holding onto her like some clingy child desperately needing attention. But they became less apparent whenever her boyfriend was around. The heaven-sent angel would always know the right thing to say and make the world melt away. Though he would never miss an event, it was very seldom that he was on time. She never stressed his whereabouts, knowing he'd arrive eventually.

The 24-year-old continued to walk around, partially eavesdropping as she passed couples and groups of people. Occasionally, she would take a sip of the bubbly gold in her glass to appease that child named Nerves tugging on her leg. She slowed to a stop once a particular piece caught her eye. It was two separate canvases placed at equal heights. One canvas had a bright figure colored in hues of pink and blue, while the other was dark. Shades of black and grey bled from one canvas to the other as if it was trying to overcome the figure itself. The darkness had enough space on their canvas, though, at least a third remaining untouched, but it wanted the colors. It wanted to possess them, spread its darkness to them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" blurted a voice near her. Despite the voice being calm and inviting, it startled her. She quickly turned to the side, not realizing a man joined her. His side profile was magnificent — features that were immaculately sculpted from his eyebrows, down his straight nose bridge leading to a button tip, to where his rose-shaded lips took center stage, frozen in a pout. His light blonde hair with dark roots made his olive skin stand out. It looked natural on him. The man was attractive, and Kiara couldn't deny that. His aura alone was almost as intoxicating as the drink in her hand. It pulled her in and wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She nodded, humming in agreement with his question. She faced ahead again.

The man stole another glance at her, eyes slowly glazing over her features. "It's so rare nowadays to find someone who could capture so much without saying a word. It's almost godly."

The more he talked, the nicer his voice sounded. It had an excellent depth, low and appealing even in his hushed tone. Kiara was into what he was saying, continuing to nod until the last comment. She had to sip her drink to subdue the urge to giggle.

"But you know what you and this painting have in common?"

She turned to look at the man, their eyes meeting for the first time tonight. And boy, how he could get lost in those pools of amber. She raised an eyebrow curiously, her glass still resting on her lips as she silently urged him to continue.

"You both were crafted with the same care, holding a beauty one could only dream of containing."

Kiara almost spat out her drink, startling the man before her. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, holding back the remainder of the liquid behind her taut lips. The man's eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed slightly. His expression then dropped to a neutral state once he realized she was chuckling at what he said.

Once she swallowed the liquid, she turned to face him completely. She took a moment to graze over his appearance fully. He was well dressed, wearing a black blazer, white crew neck underneath, and dark-wash skinny jeans. Silver earrings dangled from his earlobes to match the silver chain around his neck and the wristwatch. 

"Damn," she commented, a grin growing on her full glossed lips, "you're really laying it on thick for someone you don't know." Her voice was nothing he expected. She seemed like one of those Hamptons girls, playing in New York City with daddy's money. Her voice was light and smooth like silk fabric, but her accent was hard like a concrete wall. She was either from Queens or Brooklyn, syllables being dropped or stretched at a whim. Something about the way her words blended was incredibly sexy. 

The man quirked a brow, intrigued as the corner of his lips pulled into a half smile. "You tryna say I'm out of practice?"

"Precisely." She answered quickly and confidently as she gazed up at him. "I expect that kind of line from someone twice your age."

"Well, ouch." He chuckled, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as his eyes glanced downward at the girl. "My job requires me to be blunt, so I call it like I see it."

"And you're saying I'm as beautiful as this painting?"

He grabbed a glass off the tray of a passing waiter. "Your beauty surpasses it." It was true. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her golden honey skin practically glowed under the cool white fluorescent lights. Her hair was dark brown and long, pulled back into a sleek high ponytail with two strands framing her face. Her black satin dress hugged every curve in her body with grace, and there were plenty of them. The material looked soft to the touch, gently reflecting the light. He'd be lying if he said her looks weren't the reason why he approached. And on top of all the looks, she smelled phenomenal—warm and sweet, like a freshly baked sugar cookie with a dash of cinnamon on top, making him want to relive through the holiday season that just passed.

