#personal trainer dream au

[valiantstarlights]

[Personal Trainer!Dream AU] Chapter 2: (Much Ado About) Gym Clothes

Chapter 1: First Meeting

This is still for @sadrumihours , who shared Tom Sturridge's highly educational 😏 training videos (part one & part two), as well as everyone who yelled in the comments and reblog tags. I see you all and I love each and every one of you. 🖤

Disclaimer: These are once again just vibes because I still don't know a single thing about gym stuff. Will someone please tell me what the equipment Tom is using called? Because I'm still calling it stretchy jump rope machine in my head. 😭

CW (and summary): Dream being his usual thirsty-for-Hob self, Hob being insecure about his body, and Johanna trying to be a supportive sister to Hob. (Keyword being: 'trying.') This chapter contains spicy spice! Enjoy? 😏

Mojo Jojo

Jo, what do I wear to the gym???

uh, gym clothes?

(You sent a photo.)

Is this okay??

i guess?

why are you being weird?

you're just going to the gym, not going on a date

WAIT, ARE YOU???

HOBERT

answer me or i'm gonna come over and steal all your teeth

I bought pizza since I know you're coming over from your shoot anyway

fine

you can keep both your secrets and your teeth for one more day

--

"That's it, Professor," Mr. Endless--Dream, says next to his ear, low and inviting. His hands are cool as they caress Hob's overheated and very sensitive inner thighs, and his eyes, so dark and so close to Hob's own, are laser-focused on his panting, straining face. "One more. Just one more for me."

Hob's cheeks are already streaked with tears. How many hours has it been? How much more until they're done? Until he's told that he's been good? "Mr. Endless, please--"

Dream has moved to inspect his position. He adjusts Hob's legs so they spread even wider. The change in angle makes him sob, but Dream shushes him and he leans all the way down to lick at his rim.

Hob wails, body jolting against the restraints. His muscles are already so sore, but he wants to be good.

"You can do it, Professor," Dream says, lightly tapping at his taint to encourage his muscles to clench. "This is the last one."

Hob cries and wiggles, breathes slowly and purposefully like how he has been taught, and forcibly relaxes his muscles one by one, until finally, finally, he manages to push out the last large anal egg from his body with a soft moan.

It plops wetly onto Dream's waiting hand, and the man hums approvingly as Hob's hole gapes for a second before winking closed again.

"Very good," Dream purrs against his rim and dips his tongue into Hob's loosened hole. Hob keens and thrashes against his bonds again. It was so humiliating, but he loves every second of it. He can feel his body slowly becoming stronger, and he owes it all to Dream.

"You see what you can do?" Dream asks, now inserting his long, clever fingers inside him. "What your body can achieve with my guidance?" He moves his fingers in and out slowly, the squelch of the remaining lube loud in the room. "I'm so proud of you, Professor. Only a few sessions in and you're already my beautiful, obedient little slut." He emphasizes his words by drilling his fingers unerringly against Hob's prostate. Hob cries and bucks up, helpless and overwhelmed, unable to do anything else with how good he had been tied up.

"Please, Mr. Endless--"

"Mr. Endless?" Dream repeats. "You have to be specific, Professor Gadling. Are you calling for my brother?"

Hob shakes his head wildly. "No. No, please. I mean you. Just you, sir, no one else. You know that."

Dream rewards him with a soft kiss against the head of his cock. "And what's my name, Professor?" he asks. "What's the name that you'll be screaming in ecstasy for the rest of your life?"

"D-Dream," Hob gasps. "Dream--"

"Good boy," Dream says, and returns to his hole to suck hickeys around the rim. Hob hopes he bruises well. He hopes he'll feel all the love bites Dream gives him every time he sits down. "Shall I give you your reward now?"

Hob remembers last time, when his reward was Dream spanking his hole directly until it was red and puffy, and then fucking him that way, all the while praising him for being so virgin tight.

"Yes, please," Hob says, voice cracking a little. He wants to move. He wants to wrap his arms around Dream and kiss him softly while they fuck. He wants to be called sweet and good and mine.

But in the end, Dream is still his trainer, and he knows Hob's body best. He knows Hob's body better than Hob himself, now. And if he tells Hob he has to wear a vibrating plug while he uses the stationary bike, then he will.

He'll cry and stumble and cum in his underwear countless times, and Dream will coo and kiss his tears away, but he'll do it. Has done it. It had increased his stamina exponentially.

"Very well," Dream says. He leans over Hob so they could share a kiss while he lines his cock up against Hob's waiting hole. "You have been so good for me today, and I think that means you deserve a treat, yes?"

Hob nods, biting his lip at the incredible pressure as the head of Dream's large cock pushes against his rim--

--

Hob's alarm blares at max volume, and he jolts awake, blindly reaching for his phone to turn it off.

It takes him a few seconds, and once that's done, he's awake enough to notice the sticky feeling in his underwear. He moves the covers aside and peeks inside his boxers.

...Great. Not only did he have an incredibly realistic wet dream (ha) starring his personal trainer, but he's also currently sporting a semi.

Thank goodness he set his alarm hours before he has to go to the gym. He still has time to do some...preliminary stretching.

He blushes as he grabs his favorite dildo, which he had placed conveniently beside his pillow last night, as well as the bottle of lube beside it.

He's already ashamed of himself for thinking about Mr. Endless in such a manner, but try as he might, he can't conjure up the image of another person. Not since he met him.

Oh, he tried thinking about previous people he had a crush on, real and fictional, as well as local and international celebrities: actors and idols and athletes--to no avail. They always turn into Dream Endless in the end, looking down at him as they fuck in a variety of positions, usually missionary because Hob is a dumb romantic at heart, his gorgeous blue eyes loving and captivated, his lips forming 'Professor Gadling' or 'Hob' over and over again, his voice soft with awe and reverence.

It never fails to bring Hob to completion faster than he ever had before, when he had yet to be blessed about the knowledge of Dream Endless's existence. It was mortifying. His imagined scenarios always leave him whining and pressing his face against his pillow so he doesn't scream Mr. Endless's name out loud for the entire neighborhood to hear.

He knows it's pathetic, because it's not like Mr. Endless is going to look at him that way in real life. But if he's sad about it, crying a little like a lovesick fool after he cums, then that's his business and no one ever needs to know.

--

Boss Dream's newest trainee walks in the gym dressed in a thick hoodie and joggers, and Matthew starts sweating bullets just by looking at him. Is he going snowboarding with Boss Dream or something?

Nope. None of his business. Better just focus on getting the damn blender working.

--

"Good morning, Mr. Endless!" Professor Gadling says cheerfully as he rounds the corner to where Dream is waiting. "I hope it's alright that I'm a bit early today. I had to make up for last time."

He's an entire 15 minutes early, but Dream won't say no to spending more time with him. He had been reviewing today's agenda, but had turned around as soon as he heard Professor Gadling's voice. And he was just about to greet him back, when his eyes lift from the clipboard he's holding, and the smile falters in his face as he takes in what the man is wearing.

Dream had indicated in his email that they were going to do some mandatory stretches, and after that proceed to doing a full-body pre-test workout that would measure the professor's strength, endurance level, general dexterity, etc. It was important that they do this on the first session so that Dream could come up with a program specifically tailored for him and his end goal.

It was his mistake in assuming that Professor Gadling would do the sensible thing and wear something light. Not winter clothes in the middle of summer.

"Good morning, Professor Gadling," he says, as neutrally as he can manage. "You are dressed quite warmly."

Professor Gadling grimaces. "Oh. Well um, I'm afraid I don't really have gym clothes, and I haven't had the chance to buy some yet since, you know, school. And everything else I own are dress shirts and slacks and lounge wear. But don't worry! I'll go shopping this weekend." He pauses and smiles bashfully. It was just as devastating as Dream remembered. "Sorry. I'm talking too much again."

Meanwhile, Dream's mind had latched on to the words 'lounge wear,' and he imagines Professor Gadling casually walking around his house in nothing but short pajama bottoms.

"I see," he says, glad that he took the time this morning to get himself off so he won't be as tempted to push Professor Gadling against the nearest surface and really give him a full body workout. "Then please, if at any point you wish to take off a layer, feel free to do so."

"Oh, no," Professor Gadling says, still cheerfully. "I'm fine like this. Shall we begin?"

There's still a few minutes before they officially have to start, but Professor Gadling seems to want to begin immediately, so Dream nods and instructs him to stand with his feet shoulder width apart, and gets him to start stretching his upper body.

Professor Gadling obeys, following Dream's example as he demonstrates the set, counting to eight, then back to one again under his breath, before doing the next set without complaint.

Dream watches him closely, because he has to. It's why he notices that the professor's thick hoodie barely shifts, even as the man raises his hands upwards towards the ceiling and counts to 16.

A dark thought crosses Dream's mind then, that perhaps the reason Professor Gadling is wearing clothes that cover his entire body is because he's currently covered in love bites.

Dream clenches his teeth but breathes through it. He knows he's being possessive when he has no right to be, and that Professor Gadling has every right to sleep with whoever he wants.

But knowing these facts and acknowledging them to be logical and true does not stop Dream from hating whoever it was that is currently enjoying Professor Gadling's gorgeous body in bed, perhaps repeatedly throughout the night.

He wants to be that person. He will be that person. He is already fated to be that person.

If his brother Destiny is right about one thing, Dream fucking hopes that it's the power of manifestation, because he doesn't think he would just allow Professor Gadling to end up with someone else without challenging that person to a fight.

--

Mr. Endless is wearing a tight, sleeveless black shirt and slightly baggy joggers, and Hob is losing his mind. Has lost his mind as soon as he spotted the man a couple of minutes ago, standing by the large glass windows and reading something on his clipboard.

The sight of his toned arms are bad for Hob's concentration. And it's even worse when he circles Hob like a very observant vulture to check his position (just like in his dream) and bids him to raise his arms higher, or at one point, bend a little more to the right.

Hob can't bend as much as he used to in his twenties, but he is very determined to be super flexible at the end of this.

For health reasons, of course.

Mr. Endless demonstrates another pose to stretch the arm muscles, and in doing so calls Hob's attention to how his muscles bunch and flex. Hob is sure that they're far stronger than they look, and he has no doubt that Mr. Endless can carry heavy grocery bags without breaking a sweat.

Hob gets so far as picturing Mr. Endless's hands squeezing his thighs before he immediately shuts the thought down.

No. Absolutely not. And his previous thought about being flexible, too. Mr. Endless would be horrified, if not outright disgusted if he finds out that Hob is thinking about him in that manner.

--

Professor Gadling continues to obediently follow his orders, getting on the treadmill, walking, jogging, then running, complying as soon as Dream warns him about changing the treadmill's speed, and he does so without a single word of complaint.

Dream could not help but compare him to his past trainees, all of whom had complained on their first session about wanting to go straight to the workouts that would help them achieve their ideal body shape. But not Professor Gadling. He would listen and watch Dream's demonstration well, then immediately obey his orders or mimick his movements. Dream has to bite his tongue multiple times so he wouldn't slip up and say, 'good boy.'

Or worse, 'my good boy.'

Death is going to have Destruction break his spine if, out of all siblings, a sexual harassment complaint would be filed against him and not, say, Desire, who regularly flirts with their own trainees.

Cardio pre-test finished, Dream leads Professor Gadling to the weightlifting area, and once there, bids him to take 2 dumbbells that weighs 1 kilogram each, and do 16 squats while holding the weights.

While Professor Gadling gets the appropriate equipment from the rack, Dream lets his mind wander. Would Professor Gadling be obedient in bed, too? Or would he be a brat? Will Dream have to tame him, or is he already sweet and docile?

Dream imagines that the latter to be more likely, though he wouldn't mind if his lovely professor turns out to be an incorrigible brat in bed. He'll just have to spank him until he's pliant and good enough to deserve his treats.

Fuck. He's teaching. He should be more professional than this.

"Like this, Mr. Endless?"

Dream snaps from his ill-timed daydreams to scrutinize Professor Gadling's form, only to then hold back a lustful groan.

The man is squatting alright, but he's doing so improperly. His heels should be flat against the floor, but instead his thighs and calves are touching, and he's so low that he's almost kneeling on the floor.

Dream has an errant thought that Professor Gadling is being seductive on purpose, except one look at his genuinely unsure expression proves Dream wrong.

Definitely sweet and docile in bed.

Dream wants to eat him alive.

Were this a porno, Dream would tell him that he's doing a terrific job, and if he could please thrust his chest out more so Dream could admire them better. But since he's an actual trainer with the thinnest veneer of professionalism left, he bids Professor Gadling to stand up and instructs him on how to squat properly.

Except, of course, his improved and now very proper form isn't making Dream feel any better, as Professor Gadling now had his ass thrust out instead of his chest, and has to repeat the motion 15 more times.

Dream gets his bottle of vitamin water and drinks deeply, hoping to cool himself down enough to banish his lecherous thoughts.

It doesn't work.

--

Hob sees from the corner of his eye Mr. Endless drink from his water bottle and immediately looks away. He's glad he's already red from exercising.

When Mr. Endless corrected his squat earlier, he did so by placing a hand gently against Hob's lower back to guide him, and Hob barely bit back a moan from how good a simple, innocent touch from him felt, even through his thick hoodie.

He feels like such a shameless pervert.

--

Once the assessment is (finally) over, Dream praises Professor Gadling for a job well done, valiantly ignores the shy, pleased look on the man's face, and instead goes on to tell him that he's doing okay overall, but needs more work in certain areas.

Dream does not specify which ones, telling him that he still needs to study the data and compile them together before emailing the whole thing to him.

In truth, Dream does not trust himself to look straight into Professor Gadling's lovely dark brown eyes and say words like 'stamina' and 'flexibility' without exposing the level of hunger he's currently feeling for him.

So yes. Dream will email him his pre-test results later, but he does not tell him that he will only do so after a good long wank.

Professor Gadling, totally unaware of his inner turmoil, only nods understandably, and agrees to read Dream's email as soon as his schedule allows him to. He must be sweating like crazy underneath his get-up, but his choice of clothes show no evidence of it.

Dream worries, and his mouth opens before he can stop it. "Professor Gadling," he says, just as the man had turned away to go to the nearby drinking fountains.

"Yes, Mr. Endless?"

Dream doesn't want to keep him any longer from the fountains than he has to. But next time, he's going to make sure to bring an extra bottle of vitamin water for him, so he could take a sip anytime without going all the way across the room and falling in line.

Dream is also going to be mature about not staring at his throat while he drinks. "When you go shopping for gym clothes, you may want to consider buying lighter fabrics."

"Oh, no, I'm absolutely fine with these," Professor Gadling says, and sounds sincere about it that Dream drops the subject.

"Very well," he says. He will not force him. Professor Gadling's comfort is paramount. If that means that Dream would have to adjust their lesson plans to include more water breaks, then that's what he'll do. "I shall see you next session."

He turns away before he could be tempted to watch Professor Gadling go. He does not think about the possibility that the hoodie might actually belong to Professor Gadling's boyfriend, who is probably waiting for him to get back home, and very eager to get him back in bed.

He has no right to be jealous.

--

Hob opens his gym bag and starts to take out his clean change of clothes when the texture of the shirt made him pause.

That's not the shirt he folded last night.

He takes the folded black shirt out, wonders at its suddenly lighter weight, then shakes it open to see if he had mistakenly folded another shirt.

As soon as the garment is revealed, however, he shoves it back in his bag, then shakes the accompanying bottom garment open. When that was revealed, he also shoves it back in the bag.

Then, slowly and mindfully, he breathes for a solid minute before he takes out his phone and texts his sister.

--

Mojo Jojo

Jo what the hell

what

(You sent a photo.)

Why are your gym clothes in my bag???

they're not mine stupid

i had ric buy them yesterday specifically for you

?????

for your ~mysterious~ gym crush to notice you (u///u)❤️

anyway don't worry and just wear them

they'll fit you

That's not the point!

A crop top and booty shorts???

you're right. the booty shorts are fine, but the crop top is too plain.

i should have told ric to pick the other one that says 'daddy's little fuck toy' 😂

JOHANNA CONSTANTINE-GADLING

pfft coward

i'm gonna tell ric to go back to the store and buy the fuck toy crop top

oops the director is shouting at me to get in place bye gtg

--

Hob is typing another scathing reply in all caps when he hears footsteps stop a short distance from him.

"Professor Gadling?"

Great. The last person in the world he wanted to see right at this very moment.

Hob smiles awkwardly and stows his phone back in his bag. "Mr. Endless."

"Is everything alright?"

Right. Shit. He hasn't even showered yet. He's probably stinking up the place and being a nuisance near the lockers.

"Everything's fine," Hob says, waving the man's concern away. "Just. Sisters being sisters. With their weird and very inappropriate sense of humor."

Someday, he'll learn how to shut his big mouth and stop at 'everything's fine.'

"I'm sure all sisters suffer from having a weird sense of humor," Mr. Endless says politely. "May I ask what your sister has done?"

Hob sighs deeply and zips his bag closed. It's fine. He'll just go shower at home. And anyway, it's not like he has to take the Tube and subject everyone to his sweaty self after a workout. Thank god he drove here. "Better not. If even I, as her brother, didn't find it funny, I very much doubt that you will."

"And yet you remain troubled," Mr. Endless says, and now his brows are furrowed in concern. "Please. I know this is not any of my business, but I would like to help you, if I can."

The fact that Mr. Endless looks very sincere makes Hob want to cry.

And he knows he shouldn't show him. He knows that Mr. Endless should be the last person in the world Hob should show these to. But he figures, what the hell. He could just quit via email as soon as he gets home and never have cause to see Mr. Endless or be seen in the vicinity of Endless Gym ever again.

Maybe it would even be for the best if he did that. Then he would stop having all these unsavory thoughts about him while the man is only trying to do his job.

He sighs and opens his bag once more, tilting it a little so Mr. Endless could see its contents. "My sister swapped my clean change of clothes for these."

Mr. Endless looks inside, and Hob can just see in his mind's eye what the other man saw: an extremely short, short-sleeved, solid black crop top with a deep V-neck that would barely cover Hob's chest area, and slutty black booty shorts with the phrase, 'SQUEEZE ME' printed on the butt area, complete with a cute yellow lemon emoji.

Although to be fair, 'crop top' is a generous term to use for the upper garment in the bag. It's too small and resembles a short-sleeved bra more than a crop top. From a single glance, Hob knows that even if it did fit him, it would be so tight that it would force his pecs to form a cleavage and leave his underboobs exposed.

He cringed internally at the image that would make, and could only imagine the utter revulsion Mr. Endless is feeling right now.

--

Dream had leaned over to inspect the contents of Professor Gadling's bag, expecting everything from a shark onesie to a clown suit.

Instead he sees further fuel for his already full folder of Professor Gadling-centric fantasies.

He could just imagine the crop top and the booty shorts on the man, and how he'd look like exercising while wearing them.

He had half a mind to ask for his sister's number so he could personally extend his gratitude to her, but doesn't dare to, in case Professor Gadling gets the wrong idea.

He inhales slowly and leans away, placing his hands neatly behind his back so Professor Gadling would not be in danger of being pushed against the lockers and fucked within an inch of his life. Dream did not fail to notice the distinct lack of underwear among the clean change of clothes, and now his mind is working overtime imagining himself standing behind Professor Gadling as he runs on the treadmill, the tiny shorts and the lack of proper underwear leaving nothing to the imagination. Imagines pressing himself against the professor's sweaty back after, the man still panting and out of breath, and pulling down his cute little shorts to jerk him off as a reward for a job well done.

"I see your dilemma," Dream says calmly, like this is an incident that happens every so often and not a cause for alarm or humiliation. "Fortunately, we have a stock of clean clothes in the staff locker room, in case staff members need to change for some reason or another. If you could please stay here for a while, I'm going to get you a clean change of clothes with more coverage."

Yes. It is imperative that he provides Professor Gadling with more conservative clothing than the ones currently in his bag. Otherwise, other people would see and covet what Dream has already envisioned as his. And that will definitely not do.

"Oh," Professor Gadling says, looking incredibly moved by his words. He's probably thinking how kind Dream is, while Dream is still thinking about how easy it would be to fuck his thighs after jerking him off, using the man's own cum as lube. How he would then make an even bigger mess of him and not clean him up after. That way, everyone would know that Professor Gadling is Dream's and Dream's only. "Are you sure? I don't want to trouble you unnecessarily."

"It's no problem at all," Dream says. In his mind, he imagines the man's thighs covered in both their cum, and Professor Gadling scooping some of it up and sucking on his fingers, curious as to what their mixed spend would taste like. "I have also been at the receiving end of a couple of my siblings' pranks, and would not wish another to suffer similarly." When Professor Gadling opened his mouth, possibly to protest, Dream holds up a hand and adds, "Please. I insist."

"Oh. Well then...thank you, Mr. Endless," Professor Gadling says, his dark brown eyes sparkling like precious gems in his gratefulness. Dream wants to kiss him all over. "You're a lifesaver."

--

Dream speedwalks to the staff locker room, checks to see if the coast is clear, immediately locks himself in a stall, drops his joggers and underwear, and starts jerking himself off furiously.

He barely even had to spit on his palm for lubrication, and he knows it wouldn't take long. He's already so aroused.

He has to do this.

If he doesn't, then Professor Gadling would be in an even greater danger when Dream hands him his clean (and much more conservative) change of clothes, and gets to be on the receiving end of his shy gratitude.

He imagines Professor Gadling, usually so buttoned up, only wearing that infernal crop top and booty shorts in Dream's favorite color, with those taunting fucking words--

"There's a good boy," his imagined self says to a kneeling Professor Gadling, who is pressing his tits closer together to create a valley where Dream could rut his cock against.

"I could...squeeze them even tighter, if you want?" his imagined Professor Gadling says, maintaining his naive, unsure aura about him even as his lips are slick and red from sucking on Dream's cock. "I want you to feel good, Mr. Endless."