Kiara let out a soft scoff. "Thank you, but that's not as much of a compliment as you may think." She suddenly spun on her stiletto heels, turning her back to the man as she walked away.

He quickly followed, catching up in a few steps to join her by her side. "Do explain."

"Beauty has, and always will be, skin deep." She circled the champagne in her glass while looking out into the crowd. "Looks fade over time. Trends come and go faster than the seasons. So if you really wanna wow a girl…." She stopped at another painting that grabbed her attention before looking at him. "Compliment the things you can't see." The two stopped to gaze at the artwork in front of them. The man thought over her words while admiring the piece. The canvas before them had various hues of green splashed about, but shades of purple peeked through upon closer inspection. It mimicked little flowers blooming through a field of wild grass. She managed to lead him to the only painting that mirrored their conversation.

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "You're completely right. And to think I almost missed out on how intelligent you are."

She smiled, soft and genuine. "Thank you."

The man stayed by her side as Kiara floated, offering his opinions on whichever piece they stopped in front of. She really appreciated being able to receive unbiased feedback on her work. He didn't know he was chatting with the artist. No one in the room knew. The name signed at the bottom of each canvas was Luna, a faceless painter. It's been that way since the beginning, and she intended it to stay that way. Only her close friends, family, and people she hired knew of her secret.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to lunch tomorrow." The man asked at their fourth or so painting.

"I see you don't waste any time."

"Correct. Time is limited, after all."

She looked up at him, his perfect lips pulled into a soft smile. Maybe in another lifetime, she thought as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Flattered, but I can't."

His brows furrowed. He thought that the conversation they were having was great, so what was with the rejection? "May I ask why?"

"I have a boyfriend," she said with a wide smile.

He suddenly scoffed, causing her to tilt her head to the side slightly. "I haven't seen anyone on your arm the whole night." The first thing the man hated the most was being lied to.

Her brows then lowered while her eyes narrowed. "He's just late."

The second thing was excuses.

"Tsk," he shook his head before downing his drink. "Committed to a man with no time management? Red flag."

"And somehow that's better than a man who can't take rejection?" She shot back as she quickly matched his energy. They had a peaceful conversation only moments before, and now the energy between them had grown negative.

"Oh, I can take rejection," he stated with a chuckle as he put his glass down. "But only when I'm being told the truth."

"It is—"

"Hey, darling." And finally, the deep and butter-smooth voice appeared, melting away the anger that was bubbling inside Kiara. As he approached her side, he placed his large hand on the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry I'm late."

The blonde in front of them eyed the man from his tan skin and wavy ebony hair to his solid-colored turtle neck and long coat. Something about the dark-haired man seemed familiar to the blonde. Then it hit him like a freight train. "Well, isn't it Mr. Kim Taehyung?" He smiled widely, glancing up at the slightly taller man.

Taehyung's brows furrowed momentarily before grinning. "Holy shit, Park Jimin!" He stepped forward, leaving Kiara's side to wrap his arms around the blonde. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he pulled away from the man. "I never would've thought that you'd be into art."

He chuckled softly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It's just a little appreciation I picked up from Spain." He shrugged casually.

Taehyung's jaw clenched briefly, his smile slipping for a moment. For as long as he's known Jimin, he always had to slip in a way to brag about his accomplishments. It was sad that he still hasn't grown out of that trait yet. "Ah yeah," he responded, playing cool, "I forgot you traveled there. How was it?"

Jimin shrugged again. "It was Spain," he said, glazing over the topic. "But me and—shit, I'm sorry." His attention shifted from Taehyung to the woman. "I never asked for your name."

"I'm Kiara," she said softly. Her arms folded over her chest as she watched the two men converse. She didn't mind a bit since Taehyung was the most extroverted of the two.