Dream cums at the thought of marking Professor Gadling's face and hairy tits with his seed, and him shyly licking his lips for a taste of Dream's cum, moaning in delight when he finds Dream's spend to be thick and delicious. Dream is going to eat more pineapples, just for him. He's going to make Professor Gadling addicted to the taste of his cum that no other cum would do.

"Thank you for lending me your clothes, Mr. Endless," he would say, because he's polite like that. He would lean forward to milk Dream's cock more, making sure to get every last drop, before making a show of swallowing everything down, save for the cum marking him as Dream's. "And for the really tasty post-workout treat."

--

Mr. Endless looks a little flushed when he returns. However, judging by how far the staff locker room is from the gym goer's lockers that was out in the open (possibly to prevent theft and sexual harassment), as well as any additional effort he may have made in finding clean clothes that are in Hob's size, Hob thinks he got back pretty quickly.

The sight of him slightly flushed makes Hob think naughty thoughts though, which he quickly dispels from his mind. He doesn't have the right to think about Mr. Endless like that, especially after the man went through all this trouble just so Hob would feel comfortable going home.

Still. He wonders what would have happened if he had both the courage and the confidence to wear the clothes Jo bought for him.

Would Mr. Endless...

He viciously cuts the thought off before it could fully form. No. Absolutely not.

Mr. Endless would have felt nauseous at seeing his rolls and body hair and just...general unattractiveness. Hob wouldn't need to email him about quitting because the man himself would drop him as soon as he could, like a hot (temperature-wise) and very unappealing potato.

--

"Here," Dream says as he hands Professor Gadling a set of clean clothes. In the bundle is a black shirt, a black letterman jacket with the number 03 on it, and black joggers. All of them belong to Dream, and everyone, especially his siblings and the rest of the staff, is going to know that these are his clothes as soon as they see the number 03. "You will have to go commando, but it's definitely preferable to what your sister intended for you to wear."

Professor Gadling looks so grateful and Dream wants to mark him up, this time with his own teeth. Let everyone see Professor Gadling wearing his clothes and his teeth marks, even his boyfriend who lent him this hoodie, whoever he is. "Thank you so much," he says. "And yes. Lord knows I shouldn't subject anyone to the sight of me in that. I'll drive all the gym goers away and then Endless Gym would have to close."

Dream really, absolutely hates how Professor Gadling thinks of himself as unattractive. Is it because his boyfriend tells him that? Is that why Professor Gadling signed up for training in the first place?

Well, whoever he is, he better be prepared because Dream is ready and raring to beat him into a pulp the moment Professor Gadling even implies that his lack of self-esteem is caused by his boyfriend spouting lies about his beautiful body.

Were Dream allowed to freely speak his mind, he would say that if Professor Gadling did don the clothes his sister intended for him to wear, he would no doubt cause multiple accidents due to gym goers losing their concentration: dropping weights on their feet and tripping on the treadmills, not to mention the injuries he would cause in the future, when Dream would casually arrange little minor accidents to those he caught drooling at his lovely future boyfriend.

But because he is still Professor Gadling's trainer and therefore need to have some semblance of control and professionalism, what he says instead is, "I don't think such a thing will happen. And please, feel free to keep those clothes if you wish."

"Oh!" Professor Gadling exclaims. "I absolutely shouldn't. I'll wash them after and return them to you on our next session."

Dream smiles. He's very stubborn, too. "If you do that, I will simply put them in your locker so you will have an extra set of clothes if your sister decides to swap your clean set again."

--

Hob blushes as soon as Mr. Endless hands him the bundle of clothing, and feels even more flustered when, after showering, he holds them in his arms and smells a hint of Mr. Endless's own scent on them.

He really is so kind and generous and considerate and Hob is so very quickly falling in love with him.

--

Hob is walking past the gym's cafe after getting dressed when he sees Mr. Endless ordering what looks like a pineapple smoothie. He walks over and nods politely to both the staff member behind the counter and Mr. Endless when both men turn to look at him.

The male staff member quickly walks towards the blender to fulfill Mr. Endless's order, however, and so the two of them are left alone to converse freely.

"Thank you for lending me your clothes, Mr. Endless," Hob tells him, all-smiles. The clothes fit him perfectly, and the fabric feels good on his skin.

There is an undecipherable look in Mr. Endless's eyes. Hob hopes he's not mad. He looks really intense. "I see they fit you well."

Hob laughs. "I was surprised, too! Thank you very much for finding ones that are in my size. This jacket is especially lovely." He rubs his hand over the fabric of the jacket's sleeve, which really does have a nice texture to it.

"I'm glad you like it," Mr. Endless says. "And I hope that this means you are considering keeping it?"

Hob ducks his head to hide his embarrassing lovesick smile. He'd love to, actually. He'll take it off as soon as he gets home and press his face against it, hoping to smell what little remains of Mr. Endless's scent, and how their scents mix together. "Maybe."

"Then it is yours," Mr. Endless says. It might be Hob's delusional imagination, but Mr. Endless looks fond as he looks at him. His heart is beating so fast. If he doesn't leave soon, he may just do the unthinkable and kiss Mr. Endless in front of the poor staff member behind the bar, as well as a couple of random gym goers peacefully eating their salads in the background.

--

"Oh," Professor Gadling says softly. "Really? You mean that?"

Dream wasn't wrong in his assumption. The man does look good wearing his clothes. And for him to go out of his way just to show Dream how well they fit before he leaves...

Dream wants to tear his own clothes off him and just give him another set after.

"I do, Professor Gadling," he says. "I only say what I mean, and I would love for you to keep them. At home or in your locker, as long as your sister doesn't hide them from you and replace your clean change of clothes again."

"I will care for them well," Professor Gadling vows sincerely. Dream has no doubt that he will. But this is only the first of many clothes that Dream is planning on giving him. In fact, Dream could already envision his own closet at home, interspersed with Professor Gadling's clothes, and the man himself wearing Dream's clothes to bed. Dream is going to let him steal all his hoodies after they burn his ex's hoodies. He's going to spoil him rotten with pretty lingerie so he'll never have to go commando ever again. "Shall I see you in a couple of days for our next session?"

Dream could think of no one else belonging in his life as a romantic partner other than Professor Gadling. He smiles and barely prevents himself from leaning forward and giving the man's delicious-looking lips a chaste peck before he has to leave. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

[ayasuki]

6th Bakugou x Reader FANFIC RECS

some are short but they're good hehe (most of these are suggestive :P)

> • 𝑹𝒆𝒄 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕

" Dream Eater " by justatypicaltrash

dream eater!bakugou x reader

warning: slight angst

bakugo is an eternal living dream eater.

" I Like You, Okay?! " by kikyo-bnha-imagines

bakugou x fem!reader

summary: katsuki struggles to confess to his crush.

" Workshopped Romance " by itsmm4hiii

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

summary: working for a hero costume designer has its perks like; meeting heroes, playing with cool technologies, getting you're name out- y/n didn't  really expect her own boss will try and hook her up with a customer. 

" Blood Moonlit, Must be Counterfeit " by irisintheafterglow

pro-hero!bakugou x reader

warning: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes.

WARNING | beneath the cut are slightly suggestive to full on smut fics

" no title " by moominsuki

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: ch. 359-362 spoilers kinda. a little suggestive but fluff all around

summary: katsuki hates being off the job. but what he hates more is being treated like glass, especially by you.

" as the years go by " by quitesins

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: suggestive, slight nsfw, friends to lovers, unrequited love ig? virgin!reader, drabble

summary: being friends with bakugou since UA, watching each other change as the years go by, but still having room to learn more, so much more.

" no title " by izvmimi

warning: palace drama au, multiple wives, fem!reader, brief explicit sex.

" One More Time " by yanderenightmare

warning: derogatory dirty talk, spanking, angsty but with a fluffy ending

" no title " by dreamland03

bakugou x reader

warning: mention of sex like once, drinking, mention of trauma, bad self image

" Come Sit " by saturnorbits

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: cock-warming

summary: after a long day, all you need is bakugo.

" Feral " by smiley-babe

wolfhybrid!bakugou x fem!reader

warnings: aged up characters, lowkey monster fucking (hybrid bakugo has wolf ears, a tail, and fangs), knotting, HUGE breeding kink, no specific dynamics, biting, small blood kink (if you squint), marking/ bonding, heat/ rut behavior, panty sniffing, kind of rough sex, oral (f receiving), and fingering

summary: taking in a wolf hybrid already didn’t seem like a good idea, but when spring hits… all hell breaks loose.

" Personal Trainer!BKG " by bakubunny

personal trainer!bakugou x plus size!fem!reader

warning: oral sex (m receiving), rough sex.

" On To Better Things " by savnofilter

prohero!dilf!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: angst, strangers to lovers

sfw | toxic & abusive relationship, toxic baby daddy, mentions postpartum, mental health, arguing, mentions of legal proceedings, counseling, drama, cultural family expectations, love bombing, manipulation, a man being a hypocrite, reader low-key needs a new circle of people around them but that's neither here nor there, reader loves their daughter to pieces </3, reader's daughter is a hand full but we stan!, reader spaces out a lot, "our kids are best friends but we never met before and so happen to be single" trope.

nsfw | fingering, cunnilingus, groping, praise kink, reader has multiple orgasms (2, hinted 4), reader is a bit shy as it's been awhile and feels nervous, vocal queen reader, clothed sex, protected sex, comforting!bakugo, non-established relationship.

" Swipe Right " by ryukatters

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp

summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

" no title " by katbakubae

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: language, dom!bakugou, possessiveness, jealousy, (mild) stalking, name calling, spanking, rough oral.

summary: sick of your boyfriends lack of time with you because of his busy schedule, you decided to take some time for yourself. unfortunately, letting that happen was never an option for him.

[ddejavvu]

m.list - aaron hotchner (cont.) 

masterlist #1

thoughts: #let’s talk about aaron hotchner !!

blurbs:

your love language is acts of service

you get distracted on the jet by hotch's arms

hotch gets self conscious of his body

stepdad!hotch | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

sugar daddy!hotch

giving hotch a bj while he smokes

you’re on your period

hotch fucking you against a tree

hotch has to leave for a case after you fight

you meet jack for the first time

hotch x shy!reader (hcs)

soccer dad!hotch and soccer mom!reader (hcs)

bookstore owner!hotch | 2

hotch lets you do his hair

hotch + second chance romance

hotch scares you by yelling

shower sex with hotch

hotch remembers your birthday

going to the aquarium with hotch

biker!hotch | 2

you and hotch accidentally attend a swingers’ party

hotch has a soft spot for you

you fix hotch’s tie

you and hotch share a hotel room, you get hit on by room service

fratboy!hotch

you like hotch’s beard

reading in bed with husband!hotch

jealous!hotch fucks you in the club bathroom

riding sub!hotch

hotch is a clingy drunk

coworkers to lovers with hotch

whipped!hotch (hcs)

hotch thinks about you in secret | 2

hotch x military!reader

hotch + facefucking

personal trainer!hotch

hotch loves when you wear his clothes

hotch with a goth wife

grumpy!hotch x sunshine!reader

morgan’s prank on hotch backfires

hotch x autistic!reader

doctor!hotch

army!hotch

pilot!hotch x pilot!reader

you’re talking to jack but aaron thinks you’re talking to him

hotch + daddy kink

hotch walks in on your masturbating

hotch + soulmate au

teaching law school!hotch how to dance

possessive!hotch | 2

hotch comforts you after a bad case

hotch has a dirty dream about you

you flirt with a bartender to get a free drink, and hotch doesn’t like it

pilot!hotch x flight attendant!reader

you’re very fond of hotch’s ass

band manager!hotch

hotch finds out you’re scared of spiders

moving in with hotch

hotch takes you for an ice cream run

sugar daddy!hotch | 2

you get a papercut and hotch is worried

you’re allergic to tomato and you’re served some in front of hotch

hotch is soft for you, the team notices

going undercover at a bdsm club with hotch

you pick out hotch’s work outfit

riding hotch’s thigh

tying hotch up

cat hybrid!hotch

furniture shopping with hotch

hotch gives you a boob massage

hotch fucks you into subspace then takes care of you afterwards

single mom!reader x hotch

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Geto Suguru x Reader Fanfic Part 1

You sell yourself to a brothel to feed your family and Geto Suguru is in charge of training you to be the perfect submissive sex doll.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment. 

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Geto’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. Submission. Extreme humiliation. Voyeurism. Light degradation. Masturbation. Oral sex. Deep throating. Lots of stuff! Divider by @benkeibear!

Your nerves are on fire. Your heart feels like it might burst at any moment. You never dreamed you would end up in a situation like this, but here you are: standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, being appraised by a woman with long silver hair pulled into a braid. She circles you, holding a folded paper fan in one hand, her eyes sharp. 

“I think we can make something pleasing of you,” she says, red lips curling into a smile. 

You exhale. Not sure whether you’re relieved or not. You came here to essentially sell yourself to the Doll House. Your parents died six months ago, leaving you and your four siblings saddled with debt and struggling to survive. As the only adult left in the family, you’ve been working various jobs to try to keep your younger siblings fed, but debt collectors are harassing them. You have to do something. 

The woman with silver hair returns with a thick envelope. When you open it, your eyes bulge. You’ve never seen so much money in your life! You count it as quickly as possible, growing more shocked by the second. 

“Do we have a deal?” the woman asks. 

You look up at her. “I’m worth this much?”

“Oh darling, I’ll get twice as much for you after you’ve been properly trained!”

“Can you make sure this money pays off my parents’ debts? And the rest goes to my siblings?”

The woman nods. “Of course.”

“Alright. It’s a deal,” you say. She steps out of the room and returns with a contract for you to sign. You take the time to read over it carefully. 

It’s a ten year contract, during which time you’ll essentially belong to the Doll House and then whoever they sell your contract to. No one is allowed to do permanent physical harm to you or prevent you from having contact with your loved ones. You have the right to terminate the contract at any time, though you’ll face dire financial consequences if you do so. 

Ten years. It’s a long time, but it’s worth it to pull your family out of poverty. You sign the contract, the silver haired woman takes it, and hands the envelope to another employee. “See that all her family’s debts are settled, and use the rest to set up a monthly stipend for her siblings.”

The employee nods and leaves. The woman leads you deeper into the Doll House, then stops in a large circular room with plush red carpets and velvet-lined furniture. There are fancy polished lamps hanging on the wall, and a heavy perfumed smell in the air. 

“Wait here,” she says. “I’ll see which trainer is available.”

You stand there nervously, alone, after she disappears down a dark hallway. There’s no turning back now. If you break the contract, it would put your siblings in even worse debt. 

But now your mind is focused solely on your trainer. Who is he? Will he be kind or cruel? What sort of fetish will they shove you into? These thoughts plague you as you fidget with the end of the thin belt around your dress. You’re worried the trainer might be some disgusting brute who never showers. Or just as bad, someone incredibly handsome who will end up seeing you in terribly embarrassing situations. 

You hope he’ll just be an average man. 

“Hello, miss,” a honeyed voice says behind you. 

You turn around quickly to see a stunningly beautiful man with long black hair. He’s dressed casually in dark, loose-fitting clothes and his eyes are narrowed by a smile that curves his lips in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster. 

Is he a customer? You glance around, looking for the silver haired woman who went to fetch your trainer. She’s the one he needs to talk to. 

“Um, sorry, I just got here. I can’t help you, but the owner should be back any minute,” you say, returning his smile. You can’t help thinking that if customers look like him, this might not be so bad after all. 

“You’re new?” he asks. 

You nod, feeling a little embarrassed for this gorgeous guy to know you’re here to sell yourself. “I’m just trying to take care of my family,” you say.

His smile fades as he fold his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you afraid? I’ve heard they do some pretty extreme stuff here.”

You glance around to make sure the owner isn’t nearby. “Between you and me, I’m terrified! The scariest part is the trainer. I mean, some strange man is going to have complete control over me? What if he’s just a big pervert?”

The customer laughs, his dark eyes twinkling. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think anyone who works here is going to be a pervert!”

You laugh too. “I guess you’re right. Well, I just hope he’s not too rough on me. I’m a very sensitive person.”

He tilts his head forward, one long strand of bangs falling over his eye. “Are you now?”

You feel a sudden chill. You almost forgot this guy is here to buy a doll. Who knows what depraved things he’s into? You let out a small nervous giggle. “Uh, just keep that to yourself if you don’t mind. My trainer might use it against me.”

He smiles warmly, holding a long finger to his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

Just then you hear high heeled footsteps coming down the hall. It’s the owner! You turn to face her, dreading to see what sort of man she’s bringing with her, what sort of man will be doing whatever he wants with your body for the next few weeks. 

But she’s alone. Could she not find an available trainer? 

“Oh, Geto, there you are,” she says, looking behind you. “I see you’ve already met your new doll.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. You slowly turn around and look at the ridiculously handsome man you thought was a customer. He flashes you a wide grin. You reflexively back away from him. “You’re my trainer?!”

“That’s me,” he says. “You can call me Master Suguru.”

Oh no. This is the worst possible outcome. You just blabbed all your fears and weaknesses to him. Not to mention the fact that this man, this beautiful man, was going to see you naked, was going to witness your clumsy attempts to be sexy. How humiliating! Your face was burning already. 

He steps around you and heads down the hall. “Follow me and we’ll get started,” he says, looking at you over his shoulder. 

You’ve only been here a short while and it’s already turned into a nightmare. The training is going to start now? You haven’t even had a chance to unpack you belongings or see your new room. You reach down to get your small suitcase, but your trainer calls out, “Leave your things. You won’t be needing them anytime soon.”

With a sigh of resignation, you walk down the hall after him, a huge knot in your stomach. 

He leads you to what appears to be a luxurious bedroom. More of the plush carpets and high end furniture. There’s an ornate bed in the center of the room. Oh God, is he going to fuck you right now? You’re not prepared! 

“This is my private room,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We’ll do much of your training here, but sometimes we’ll use other areas of the house. During your training, you’ll be with me twenty-four hours a day. You’ll eat with me, sleep with me, bathe with me…”

Your face must have twisted in horror at that last comment, because he laughs at your reaction. “You’ll get used to it,” he says. “By the way, I’m guessing you’re curious what my specialty is. Right?”

You nod, too nervous to speak. 

“Submission. Humiliation. Degradation.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. “S-so… basically… you’re going to be really mean to me?”

He smiles as he stands up and steps closer to you. “It’s more than that. I’ll train you to enjoy it, to find pleasure in giving yourself to your owner, in being insulted and berated and humiliated.” He’s so close now that you can smell his scent, like sandalwood and citrus. He reaches up one hand and touches your face. “But yes, I’m going to be really, really mean to you.”

You shudder at his words, at his closeness, at his soft fingers on your cheek. Then he steps away suddenly and sits back down on the bed, casually. “I don’t use physical force generally. I don’t hit or shove or fully restrain. I dislike using violence in my training. I have other ways of disciplining you.”

He pauses to watch your reaction, then he goes on, his sensual voice seeming to go lower. “You will obey my every command. You will do anything I tell you to do, no matter how unpleasant it is. Failure to do so would be a breach of your contract. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer out, looking down. 

“That’s ‘Yes, Master Suguru,’” he says. 

“Yes… Master Suguru.”

“Great!” he says, clapping his hands together once, startling you with the sound. “Now let’s do a little test run to see how well you follow orders. Take off your clothes.”

“R-right now?” you ask, your face positively on fire. He says nothing but narrows his eyes, giving you a warning look. There’s something scary about it. “I mean… yes, Master Suguru.”

He smiles then, still sitting on his bed as if the two of you are having a normal conversation. 

You untie the belt around your dress and drop it to the floor. Then you step out of your shoes. You pause for a moment, not sure if you should unzip your dress on the side or simply pull it over your head. You decide to unzip, thinking it will slow this process down by even a few precious seconds. Suguru offers no commentary as you slide the dress down your hips and let it pool around your ankles. He just watches. 

Left in only bra and panties, you look to his face, as if silently asking if this is enough. He still says nothing, only stares at you expectantly. His silence is nerve wracking, his eyes on you almost unbearable. You unhook your bra and pull it off, resisting the urge to cover yourself with an arm. Then you take a deep breath before pushing your panties down to the floor, stepping out of both them and the dress. 

Once fully stripped, you keep your eyes on the floor, your hands stiffly at your sides. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you force your eyes up to his face. His gaze is burning holes into your body. At least that’s what it feels like. 

“Alright,” he says in a pleasant tone, “now lie down on the floor, with your feet pointing toward me.”

You blink in confusion. Is he going to take you on the floor? When there’s a perfectly nice bed right there? But you don’t hesitate for long. You carefully get down on the carpet, trying to be as modest as possible, and then lie down as he instructed. 

“Spread your legs. Draw your knees up toward your shoulders.”

Well, so much for maintaining your modesty. You knew it was a futile effort anyway. You follow his orders, feeling like your whole body is on fire with shame. He’s looking at you. He’s looking at your most private parts. 

“Now pleasure yourself,” you hear him say. 

You raise your head up from the carpet to look at him, praying that he’s only joking, but he’s not laughing. “I can’t!” you say, unable to conceal the terror in your voice. This is too much. You can’t possibly do something so embarrassing in front of this man! 

He stands up from the bed and steps over to you, looming over your naked, spread open form. “Oh? Already refusing orders? We can do this in the main hall if you prefer. The other trainers would probably enjoy the show.”

“No, please!”

He kneels down in front of you, practically between your legs. “Or, you can just get up and walk out. No one is forcing you to do this. You came here of your own free will, didn’t you?”