"Kiara," Jimin repeated to himself, his eyes trailing down her appearance briefly. He tried to pin the name to the face, especially if she was Taehyung's. His eyes finally returned to the other man. "Kiara and I were discussing some of the pieces earlier. I've been a huge fan of Luna for years now." He tried to be calm about the subject of Luna, but it made excitement course through his veins. He was among the first few to learn about the mysterious artist who abruptly appeared on the scene. Everyone wanted one of their pieces overnight, and Jimin was obviously at the very top of that list. Every brushstroke left was a paragraph, speaking a language only artists could understand. 

"I don't even wanna talk about how hard it was to get in here," he chuckled, a faint flush spreading over his cheeks. A Luna Eclipse had a longer wait list than some Michelin-star restaurants. Luckily for him, he was able to pull a few strings. A few phone calls here, some embarrassing promises there, and he was in.

Kiara couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she eyed the man. The smirk on Taehyung's lips was full of pride, almost conceited, as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Oh, you don't say?" For once in the pair's life, it felt like Taehyung had a one-up on Jimin. "How does it feel to—"

"My love," Kiara interjected, voice just as sweet, yet bitter, like honey as she placed her hand on Taehyung's chest. She looked up at him, and Jimin could see her pupils dilated, swirling with love. He chewed on his lower lip gently. He barely knew this woman, but why did he want her to look at him like that? "I have to talk to you about something."

Taehyung stared at his partner with furrowed brows before looking at Jimin. "Um, alright. I'll catch up with you later then."

She looked at Jimin, and that love dissipated instantly. Such a look was only reserved for Taehyung, making a heaviness grow in his abdomen. "If you would excuse us."

The blonde couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Kiara. "Of course," he finally said, grinning at the man. "Don't be a stranger!"

The two waved at each other before Kiara led him away. Her arm wrapped around his, holding him close to her. She glanced back at Jimin one last time before pulling Taehyung to a quiet section of the event. He leaned against the pillar while Kiara stood before him, gazing up at him.

"Why did you cut me off?" Taehyung asked, keeping his voice calm.

"Because you almost name-dropped me," she said, her arms folding over her chest. 

The 26-year-old's lips turned into a small o shape before forming a sheepish smile. "You're right. I'm sorry. I completely forgot for a second. It's just so hard not to brag about you when you always look so good." He reached out and touched her waist, pulling her into him.

She couldn't stop her lips from forming a smile as he buried his face into her neck. She giggled quietly, her hands placed on his chest. "Stop it," she whined, not wanting him to do such a thing.

Taehyung inhaled deeply, the notes of her sweet perfume entering his nostrils. "Mm, and you're wearing my favorite perfume too?" He mumbled against her skin, placing gentle kisses randomly. "You just wanted me to be on you."

The girl laughed before gasping when she felt his large hand fully palm her ass. She pulled away from him just enough to slap him in the chest playfully. "We're in public!"

His eyes locked with hers, with a smirk playing on his lips. "So?" He questioned as he pulled her close again, resuming to litter her neck with kisses. "No one's looking anyway. They're too distracted by your beautiful art." 

He continued until he reached her favorite spot, a moan parting from her smiling lips. His hands couldn't get enough of her, feeling her up as if it was the first time. Kiara's eyes fluttered shut, biting back moans that wanted to escape her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Taehyung," she whined again, partially out of want. It started to feel so good that the world began to melt away. "Someone will see."

Someone cleared their throat. "That's true."

Kiara's eyes shot open, quickly pushing the man in the midst of giving her a hickey off of her. He groaned as his back hit the pillar wall while she turned around. Her cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassment promptly replacing the arousal. She saw familiar ice-blue eyes playfully glaring at her. The petite woman pushed her long, ginger hair off her shoulders as she cocked an eyebrow at the two—disapproval flooding her features.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Hello, Aimee," he said, greeting the woman for both of them.

Aimee huffed, glancing at the man. "Taehyung."

He stood up from the wall, kissing Kiara's temple. "Lemme get us something to drink." He shot one last glare to Aimee before walking off.

Aimee shook her head. "I don't know how you put up with him and all the PDA." She grumbled, her heavy New Jersey accent ringing through Kiara's ears while she glared a hole into the back of Taehyung's head.