You close your eyes, tears leaking out. He’s right. You came here on your own. No one brought you here. No one even suggested it. The whole thing was your idea. You knew things like this would happen, and you came anyway. An image of your siblings flashes in your mind, and you know you have to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and healthy. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, using one hand to wipe your tears. You wait a moment for him to back away, but to your horror he remains where he is, inches away from you, with a clear and perfect view of your pussy as you reach one shaky hand down to lightly rub yourself. 

Your eyes close as you sniffle, trying to keep yourself from crying. You slip one finger into your folds, trying to focus on the feeling and forget that you have an audience. You’re dry, because of course you are. Lying there holding back your tears is not the least bit arousing. 

“Look at me,” you hear him say, and you almost sob. You open your eyes to find him hovering over you, his silky hair spilling over his shoulders, his eyes moving from your hand between your thighs to your face, his luscious lips curled into a predatory smile. 

Oh God. He’s so gorgeous. It’s entirely unfair.  

You feel the first drops of wetness as your fingers glide over your skin, spreading it around, glossing it over your clit. 

“There you go,” he says, his voice low. “Finally getting wet. What did it for you? The fact that I’m watching?”

You don’t say anything, just keep stroking your clit with your finger, your breaths coming quicker. You’d rather look anywhere else in the world, but he ordered you to look at him, so you’re forced to look him in the eyes as he watches you touch yourself. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, but your fingers are becoming slicker the more you think about it. 

“You’re gushing now,” he says, leaning so close. “Does it feel that good, being watched? I can see everything you’re doing, every little movement of your fingers, the way your clit twitches… it’s obscene.”

His words are getting to you. You’re so slippery that you can feel your arousal wetting the carpet beneath you. 

“I bet you do this all the time at home,” he says. “Do you?”

“S-sometimes…” you manage to say, struggling to focus on anything besides the pleasure. 

“What do you think about when you touch yourself at home?”

“Ahhh…. being touched… by someone else…”

“Touched by who? A boyfriend?” he asks. 

“I… don’t have a… ahhhhhh!!” The moan escapes you before you can finish. 

“No boyfriend,” he confirms. “What about an ex boyfriend?”

“N-never… had one…”

He seems surprised by that. “Really? Then… are you a virgin?”

You hesitate. You planned on keeping that fact to yourself for as long as possible. You’ve heard horror stories about trainers intentionally being rough on virgins.

“Answer,” he says in a commanding voice. 

“Yes,” you finally say, holding back another moan. 

He grins, his eyes shining. “What a slutty little virgin, moaning and dripping all over my carpet, getting off on a stranger watching you rub your clit.”

Your back arches involuntarily, your hips nearly bucking off the floor. He’s so, so close to you. Why won’t he just touch you himself? But he just watches, sometimes looking you in the eyes when you moan, making this as embarrassing as possible. 

You’re close, your legs trembling, your stokes becoming faster, the humiliating wet sounds getting louder. He notices, saying, “Ask for permission before you cum.”

You don’t waste any time. “M-may I please… ahh… cum… Master Suguru?”

He waits for a moment, watching your face while smiling serenely. Then, when it feels like you’re about to explode, he says, “You may cum.”

It feels like the orgasm slammed into your body. You’ve never felt anything so intense before! You’ve masturbated before, when you could find some private moments, but it always seemed like an underwhelming experience. This… this was incredible. 

When you finished convulsing on the floor, you collapsed back into the carpet, your legs splayed apart on either side of Suguru. You panted, closing your eyes and just wanting to sleep. After a few seconds, you realized he’s never moved, so you look back up at him. 

He’s just staring! It’s unnerving. You use what little strength you have to start to scoot back so you can at least close your legs, but he suddenly stands up before you can move. He returns to the bed and sits down again. 

“Crawl over to me,” he says. 

You roll over to your stomach and then get to your knees. Your legs feel weak, almost like they don’t belong to you, but he gave you an order. Feeling low and foolish, you crawl on hands and knees over to him, your thighs sticky with your cum. 

Once you’re right in front of him, he reaches out and lightly strokes your hair. “Ready to meet your true master?”

You look at him curiously. “Huh? But I thought you were-“

Your voice cuts off as you see him reach into his pants and pull out an imposingly large cock. It’s both thicker and longer than you imagined, standing tall and proud in his lap, fully erect. He slides one of his hands over it. 

“This is your true master. For the next few weeks, your life is going to revolve around my cock, around pleasuring it. When it’s not in one of your holes, you should be begging me to put it in one. When you sleep, you should be dreaming about it. Until your training is complete, my cock is your whole world. Understand?”

You’re sitting on your knees in front of him, your “true master” practically in your face. “Yes, Master Suguru,” you say, then you pause and look up at his face. “Uh, do I have to call it Master Cock or something?”

He blinks down at you, then suddenly bursts into laughter. “No, no, that’s not necessary,” he says, patting your head and then wiping at the corner of his eyes. “But you can go ahead and try sucking me off.”

You look from his face to his dick, then back again. “Okay. I mean, Yes, Master Suguru.”

He smiles then, seemingly pleased that you’re getting better at addressing him properly. 

You scoot closer to him and reach out with one hand, loosely gripping the hard fleshy rod with your fingers. It feels strange in your hand, a slight twitch to it that reminds you of a small animal. You move your hand up and down the length, wondering if you’re supposed to do it fast or slow, if your grip is too hard or too loose. Your eyes keep flicking up to his face to check his response, but his expression remains only a mild smile. 

After getting a feel for it, you lean your face forward and give the tip of it a tentative lick, then another. You look up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants you to do. 

He sighs. “You’ve never pleasured a man before, have you?”

You shake your head. 

“I can tell,” he says, and your face burns again. He didn’t have to say it like that. “Since this is your first ever blowjob, I’ll teach you how to do it. I expect you to please me from now on.”

You nod, embarrassed but relieved to be told what he wants. 

“Lick the underside of it, from base to tip,” he says, “then take it into your mouth. Use your saliva to make it wet.”

You follow his directions as best you can, running your tongue up the length of it, slowly, then taking the whole thing as far into your mouth as you can. It quickly hits the back of your throat, so you pull back just a little, enough that you can move your tongue around it, glazing it with your spit. 

“That’s good,” he says, resting one hand on your head, long fingers threading into your hair. “Don’t neglect the balls,” he adds. 

You reach one hand up to lightly squeeze them as your tongue swirls around his shaft, making it slick. 

“Use your lips.”

You tighten your lips around him, moving your head up and down, slobber and precum spreading all over your mouth and chin. You want to wipe your mouth, but you realize this is part of it. Making a mess on your face is probably the point. 

“Your tongue is slacking off,” he says, and the disappointed tone of his voice somehow hurts. You don’t even know why you want to please him so badly, but you do. So you pull him out of your mouth and run your tongue up and down the length before digging it gently into the tip, getting the whole thing soaked with your saliva and then wrapping your lips around it again. You take him so deep this time that it triggers your gag reflex, and you hear a slight catch to his breath. He likes that! 

Feeling a little more bold, you press down further, letting him fill your throat, but when you panic because your breath is cut off, you feel his hand on your head press down even further. Tears spring to your eyes as you try to jerk back, but his grip is firm. “Relax your throat,” he says, “and don’t stop moving your tongue. Yes, that’s it. You’re doing good.”

You try to relax, to trust that he won’t kill you while he’s fucking your throat. You ignore the burning feeling, the soreness settling into your jaw, and keep licking, keep sucking with your lips. You have to please him! 

Just when you feel like you might black out, he pulls your head back, his cock popping out of your mouth. You gasp for air as he strokes your head. 

“Now be a good girl and ask for my cum,” he says, moving his hand up and down his drenched cock. 

You look up at him with teary eyes and red face, still trying to catch your breath. “May I please have your cum… Master Suguru?”

“Stick out your tongue.”

You open your trembling lips and extend your tongue as far as you can. Seconds later, warm ropes of your trainer’s cum shoot out, most of it landing directly on your tongue, some of it landing on your cheeks and chin, some even going further into your mouth. 

His hand is still stroking your hair sweetly as he smiles down at you. “Savor it. Don’t spill any.”

You pull your tongue back in, swirling the cum around to coat the inside of your mouth, then open your lips so he can see. “Good, good,” he says, “My slutty little virgin knows how to treat her master’s cum. That’s really good. Now swallow it.”

Gulping it down, you feel a tingling sensation throughout your whole body from his praise. You want more of it. 

He grabs a tissue from his nightstand and uses it to wipe off your face, then stands up. “Let’s clean up,” he says cheerfully, walking toward a door in the back corner of the room. You climb to your feet and follow after him, finding yourself in a large bathroom. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the shower. There’s no curtain, no door. It’s simply an open stall. There’s even a chair positioned across from it, for someone to sit in and watch. 

Suguru takes the chair, looking comfortable as he gestures toward the shower. “Go ahead. There’s plenty of soap and shampoo. I put a new loofah out for you.”

You stare at the open shower, then back at him. “You’re just… going to watch?”

His dark eyes peer at you. “Unless you want me to help you.”

“No, that’s okay!” you say quickly, stepping into the shower and turning the water on. You yelp when the cold water hits your skin, and you hear him chuckle. Once you get the water just right, you grab the soap and begin bathing, just trying to get this done as fast as possible. 

Suguru’s voice echoes in the room. “Interesting. Most women start by washing their hair,” he says, obviously just trying to keep you aware that he’s watching. “But you’re starting with your tits. Hmm.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Do you have to narrate this?”

He laughs heartily for a few moments, then stands up all at once and walks over to the shower, stopping just outside the water’s reach. “You’re funny. But starting tomorrow, I won’t allow any back talking,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Understand?”

You shiver despite the heat of the water. “Yes, Master Suguru.”

The smile returns to his face. “Good, now face me while you shower.”

You grimace as he returns to the chair. He’s really not going to let you keep even a shred of dignity, is he? But you hurry through the process and feel a hundred percent better when he hands you a towel to dry off with. It’s not big enough to wrap around your body, but you can cover some of yourself while using it. When finished, you look at him and ask, “What do I wear?”

“Hmm? Oh, you wear nothing.”

“Huh?!”

He looks as if your reaction confuses him. “Why would you need clothes? You’d just be taking them off all the time. So during your training, you won’t be wearing any.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. “But… what about when I have to leave this room?”

“You’ll be leaving it in the morning. We’ll have breakfast in the main hall. What about it?”

You stare at him, horror-striken. “I can’t wear anything even then? But the other trainers…”

He laughs. “Oh don’t worry about them. They see naked women all the time, most of them with bodies much better than yours. They’ll hardly notice you.”

You hold the towel up in front of you, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Please don’t make me do that,” you whisper, tears in your eyes again. 

“No one is making you do anything,” he says. “Break the contract if you want.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then do as you’re told. And drop the towel, you’re already dry.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter under your breath, flinging the towel onto the floor. 

He looks at you sharply, eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Y-you said I can’t talk back starting tomorrow!” you say defensively.

After a pause, he laughs again. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, I’ll let your bad behavior slide just for tonight. Now about your dryness problem…”

You tense up, wondering what he’s planning to do to you now, but he doesn’t approach you. Instead he pulls his black shirt over his head, revealing a toned, muscular torso. He reaches up and unties his hair from its half-up style, letting it flow freely around his shoulders. Then he shoves his pants down, stripping completely. 

Your mouth falls open as you watch him step into the shower. How can a human being be so beautiful? How was it possible? 

You’re not so dry anymore. 

He points to the chair and says, “Sit. Don’t look away.”

Look away? You don’t think you could pry your eyes off him with a crowbar. Every move he makes is sensual. Washing his hair, soaping up his chest, even cleaning his ass looks sexy. It just wasn’t fair. How were you supposed to handle this? How were you supposed to humiliate yourself in front of this perfect specimen over and over again? 

When he’s finished drying off, he pulls on some cozy looking clothes, very similar to what he had on earlier. Long sleeved black top that fits him loosely and similarly fitting black pants. He looks warm and comfortable, and you can’t help feeling cold and even more exposed, even though the room is decently warm. 

He goes over to the closet and pulls out a thin blanket, reaching it to you. “You’ll be sleeping on the floor, beside my bed. Don’t make that face, this is part of your training. You’re submitting to me completely, right?”

You look at the blanket in your arms, then the floor. The carpet is thick and soft, so it could definitely be worse, but compared to Suguru’s fancy bed, the floor looks dismal. 

You sigh and walk over to the side of the bed, then lie down and spread the blanket over yourself, thankful to finally be able to cover up. 

Suguru stands over you, staring down with a blank expression. “What is it?” you ask nervously, wondering if he has some nefarious plan in mind. In all honesty, you’re surprised he hasn’t fucked you yet. A tiny, buried part of you finds that just a little disappointing. 

He looks away from your face, rubbing the back of his hair. “Just for tonight, and only tonight, you can sleep in the bed with me.”

You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest. “Really?”

He hesitates, then nods. Sensing this is a one time opportunity, you get to your feet, leaving the blanket behind, and crawl under the covers of his bed. It’s so soft! And warm! You snuggle in, hugging a pillow to your face. You feel the bed shift as Suguru climbs in, but you’re fast asleep before he even reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. 

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 7

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.2k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 6, 8

You begin to drift up from a deep slumber, your head hurts and the room is too bright, you can tell even through your closed lids that the room is filled with an ungodly amount of sunlight. Had you forgotten to close the curtains before bed? Very unlike you but not an impossibility. You sure as hell were regretting it now though.

You were also still very drowsy, you can’t ever remember waking up this sleepy. Maybe you’ll rest your eyes for a bit longer.

You stir in your sleep, tongue moving over the roof of your mouth, it’s dry as sand. But you don’t want to get water, you’re still so tired and your head, Fuck! Your head kills. Maybe you could get up and get some water, close those damn curtains while you’re at it.

Your eyelids feel like they’re glued closed. One hand comes up to shield your eyes while the other rubs the crustated sleep from the corners of them. Your vision clears, and you're squinting but your eyes are open. You lift your head just slightly and examine the room.

It’s not your room, but it’s familiar. Like a room you’ve seen in a dream. Were you dreaming? Had to be. This wasn't your room. Everything blurs and you blink your eyes, your dream eyes, to clear your vision. It helps. You’re lying in bed, not your bed but the dream bed. The duvet is dark blue, it’s familiar but from where is far from even the tip of your tongue.

The room is neat, there's a dark wood dresser in the corner, a pull up bar and a stand with dumbbells progressing in weight off to the side. You turn your head to see a digital alarm clock, it reads 9:48. Fuck! 9:48?!? You’re late for work. That gets you moving, you sit up but it’s too fast and your headache triples as the world begins to spin. The dream bubble pops. Not a dream after all, but still not your room.

You recover but slowly as the room gradually stops spinning. Where were you? It looked familiar, but you still couldn’t place it. What happened last night? It’s very hazy. Nancy, you can remember that much. You had gone out with Nancy, everything else might as well had been a dream for as much as you could recall of it.

Someone was in this house with you, you could smell something delicious in the air and your stomach growled its approval. You groan and put a hand to your forehead. You needed water immediately. You stare down at the bed, dark blue, a deep navy shade. A memory, hazy, begins to come forth. Your pounding head is slow processing it, it rises to the surface from the depths of your murky brain. Your dry mouth falls open just as the door swings inward and just as your recollection had summoned him, here he was, huge grin on his face and a glass of cold orange juice in hand.

“Bonnie!” You wince at his volume and he tenses up, quieting down and even stepping lighter, trying his hardest to not pain you. “Sorry, lass. Ye might be a bit woozy. Had a helluva night last night.” You must be dreaming, but you’re not. You know you’re not.

You start to say his name but all that comes out is croaky garbles. “Here, drink this.” He hands you the glass and you’ve never coveted a glass of orange juice so hard in your life. You take huge, greedy gulps and when the juice runs over the dried strip of leather that had become your tongue you nearly cry from the joy of it. You downed half the glass and heard him from beyond it. “Easy, hen. Drink slow. Ye can have as much as ye want.”

You reluctantly pull the glass from your lips and lick them, the saliva that had burst forth from your mouth now that you’d had something to drink was overflowing and you wondered how you could have produced so much in such a short amount of time if you had been so extremely parched just moments ago.

With it under control you made another attempt at speaking. “Johnny? What’s going on?” He took the glass from your hand and set it down on the nightstand next to the bed. “Well lass, ye had a bit too much tae drink I’d say. I’m no doctor hen, but if ah’m nae mistaken I’d have tae say maybe there was a bit more to it than jus’ that.”

You definitely had had too much to drink last night. But had you? You certainly don’t remember drinking in excess but then again you couldn’t really remember much of anything about last night. Wait, what did he just say? “What do you mean Johnny?”

“Well hen, I’m no expert, but I’d say maybe ye weren’t watchin’ yer drinks too closely and I’d say maybe someone might’ve spiked ye.” What? Spiked you, like roofies or something? That can’t be. Can it? But fuck your head did hurt something unnatural.

“Ahh fuck, Johnny. I’m late for work, I’ve gotta go.” You begin to pull back the covers and get up when you notice you’re naked from the waist down. “Johnny! What the fuck! Where are my pants?”

“Jus’ slow down there, hen. First of all ye dinnae need tae worry about work, I’ve already called in tae say ye won’t be comin’ in today. Yer in no condition fer it and as yer personal trainer I took it upon mahself tae take care of ye in yer time of need. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s gotcha.”

You groan as the headache throbs back into focus with a vengeance. You have sooo many questions, like how did you get here? How did he find you? What happened? How does he know where you work and how did he call into your work and use one of your sick days for you? They swirl behind your eyes, pulsing in time with the throb of your head and instead of asking all of them like you should, you just don’t. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later.

Instead you grab again for the glass of juice and down it. With it empty he takes it from you and stands. “I’ll get ye some more, are ye hungry?” The question reawakens the grumbling earthquake in your belly and you look up at him and nod. He smiles and says nothing just turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You sit in place for a moment, staring down at the bed and trying to get a grip on your memories of last night. You remember Nancy suggesting the two of you go out, you remember not wanting to, you remember getting ready and getting in the cab anyway and then it all takes on a fuzzy, unreal feel, like a dream instead of something that actually occurred.

You remember drinking and dancing but not much else. The watch on your wrist vibrates and it surprises you, you’re not sure why, you’ve only taken it off a handful of times to charge it but there’s something about it, a piece of knowledge floating on a cloud above you, refusing to grace you with its enlightenment.

You have a look through it, see the text notifications from Nancy.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

All of her replies were there as notifications, but with only her half of the conversation at your fingertips you could only imagine what was said. You assume you told her something about leaving and then the last text was about not coming into work today but you certainly weren’t up at six in the morning, you didn’t feel like you were working off of only three hours of sleep.

You had to find your phone and see the rest of the texts. You got out of bed and remembered you were naked from the waist down. In all your confusion you’d forgotten to make him explain that detail, you’d have to ask him again later.

You stood and made your way over to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and found a neatly folded stack of boxers and socks, not what you were looking for. The next was full of shirts, also of no use to you. The third drawer down you found what you were searching for. Pulling out a pair of sweatpants you pulled them up and around your waist.

Ok, that’s one thing taken care of, now you need to locate your clutch. You look around the room, on the other side of the bed, open the two other doors in the room Johnny didn’t leave through to find a bathroom and a closet. It’s in the closet you find it but still not your pants, they must be somewhere else. You pull the phone from it and immediately begin to go through your messages.

Nancy is the only person you’ve messaged in the last twenty four hours and the conversation is foreign. The first text is from Nancy asking where you are and you had replied

“Goin’ home.” 12:32 am

That’s it? That’s all you said? That doesn’t sound like a text you would write, you’d add more detail and reassure her that you’re ok. You decide to read out the whole thing.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Goin’ home.” 12:32am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Fine, just had too much to drink.” 12:42am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“Oh yeah, so much fun!” 12:45am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Nancy, I won’t be coming in to work today. Can’t stop getting sick. Feel so bad. Just can’t get out of bed. Can I use one of my designated sick days?” 6:30am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

???? You don’t text like that? It’s all so short hand and formal. Did Nancy really not notice how unlike you these texts were? Of course she didn’t, she was as drunk as you were.

You lock your phone as you hear him approaching the door and slip it into the pocket of your sweats. He walks in and stops in the doorway, a plate in one hand and a mug in the other. You think for a moment he may drop them but he seems to recover and sets them down on the nightstand and rushes over to you.

You are immobilized with shock as he grabs you, hands sliding down your legs, planting his firm palms on the globes of your ass and lifting. You can feel the pure strength he possesses as he pulls you up his body and into his arms with no assistance from you whatsoever. Your mouth parts in surprise and he takes the opportunity to seize your lips with his, tongue slipping inside and melting to yours.

It felt good, his lips against yours after so long, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it until they were upon you again and for just a moment you let yourself be lost to it. Your watch beeped and you felt him smile against your lips before you pulled away, embarrassed at being ousted once again by it.

You wanted to slip out of his arms but he held you steady, his mouth moved to your ear with a slow trail of kisses. When he reached it he whispered into it. “Did he miss me, hen? Cause I missed you.” He gently lowered your body down his until your ass nudged something hard, his erection prodding you eagerly.

“Jus’ cannae help it, hen. Saw ye wearing’ mah sweats an’ just about took ye right there against the dresser. Gonna give a man a heart attack surprisin’ me like that.” You let out a surprised little gasp as he nipped at the shell of your ear. “But there’ll be plenty of time for that later. My lass is hungry isn’t she?”

You nodded, the angry pit that had become your stomach crying out at the mention of food. He let you down and followed you back to the bed, the surface dipped as you both sat onto its plush surface. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the plate he’d carried in.

Sitting atop it were two round things, they looked sort of like huge meatballs. You looked up at him curiously. He simply picked one up off the plate and handed it to you. “Try it.” Hesitantly you picked yours up. It was crisp to the touch and smelled faintly like oil. Definitely deep fried whatever it was. You looked up at him once more and he nodded encouragingly. You brought it up to your mouth and took a small bite.