Kiara straightened out the smooth material of her dress. "You get used to it," she smiled softly to herself. "Plus, I kinda like it."

"Ugh," Aimee rolled her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest. "Seems like he'd fuck ya right there with an audience." The girl pointed her index finger to her open mouth, making a gagging sound while Kiara laughed.

"You're so dramatic," Kiara smiled while shaking her head. "But what's up? Is everything going OK?" Aimee was at every event Kiara held. She was her art dealer, providing guests with the information needed to purchase a piece. She would only come up to the artist if something were awry.

"Oh! Everything is fucking fantastic, honestly." Her eyes lit up with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her heels. "I think this might be your best collection yet."

Kiara sighed in relief, placing her hand on her chest as it fell. "Thank you. If we can get everything sold tonight, I'll be set." Aimee looked at the girl, her brows furrowing momentarily before releasing. "Taehyung and I have been looking for a bigger place."

Aimee's lips turned down into a slight frown. "A bigger house? Has he even talked about getting a ring yet?"

Kiara's shoulders dropped, her hand pinching and rubbing at her fingers. She sounded just like her best friends and every other friend in Kiara's life. "I know," she sighed. She glanced down at her left hand, where her ring finger was aching to be adorned with something. "It's so backward, but a one-bedroom isn't enough. He needs an office space for work. So, I'm hoping the ring will come soon after once we settle into a new place."

She looked at the girl, a sad smile replacing her frown. "Well, it's only been four years, right?"

Only. That word ran circles in Kiara's head. 

It's only been for years. 

You've only just moved in with each other. 

You've only just started dating.

The word was growing tiresome, especially in the conversations about Taehyung. Everyone had an opinion about her and her relationship, but no one dared to say anything straightforward about it. She was sick of only.

Kiara nodded slowly, which only caused Aimee to sigh. "He'll come around, doll, don't stress it." She assured with a soft smile, gently patting the woman's shoulder. "Lemme get back to my job so you can get that house." After Kiara gave Aimee a small smile, she walked off. She almost bumped into Taehyung on the way out, the two quietly cursing at each other before continuing their path.

He returned to Kiara with a smile, handing her a glass of champagne. "All good news?"

She grinned at the man, feeling warm despite not sipping her drink yet. "Amazing news."

As the night continued, the two walked around together. They always had a hand on each other somehow, whether it was Taehyung's on the small of her back or Kiara's hand being swallowed by his. She adored this. It made her feel safe—feel wanted. He had to let everyone know she was off the market and was his. As if a shiny diamond ring resting upon her left finger wouldn't have done the same. Taehyung struck up conversations with random people, small-talking them like the extrovert he was. During each conversation, she would glance around, finding something to fill her attention while they spoke of things that didn't matter. Every time, her gaze would meet the blonde.

Their eyes lingered for longer than what was appropriate. Why was he looking at me? She thought while she fidgeted with her fingers. Or was he staring at Taehyung?

"Love," she said as she turned her gaze to Taehyung. He has just finished up a conversation with an elderly couple. "How long have you known Jimin?"

"We grew up together, and were best friends."

The girl's eyes went wide. Despite four years together, Taehyung rarely talked about anything before his college years. It was optional to dwell on past things, even though Kiara would've loved to know everything, from how he scraped his knees while learning to ride a bike to his first love.

"We even went to college together, out here," he continued. "But our crowds were completely different. He got along with the nepo babies since he basically is one, and I got along with the art kids. I remember us bumping heads quite a bit." He let out an amused chuckle.

"Oh," she frowned slightly.

"Like he didn't have to brag about going to Spain," he blurted out. "Not all of us can drop our responsibilities and take off on vacation for a year."

"A year?!" She repeated as her jaw dropped.

"Mhm, basically had his parents pay for the whole trip." There was a fire behind his words. He's been tight-lipped about his friendship with Jimin, and finally, it felt amazing to let it out. "I'm surprised he's not rotting from the inside out."