The rich, savory flavor of sausage floated over your tongue and you welcomed it. You chewed and swallowed and went back for a second bigger bite, this time biting into the core and getting hard boiled egg along with the sausage and you looked up to see Johnny smiling and digging into his own breakfast.

“Johnny, what is this? It’s delicious.” You took another bite as he explained. “Scotch egg. Mah mum used tae make em’ when I was wee. They’re a personal favorite. Do ye like it?” You nodded, and munched on the egg appreciatively.

“You're a good cook, Johnny.” He beams under your compliment, cheeks reddening, eyes bright and gleaming you barely catch a glimpse of as he quickly looks away to try and offset the effects. “S’nothing, hen. Cookings jus’ chemistry an’ I’ve always been good at that.”

This sparks a memory, the jumpstart of a thought just like the first that just refuses to reveal itself fully, there and gone, like someone hit you with the forget it stick.

Before you can think about it too hard he picks up the mug next to him and hands it to you. It’s warm and fragrant, a nice hot cup of coffee and as you took a sip your face puckered up a bit as the bitter twinge hit your tongue, it had a distinct pungent aftertaste, there was definitely alcohol mixed in.

He laughed and you scowled at him a little. “S’just a nip, Bonnie. It’ll help with yer hangover.” You grumbled a little and took another swallow, it went down easier the second time.

Eating made you feel a little better you had to admit, but then those questions you had made themselves evident again, circling your mind and trying to push past your lips. Before you could voice them he began asking questions of his own.

“How have ye been, lass?”

“Fine.” You lie immediately, it’s first nature. What were you supposed to tell him? You’ve been moping for a week? Just trudging through life like a lost puppy since you'd seen him last? Your watch starts to beep, indicating a tick up in your heart rate. “Lass.”

You can’t look at him, you avoid it even though you can feel the icy stare of his baby blues chilling you and you have to suppress a shiver. “I’ve been fine, works just been… hard on me.”

The watch stops as your heart rate slows. “Have ye been doin’ yer homework still?” Easy question, you answer honestly and the watch stays quiet. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you think the interrogation is over but then he drops the hard one.

“Why haven’t ye come back to the gym, bonnie?” You tense a bit in your spot. What would you say? That you can’t? Does he not know your trial is up? That you can’t possibly afford a membership? What would he say if he knew you’d been by, everyday for a week but have just been too chicken to go in?

You force yourself to relax and answer nonchalantly over another bite of your egg. “My trial ended.” You prayed that he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t. “So ye havnae come back because yer trial ended.” You nod to avoid speaking but the watch on your wrist says it all for you, it beeps against your words, turning your truth into lies. “Bonnie.”

The stupid thing won’t stop. Why? Why do you keep this thing on? Yet another errant memory tries to come to the surface. Something about that watch but it’s not clear, you just can’t remember. It hurts almost, the strain of trying to remember things that just won’t disclose themselves so you let it go and give him a piece of the truth. “Ok, so I’ve been by once or twice, but I didn’t go in, I just was passing by.”

You stuff the last of the egg into your mouth to quiet yourself. He scoots closer and pulls the plate from your hands, setting it down on the nightstand as you swallow and take a sip of your coffee. He takes that from you too and there’s nothing left to hide behind.

“Why did ye nae say anything tae me, ye didnae text me or anything, jus’ disappeared.” You felt hot all over, guilty and shamed, you can feel it pulling at you, tugging you with ropes, go to him they say. Push yourself into his arms and promise him you’ll never leave. Atone.

You can’t. You have questions of your own. You take your watch off, eyes locked with his as you undo the clasp and you can see the panic in his eyes but it turns to confusion as you wrap the gadget, in all its golden beauty around his wrist. He furrows his brows but doesn’t pull away, just sits and lets you.

“What happened to me last night?” He shifts a bit but you hold his arm steady, the sensors pick up his vitals and perhaps it’s dawned on him what you were doing, but if he did he didn’t fight it. “I was comin’ home late and I ran into ye outside of the club. Ye were hanging ontae the wall, couldnae even walk, hen. I tried talkin’ tae ye, tried tae find out who you’d been with but ye were out of it so I brought ye home tae sleep it off.”

The watch stayed silent the whole time, not a beep out of it. “Practically had tae carry ye if ah’m honest. Pretty lucky I came by I’d say. Ye were right sloshed.”

You didn’t know what to say, you should be thanking him but there’s still a rift between what he’s saying and what feels like truth. He just happened to be walking by just as you just happened to be outside of the club. Did you go outside by yourself? Really?

Why would you not be with Nancy? Why would you not have talked to her first? Clearly you hadn’t because she’d texted you and asked where you were. And if you’d been too drunk to walk, how could you have texted Nancy to tell her that you were going home? You were supposed to believe you could text intelligibly but not stand upright without gripping the wall? Why can’t you remember anything?

You wished you could remember more but you can’t and your little mock lie detector test hadn’t indicated he was lying to you, it sure as hell had ratted out your lies. You decided he had to be telling you the truth, as odd and coincidental as his story was, it wasn't impossible.

You sigh, accepting his account of the night before as valid, despite your inconsistencies and you felt him slip the watch off his wrist and drape it carefully over yours, he secures the clasp and lifts your hand up to his mouth and kisses the pulse point just below where the clasp sits. A soft press of his lips in a kiss so tender you feel your face heating up at the gentleness of the gesture.

He climbs up your arm in kisses, outside looking in it would have been comical to watch him treat you like Pepe Le Pew. The sheer affection in it almost cheesy but all you could do in the moment was relax into his touch. He’s reached your neck and your head dips to the side automatically, giving him more access and he takes it. Lips parting as they skim your jaw until they’re over your lips and you lean into his kiss, anticipating it, you want it, crave so very badly to be swept up by it, but he stops and leans back.

“How do ye feel?” It’s a simple question really and you find that somewhere between breakfast and your recount of last night your headache had subsided and you had a whole day ahead of you with nothing to worry about, no work to do, just you and Johnny. You felt exalted, after a week of trudging through your love sick blues you now somehow had everything you really wanted right at your fingertips.

But you couldn’t tell him that. So you just told him that you felt better and smiled, the first genuine smile you’ve had all week and it must be enough because he leans back in like he’s read your mind and gives you what you were wishing for.

His lips are soft but demanding, urgent in their press against yours and you have no choice but to succumb to their will. You lean back and he follows, chasing your lips until you’re pressed back against the pillow and he’s straddling you, strong arms stationed on either side of your head as his tongue pushes into your mouth and dominates yours.

You want more, want to roll him over and mount him, spend the rest of today alternating between riding him until your legs quivered and being flipped over and ravaged but he has different plans as he pulls away from you and backs off the bed. You stare at him in disbelief as he gathers up the dishes, smiling that gorgeous toothy grin as he does it.

“Dinnae look at me like that. We’ve got work tae do, hen.” You can’t believe he’s actually walking away from you until he does it, leaving you to stew in your arousal and stare after him. He’s gone for a bit and when he comes back you've already gotten up, made the bed and now sit on the edge watching him expectantly. He rifles through his drawers for clothes, setting out an outfit for him and then disappears into his closet, he comes out with a very familiar bag.

“What work?” He smiles and flexes, biceps bulging as he shows off his guns, you’re lost a bit at the sight of them. If he wasn’t anything else he sure was handsome, strong and lean just like you’d always fancied men to be. It’s like he’d appeared from your teenage dreams and you took him as sort of obsessed with you on top of it, an intoxicating combination indeed. “Why, our next session a’course. What else, hen?”

He hands it over to you nonchalantly and begins to strip. You recognize it immediately, It’s your overnight bag. You pull the bag close and try not to stare as he pulls his shirt off. Rummaging through it you find your workout clothes, garments you’ve worn around him multiple times, nothing shocking but you find more than just that, the bag is practically overflowing, stuffed full.

In the bag are also sets of clothes that you usually lounge around the house in, comfy things that no one ever sees you in. There’s also a few outfits that you’d normally wear to work, business casual folded neatly in the bottom. There's underwear and bras and even a couple pairs of shoes. There’s a smaller bag of toiletries tucked in the side pocket. It looks like a bag you’d pack yourself when planning to be away from home for a weekend or maybe a whole week by the sheer volume of your wardrobe stuffed into it.

“Johnny.” You look up from the bag and catch his gaze as he pulls his shorts up around his waist. “Aye, lass.”

You don’t even bother asking him the first few questions that come to mind like when did you pack this? And how? How did you know where everything was? How did you so perfectly root through my clothes and pack me a bag so thoroughly accurate of what I’ll need while I’m away? You could even see your soap, shampoo, conditioner and toothbrush. Everything you could possibly need he had grabbed.

But you don’t know how to ask him those things, don’t even know if you’d want the answer to them if you could so instead you ask the one question you don’t think you already know the answer to.

“Why is there so much?” He looks up at you like the answer is obvious and you’re stupid or perhaps just playing coy. “So ye could stay.” And he says it like it’s a concrete thing, as sound as the sea, the decisions already been made. Signed. Sealed. Delivered.

“What are you talking about?” He looks at you and his eyes are piercing and serious. “Ye cannae go home. S’nae safe.”

[tswhiisftteedr]

Good Pup ☆ One Shot

☆Mean!Sciences Proffesor!Divus Crewel x College Freshman!Fem!Reader:

After seeing you excel in his class, Professor Crewel interest had peeked. You were not from this world, and your academic knowledge was far too different from what was taught here, too different for it to be considered fair for you to study such material at the college level, a lost cause, he thought at first. And yet, he couldn't help but feel proud as you quickly rose to become one of the top students in his class. One day after potionology you had forgotten your textbook behind, and being the great teacher that Divus Crewel is, he ought to give back to you. After looking around for a bit, then spotting in a hallway talking with your friends, he happens to overhear about your secret thoughts on him…

Based on this ask and poll.

Warnings: Mature Content, Swearing/Explicit Language, Spanking(of ass, thigh, and pussy, by hand and pointer), Choking(on dick lol), degrading names, pet play ig?(just names like pup, dog and mutt but not anything else in that area). READER IS A COLLEGE FRESHMAN AS NCR IS ONE IN THIS FIC SO THEY ARE AT LEAST 18, CREWEL IS CANONICALLY 32 SO KEEP THAT IN MIND BEFORE ENGAGING.

Note: This is sort of a remake of ‘Personal Training’ but instead of Professor Vargas, it’s our dear sadistic Divus Crewel. Like a different Au, so the encounter between reader and professor Vargas didn’t happen here. Also why are all the proffesror mean you may ask, well the answer is quite simple… I like to bullied by authority figures/people in charge and those fics self indulgence 🤪✌️. Also for future request, if not precise what type of behaviour you want for the love interest, i will default to writing mean!dom!character or pervy!dom!character cuz that’s i like lol.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since starting classes at NCR Wonderland, you felt off about begin your academic journey as a college Freshman. Sure you were the right age for it, but wasn’t it a bit to much of an ask to start with college courses, especially with most of the mediums being different from your world? But at last you had no choice but sucking it up, working harder than any other student in your year to keep up. Though you did enjoy some of the classes, just because they had familiar concept. Magic analysis was like any other analysis class you had taken before the topic was just different, you also had music which was the same as back home, and of course there was Potionology…

That class was your beacon of hope each week. You genuinely enjoyed it, not only because it resembled chemistry, making the 'laboratory process' easier to grasp, but it was also the only class where you could actually use magic! The mixtures you created could do things you could only dream of in your world. Moreover, making such complex and potent elixirs made you feel useful. You felt competent with this world's materials because of it, even if Crowley didn't find a way for you to return home, you possibly could get around. Of course, there was another tiny reason why you loved the class so much, actually it was a pretty significant one. Even in your own thoughts, you couldn't deny that you were practically drooling at your professor each time you entered his classroom.

But how could you resist? That man was incredibly hot, smoking even. And his voice, god! It was undeniably sexy. Plus, the way he addressed you was so appealing: Generally, he would call you a 'pup', 'good girl' or 'good dog' when you did something right or answered a question correctly. He'd say 'bad dog' or 'bad girl' if you made a mistake.

He would also refer to himself as your trainer, at some point asking of you and Grim to address him as "O Great Crewel" or "Master/Master Crewel" instead of "Professor Crewel", as a form of discipline.

And fuck was that hot, honestly that was the primary reason you worked so diligently in his class. Hearing his praise and being able to call him "Master" only served to fuel your fantasies.

You wondered how he could discipline you in a more 'physical' way. Would he use his pointer or his hands on your thighs and ass when spanking you? Would he continue to use the usual nicknames, or would he resort to degrading names like 'slut', 'whore', ‘needy bitch in heady’ or perhaps 'greedy pup'? The curiosity from it was driving you mad, to the point where you even considered pulling your panties to the side and touch yourself at the sound of his voice, as taught class unbeknownst to it all.

Naturally, you wouldn't actually do it. After all, even if your noises didn't give you away, the smell certainly would. (You were certain the beastman in your class would detect something like that.) However, there was a certain allure in to the scenario.

Perhaps a classmate would inform your professor, leading to a public reprimand. You picture your professor criticizing your behavior while you stand in an embarrassing position for all to see. Your skirt would lifted and he would be abusing your behind, probably edge you during the spend of the whole lesson. Then right before the bell rang, he would touch your sweet spot one last time, and right around his fingers you would squir-

Oh, right, the bell. Class had just ended. You snapped back to reality and turn to your friends. From their expressions, it's clear they've been trying to get your attention for a while.

Hastily gathering your things, stuff them into your backpack, and follow your friends out of the classroom. Unbeknownst to you, the potionology textbook you need for tonight's homework is left behind on your desk.

You soon reach the hallway where you and your friends usually sat at a break. It's lunchtime, and as per your routine, you start your daily rant about your professor to Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek. Grim is also there, but as always, he is so focused on his food that he isn't paying attention.

Meanwhile, Divus was getting ready to head to the teachers' lounge to enjoy his lunch when he noticed the Potionology textbook on your desk.

Even if he didn't know where you sat during class time, he could tell that it belonged to you by the fact that it had small pawprint stickers surrounding your name on the book’s bridge. The memory of you telling him that customizing the book that way was the best resurfaced. After all you were a "good pup, so why not add the paw prints to match the statement.”, you had told him when he inquired about the decorations.

That comment made him chuckle, which brought a bright grin to your face. While it's true that he would refer to his students by such names, at no point in his career did a student use the term to address themselves. To be honest, he finds it cute that you adore the name that most of your peers detested. You simply smile and giggle anytime he uses it to compliment you, and you pout like a real puppy when he corrects you. ‘Truly adorable.’

He actually liked you. Regardless of how your entourage behaved, you were an excellent student who did not cause any problems. You paid attention in class and worked really hard to achieve the highest grades not only in his class but in others, but it appeared to him that you were more interested in the course that he taught compared to the rest. In non-magical courses, you received an average of 70-80, and your sciences marks were in the 90s, slightly higher grades.

Divus also liked how, despite the restricted male uniform, you had altered the uniform to be more fashionable with the consent of the headmaster. Instead of the dull pants that came with it, you wore a skirt that was little longer than mid-thigh but did not reach the knee. It was elegantly embroidered with a swirly thorn pattern, and you wore stockings to match it. A work of art in the man's eyes, which made you even more favourable to him; he adored when someone had a true sense of fashion.

Despite your puppy-like demeanour when he spoke to you, there was a gleam in your eyes, a lustful one at that. You looked at him as if you wanted him to bend you over your desk that very instant, practically eye fucking him throughout the lecture. You may not realize that he noticed, but as a desirable man, he was highly aware of such things. He observed as you unconsciously rub your thighs together, while he chewed you up for a small error; he 'was expecting better from such a bright girl like yourself, this was extremely disappointing'.

Even though he kept it to himself, attempting to maintain professionalism, him still being your teacher and all. Maybe you weren't as horny as he believed, just slightly flustered by the charming way he addressed you, especially coming from a handsome man like himself. However, no matter how sweet you were, you couldn't fulfill his desires. He craved someone he could dominate and control, someone who to basically bully into submission. You were far too innocent and gentle for that. He assumed that if you did have any sexual thoughts about him, your fantasies would be quite vanilla in nature.

‘And oh, boy, was he wrong!’ That was his thoughts when he overheard the conversation between you and your friends, having finally reach the hallway you usually frequented, your potionology textbook book in hand.

A bit earlier,

You and your friends had started eating and you were babbling;

“Okay, lisent, like hear me out-“ you begin,

“I am not hearing, YOU out. You’ve already said enough.” Sebek quickly retorts.

“Valid point, but, but think about it. Hot mean teacher disciplines you with a spanking while degrading you.” You suggest,

“NO!” Sebek tells you horrified.

"Come on, Sebek, don't be so ip tight. I may not be into that kinda of stuff, but Y/N has a point. I don't get the appeal, but Professor Crewel does fit her type.” Ace tells the distress crocodile.

“But he's a teacher, OUR teacher. I don't understand how people can have crushes on their teachers, but openly lusting for them should be prohibited! Also, not discussed like any other normal subject!” Sebek tells the card soldier.

“I agree with Sebek, you should keep such intimate thoughts to yourself.” Jack adds on,

“Ya say that but chur tail be waggin' like an exited puppy. It’s obvious ya like hearin' bout the naughty stuff from missy over there!” Epel comments.

“That’s not-“ Jack begins, but cuts himself off, like Epel said his tail was wagging crazy so he couldn’t deny anything. So “whatever!” was all he said, followed by a huff and a frustrated growl.

"Look, I'm not saying people should go out of their way to fuck their teachers; it's just that the man who potentially would fulfills all of my desires and fantasies happens to be my teacher. And, honestly, he must be aware that his nicknames and actions would turn some students.” You say to the group,

“What? How’s that?” Deuce questions.

“Come on, it's not like you can't go to NCR if you're into things like pet play or bdsm. He must have known that each year would have some students who fit that description. Don't tell me you thought he was completely clueless towards that?” You explain,

“Well when you put it like that, I guess Professor Crewel probably knows about it.” Deuce sorta agrees.

“He’s probably just ignoring it, pushing it to the back of his mind and pretending that it’s not real.” Ace comments,

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. But at the end of day, the fact that he’s aware doesn’t change much, I still won’t get him to bend me over his desk” you say with a dramatic sigh, making both Epel and Ace laugh.

“Honestly even if there was some stellar chance that he could be into me, he’s probably in a relationship already. If he isn't married, he is most likely casually dating someone.” You add on.

“Yeah, too bad for ya!” Epel says with a snicker.

Unknown to you and your friend group, the same professor you were discussing was right around the corner, listening in on you thirsting over him.

And truthfully this was a shock to him. Sure he might have found you attractive, but also he had convinced himself that you couldn’t fulfill his desires. Now turns out both of your fantasies aligned, and he was going to make good use of that knowledge.

Now heading towards your group the clacking sounds of Divus’s heels made all of you turn around. Some of their expression where terror, some confusion but Ace and Epel looked like they were holding in a laugh.

Clearing his voice, “Miss.L/n, just the person I was looking for. You had forgotten your potionology textbook in my class, so I went looking for youu in to hand it back, you wouldn’t want to miss tonight’s homework, now would you?” He told, as passed you the book.

“Oh, um, thanks professor Crewel!” You exclaimed a bit distraught, ‘did he hear what I’ve been saying or what?’

“Try again. You know that’s not the appropriate way to address me, now is it.” He states making you rethink your words,

“Right, sorry, Master Crewel...” You spoke out.

“That’s much better. Now come along pup.” He said as he turn around and started walking,

“What- why?” you ask confused. And he turns his head to gaze at you.

“Well isn’t it obvious, you and I got much to discuss. Do not question me anymore today, or any day for that matter. Stand up and follow me right now, otherwise you will suffer greater repercussions than I originally planned to make you endure.”

“Oh, okay.” You squeak out and grab your belongs, now trailing right behind your dear professor Crewel, ‘oh, right, O Great Crewel.’

You returned to your classroom, Divus locked the doors behind you. He had been sitting at his laptop for the past 10 minutes. You were sitting on a chair, on the opposite side of your desk.

"I have magi-mailed your other professors, they have cleared your itinerary for the afternoon. Lucky for us, today was the one I had spares in the afternoon as well." He informs you.

"But if this talk was going to take a while, I could have just come back after class," you say.

"No, I must have a chat with you right this instant.” Divus replies.

You only nod, turning to gaze out of the window to ease your nerves. Of course he noticed, so he turned his lamp desk on, it was bright, then magically closed all the blinds. He moved from his seat to your side of the desk, resting on it as he looked down at you.

“Now, let’s start this talk. Do you know why I brought you here?” He inquires.

“I’m sorry sir I don’t know.” Honestly you weren’t sure maybe he overheard you or maybe this was about something else.

“Not don’t play coy pup.” He told you sternly,

“Perhaps my grades sir…” you croak out, barely above a whisper.

“I guess you decide to persevere in your bad dog act, stand up.” He tells you, sounding exasperated.

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself mutt!”

Without a word you did as you were, the suddenly felt a had push on your back, not protesting anymore you just expect your fate as you were now folded upon the wooden desk.

“Looks like your not completely hopeless, but that one time show of obedience won’t exempt you from your punishment.” He said, you felt a somewhat thin metallic object glide up your right leg, you guessed it was his pointer. “Spread” was all you heard before the words were followed by a swift whip of the pointer.

You were dazed by the feeling, not completely registering the given order. This seem to irritate Divus, as another strike came down, but this time you react right on impact, now having your legs nicely spread out. ‘Your head was slightly dizzy, was this going the way you thought it was?’