Kiara pouted a bit, never hearing Taehyung speak so harshly about another. "Well, maybe it was a birthday gift?" The blonde couldn't be that bad, even if she got a taste of that quick-witted mouth earlier. He could've just been having a bad day after all.

"He left in March, babe, and his birthday is in October."

Her mouth formed a small o before she chewed on her lower lip gently. "So you're not gonna catch up with him?"

He looked ahead before glancing down at the girl. "I am," he said with a shrug, "I would rather hang out with a nepo baby than my coworkers." Kiara let out a half-hearted snicker as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "It would be a good opportunity to get out of the house since someone says I need to make friends."

"You do!" She looked at him, brows furrowed and nose slightly scrunched. "I feel bad leaving you home every girls' night. I want to know you're having fun and not rewatching the same three movies."

"They're good movies!" He argued with a smile as the girl shot him a glare. "But I hear you," she stretched out the last syllable as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "So I will try for you, OK?"

The girl smiled, leaning up to touch their lips together briefly. "Thank you." She hoped they could work past their differences and become friends. She knew the man wanted to go out and experience things, but he longed for a set group to do that with. Sometimes, rekindling a relationship was more manageable than starting a new one.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

[junipers-archive]

Dating Aaron Hotchner Headcannons

Short-ish and sweet headcanons about dating hotch

Warnings: none (sfw)

he treats you like a princess

im serious, date nights take place with dinner reservations and gifts

he's obsessed with treating you

Also has an obsession with being your first *for everything

This includes taking you to new places and gifting you the most outlandishly sweet gifts

One time you guys were heading home and he sprung tickets to your favorite band on you and you both almost crashed when you reached over to hug him

He's a total hover-boyfriend, he checks up on you constantly to make sure you're safe and you're comfortable

You were the first one to ever have him send a selfie that wasn't his work mandatory profile photo

You're photo is in his wallet

He'll never admit it but his favorite date to take you on is coffee mini-dates when you don't have time to do much else before he goes on a case-related trip

He's particularly fond of the burst of energy the coffee invokes in you because he gets to listen to you ramble about your favorite subjects

When he gets sick its your turn to dote on him and he takes with absolutely zero dignity, he is a gianormous baby when he gets sick and will 100% over exaggerate any symptoms of a cold

On your anniversary he rents out a movie theatre for the two of you to watch your favorite movie in private

Absolute romantic, im telling you once he gets past his emotional restraints he dotes on you like theres no tomorrow

You're the only one he'll dance with, slow dancing isn't his best skill, but he tries and he'll never admit it but if a faster-paced song comes on and he's had a little too much to drink he's not too bad

If he has to leave on a case really early and not wake you up, he'll leave you a letter telling you all details possible

Makes you breakfast before he leaves out of guilt most of the time

Constantly apologizes for leaving so quickly especially if you're on a date when he's paged, but ultimately makes up for it with hundreds of calls

Tries to break it of with you after a year because he doesn't think he gives you enough attention and believes you deserve better

Takes a long time to convince him otherwise, afterwards you move into together

literally loves you more than himself its alarming, and you try to accept his love without taking advantage of him

He'll also never admit to the fact but everyone see's how fond he is about being pampered

You take notice when he smiles-more-than-his-upside-down-hotch-smile as you gift him a new tie that you just had to get him while out shopping

You're each others favorite people

Your favorite past time is when he took you on a spontaneous date later in the day after a case that ended better than most

He took you to get ice cream and then up to an observatory near the airport to watch the planes take off and land as the sun set

Sometimes when you can sense him drifting after harder cases you pull him back with these types of dates (initiated by you) especially when he doesn't feel like talking

Also after you guys are together for a while you start testing out nicknames, you try all of them in the book before finding one he's fond of

You find he blushes the darkest shade when you refer to him as "hot stuff" but ultimately settle on bear

He likes to call you sweetheart when he's feeling loving, honey when he's doting on you and sunshine when you've done something very very right or very very wrong