But before you could linger on that thought, you felt Divus's hands remove your panties from your hips, letting them drop to your ankles. Your ass and cunt were now exposed to him. You heard a little shuffling, then his soft breath was in your ear. "Listen, since I'm not going to say it twice. I overheard you being a little slut, talking to your friends about how much you want me to hurt you. So that's exactly what I'm going to do, I'm going to discipline you to never forget how to address me, to never talk so lewdly in front of another man, and to make you incapable of living a functional life without me in it. Now, if you understand, say, ‘Yes, sir.’”

“Yes!..sir—!”

"Good. Now I'm going to spank you, and you must count after each hit and thank me for it, you may only address me as Sir or Master, if anything other than what I've instructed comes out of your mouth or you mess up the count, we'll start over and add 10 more strikes for you to go over. Also, you aren’t to touch me unless instructed otherwise.”

By the time he reached strike 29, your bottom was a of deeper color than your regular skin tone, covered in marks and bruises. Your thighs were quivering from the constant impact of his hand on your sensitive areas. "Twenty-eight... Thank you, sir..." You panted heavily, biting down on your lower lip to suppress any further sounds of discomfort.

Crewel stopped suddenly, taking a moment to admire his work. He ran his fingers gently over your bruised ass cheeks, leaving trails of coolness where they brushed against your heated skin. "That’s wrong," he spoke out, a spank from his hand came down your ass this time. "You already said 28, this means we have to start over. But this time, we’re going up to 40."

You whimpered softly, your eyes widening in terror as you realized what this meant for your already sore ass. "N-No! Please, I apologize, sir! I'll count better!" Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Crewel resumed his merciless assault on your sensitive flesh. Each strike landed harder than before, leaving deep marks that would surely become bruises soon.

"One... Two... Three... Four..." Eventually, you reached number 40. The last blow sent waves of agony coursing through your entire body, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears trickled down your cheeks, streaming down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. "Thank you, sir..." You managed to choke out between heavy breaths.

After giving you a moment to recover, Crewel noticed the wetness between your legs and smirked cruelly. "You enjoyed that didn't you, filthy slut?" he growled, his voice lower than usual, almost seductive.

Grabbing hold of your waist and lifting you slightly before slapping your sensitive folds forcefully. The sudden contact caused a sharp gasp to escape your lips, followed by a moan of mixed pain and pleasure.

"What did you just say, mutt?" he demanded, his voice dripping with malice. "No, don't answer," he continued before continuing his barrage on your sensitive areas, alternating between your lips and clit, ensuring that you wouldn't forget this lesson anytime soon.

After several minutes of relentless punishment, he finally stop the smacking of your privates. Following it by cupping your dripping folds in his hand, rubbing them roughly, spreading your juices over your sensitive flesh.

Than bringing his fingers in view for you to see, sticky liquids all over them."You see how much you enjoy this, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Your body had shook after every blow, your moans had turned into sobs as you struggled to maintain composure. Through tears and gasps for air, you managed to choke out between breaths, "Y-Yes, sir... I love it!" your tone was desperate, pleading for more even though your body ached in pain. You couldn't deny the intense pleasure mixed with the agony.

“That’s it," he praised, his voice dripping with false approval. Reaching between your spread legs once more, he inserted one finger into your tight entrance, stretching you further than you could with your own. Despite the pain, a soft moan escaped your lips involuntarily.

"Now, beg me to cum, you needy bitch in heat," he commanded gruffly, his tone harsh yet somehow erotic. Your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions; part of you begged for release, while another part of you wanted to defy him and deny him what he sought.

You forced yourself to focus on the burning sensation of his finger probing deeper into your sensitive core, trying hard not to move or squirm too Your your body ached everywhere from the brutal punishment you had endured thus far. "P-Please... sir... I need you to..." your voice trailed off as he thrust another finger inside you, stretching your even further.

"More, please!" you managed to croak out between gasps for air. Your hips involuntarily bucked against him, seeking more contact, more stimulation. Despite the pain, the combination of humiliation and arousal was becoming too much for you to handle.

Crewel chuckled darkly, enjoying the sight of you squirming and begging for more. Slowly, he began to move his fingers in and out of your tight entrance, teasing your sensitive spots with precise strokes. "Good," he praised again, his voice laced with malice. "Now, beg me for your orgasm properly."

Ultimately, survival instinct kicked in, and you forced out a broken plea, "Please, sir... I need to cum... Please..." your voice cracked on the last word, betraying both your desperation and submission.

His pace picked up slightly, thrusting faster and harder into your tight passageway. Your moans turned into high-pitched cries of pleasure as you neared the edge of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he stopped abruptly, leaving you hanging on the brink of orgasm.

"Not yet, don’t tell me you thought you would get what you want that easily, did you?" he growled, his voice cold and commanding. "You haven't earned it yet." With a final taunt, he pulled out both fingers, leaving your dripping. "Clean yourself up, mutt," he ordered harshly, before turning away from your exposed body.

You were a mess, your body trembling in pre-orgasmic bliss and frustration. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged him through sobs, "P-Please, sir... I'll do anything... Just let me cum!"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Divus turned back to you, grabbing you by your hair and making you drop to your knees in front of him. Reaching down, he unfastened his pants and slid them down, revealing his massive cock, hard and throbbing with desire through his boxer. It flapped against his stomach as pulled his garment down, it was veined and pulsing with need. "Much better," he said coldly. "Now, show me how much you want it."

Swallowing thickly, you raised your head and tentatively wrapped your lips around the tip of his member, taking as much of it into your mouth as you could without gagging. Your tongue flicked out, tracing the head of his cock, seeking more sensation. You began to suck greedily, your throat stretching around his thickness.

Divus groaned, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he began to thrust his hips forward, forcing more of his cock into your willing mouth. Your gagging and choking sounds only fueled his desire further. "That's a good mutt," he praised between heavy breaths. "You take my cock so well, you filthy dog."

You struggled to breathe as he continued his brutal assault on your throat, your eyes watering from the burn in your nose and throat. Despite the pain, you relish the feeling of being completely owned by him, your body becoming nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. You moaned around his cock, hardly able to form coherent words between the constant thrusts.

As he continued to pound into your throat, your body shook with each powerful thrust. your hands reached up, grasping at his thighs for support as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. The combination of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, causing your mind to spiral into a hazy fog of desire.

Eventually, Divus slowed down, pulling out just enough for you to catch a brief moment of air before plunging back in deeper than before. "Are you ready for your reward, whore?" he growled, his voice low and menacing yet laced with promise.

Without waiting for a response, he unloaded his seed into your waiting mouth, filling it to the brim with hot, sticky semen. You gagged violently, struggling to swallow every drop, your eyes watering from the intensity of the sensation.

He held your head in place until his orgasm subsided, then pulled out, leaving your filled with his essence.

Your vision spun as you coughed and gagged, your body still trembling from the intense asphyxiation. Slowly, you felt your body being raised, finding yourself laying on Divus's desk, your legs folded and spread wide open, exposing your wet and swollen folds to his hungry mouth. Before you good connect 1 and 2 together, he was already between your legs, his tongue darting out to trace along your dripping entrance.

"Oh sevens..." you whimpered, arching your hips upwards, begging for more contact. Pulling away slightly, he teased your sensitive flesh with light touches before finally plunging his tongue deep inside your core, sucking and lapping at your juices voraciously. His fingers found your clit, pinching and rubbing it harshly, eliciting another moan of pleasure mixed with pain.

Your body trembled on the verge of orgasm once more, as he continued to torture your sensitive spots. Your nails scratched at the desk to avoid grabbing his head, you were sure you would get reprimanded for it, the wood was left with white lines shaky lines on it. "P-Please, sir... I need you to—!" you managed to choke out between gasps for air before you was cut off by a powerful moan.

Divus pulled away from your dripping folds, his face covered in your juices. "Mhm is that so," he growled, his voice dark and menacing. "Sadly for you, I don’t feel like letting you climax quite yet, you greedy pup." He teased.

Your body shook with frustration and need, your entire being aching for release. "P-Please... sir..." you begged pathetically, your voice barely more than a whimper. Hips bucking upwards, seeking more contact, more stimulation.

For what felt like a millennium, he continued to tease your sensitive spots, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy only to pull away just when you thought you could bear no more. Sweat trickled down your back, staining the cool surface of his desk beneath you.

Finally, feeling that it was enough, Divus thrust two fingers back inside your dripping entrance, simultaneously rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb. “Now cum.”

The combination of sensations was too much for you to handle, and you cried out in pure bliss as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over your. Your pussy contracted tightly around his fingers, cumming so hard to be able to see stars.

Smiling down at you, he gave your cunt a small peck. Crewel smirked cruelly yet something sweet behind his eyes. "Seems like you’re beginning to learn your place well, pup," he said before moving closer again, his lips brushing against yours roughly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, claiming ownership over your mouth once more, as well as your mind. He tongues wrestled violently, your saliva mixing together in a sickening dance, tasting each other on the other’s tongue.

After breaking the kiss, he stood up straight, looking down at you battered form with satisfaction. "Now, go home and get yourself cleaned up. We're finished for today." With that command, he help her up and walk her out of the school building, trying to avoid anything prying eyes. At her professor was kind enough to accompany her out, but she was on her when it came to walking home.

“See you on Saturday in my classroom, Miss. Y/n” was all he said as he turned and left for school once more. Leaving you alone to recover from the brutal punishment she had endured.

You only replied by a weak “See you sir”, but only when arrive at your door front did it click ‘Wait we don’t have class on the weekends, does that mean—‘

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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

You can now commission me!

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are Open)

[myfanficlibraries]

Bucky Barnes

Alpha!Bucky

1) Alpha!Bucky Drabble by @vanillanaps

2) Heart and Soul by @all1e23       Complete Series

3) Little Red Riding Hood by @holylulusworld       Dark

4) Need You Now by @angrythingstarlight       Smut

5) The Start of Something New by @navybrat817​       Featuring: Hal Carter       Omega!Reader       Ongoing       Smut in later parts

Angst

1) Question by @bluehourbucky       Cheating

2) Stuff of Fairy Tales by @hannibals-favourite-meal       Complete Series       Plus Size Reader       Pregnancy       Sex Pollen

3) The Ultimatum by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky       Ex-Boyfriend Angst

4) Waiting on the Corner by @holylulusworld       College AU

Biker!Bucky

1) Kiss Me Like You Mean It by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff       Implied Smut

2) Roar & Giggle by @holylulusworld       Ongoing Series

Boyfriend!Bucky

1) Can You Not by @buckyalpine       Exhibitionism (later parts)       Reader’s Ex

2) Measurements by @invisibleanonymousmonsters       Fluff       Tall Reader

3) So Perfect by @bloodredwolfsbane       Fluff

4) Something New by @beanthesprout       Smut

5) Take the Trash Out by @splendidreads       Angst       Reader’s Ex

Dark

1) Make You Feel My Love by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

2) Wrong Number by @targaryenvampireslayer

Drunk!Bucky

1) Clingy by @sleepypanda27

2) Drunk Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight      Dirty Jokes      Implied Smut

3) Drunk Bucky Drabble by @pellucid-constellations

4) Drunk Words Are Sober Truths by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

5) Guess What’s On Your Mind by @tellmealovestory       Angst       Insecure Reader

6) Guys Night by @teamcap4bucky       Featuring: Avengers       Injuries       Mentions of vomit

7) I Think I Wanna Marry You by @likeahorribledream

8) Maybe Later by @lovelybarnes

9) Sober Thoughts by tropicalcap (Deactivated account)

10) You Know What Rhymes With Drunk? Sex by @seventven         Implied Smut

Fairy Tale AU

1) The Unseen One by @extremelyblackandwhite       Complete Series       Hades!Bucky

Fluff

1) Anything to Make You Smile by @takenbypeter

2) Best Boyfriend You Never Had by @language-rxgers       Fake Boyfriend       Complete Series

3) Big Fan by @bubblessunshinehoney      Ongoing Series

4) Happy Little Accidents by @espinosaurusrexex​       Veteran!Bucky

5) The Life by @hesthermay

6) Little Black Dress by @thefallenbibliophilequote       Insecure Reader       Plus Size Reader

7) Tall Drink of Water by @invisibleanonymousmonsters​       Tall Reader

8) You Are Beautiful by @holylulusworld       Ongoing Series       Plus Size Reader

Fuckboy!Bucky

1) Send Nudes by @bucky-barnes-diaries       Implied Smut       Nudity

Librarian!Bucky

1) Face Sitting by @bucky-barnes-diaries       Smut

2) Once Upon a Time by @navybrat817

Mafia AU

1) A deal with Bee by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff

2) Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight       Smut

3) Owned by @jobean12-blog​       Smut

4) Passionate Negotiations by @targaryenvampireslayer       Smut

5) Plot Twist by @winterarmyy       Arranged Marriage       Mini-Series       Smut in later parts

6) Power Play by @late-to-the-party-81       Ongoing Series       Smut       Soft!Dark

7) Promise by @straywords       Smut

8) Trespassing by @sebstan2020      Dark Fic    

9) Your Hands On Me by @slyyywriting

10) Your Love Gets Sweeter Every Day by @povlvr       Series

Omega!Bucky

1) A Touch Too Far by @angrythingstarlight

2) I Am Sorry Alpha by @bucky-boo-bear

3) Where the Shivers Won’t Find You by @heli0s-writes       Alpha!Reader       Smut

Series

1) Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff       Ongoing Series       Smut

2) Keeping Me Up by @writing-for-marvel      Complete Series

3) You Will be the Death of Me by @fluffysucker       Angst       Completed Series       Ex-husband!Bucky       Fluff       Some Smut

Smut

1) Beard Burn by @biteofcherry        Featuring: Ari Levinson

2) Fitness Pack - Bucky by @holylulusworld       Personal Trainer!Bucky       Plus Size Reader       Smut in Part 2

3) Lumberjack!Bucky Drabble by @angrythingstarlight

4) Midsummer Night’s Dream by @jamesbuckybarnes1917

5) Overtime by @navybrat817       Featuring Jake Jensen

6) Petals by @biteofcherry       Sex Pollen

7) Pluvious by @buckymorelikefuckme

8) Sleepless Nights by @kikixreverie

Soft Dark/Stalker!Bucky

1) Follow You Home by @navybrat817

2) Permission by @silver-pieces​

3) Sleeping With a Friend by @rubynationwins​      Plus Size Reader      Somnophilia

Soulmate AU

1) Heartbeat for a Biker by @definitely-a-nerd

Winter Soldier

1) Kidnapped by @buckgasms       Dark       Smut

2) Sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3       Smut       Soft Dark

3) Welcome Home...Soldat? by @winterarmyy       Light smut

4) Winter Soldier is a Match Maker by @universitypenguin       Dark/Soft Dark?       Smut

[taleasnewastime]

All that remains | Part 1

[ PART THREE TO GROWING PAINS ]

Summary: You betrayed them all, acted on your own selfishness; will Jimin ever forgive you?

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, mentions of death, blood, depression, mentions of a slight alcohol problem, drinking alcohol, feelings of being alone and isolated

Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long, and thank you for sticking around and waiting for this. Not as long as others in the series but there is more to come! Possibly a slow start but I promise that there is lots more to come and things will start heating up in no time. Part 2 won't take as long!!

Masterlist | Next

THREE MONTHS AND TWELVE DAYS LATER

The cold hits you as you exit the café. Turning, you lock the door, checking you’ve remembered to turn all the lights off. You managed to get this job not long after everything fell apart, climbing up to assistant manager quickly. It’s not your dream job, not the best pay and you could definitely get something better, but the job isn’t stressful, you don’t mind the people, it pays the bills and it’s all you need right now. You don’t want to lose this job because you forgot to turn the lights off.

The evening is dark. Beams of light coming from the streetlights. The weather’s turning cold, but you’re thankful it’s not raining like it does seemingly every day recently. It’s reflecting your mood. Dark, moody, just generally down. There are few days at the moment when you feel happy.

It’s been months since the police raid, tipped off by you with enough solid evidence to bring the organisation down. Months since your brother got locked away. Months since your whole life changed. Months since you betrayed everyone who raised you.

It’s just you and Jungkook now. The two of you supporting yourselves. In the same city just in a different part to the house you were raised in. The two of you barely scrapping by.

Oh, and Jimin.

Not working, hardly talking and barely showing his face. You and Jungkook working to support three, like some dysfunctional family. You’re struggling, only just keeping your heads above water. The flat you live in is old and cold, just enough space to squeeze the three of you in. On the sixth floor of a building with no elevator. Your neighbour’s people who the government have forgotten. People living on the margins, with little education and hardly any income, people just trying to survive like you, many of them people you’d avoid at all cost, as dangerous as people you’d meet in the gang only now you hold no status.

You take a breath when you get to the bottom of the steps to your building, mentally preparing for the six flights of steps to come and the lonely flat after that. The damp, the cold, the loneliness, hardly things to look forward to. You hate it, but it’s all you can afford and for the roof it provides you’re happy enough.

“Hello?” You call out into the quiet flat getting no reply.

Unsurprising, though you wonder if you truly are home alone. Jungkook will be out at work, either the personal trainer job or working security at a new club in town. Jimin will probably be holed up in his room doing you don’t know what.

You sigh as you head to the kitchen, routing through the freezer for something to heat up. There are only a few things to eat, nothing exciting but you’re too tired to cook anything.

Life isn’t any better, it’s not any easier, it’s not sunshine and rainbows. Your plan worked. Now you just need to try and get on with life. You knew this would be the outcome, you didn’t expect a life of luxury, you just didn’t quite expect this. The quietness. The monotonous days. The barely scraping by. The loneliness.

It’s been months since everything went down. Months since you ratted to the police, used your leverage in the gang to bring them down. You backstabbed them all, just like they did to you all those years ago. And while your plan paid off, you got what you wanted, you don’t feel complete satisfaction.

It was never something you planned. Or at least you never sat down and plotted it all out. The idea itself manifested over the years, grew from a simple conversation. It was never something you thought you’d do, more a fantasy than reality.

It was Jungkook’s idea originally. A seed he planted in your mind that grew the more distance you had, the longer you had to think it over.

You felt so alone, for so long and then Jungkook appeared. Seeped into your life so thoroughly that you no longer felt as lonely. You’d never trusted anyone enough to tell them your story, but for some reason Jungkook was different. Maybe it was because he was from a similar background, maybe it was because he made you feel less alone or maybe it was just as simple as him listening to you. Whatever it was, piece by piece, it all started to come out of you. Slowly at first, and then one night when you’d had a little bit too much to drink, all at once.

It was Jungkook that planted the seed, a mere comment about how he heard a company going down because of a whistle-blower. The CEO was bullying its staff, guilt tripping them into staying later than they should and never being happy with the outcome of work. Not comparable to your gang or situation at all. But it was that comment that blossomed everything.

For months that turned into years you mulled over the thought. Whistle-blower. Someone on the inside who knows everything that’s going on and reports it. Reports wrongdoings. Can take down the company with mere words.

Your bitterness rotted over time to hatred which quickly turned to vengeance. The fact you had little contact with anyone only made it worse. Sure, it was your father who instigated it, but you’d have thought there would be one person on your side. And even though your brother contacted you, it was so infrequent with so little information that it felt like he needn’t have bothered. It felt like he was doing it as another job, contacting you because he had to not because he wanted to. You resented him; for having it all, for not helping you, for letting you leave, for not standing up to your father.

Whistle-blower. A much nicer word than grass, snitch or rat. Just a word, but a word that made you think maybe you could do it.

You knew so much. And yet part of you knew you’d never do it.

And then you got the call, your father was dead.

Even as you flew back home, the thought still in your mind, you didn’t think you’d go through with it. The funeral was cold, everyone avoiding you as if you were infected. Your meeting with Yoongi didn’t make you feel any better. He wanted proof, wanted you to show he could trust you as if everything you had done up until that point wasn’t enough. Your whole life was to appease them, everything you did was to make them happy. And it was then that you realised that nothing you could do would be good enough. Even if you gave Yoongi proof you doubted he would ever truly welcome you into the family.

Hearing Jimin scream about wanting you out only sealed the deal. If they didn’t want you, you’d show them where they could stick it, show them how strong you could be.

You knew they would be arrogant enough to think you’d want back in, that you’d do anything if it meant you’d get your place alongside them. All you needed to do was play along. Because who wouldn’t want to be part of what they had? No matter how they treated you, no matter how you grew, they’d always think your feelings would remain the same.

But you did grow, you did change. And you realised Jimin was right. The gang wasn’t what you dreamed it was. It wasn’t your family, it wasn’t the only option you had. It didn’t want you. And now you didn’t want it.

Jungkook did most of the work because you weren’t stupid enough to be meeting the police when you were supposed to be looking into your father’s death. He did other things when he drifted off in the mornings on his own, but a lot of the time he was feeding information and planning how best to raid the gang. It was you who suggested that if you found out who the killer was you could line it all up, get the confrontation to be in a place the police could surround.

You knew it was a risk, had been told by everyone who knew what you were doing that it was a risk. They wouldn’t be able to get them all and even if they did, they wouldn’t charge them all. People would know it was you or would be able to connect the dots given long enough. It was a risk to your life and yet you still decided to do it.

After it all went down, the police gave you protection for a bit. Helped get you onto your feet, some money so you could afford a small but relatively safe flat and a rotation of plain clothed officers outside. But when weeks went by with no threats they were quick to decide it was a waste of their money and resources and you were safe. Sure, you helped them, you were key in them getting the evidence to bring the gang down. But the deal was always two sided, they always knew that there was something in it for you, even if that was some sick satisfaction in bringing down your own family.

Is it worse that you did all of this because of revenge, or would it have been worse if you’d been paid off by the police to do it?

And now it’s all done.

But was it worth it? All you have now is a crappy flat you share with Jungkook who you hardly see and Jimin who actively avoids you. A job that barely gets you by. A brother in jail because you put him there. A guilt that will stay with you forever.

No family, barely any friends. You’ve never felt so lonely.

Eyes still half closed from sleep; you look up to wish Jungkook a good morning. Only when you look up it’s not Jungkook you see.

The clattering and movement you heard was Jimin. The guy that lives with you but that you’ve only seen in passing or heard through walls in the past month. Now stood in front of you. Just like you he’s stood staring back at you, only rather than the shock and spark of joy you feel in seeing him, he only looks mildly annoyed back at you.

“Hi,” you say after a long pause, voice breathy even as you try to act normal.

He doesn’t reply, just stares at you for a second more before twisting to look back at the coffee he was making.

Ok, you think, taking a breath before you walk further into the room. The joy still remains, just a little dampened.

“Did you want food with that?” You ask. “I brought some pastries home yesterday from the café. They’re in the bread bin.”

You’re not even sure Jimin’s aware you work in a café, that that’s the wage that’s keeping you all a float, or at least is with the help of Jungkook. And now, Jimin doesn’t say anything or do anything to suggest he cares. His back muscles tense below his top, his shoulders hunched and his face looking resolutely down at the coffee machine.

Deciding he’s not going to give you anything else you move to the bread bin of your own accord. You know he hates you, know he’s probably wishing he weren’t here right now, but he is and you’re not going to let the opportunity pass.

“Well, I’m going to have one,” you mutter, still putting fake happiness into your tone as if to try and prove that this situation isn’t bothering you.

Your eyes keep flicking to Jimin when he’s no longer in your direct line of site. You can still hear him making the coffee and yet you’re worried he’ll disappear into thin air. You can’t blame him for the way he’s acting, part of you is annoyed at him, still hates him and yet you’re worried about him. It’s not good for him to be cooped up for so long, it’s not normal nor healthy. And yet you can’t get him to even look at you.

You wish Jungkook were here. He’d know what to do or say. And maybe Jimin would talk to him.

Pulling two plates out, you place a pastry on each. Awkwardly you turn and place one of them between you and Jimin. It’s not close to him, he’ll have to reach out and get it if he wants it. Worse than that, you imagine, is that he’ll have to turn back in your direction.

Sighing, the happiness getting harder to keep hold of, you decide that it’s not worth sticking around for. He doesn’t want you here. If you can give him anything, then at least you can do that.

“I’ll just,” you mutter, pausing only for a second before grabbing your plate and shuffling to the door. Words you want to say get lodged in your throat and you have to force yourself not to look back at him.

Maybe he is better off without you.

“The usual?”

A smile threatens to lift on the man’s lips. “Do I come here that often?”

“I think the question should be, am I that predictable?”

The man chuckles, his eyes dancing away from you before coming back when he’s controlled the noise. “Well, I already know the answer to that.”

“Black coffee and a croissant then?”

He hums, his eyes going to the counter which holds all the cakes as you start to type in his order.

“Which is your favourite?”

You pause and look at him, he waits with that same smile on his lips. You find your own eyes going to the cakes. No one’s asked that before, no one’s particularly interested in you. Sure, customers ask you questions and take an interest but there’s something about this guy. It’s not weird, just … different.

“Uh,” you pause, trying to keep the smile on your lips. “I like the lemon drizzle.”

He smiles at you, again not weird but something about it makes you uneasy. Especially when he just smiles and doesn’t say anything. You put it down to be an odd customer, maybe he’s lonely. Or maybe it’s you. So unused to someone being interested in you that you’re putting the blame on him rather than on yourself.

He moves to the end of the counter and watches as you prepare his coffee and then pick out a croissant.

“Here you go,” you plaster a smile on your lips as you hand over his coffee and pastry.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, eyes darting to your name badge and back.

You heart stutters as you watch him leave. Just a harmless man but you always read into things since leaving. Everyone you meet knows who you are, everyone who looks at you the wrong way wants you dead. Despite leaving the gang in your past, you can’t help but still live that way. Always defensive, always thinking the worst in people. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to shake it off.

“I have an idea,” Jungkook says it casually, but you can hear the note of edge in his voice. He’s expecting you to ask what the idea is but when you don’t enquire he’s forced to carry on. “So, uh, Colin at work mentioned that Ed might be leaving because his ex-contacted him, the one that moved to Scotland, and they were asking if –” Jungkook cuts himself off when he sees your face, realising he’s giving too much detail and not getting to the point. “Anyway, Ed’s leaving so I mentioned to my manager that I might know someone who’d be good for the job.”

You still don’t speak, you think you know what he’s saying from this, but you want to hear him spell it out. For a few seconds there’s a stalemate of silence, Jungkook not wanting to spell it out, you not wanting to assume.

“He needs to get out of the house, he needs to do something,” he’s finally turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.

“You don’t need to plead with me,” you say earning an eye roll. “He’s not going to take it.”

There’s a pause and when Jungkook talks his tone is hesitant, “but, you’ll still ask?”

You can read the meaning behind the words, you caused this, you need to sort it out. There’s no way to argue with that. You did create this mess and you dragged Jungkook into it. He’s at least done something to try and help out. It sounds like you have to do the rest.

“We can’t keep living like this. Only the two of us supporting all three of us. Only just scraping by. He needs to pull his –”

“I get it,” you cut him off. Gritting your teeth, you force your lips into a smile as you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll ask.”

Jungkook waits, sizes you up as if he can read whether you’re going to do it or not. You’re not sure when your relationship became like this, stilted, forced. Maybe in the gaps between seeing each other. Or maybe when you dragged him over here just to blow everything up. Or maybe it was when he felt the expectation not to leave you, to stay with you and help you through this mess, ruining his own life as well as your own.

You miss him. But just like everything else in your life right now, you don’t know what to do to get him back. You can barely keep your own head above water, how are you supposed to think of anything else?

Taking a small breath, loosening your face so you’re not so tense, you say in a voice that’s more certain, “I’ll ask him.”

Jungkook’s features soften the same way yours do. He nods before walking towards you.

“He’ll come around,” he says, hand going to your shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll see you later.”

You swallow, nod even though he’s not looking at you and then mutter, “have a nice day.”

You don’t want to do this. Really don’t want to do this.

It’s just a door. All you have to do is reach a hand out, form a fist and knock. Simple. But it’s who might come to the door that terrifies you, what they might do when they answer the door, or more what they won’t do.

Taking a breath, you knock on the door.

You hear the footsteps, your heart pounding to the same beat they walk. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, Jimin stood staring expectantly at you. Voice caught in your throat it’s him that breaks the silence.

“Want a squash?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just brushes past you leaving you standing outside his door. Heart still pounding, blood swirling in your ears you take a second before following. Jimin’s already pouring an inch of squash into a pint glass when you get to the kitchen, no sight of a glass for you.

Stood like a spare part you watch Jimin’s back as he fills his glass with water and then takes a long gulp. Feeling awkward and conscious that you left this conversation until the last possible moment before you need to go to work, you head to the fridge. Almost unseeing you pick out the first thing your fingers land on.

Hip leaning on the counter, Jimin’s dark eyes follow you as you walk around the room, first for a plate, then for a chair at the small breakfast bar that couples as the only place to eat in the flat.

“You wanted to tell me something?” He asks the second you take your first bite of food.

Chewing slowly, you mull over the words while also not wanting to give him too much time to walk out and not speak to you again. It’s the first time it’s occurred to you that maybe Jimin already knows what this is about. It’s a small flat, the walls not exactly thick and you and Jungkook weren’t being careful to stop him overhearing the other day. The fact he might already know what you’re about to suggest only makes you more nervous.

“Jungkook mentioned there’s a job going at his place,” you speak to your food rather than Jimin but when he doesn’t reply you flick your eyes to look up at him.

The glass of squash is empty on the counter next to him. His arms crossed against his chest. His face still broody and eyes half lidded looking at you. You fight the urge to look away from him. There was once a time you took down a whole gang. You can take on Jimin.

“The hours aren’t ideal, but the pays ok,” your voice comes out steady, you’ve always been good at hiding your true feelings behind a mask of indifference. “Jungkook thinks he can get it for you, but he wanted to ask –”

“So why didn’t he?”

It surprises you, makes your heart ache a little how flatly he says it. Still, you hold yourself together. “Because he’s at work. He asked me to pass the message on.”

He hums, a short, unimpressed noise. A noise that makes you twist to take another bite of food. It tastes like sand in your mouth.

“Would you just say it?” You mutter, the ache caused by your heart making you hot headed. You look back at Jimin seeing it’s his time to be surprised. “You clearly have stuff you want to say. So would you just say it already?”

It doesn’t take much convincing. You can see one of his fingers tapping on his crossed arms, his jaw tight.

“You betrayed us, Y/N, why would I ever trust you again?”

“I betrayed you? Jimin, you were the one who always said you wanted out. I got you out.”

“At the cost of my best friend? At the cost of the people who I classed as my family losing everything? At the cost of me losing everything? You think I wanted that?”

It hurts and you don’t point out that he hasn’t lost you, that surely that’s something; because clearly it’s not. Clenching your teeth, you just focus on not showing him your emotions. You didn’t expect your decision to be popular, but you could have let him go down with the rest of them, you thought that would have amounted to something, you thought that would have confirmed some of your feelings you had for him were still there.

“You betrayed your own family, Y/N,” he’s looking at you as if he doesn’t recognise you and it breaks you that much more.

You didn’t want to fight with him. You expected him to be angry with you, to say things that upset you, you just thought you’d be able to take it better than you are. But it all hits you. The emotions long bottled inside you finally come crashing out.

“My family?” You bite, frowning at the words, your hurt boiling down into frustration. “What family, Jimin? Tell me when they ever treated me like family? Was it when they forced me out, or when they refused to welcome me back? Maybe it was when they failed to recognise the fact that even as a woman I could do as much as them?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t reply verbally. It tells you everything. He has no argument against anything you’ve just said. And yet he still defends them.

“I’m not expecting a thank you. I don’t expect you to necessarily forgive me, but come on, you need to move on at some point. I’m doing all of this, giving you a home, the least you can do is contribute a little.” Or just leave, you add in your head.

A nerve ticks in his jaw. Despite his words and the way he now looks at you, you still feel hope. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, but if he hated you that much he could have left by now. He’s not contributing anything to this household, but at least he’s still here.

Still, you worry about him. Despite your words, you don’t want him to leave. You hardly see him, and yet if he wasn’t here you think that would be your breaking point.

“Let me know what you want to do about the job,” you sigh the words as you stand from the table.

Taking the bowl to the sink you place it with the rest of the dirty dishes, knowing you’ll have to clean them later but not having the energy to do it now. With Jungkook working two jobs and Jimin clearly not wanting to be here it always falls on you. You try and not let it get to you but sometimes you wonder if all of this was a mistake. Maybe you should have stayed away. Maybe you should never have come back.

As you turn to leave Jimin speaks, stopping you.

“There’s just one thing I keep wondering,” you wait for him to say it, your features hard so as not to betray your feelings. “Why did you come back for me? Why did you get me out?”

Your focus is on the door rather than him. You’ve been expecting this, not least because you’ve been questioning it yourself. Even Jungkook brings it up at any opportunity he can.

“Because you wanted out,” you say and before you can think better of it, carry on. “And honestly, Jimin, at this point if you don’t know why, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

Before he can come back with anything you carry on towards the door. You’ve got things you need to be doing, even if Jimin doesn’t, you’re trying to get back into a normal life.

“Let me know if you want that job.”

Your life becomes monotonous. A drag of waking up early to clean the flat, heading off to work and doing long shifts, coming home to a quiet house that is mess of dishes and clothes again, a storm left behind in Jungkook and Jimin’s wake. You don’t berate Jungkook, he’s doing so much for you that you can tolerate cleaning up after him. But some days that thought doesn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t complain to Jimin if you wanted to, still hardly ever see him.

It’s lonely, boring, a life you never thought you’d have. And yet here you are.

You carry on going only because of Jungkook and Jimin. Though you never see them, you feel like you’re why they’re here. If you hate this, then they surely hate it. You caused this, the least you could is not abandon them.

Slowly, you open up to people at work. Enough that you can have small conversations with them on breaks, but not enough that they know anything significant about you. They’re still more co-workers than friends. But it’s nice to have people in your life to talk to even if it is mainly about the weather and their lives.

It’s repetitive. Boring. Lonely. And you start to find the only thing that helps is a glass of wine in the evenings. Not much, but even the small amount of alcohol helps take the edge off. It helps your mind become quieter, helps the day feel less long, helps you actually look forward to something. It helps your heart stop aching. Helps you drift off to sleep a little easier.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask as you shove the jam covered slice of toast into your mouth, only half listening to Jungkook as you pour a cup of tea.

“Can you sit for a minute?”

“I have to get to the shop for opening.”

“Y/N,” he doesn’t say it sharply, but the tone he uses is still enough to get you to look at him. “It’ll only take a minute. Please, will you just sit?”

It does its job, you finally stop long enough to look at him. You hadn’t realised just how nervous he was. He’s holding it together but you can see it in his tense shoulders and stiff posture. Your nerves peak as you place your toast on a plate and stop pouring your tea. You don’t rush to sit down, your mind whirling with thoughts of what he could possibly be about to tell you.

“You’re worrying me,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t immediately spit it out.

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not. But it’s good.”

“Ok?”

He pauses, the silence only increasing the sick feeling in your stomach, only increasing the amount of thoughts swimming around your head. You’re about to tell him to hurry up but he beats you to it.

“I met someone,” he rushes to say. “A girl. And she’s asking me to move in with her.”

A wave of emotions run over you. Surprise, since when did that happen? Anger, because moving in with someone is a big thing, which means he must have been hiding this from you for a while. Hurt, that he didn’t talk to you, that he hid this from you. And a sad happiness for him. Because although he looks worried you can see the hope and desire there, he wants your approval for this but worries you won’t give it.

“Who is she?”

“A girl I met at work.”

“And you know her well enough to be moving in together?”

He’s flushed but keeps a straight face. “I met her my first day, but we only started dating a few months ago.”

Months. Your heart drops with the information. Because he never told you about it, because he has more of a life than you, because it only solidifies how lonely you are. He’s your family and he’s only telling you about his girlfriend, someone he likes enough to be moving in with, months after they met. You once would have been the first person he told. He once would have been too excited to keep the information from you. You once would have been too observant for him to even try and hide something like this from you.

And just like that, more walls of your life crumble around you.

Heart beating in your throat you try not to show him your emotions. It’s been easy to hide how depressed you’ve felt recently from him, more because you hardly see him, but you’re also a master at hiding behind a mask. Now, you have to turn away from him to hide your face, a sure fire way to tell him just how you feel.

Predictably, you hear him take a step in your direction, “it won’t change –”

“I know,” you curse your tight throat as another give away.

“I’ll come back all the time,” he adds. “I can still help you with bills.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say before taking a deep breath and looking back at him, forcing a smile onto your lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But before he can continue to protest you carry on.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“But I’d like it,” he says, slipping into your old roles. “There’s not enough room for me here and we can’t all live here together forever. But I also don’t want to leave you here. I know you’re struggling but we all need to move on from what’s happened.”

Move on from the mess you made. Move on from the betrayal. If everything had gone to plan you would have moved on, or at least Jungkook would have. Jimin would have been behind bars. You would have been on your own wallowing the same way you are now. Maybe there was a small part of you that hoped you’d be able to move on too, to make something of yourself, to start a new life. But a large part of you knew this would be your life. You at least imagined you’d be able to pretend, push your thoughts down deep, try to not think of your brother and Jimin locked up all day, of Jungkook moving on.

Jungkook has only stuck around so long because you changed plans, because you went back for Jimin. Jungkook deserves to go live his life.

“You think leaving me and Jimin here alone is a good thing?” You feel guilty as soon as you say the words.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he says, “maybe it’ll help bring you closer.”

You glare at him. “He barely leaves his room.”

“Maybe you should force him out a bit more.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

You regret the words instantly, but even though Jungkook has time to flash you a cheeky smile, you don’t have time to interrupt him before he says, “I can think of several things that you could do to get Jimin out of that room.”

“Gross,” you say flatly, pushing past him. “If you’re saying all of this to get me to tell you to leave, it’s working.”

There’s a small chuckle behind you, but there’s no smile on your lips now. Your heart still thumps in your throat.

You’re happy for him, really you are. It’s just sad. You can’t help but feel like everyone’s slipping away from you.

It’s no good, with Jungkook gone it fixes nothing between you and Jimin.

Jungkook visits still but it’s not the same. While he’s getting on with his life, creating something new, you’re still stuck. In a different place, under different circumstances but going nowhere. And now you don’t have anyone.

You grow lonelier. Hardly seeing anyone besides the people at work. Inside your own head more only makes things worse. Gives you time to remember how things used to be, how different it is now. It makes you remember the smiles. Because life wasn’t always bad, there were good times.

And you ruined it all.

You brought this on you. You couldn’t get over the fact your family didn’t want you and you destroyed it for everyone. There’s no pretending that there wasn’t good from it, that you were helping people as much as ruining many people’s lives. But it was selfish, you did it all for you. And now you can’t help but wonder if it was worth it.

To be in this tiny flat, barely getting by. With Jungkook moved out and moving on. Hardly seeing Jimin, the little you do he says little and avoids your gaze. Your brother in jail. You have no one.

And still you get up every day. Still you clean and cook and go to work. You try to carry on with your life as best you can. Try to push the bad thoughts away. Try and pretend life is normal.

Jimin’s door is open when you get home. It feels like slow motion as you walk to the door frame and creak open the door and peer in. Empty.

This is it, you think, he’s finally left me.

Your eyes glance around the small room. A single bed, blue sheets crisp and neatly tucked in. Cream shades pulled down over the window to block the night out. A wooden chest of draws leaving enough room to shuffle between it and the bed. A small desk, only big enough for a lamp and laptop. No personality. No indication of who lives here. No attachment, ready to be left at the drop of a hat.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Part of you thinks he would. But the other part thinks of his room, all of his stuff still sat in there and thinks he wouldn’t leave without it. Another part hopes he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Maybe he’s just gone out, the first time you’ve caught him doing that, you expect because he only ever risks leaving his room when he knows he won’t see you. But Jungkook text you earlier letting you know Jimin finally accepted the job, so maybe this is the start of him getting back into himself.

You know it’s your insecurities talking. Because though you don’t doubt Jimin doesn’t wants to be here, you also know he has nowhere else to go. He doesn’t have the money from his job yet, he’s still having to rely on you.

You walk back to the kitchen, get as far as opening the fridge to see what you can find to eat for tea. But you stop there. A thought occurs to you.

It’s stupid really. He’s probably just gone out for food or to the pub. But you can’t stop thinking about it when the thought occurs.

What if he’s on the roof?

He won’t be. And even if he is what would that mean? That he wanted some fresh air probably. But he won’t even be there.

You take a box of leftovers out of the fridge walk over and place it by the microwave but get no further.

What if he’s on the roof?

The thought takes you over enough that you end up forgetting about food and instead head to the front door again. You don’t even put your coat on as you head up the stairs rather than down them. You feel a little out of breath when you reach the steel door at the top. Pausing you take a breath, try to wrangle your thumping heart into a box, settle your expectations so that you won’t be disappointed.

The door feels cold as you push it open. Your heart plumets when you first see empty space, but then soars when you see a figure huddled off to the side. You can’t stop the words escaping your mouth.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Jimin looks across at you, his eyes are heavy and make him look like he’s had little sleep. His smile is small and compared to his normal smile does nothing to light up his face. But it’s still a smile.

“It’s not quite the same as our roof.”

Our roof. The words make your breath catch in your throat. Looking out at the night to hide your emotions at the words you walk towards him until you can rest on the ledge next to him.

“The views not as good,” you agree after a few seconds of silence.

He hums in reply, a silence falling over the two of you. It’s not just the view that’s different, it’s everything. The silence eats at you in a way it never has before when you’ve been with Jimin. He’s lost his spark and you can’t help but blame yourself for that. You’ve changed his life, whether or not it’s for the better you made such a monumental decision on his behalf without considering how it might affect him. While you’re in no doubt he would have done the same for you, you can’t help but let the decision eat away at you. Should you have done it? Would it be better if you hadn’t dragged him away under false pretence? Would it be easier for him to hate you if he wasn’t sat next to you?

“Jungkook told me you’d accepted the job at the club,” you say meekly, not wanting to rock the boat too much. “I’m happy for you.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, doesn’t hum or nod like he normally does when you talk to him these days. And like always you try and pretend it doesn’t hurt you.

“And hey, maybe it’ll mean you can start paying towards the bills.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you regret them. Even though you say them in a light-hearted tone, clearly as a joke, you know Jimin won’t hear it that way. He’s probably thinking that you mean it, that you want him to give you money, that you want him gone. All of which is the opposite of what you want.

“Sorry I –”

“No,” he cuts you off with a mutter. “You’re right, I should be doing more.”

Well shit.

That was the last thing you expected him to say, which effectively stops your brain from coming up with any other words.

The two of you stand in silence looking out at the city. The noise of the road and some young people shouting and laughing reaches you from the street below. Part of you hates this, but another part doesn’t want to do anything to stop it. At least Jimin’s here. At least you’re not entirely alone. At least you’re not fighting.

“I went to see Yoongi.”

Your head snaps his way. When did he do that? How had he done that? The questions forms in your head but your mouth is unable to create the words. Jimin doesn’t look at you, his features not showing any emotions. He’s impossible to read. But, despite your silence, he must know what questions you want to ask as he goes on to answer them all.

“I found out where they locked him up and requested visitation. I wasn’t expecting it to be accepted, I thought the second they had him they’d throw away the key. It took a few weeks, but my request was accepted.”

Your breath becomes laboured. Your brain working faster than Jimin can get the words out, trying to second guess what he’s going to say.