All in all dating Aaron Hotchner is the dream

Or at least thats what you tell everyone when they catch you in the lobby on your way to pamper him

Also when Derek finds out you call him "hot stuff" on the down-low Hotch never hears the end of it

[twilghtkoo]

hii can i please request prompt 44 and 102 where haechan just adores yn

love foolish

pairings. haechan x (f) reader

genre. fluff

warnings. fruits basket references

prompts: #44 “how do you always make me love you even more, how are you real?” and #102 “you’re so fucking cute”

prompt list | series masterlist | taglist

-

haechan is so obsessed with you, he has a feeling you know already but at the same time he feels like you don’t. he’s enamored by you. he pays attention to every little detail he can soak in from you, mentally storing it inside the file in his brain that’s filled of you and you only. 

you smile when you watch tiktoks of dogs. when you’re eating spam and rice. holding hands. hearing his voice. his kisses. rainy weather. tulips. the tiny trinkets that are displayed everywhere in your room. iced coffee at any time of the day. your favorite anime that he randomly started watching with you, fruits basket. 

and as you both are seated at your kitchen table, the empty, long forgotten bowl of what used to be filled with popcorn is sitting behind your laptop that is currently playing the final season of fruits basket. your feet are on the chair with you, your head resting on your knee as you explain why yuki breaking the chalk for machi has changed the trajectory of your life and how this scene has impacted the rest of the cinematic univerese.

he doesn’t remember why he started watching the show. sports and action or thriller animes are more up his taste and not the shoujo romance drama. he only remembers him coming out the shower one day and snuggled in bed with you and just watched with what you were playing on your laptop. he admits the plot was very interesting and the animation and art were amazing. but right now, he decided that he watches this anime because he loves when you pause the show to explain the aspect of a certain scene, or how you felt about a certain character. he loves when you cry over a scene, where to the naked eye it seems like a normal thing, but watching you become empathetic with the character’s past traumas makes him smile indulgently.

“how do you always make me love you even more, how are you real?” he blurts out, his eyes burning into your side profile. 

your eyes watery from the scene that unfolded on the screen in front of you, pausing it before you turn your head to look at your boyfriend who’s already staring at you affectionately. 

you sniff, “huh?” 

he chuckles lightly, beating the tear drop that almost fell down to your dimple, softly wiping it away with his thumb. 

he shakes his head, “nothing. you’re so fucking cute.” 

-

 taglist @n0hyuck @matchahyuck @neosdaisy send an ask or message to be removed! or fill out the google form to be added :D

[urszn]

୨⋆ ࣪ ₊ BEST INTEREST (VR.1) 02Z ⋆ ࣪ ₊ ୧

📁 : PROFiLES 01 | yn enthusiast

02 ❙❘❙ ID: LEE YN aka FLWRS4YN 🏹 used to do ballet and ice skate, works at a music store!, swears she isn’t obsessed.

01 ❙❘❙ ID: HUH YUNJiN aka JENAiSSANTE 🏹 jay’s fav (not really) cousin, shows up to yn’s job whenever, song writer.

01 ❙❘❙ ID: YOON KEEHO aka KEEHOSZ 🏹 keeho and yunjin argue 24/7, knows almost everybody, is close with jay.

02 ❙❘❙ ID: KIM TAERAE aka TAE_RAES 🏹 #1 hanbin “bully”, will never not be iconic, is close with jake.

MASTERLiST _ PROFiLES 2 _ CHAPTER 01

▌▍   ֙⋆  ་  ᳝ ◝ iNTRO TO Y/N’s DiARY. Being the younger sister of the infamous lee heeseung came along some cons more than pros. his annoying behaviors, your friends talking about him 24/7, being referred to as “Heeseung’s sister” more than your own name and his three best friends. so what do you do about? Get a diary of course! and in between those pages of her writing about her older brother and school life, there were three pages that were never going to see the light of day.

PERMANENT TAGLiST : @ddeonudepressions @zuyairus @sunoksunny @taejays @hanniluvi @haknom @trsrina @tyunnie-gyuu @ririlovesrenjun @xiaoderrrr @r-westillfriends @placinggum10 @gakrufbd @nanabbg @son4taa @redm4ri @strwberrydinosaur @dreama-little-dreamof-me @lcv3lies @aspaia @schmocolateschmchip @seungcheolswife @ixomiyu @dimplewonie @jeongintwt @esther-kpopstan @uwuheeseungie @hoonluvr2000 @miyawwn @simp4jakesim @hancorez @ja4hyvn @junhuicosmo @ilovewonyo @ashy1um (to be removed please send an ask or dm me !)

(🎀) E.NOTE : hey pookies

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Grant Walker

The famous entertainment mogul, Grant Walker, made his fortune with a series of family-friendly amusement parks.  All Walker wanted, it seemed, was to make people happy. As he grew older, however, Walker became increasingly megalomaniacal and obsessed over the idea of making the whole world as clean, orderly and idyllic as one of his theme parks.

The robotics expert Karl Rossum had worked for Walker early in his career and Walker utilized Rossum’s designs to build a small army of robots.  These robots built ‘Oceania,’ a secluded community that adhered to Walker’s notions of a utopia.  

As his health began to fail, Walker became more desperate in his commitment to his twisted dream.  He used his robots to free the villainous Mister Freeze from Arkham Asylum.  Walker had obtained Mr. Freeze’s wife’s body still frozen in cryogenic stasis.  He used her as leverage to force Mr. Freeze into doing his bidding.  

Walker demanded that Freeze replicate the accident that had transformed him, believing that become like Freeze would bestow him immortality.  He also had Freeze created a giant version of his freeze gun.  Walker planned to use the massive ice cannon to encase the entire world in frost, leaving Oceania the last bastion of civilization and the foundation of the next era of mankind.  

Mr. Freeze was forced to do Walker’s bidding and he replicated the process that changed him.  Freeze transformed the aged tycoon into a being like himself… ageless, but unable to survive outside of sub-zero temperatures.    Walker was then outfitted with a cyro-suit similar to that worn by Mr. Freeze.  

Batman and Robin had tracked Freeze down to Oceania.  They were captured by Freeze and Walker, yet Batman was able to appeal to Freeze’s better nature.  He convinced Freeze that his cherished wife, Nora, would never love a man whole would allow the whole world to be frozen.  

Freeze turned on Walker.  The ice cannon malfunctioned and caused a chain reaction that sunk Oceania.  Mr. Freeze escaped with his wife’s body whereas Walker became trapped within an iceberg and sank to the bottom of the ocean.  

Actor Daniel O’Herlihy provided the voice for Walt Disney Grant Walker, with the villain appearing in the  fifteenth episode of the second season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘Deep Freeze.’  

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Part Two Preview

Spencer Reid x Reader. First Part here, link to my masterlist

Full Part Two

"Each bloom is a chapter of our story so far, a story not yet complete." You read out loud, blood feeling like ice running through your veins. With a shaking hand you pass the note to Spencer, whose eyes betray his calm demeanor.

"This is-this is not a coincidence." He confirms your fears and you nod, fighting back the bile in your throat.

"What do these flowers mean, Spence?" You ask him, trying to keep your voice level to mask just how unnerved you are. He sighs and looks at the flowers before speaking.

"Red represents passion and love, yellow stands for hopeless love and jealousy, and white is forgiveness." He says, your eyes moving to each color as he speaks.

"Forgiveness?" It strikes you odd that whoever is sending these included something that represents forgiveness. Spencer's eyes narrow and you can tell he's using his profiler mind and not his friend mind anymore.

"It's like whoever sent these is telling you they forgive you of something, and that they still hold strong romantic feelings." His words do not comfort you.

"What would they have to forgive me for?" You shake your head, trying to find some sort of answer. You stayed holed up in your apartment with Spencer all weekend. It's not like you were around other people where you could've inadvertently offended someone.

"I'm not sure." Spencer's voice is still soft, and he lays the note next to the vase.