In the pause after his words he finally turns to look at you. His eyes dart around your face as if trying to remember you. You wait, give him time to say whatever it is he’s thinking. Your heart hoping, but your mind reminding you how much you’ve hoped in the past and how every time Jimin’s let you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now it’s you avoiding his face. The words, the way he says them and the gentle yet pained look on his face makes your throat dry. You can’t answer him. You don’t know what he wants you to say, because even if you had an answer, you don’t know how it would make it better.

“You let me think this whole time you’d locked him up,” he carries on. “But you made a plea deal for him.”

It’s not a question but you still find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats.

“I wasn’t sure he’d accept the deal,” you say, not the real answer. After a beat you add, “would it have changed anything?”

“Maybe,” he mutters but you know it’s a lie. It wouldn’t have changed anything, it’s one of the reasons you never said anything.

The silence drags out. Both of you staring out at the world below you, cars honking, people getting on with their lives, buildings standing steady and tall. The world hasn’t changed, it’s still going on. It doesn’t provide any comfort. All these weeks you’ve been struggling, silently getting on with life and Jimin’s been seeing Yoongi and clinging onto your old life, blaming you for everything.

You’ve had enough of it.

“You know,” you say, ignoring the fact that your voice his raspy and full of emotion. “It still hurts that you don’t believe in me. It’s stupid, because you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but you really have a knack for making be me believe you. I could have told you about Yoongi, but would that have changed anything? You’re only saying all this because you feel guilty, but you’ve always thought the bare minimum of me until I’ve proved the opposite. I’ve always had to work for your approval, Jimin, no matter what you want to think. And it’s stupid, but it still breaks me when you automatically think the worst of me. After everything I’ve done to show you the opposite.” You pause, still unable to look at Jimin, unable to see what he must be thinking. “I didn’t know he would accept it,” you mutter, voice once again thick. “I set up the option for him to work with the police, but I didn’t think he’d actually take it.”

You push away from the wall and as you walk away Jimin doesn’t try to stop you. His head twists to look back out across the city, his body slumping a little deeper into the wall as you turn to walk back to the flat.

[ferretrade]

y'all voted overwhelmingly for the codywan bodyguard/fake marriage au in that poll last month so I come bearing a little intro/teaser for it. :)

It's an ordinary Tuesday and Cody should've known it wouldn't stay that way.

When he comes into work, Fox and Wolffe are holed up arguing in their office. Cody diligently ignores them in favor of getting on with his own shit in the relative peace; he's only just gotten their accounts into shape and he's still working on maximizing their profits and cutting down expenses. (They were rather bleeding money when Fox and Wolffe had been taking care of the books themselves.) 

Before long, his closed door is ignored and the brothers stroll in with a feral energy that raises Cody's hackles. Last time they looked like that, they'd roped him into joining their business—and the time before, he'd been convinced to go cliff jumping. Trouble, all the same. 

"Cody," Fox croons dangerously. 

"No thank you."

Fox scoffs. "Told you he wouldn't even hear us out."

Cody narrows his eyes. "You can't taunt me into being interested," he lies. From Fox's smirk, he knows. (And isn't that just the problem with working with family?) 

"Cody, Fox," Wolffe snaps exasperatedly. "Can we get to the point?" 

It's serious, then. Cody frowns. "What is it? You need to fire someone?" 

"It's a job," Fox says, sitting on the edge of Cody's desk. "We need someone undercover and you're it." 

"I'm not a guard," Cody points out. He was very specific when he joined Canidae Personal Protection; he'd gone to school for business management and accounting—he's the numbers guy, the one who could keep his brothers' dream running and growing. Because, look, he supports it one hundred percent. Fox and Wolffe had long wanted to have a one stop shop for protective services and self-defense classes, specifically for underserved communities who were really in danger. But that didn't mean he wanted to be a bodyguard or even a trainer. Cody made sure they could do what they wanted and found ways they could put more money toward the people who mattered. That's where his skills really make a difference. 

"That's why you're ideal for this. It needs to be… discreet."

Cody narrows his eyes at Fox, trying to discern what exactly he's not being told. 

Wolffe sighs. "Cody, you're our best man for the job. We need someone we can trust." 

"Bly," Cody names. 

Wolffe glares at Fox and Cody imagines this was part of the argument he overheard earlier. 

"Not possible," Fox insists, mostly to Wolffe. "To do something undercover on this level, with this time crunch? We need a blank slate. No partner, no bodyguarding history, but capable of guarding." 

Undercover. No partner. Ah. "You want me to be a pretend boyfriend." 

Fox lights up. "Not quite," he says. "But that's the real highlight, this guy is your type. You'll have no trouble selling it."

"My type?" Cody raises an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Don't act like you don't have one," Fox scoffs. "We know you."

"Look," Wolffe jumps in before it can get messy. "You'll get along with him, is all. And you're not engaged."

Cody hums. Fair, Bly wouldn't be suited to pretend date someone else. Cody still doesn't like it, but he can see the desperation on Wolffe's face and hiding behind Fox's pushing. Whatever the reason, they really do need him. 

"Fine," Cody relents. "But you're telling me every detail and I'm not cheap." 

"Great." Fox grins sharply as he hops off the desk, clapping his hands together. "I already hacked your data. Congrats, you're now Cody Kenobi." 

[starillusion13]

Hi! are u still accepting requests?

i love your badboy wooyoung fic <3, by any chance could you write a Mingi x reader? where they're both dance teachers at summer camp and every one teases them but kinda enemies to lovers thats the main idea, you can add anything u want <3, but i i'm tired of the shy innocent reader i want tension >:(

I’m in love…

Pairing: dance teacher! Mingi x dance teacher! reader (ft. Heesung my love)

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, summer camp au

W.C: 4.8k

Warnings: nothing major, just a story of two person oblivion to each other’s feelings and falling in love after a dance.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. ngl but my next fic in queue was again angst but I am posting this on @mymoodwriting her suggestion and as I love my bestie too much so I have posted this first.

.

“Cheers for the winning team ‘Blockbusters’!”

The winner team cheered with the trophy in their leader’s hand and their dance teacher smiling widely with the students surrounding you in a cheering circle. All filling you with thankful and funny words making your smile wider. Afterall, the win they got was only because of you. You were the one who worked hard for the ideas and choreographies to be on the point so that your students could win the competition and then there was the result of the first week dance competition of your team being the winner.

Your youngest student hugged your side and some awed at you as if you were his older sister. You patted his head and urged everyone else to have their snacks provided at the counter as they already were so tired and hungry. The youngest one ran fast with his friend and you laughed looking at them all cheering and joking in their way towards the food counter.

The leader had already handed you the trophy and you stared at it in your hold. Their every achievement always felt like your own and it really feels good every time. Your dream to become a dance trainer at a big training company was slowly being achieved step by step. Small steps from these summer camps to state challenges and then country recognition and then one day, you will be a part of the dance trainer crew of your dream company.

You smiled to yourself and shook your head to dismiss the thoughts. Placing the trophy on the table as you turned around, only to come face to face with the man with folded hands above his buff chest, sleeves of white shirt folded till elbow and a denim bottom and striking the appearance with a black sunglass.

Always extra…but always perfect.

“Aren’t you too happy just for a win in a summer camp competition?” he asked you and walked towards you.

You glanced towards the cafeteria and smiled, “of course, every small thing matters to me. It’s not like if I want to do something big, it can possibly be achieved out of nowhere.”

He scoffed, “it was just a little competition. You haven’t won the state or country ones. Just among the few schools who gathered in this camp.”

“if it’s really nothing then why are you so pissed, Mingi. Work harder. Maybe next time, you gotta smiling in my position.” You smirked in the end.

He swiftly moved the sunglass from the eyes to place it on the head, revealing his droopy eyes and his intimidating aura shining under the fading sunlight. However, he pisses you off every time but still he is always the most handsome dance teacher among the five schools. No wait, Heesung is there too but that one is a one bid flirty player and you can’t act like Ms. Sana who would give a blind eye to his flirty talks and still appreciating his visual and dance moves. Mingi and Heesung’s group always comes the finale ones to compete against each other but this time, your group beat the second group and was the one to compete with Mingi’s.

“Don’t be proud so much. I will surely win next time.” he stated and inserted his thumbs inside the jean’s pockets on both the side. His every moment was being getting noticed by you.

“Let’s see.” You winked at him before turning back to pick up the water bottle. Before you could even get a slight tip of it, someone took the bottle and held it up. You rolled your eyes before going for another but he did the same thing again. You glared and turned to your side.

“What’s your problem?” you exhaled and licked your lips.

“what’s with that attitude, y/n? You know I’m already a part of training agency so as well as Heesung so don’t even think yourself greater than either of us.” His droopy eyes piercing down on you.

You crossed your hands above your chest and huffed in annoyance. You looked over in a distant place, keeping your gaze away from him. He was almost towering over you. You could feel his perfume directly and he was close enough than other times. But to your oblivion, his gaze was fixed on you, eyes scanning every little texture of your face. The tiny details of your make-up less features. Sweats lining your face and he felt an urge to wipe them off. He placed one bottle on the table to his side and offered the other one to you.

“drink it. You’re sweating and maybe thirsty.” He said in a monotonous way.

You squinted your eyes to judge his intention to which he just rolled his eyes, “are you somehow being a kind one, now? It’s very unusual of you.”

“Look y/n. don’t always get on my nerves. I was offering you this because you look like you can fall unconscious of exhaustion anytime. I don’t want to carry this weak body to the infirmary.” He almost rapped the words.

A frown appeared on your face, “weak? Me? Excuse me! but don’t think of me like Sana. I’m not that porcelain doll to break with a little push.” You snatched the bottle from his grip.

“then are you a dancing doll, y/n?” he laughed and smirked.

You hissed, “Mingi…”

“At this point, I must believe you both just find a reason to argue so that you can meet with each other. I am not surprised that I could find you guys here when everyone else is inside the main building.” Heesung’s voice coming from the way leading from the ground for physical activities. He was having a cheerful and flirty glint in his eyes.

He popped a chips inside his mouth and offered you one. You raised your hand to take it but the piece got taken away by Mingi and Heesung laughed loudly. You forcedly opened the sealed cap of the bottle and glared at both of them before gulping down the bottle, almost choking on it. The grip on the bottle was too tight, the victim of your anger.

“look, tell your friend Mingi not to piss me off everytime he sees me alone anywhere.” you said and started collecting your belongings from the table.

“my friend? Aren’t both of you friend as well?” Heesung asked and chuckled.

“Never!” “What?”

“oh Geez! Calm down. Don’t shout like teenagers. You both really hate each other. Anyways, y/n congratulations for the win. The dance moves and the centre choice were really nice. Your brain is sexy.”

Mingi scoffed and giving him a side eye, you replied to Heesung with a smile, “Thank you so much, Heesung. I’m glad you pointed out the main changes this year unlike someone who couldn’t even utter a simple congratulations to someone. Always a competitive one.”

“come on, Mingi. Kiss her and tell her that you really did love her dance moves. “

“yeah! It will be so nice to see a new couple in this camp.” Sana’s soft and cheerful voice neared you all. You looked over to her direction. She was already staring at Heesung who was glancing in her way. She pout and you shook your head in disbelief.

Them. not only them but other teachers present in the camp, even some older students urge you both every day to get together because according to them,

‘the people who fight on silly things are the real couples.’

How you despise this thought!

you grabbed your things and left the scenario with their eyes following your way. Heesung and Sana laughed but Mingi’s expression was serious, watching your figure intently getting away from the spot. He stepped forward when the other one stopped him and asked him to go with him towards the ground. He glanced towards your way but nodded to him and walked away.

He might be the one pissed you today but generally that was not his intention.

.

.

.

Usually, the camps last for eight weeks for your school and same goes for the other schools present there as well but this time, it would be more than just eight weeks and you had to meet him more than usual. You groaned at the thought before plopping on the bed. The dance competition held was in the first week of the camp and there would be many other activities and competitions everyday and even if there’s respective teachers but you can’t just be free from any schedules as you need to be the assistant in some activities.

Every year after you joined this school, you always looked forward to this summer camps because in your childhood, you loved spending your days in summer camp and after joining this school as dance teacher, you got the chance to relive your childhood days again.

But the second year, you came across this particular person while you were cheering for few students who were competing with each other in a particular water activity. Someone stood beside you and boring hole onto your side, you previously brushed off the weird feeling but then when you looked at the person, you caught him staring at you. You furrowed your eyebrows and scanned his face because you never saw him earlier during any other activities and there was no new school or maybe you had forgot the person. Afterall, you were new and still learning many things. You licked your lips and tugged your hairs behind your ear, before sending him a small smile.

“Are you new here?” his voice was heavy and his look was so intimidating that you felt so small in front of him but you stood strong on your spot.

You nodded and replied, “yeah…I joined last year. And you?” you raised your hand for a shake but well he just stared at it. You waited for few seconds but when he didn’t raise his hand, you curled your fingers and retreated your hand by your side, suppressing your annoyance in the fist.

“are you the new dance teacher?” he asked again.

“yes. And you are?” you asked in an unsure tone, didn’t actually feel like he would reply you but surprisingly he did.

“I am the dance teacher from St. Joseph’s ‘Sparkling’ Team. Myself, Mingi.”

Oh great. So this man is a dance teacher like you. Well, his physique and appearance really did give off an idol image and you wont be surprise if he is secretly an idol or a trainee.

 You nodded, “y/n, from St. Mary’s ‘Blockbuster’ Team.”

And that’s it. There was an awkward silence between you both followed by the cheers of the students who were splashing water in the enjoyment of their win.

You smiled towards them and clapped your hands, similarly Mingi smiled a bit too but he was staring at you.

.

.

.

The first meeting was usually a friendly one, maybe a not-so-friendly one but you were pretty much sure that the following events occurred after the meet was not in your checklist.

With passing of days, you noticed him more. He was a secretive person and even though he wanted something or wanted to express something, he would rather stay neutral in his expression but will encourage his students with warm and comforting words. Of course, him being the teacher of the opponent team sparked a curiosity inside you to know him better. Oh girl! How wrong you were that it was only you! But something similar thoughts came across his mind as well. Oblivion to each other, both of you started to get to know each other.

Starting from asking your colleagues or the close ones in the camps about each other then staring too long than usual and getting caught by each other. Bumping into each other and him blaming you for crossing his path. Well, it was all pretty much okay until you started noticing him around you more. And, people be enjoying such dramas a lot. They even started teasing you that both of you were attracted to each other but oblivion to your feelings.

“what are you doing here?” he asked you and with the tip of his boot, he played with a stone.

“I didn’t know you don’t have eyes to see. Maybe, you don’t have a brain to understand it.” You stifled your laugh and turned around with the mat in your hand.

He picked up the stone and threw in your direction. It hit your calve but it was too small to actually hit you painfully, but when you turned around to glare at him, irritated with his obvious daily mischievous acts, you found him smirking at you.

“I have my eyes on useful things not on these useless stuffs.”

“and, that is?” you raised a brow.

“why will I answer your questions, dancing doll?”

Dancing doll. Gosh, you hate this name the most. Yeah, your friends and colleagues sometimes love to call each other with few nicknames but his nickname, oh wait no no that’s not a nickname. He was literally mocking at you.

“I will turn you into a doll if you don’t stop calling me that name.” you glared and bumped his side before leaving him there.

He smiled to your act and whispered, “my eyes are always on you, doll.”

Whenever you both got to hear those teasing, your first move was to glare at him only to get a bored look from him. But are you really angry or just pretending to be?

Your pretending is not accurate then.

Same thing repeated in every summer. At this point, you were sure to throw him into water if next time, he irritates you again. You previously thought that meeting him was only limited to summer camps. But never expected out of nowhere, he will be in a common friend’s group. Yunho and Wooyoung both were your friends from the dance training club and when Mingi got to know that you are friends with his childhood friends, oh he got a damn excuse to meet you every weekend whenever you all made plans.

You were being caught staring at him a lot. Yunho even once tried to convince you to date his best friend because you were the right one for him and you threatened him that if he ever tried to convince you again then you will beat his ass. Or your usual sentence.

“Yunho, if you are so worried then bestfriends should help each other. Go and marry him.”

But actually deep down, you were freaking out with the thought of you and him together. You were sure on one thing that you did have a crush on him. Maybe not a huge one but almost like that. What about him though?

Oh about him? he might can kidnap you any day to keep you for himself. The way he glares at Heesung whenever he tries to flirt with you or tease you with sweet talks. The intrusive thoughts coming to his minds are dangerous but what can he even do? You are never his. But soon he will make it possible, not maybe apply those thoughts but to make you his.

.

.

.

Next dance competition was in the end of the month and you had already taught them some of it but still some more practices were needed. Meanwhile, the students had some other stuffs to keep them engaged as well, like water activities, group projects, social activities and so on. Your love for water activities led you to have some fun with them as well. You were enjoying with the students in the pool activities when someone splashed into the water. You shielded your eyes with one hand and watched the person. And it reminded you of the first day, you met him.

“wow! The dive was so cool.” A student beside you cheered.

When the person raised his head from the water surface and pushed back his wet hairs. Oh you were losing yourself with the view. His white shirt with top three buttons undone and the water making it teasingly see through and sticking to his tanned skin with the broad chest view. The whistle sound made every student to run out of water and the sudden push made you slip your leg and there was nothing to hold to make you still but to your relief, you didn’t fall. A strong hand around your waist, pulling your side to his front.

“are you okay?”

You nodded and tried to push him away but he pulled you closer with your back pressed to the marble edges of the pool with him too close to your front.

“why are you running away?” he asked you slowly and brushed your hairs out of your face. His every touch hitching your breath and you caught his wrist when it stopped on your cheek.

“why are you doing this?” you asked him in return,

He chuckled, “doing what? Tell me you are not liking this.”

“and if I tell you no, then will your ego be hurt?” you raised a brow.

He smirked, “my ego won’t be hurt because no is not coming out of your pretty lips. It’s either stupid things or fake threats.”

“I swear, Mingi.”

He laughed at your response. But your moment soon got interrupted by Heesung.

“look, I should feel jealous of you to get her like this but as I’m already being aware of your relationship so I will let you have your fun but atleast come out of the water and go to your room. Children might see these unholy things.”

Mingi helped you out of the water and laughed. Why is he suddenly laughing? There was nothing to laugh about his speech.

“look, Heesung. Stop day dreaming about your online stories every time. There is no relationship between us.” You said and glared at them. Heesung snickered and suddenly got a call, before walking away he winked at you. You raised a fist towards him and he shook his head before turning back.

“go and get changed.” You turned your face when you felt his voice too close. He was close, towering over you with his big frame, shielding you from the direct sunlight. You stepped backward and he placed his palm on your lower back and pulled you. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your ears and before you could react to it, his cold lips touched your warm forehead. His slow breaths sent a chill shiver from top of your head to your toe, curling them tightly. His lips murmured to your skin, “I don’t want the dancing doll to fall sick.”

 He quickly stepped back and walked away to the ground, leaving you standing there too stunned to even move. You hugged yourself with your towel and went towards your room.

WHY DID HE KISS YOU?

It was already late for your arrival because you were practicing the steps to students on repeat and soon, you all were sitting around the fireplace. That was a free time for everyone and each one was having fun with some jokes or showing off their individual talents. You were so indulged in your thoughts about the afternoon kiss that you didn’t notice someone sat beside you and staring at your side.

He pinched your cheek and pulled you out of your thoughts. Rubbing the stinging area, you looked at him with a frown, “what?”

“Let’s dance.”

“are you serious right now?”

“more than you.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “why? Do you want to show others that even if your team lost last week but you are still the best dancer?”

“maybe something else.”

He replied you too fast and your heart beat increasing with each of his words. The more you were staring at him, the more intense the effect of the kiss was tingling on your forehead. His eyes were hiding a desire, a passion behind those dark orbs, his hooded eyes curtaining away the feelings for you just for a while. Heesung’s voice broke your eye contact with him. Mingi was craving to see your shining eyes looking back at him. He was feeling loved just by your eyes on him.

You swear you would make Heesung mute one day.

“Well Attention everyone. Why don’t we have something interesting?”

Everyone cheered to his announcement. You rolled your eyes already knowing some stupid words coming out of his mouth.

That man be really playing the cupid everytime.

“Let’s welcome our two best dancers Miss Y/N and Dancing king Mingi. Cheers everyone.” He clapped his hand and welcomed you both to the middle. You parted your lips to protest only to see an extended hand in front of you, your eyes followed the hand to his face.

“Mingi…”

“Come on, dancing doll.”

You hesitatingly grabbed his hand and stood up and went to the centre. You were never shy in public but today somehow every stare was making you anxious. Your grip tightened in his hold and his thumb caressed over your palm.

“let’s begin…”

Inception started playing and he was standing to your side but he was facing back to the crowd and you in front. He placed one hand above your chest, hovering over the collar bones and slowly whispered with the song, “I’m in love….” His eyes were on you.

Your wide eyes stared back at him in shock but still managed to change your position to the next step. Now you both were in exact opposite posture. You mouthed the lyrics, “I’m in love…” and looked towards him. He smiled in return. He quickly sat on one of his on the ground and you sat on the raised knee for mimicking the exact steps from the choreography. You swiftly moved to the side and he raised his hand in air and stood up and bringing it back to brush the fingers against his jaw and your breath hitched with the next step. As soon as you both faced each other, his fingers softly leaving feather touches on your cheek before retreating away.

The dance continued with you both doing the exact dance moves from the choreography but in each chorus, you were sure you lip synced the line, ‘I’m in love…’ but he lightly sang the part, ‘I’m gonna chase you..’

In the end when you both ended the dance with staring at each other. Everybody cheered for the strong and clean dance moves. Every one was sure that day that you both are the dancing king and queen of the camp.

But you both were sure with your feelings.

That you both were in love.

.

.

.

“wait, I need to talk to you.” Mingi grabbed your wrist and you were surprised with his sudden move. After the duet dance last week, you ignored him as much as you could but being in the same building it was not much possible and also, when a cupid is roaming around you.

“What?” you glanced at your watch. It was already past ten o’clock and you were heading towards your room.

A group of three teachers laughing and heading towards your direction made him quickly pull you towards the corner and pushed himself along with you inside the room. He signalled you to keep quiet and as soon as the group passed by the door. He sighed in relief.

“was that pull really necessary?”

“No. but to get away from their eyes was.”

“where are we? Whose room is this?” you looked around and was panicking how you entered a stranger’s room until he walked towards the edge of the bed and sat down.

“this is my room. Welcome to my room, dancing doll.”

“Can you please stop calling me that?”

“Maybe…yes…no. Never.”

You folded your hands in front and glared at him, “and can I know why are we here?”

He didn’t reply but ducked his head down and fiddling with his fingers. You waited for him to say something but nothing. He was acting as if you were not even standing just in front of him.

“If you don’t have anything to say, then I’m leaving.” You said and turned back. But his next words made you halted in your steps.

“I’m in love…with you, y/n.”

Did he just confess? You didn’t turn around because even if you wanted to give some savage reply to him, you felt yourself on the verge of lose of words. Nothing came across your mind to reject his confession. Your mind didn’t even think twice to realise if he was joking or teasing you or testing your reaction to it. You gulped and clenched your sweaty palm.

It was because you were in love with him too.

Someone engulfed you in a back hug and you leaned to the touch. You held his hand in front and closed your eyes. You didn’t know how to react, what to say, what to believe and what to feel. But somewhere you felt happy. Happy because the person you love has confessed his love for you.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and whispered into your hair, “please say something. Please talk to me, y/n.”

“what do you want to hear?” you said in a low and slow voice.

“anything. Whatever you want to say but please don’t be silent. I want to hear you.”

You gripped his wrist tighter, “Mingi…”

“hmmm” he closed his eyes, his nose intoxicated with your scent and natural smell and your presence in his hold making his heart beat faster than usual and lips murmuring something into your hairs which you couldn’t even decipher.

“I love you, Mingi.”

The words he wanted to listen and he got to listen. He swiftly turned you around and smiled down at you. You never saw him smiling genuinely at you. Well, maybe he smiled like this before but you didn’t notice before. You didn’t think of it like this, the way you were getting lost into the smile.

“Do you really love me?”

You whispered, “more than you can even think of.”

“I love you, Y/n. you cant even imagine how badly I want to have this moment with you. I didn’t even realise this until the dance that day that I was madly in love with you for last two years. It was all about my love for you.”

He kissed your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your forehead and stared at your lips. You nodded but still he hesitated. You placed your hands around his neck and pulled him into the most awaited kiss, raising yourself on your toe to match his level. The kiss of initiating a bond, the blooming of a young love. The lips danced with the swift rhythm matching with each other, the way your body moved accordingly and blending with each other’s move to the song. There was a passionate love in the kiss, like the way you both had passion for dance.

Slowly retreating from the kiss, your heels touched the ground. He again softly pecked on your lips, surprising you. He was drunk with your kiss. You smiled at him, he cupped your cheeks in his warm hands, your fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Mingi…I didn’t realise my love before that dance as well. Maybe the dance and the song has awakened the feelings inside us.”

“we both have a passion for dance and dance only made us realise our inner thoughts. You don’t know but I am so happy right now that I finally get to call you mine.”

“who said you can call me yours?”

“I said and that’s final. also y/n…congratulations.”

“ for what?” you asked in surprise.

“for the win. It was your first step to join your dream company and I promise you, I will make it happen for you.”

“We will make it happen. Together.” You smiled and he nodded and bend down to peck you again.

You slowly removed his hand from your cheeks and took out your phone to click open your playlist.

“what are you doing?”

You didn’t reply and played a song ‘white love’.

The room filled with the intro of the song and swinging your hands, you knelt down in front of him, “will you have a dance with me, my dancing king?”

“of course, my dancing doll.”

“you were supposed to say queen not that stupid doll.”you whined.

“well you are a doll. My dancing doll.” He grabbed your waist and you both laughed with your bodies swaying with the flow of the music.

Afterall it was both of your dream, every day and every night to be in love with each other.

[Thanks for loving the Wooyoung fic...I hope you liked this one.]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

[moonjella]

an appetite for destruction : teaser

synopsis: gojo satoru is your soulmate. if him being your childhood sweetheart isn’t enough to convince you, it’s the matching butterfly shaped birthmarks on your wrists. it appeared for him when he was four and you when you were five. and in a world where people stopped believing in soulmates, you and satoru were destined for a rare and pure love. but what happens when you begin to question that reality? what happens when a new birthmark appears? and what happens when you start seeing less of gojo and more of his kind, affectionate and handsome best friend? your life rocks like a boat in dangerous waters and you soon feel your appetite for love turning into an appetite for destruction.

tags and warnings: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru, soulmate au, love triangle, semi–public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sub!reader, spit kink, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, pet names. minors do not interact!

word count: 4.5k words (teaser only)

taglist is open <3 and reblogs are appreciated :)

Guests arrive one by one as the sun sets below the skyline. Golden hour makes the city scape shimmer and you struggle to tear your eyes from the view. Such a beauty is rare to find in this world yet here it is right in front of you.

You’re so tiny and insignificant against the world at large; there must be more to life than a performative graduation party for your boyfriend.

You wouldn’t hesitate to celebrate any of his achievements with him but you’re old enough and smart enough to know that in the world you live in, no party goes by without a hidden agenda.

Sure, everyone is celebrating Satoru’s graduation and new job in his father’s firm. But they will spend most of the evening discussing potential business deals and forming new connections for their personal networks.

Satoru isn’t one to turn down a party, especially if it could help his family’s business. But even he didn’t see the point in celebrating since he was fully entitled to his new job anyway, being his father’s son and all.

You relate to him in that way. You scored your own place in your mother’s business because you’re her daughter. You could argue that you earned it through hard work. But it wouldn’t change the fact. This was always meant to be.

You were always going to work in your mother’s company regardless. Whether you wanted to or not. Luckily for you, you do.

Gojo, on the other hand, has been dreading this day for many years.

Growing up with your life planned out for you isn’t the worst kind of life to live, but you can’t help but wonder sometimes.

If things were different.

If one tiny part of your life was lived differently, how much of a stranger would you be to the person you are today?

Would you have still graduated from your dream university? Would you be working for your mother? Would you still be with Satoru?

Would he still be your soulmate?

Your mind is filled with random thoughts until your mother approaches you, pulling you from your trance.

“Hey, baby,” she kisses your cheek. “The guests are arriving. Go change your shoes.”

“Oh, yeah,” you tear your eyes from the view outside the window and look down at your trainers. Your mother was right — your feet would have been dead if you wore your heels while setting up for the party. “Where did you put them again?”

“They’re in the private function room. Be quick, okay? You need to be back here to greet the guests.”

“’Kay.”

You jog toward the hallway, passing early guests and waiters carrying champagne on the way and when you reach the door to the function room, you look both ways before slipping inside.

Switching on the light, you scour the room for the bag of shoes your mother left. You need your heels on asap so you can head back to the entrance and wait for Satoru. But no matter where you look, the bag isn’t there.

In the cabinet, behind the couch, tucked into a small corner.

Your shoes are nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Where the hell are they?”

Your blood heats up as you run around the room searching for your shoes. You can’t afford to be late. But after five minutes of thoroughly searching, you consider attending the party in your trainers. They matched your dress well enough and although the guests might notice them, they’d have the decency to not say anything.

At least not to your face.

You sigh, giving up on your short–lived rebellion. Perhaps you’re in the wrong room and your search would be more fruitful elsewhere. But just as you turn towards the door to leave, it swings open causing you to gasp and place a hand over your heart.

You’re immediately settled when you meet the blue eyes of your boyfriend.

“Toru!” you whine. “You scared me.”

“My bad, princess,” Satoru leans down and presses an apologetic kiss on your cheek. “I didn’t mean to.”

Within seconds, you’ve forgiven him for frightening you and cuddle into his chest. Dressed in an expensive three-piece suit, he looks rather dashing for a mere graduation party. Of course, Satoru doesn’t give up any chance to dress to the eyeballs in designer clothes and accessories but still, with his slicked back hair, Rolex and the type of suit he should be saving for a wedding, you can’t help but feel underdressed next to him.

Not that you’re complaining though. He looks incredible and you know for a fact you’ll be staring at him and only him for the entire night.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought your family were going to arrive last. You know, since this is your surprise party.”

“Way to ruin the surprise,” Gojo jokes. “But I actually wanted to see you before the party.”

“What for?”

“I have something for you.” You didn’t realise he was holding something behind his back and he pulls out a neatly pressed bag with ribbons and the logo of your favourite designer brand. “A gift for milady.”

“A gift?” you laugh. “Toru, this is your party. What are you doing giving me a gift?”

He shrugs it off and collapses onto the couch, loosening his tie. Your thighs press together at the sight but you waste no time in thirsting after your boyfriend as you sit beside him and tear open the ribbons.

“No way!” you gasp, pulling out the sleek box. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, yes I did.” Satoru grins to himself proudly, feeling his slacks tighten as you bounce with excitement. He knows you have the wealth to buy anything you want, but he feel some sort of pride when he’s the one giving you what you want.

And in a twisted way, he feels the pride deep in his gut where it travels south and makes his cock throb. The smile on your face is so precious as you admire the shoes he gifted you but the only thing he can think about is turning your U–shaped lips into an O.

“I can’t believe it, Gojo,” you exclaim. “My mother was on the waitlist for these and she never got a pair. How on earth did you?”

His body shakes with a mischievous sort of laughter.

“Your mother was never on the waitlist.”

“What…?”

“I told her to lie to you about it. Wanted to surprise you myself.”

“How on earth did you get her on your side?”

“She loves me, for starters,” the two of you chuckle. “But she loves you more than anyone and she loved the idea of making you believe you’d never get a pair when the whole time, I had them. For you.”

“Toru…” your eyes swim with tears. “That’s so thoughtful.”

You sniffle, admiring the pair in your lap. There were only five pairs made in the world and only one pair was available in Japan. Your mother being the most prominent fashion designer in the country made you certain she’d have first dibs on the pair. But owning an luxury brand which put Japan on the map when your great–grandparents founded it long ago was clearly not enough for her to bargain for the shoes, or so you thought.

You always wondered who the lucky person to snag the shoes before her was.

Turns out, it was your own boyfriend and now the shoes belong to you.

They’re adorned in the finest black silk and encrusted with diamonds. Only, this pair didn’t have the dazzling white diamonds you expected them too. Instead, light blue sparkling diamonds in the unique shade of Satoru’s eyes sat on top of the shoe.

“They’re blue.” You state.

“You like them?” he looks at you expectantly and grins. “I had the family jeweller swap out the diamonds for blue ones, since you love the colour of my eyes so much.”

Light blue diamonds are one of the rarest and most expensive kind and to have them on one of the rarest and most expensive pairs of shoes in the world puts into perspective how unique they are. These shoes are the definition of one of a kind and you feel all the love and effort that went into them deeply.

“Thank you, Toru,” you sob. “I love them so much.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t go crying on me now, I thought you were happy.”

“I am happy. These are happy tears,” you laugh. “Seriously, Satoru. These are incredible. I can’t find the words to describe how much I love them.”

“You don’t need to,” he smiles and gently traces his hand down your bare calf and ankles before slipping off your trainers. “You can just show me.”

Satoru moves from the couch and crouches with one knee on the ground. Rolling down your socks, he presses a kiss to the top of your foot before placing it in one of the heels like prince charming himself. And in true fairytale fashion, the shoe is a perfect fit.

Your face heats up with the adoration you hold for him and he slips on your other shoe before taking you by the hand and pulling you to your feet.

“How do they feel?”

“Perfect,” you squeal excitedly. “They’re perfect.”

“Good, because I have another gift for you.”

“Enough with the gifts, Toru. This is meant to be a party to celebrate you.”

“And what better way can I celebrate myself than making the woman I love happy?”

“Toru,” you pout. “you really didn’t need to.”

He shrugs it off and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a long, thin box and handing it to you. Smiling, you open the lid to reveal a stunning, dainty necklace with a faint blue diamond pendant, matching the diamonds on your shoe.

“Gojo Satoru!” you yelp. “This is all too much! I can’t take this.”

“Oh, you can and you will,” he warns you and takes the necklace from the box. Naturally, you spin around and move your hair to the side so he can fasten it around your neck. It sits prettily in the centre of your collarbone and once again, the tears start rolling.

Satoru kisses each and every one of them away, deepening your love for him. He playfully nips your skin between his teeth, bringing even more tears to your eyes.

“Wipe your tears, baby. I wanna have some fun before the party starts.”

Your body melts into the couch as Gojo reaches into your neck and licks stripes before kissing over them sweetly. Surprisingly, you find some resistance in you to protest. “There’s no time, Toru. We’ll be late.”

��The party doesn’t start until I get there.”

“That’s not the point,” you hiss as he bites down, causing your legs to wrap around him. “Our parents will be mad if we’re late.”

“I don’t care,” he mutters against your skin, pulling down the strap of your dress and biting your shoulder. You yelp and he moves to your mouth to swallow your whimpers in his own. “Keep it down, princess. Someone’ll hear you.”

“Fuck…” you whisper. “Need you, Toru.”

“What happened to being late for the party?” he teases and reaches under your body to pull down the zip of your dress. He effortlessly lifts you up and the dress glides to the ground. You step out of it donned only in your lacey underwear, precious heels and jewelled necklace he adorned you with.

And your body burns under his gaze.

“Toru…touch me…please…”

Satoru instead leaves you standing in the centre of the room where the cold air attacks your skin; your nipples harden and press against the helpless lace of your bra. Meanwhile, Satoru takes a seat on the couch, relaxing into the cushions and unbuckling his belt. His blazer falls to the side but his waistcoat stays intact while he pulls his cock from his boxers.

“Stay like that, princess,” he mutters. “Just like that.”

His voice shudders as he strokes his cock, not once taking his eyes off you. Your mouth salivates at the sight of him, as does your pussy. Arousal leaks through your flimsy panties and you rub your thighs together for some relief against your puffy lips.

“Fuck, so needy for me, huh?” you whine and nod. “Just as I thought. You’re the perfect little whore for me.”

You watch helplessly and hungrily as his cock twitches and hips jut into his fist before he regains control of himself. Oh, how you wish it could be you touching his hard, raging cock.

Your body grows more and more needy for his touch but you know better than to move without him saying so, so you substitute his touch with your own and grace your body with soft, seductive touches. His sky blue eyes darken with a cloud of lust as he intently watches you squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipple.

He relishes in the way your eyes roll back when your hand drifts lower and rubs your lace covered pussy. And the way your hips and limbs move in unison, swaying ever so gently, causing the diamonds on your neck and feet to sparkle.

A groan escapes the dishevelled man and he swallows the building saliva in his mouth.

“Take off your bra.” He orders and you do so, slowly reaching behind and unclasping the hook. Your tits bounce with the release, free from restriction and you jump on your tippy toes slightly, causing them to bounce a little more and earning a growl from Satoru.

“Do I look pretty, Toru?” you ask with doe eyes, biting your lips.

“Fuck,” he groans and fists his cock harder. “You’re fucking stunning.”

You smile to yourself and continue playing with your sensitive nipples until Toru orders you to take off your panties, and when you do, a thick string of your arousal connects your them to your pussy.

“Look at that, Toru,” you giggle. “Look at how wet you made me.”

“And I didn’t even touch you.”

“You didn’t, but I want you to. I want you so bad, Toru. Please can you touch me?”

“Hm,” he smirks devilishly. “maybe if you crawl over to me like a good girl. You know I like that.”

“Of course, Toru. Anything for you.”

You fall to your hands and knees and move one step at a time towards him. Without breaking eye contact, you make sure to sway your ass as you move and when you’re just about on his lap, Satoru takes your pretty face in his hands.

He leans forward, hovering over you on the ground.

“Open up.”

You’ve been his pretty little fuckdoll for years now, meaning your body works with inherent muscle memory and your lips part widely from his words as if it were second nature. You stick your tongue out and he presses his thumb down on it.

“Good fucking girl,” he slurs. “You’re so fucking hot. Think you deserve some of me now, huh?”

You nod eagerly and he gathers saliva in his mouth before letting it drip directly on your tongue. Your pussy clenches from the contact and in seconds, you’ve already swallowed it. “More, please.”

Satoru is kind and gives into your desires, spitting into your mouth again and again until you’re frantically rubbing your pussy on his shoes.

“Uh, oh, sweetiepie,” he tuts. “No grinding today. Don’t want you leaving stains on my clothes.”

You pout instantly but he makes it disappear with a chaste kiss. “If your pretty pussy’s that desperate, why don’t you ride my cock?”

Feverishly, you climb onto his lap and align your pussy with his sensitive tip. You both groan as you touch it, rubbing it up and down between your folds.

“Easy, tiger,” Satoru chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. Someone could walk in at any moment.”

“Don’t care.” Satoru laughs at how quickly your attitude changed from moments before and hisses the seconds you sink down on him. “Fuck, angel. So fucking tight…”

You press your lips to his, swallowing your mixed moans as you take him in your pussy. His cock is huge and stretches your walls as arousal leaks from you. You don’t bother being gentle and ride his cock with all of your might.

Bouncing hard and grinding in circles, you lose your breath quickly and the two of you gasp as your pussy swallows his dick whole.

“Fuck, Toru, it’s so good!”

When you feel his tip grazing over that little sweet spot, pure bliss is only seconds away. That is until he flips you onto your back and pounds your pussy from a different angle.

He buries your body into the cushions with each hard thrust and your legs fly into the air, heels facing up so the pretty blue diamonds sparkle in comparison to his dark, hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’m gonna cum, YN.”

“Cum for me, Toru!” you whine. “Cum inside me!”

All it takes is two more thrusts and he unloads inside of you. Your pussy quivers, not quite grasping at your orgasm and you rut your hips against him even when he stills.

“Toru, please keep going,” you beg. “I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

You think he’s spent from fucking you hard and from all the activities of the night before but you soon realise you’re wrong when Satoru lifts you with ease and flips you once more so your face is buried into the couch and your ass points upwards towards his crotch.

The added height from your heels leaves your sopping hole at the perfect height for him to rail into you. Your cries and moans are muffled by the cushions but surely someone would hear you. At this point, though, you couldn’t care less.

All you can think about is Satoru’s cock tearing you open and filling you up endlessly.

“Toru,” you stutter. “gonna cum!”

“Go on then, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

His cock brushes against your sweet spot a few more times and like a wave crashing through you, pleasure is released throughout your body. You scream into the pillows and cream around his cock as your limbs tremble.

Your weakened knees collapse and heels loose their footing in the ground but Gojo is not having it. He yanks your almost limp body and holds you upright against him. Taking your hands, he plants them in his hair and you tug on his scalp when his cock refuses to stop fucking you.

“Toru…” you moan his name, gasping when his fingers dig harshly into your hips. “please, enough.”

“One more, baby,” he mutters, kissing your shoulder. “One more and I’ll stop.”

You stand — barely — against him as he holds you up, completely naked against his fully–suited body. Wearing only a pair of heels and a diamond necklace, you feel so helpless in his grasp and it only turns you on more.

But what you don’t expect to heighten your senses is the door opening and staring dead in the eyes with a complete stranger.

“T–Toru!” you attempt to grab his attention, to tell him to stop because someone has caught you both but he’s lost in your body, as he often finds himself to be. He’s a man with no control, thinking only of how good it feels driving his cock into your tight, wet, quivering pussy.

You reluctantly find yourself orgasming on Satoru’s cock a second time and to your dismay, you’re not looking into his eyes but into a stranger’s. They’re dark, not quite as interesting as Satoru’s but easily as magnetic given your inability to look away.

You feel so raw, so dirty. Stark naked and having your brain fucked out in front of a stranger. His wide eyes don’t tear from you even when you cum a third, fourth, fifth time and your body burns when as his eyes rake over your bare, sweaty body.

The need to curl into a ball and hide takes over but there’s something stronger stopping you from covering your body. Something about this stranger, about this situation dares you to keep going. To not stop for anything.

Satoru’s cock feels like heaven in you, and looking into this stranger’s eyes while you orgasm is a sin worthy of a lifetime in hell. But somehow, the two combined create an otherworldly sensation in you.

It’s both paradise and inferno, and you alone are the honoured one in this paradox.

The pleasure is blinding, stealing your breath and all self–control as you spasm around Satoru’s cock, screaming incoherently — but you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

You fall forward, hands on the couch holding you up as Satoru continues thrusting into you. You know he loves watching his cock move in and out of your pussy and you’re thankful he’s addicted to the sight of it in this moment because you shamelessly maintain eye contact with the man in the doorway.

It isn’t until your eyes flutter closed from your umpteenth orgasm when Satoru finally gives in and collapses beside you. Your moans and gasps for air fill the room and when you open your eyes, the door is closed and the strange man is nowhere to be seen.

A twinge of guilt rattles in your chest, as does fear. Who the hell was that guy?

How could you be so reckless and let someone watch you like that? And how could you be so shameless to enjoy it?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Satoru asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“N–Nothing,” you say, biting your lips. “It’s just…we’re going to be so late to the party.”

Satoru’s body rocks with a deep chuckle and he ruffles your hair. “I already told you, the party doesn’t start until I arrive.”

You bite your lips, letting your head fall into your hands. Betraying Satoru like that was never intended, but what’s done is done and you don’t have the courage to tell him.

At least, not right now.

You don’t want to spoil his mood for the party.

Once Satoru regains his breath and energy, he gently lifts you and lays you on the couch. “Time for the cleanup.”

He takes his handkerchief and uses it to wipe the mess between your legs as best he can.

“There are napkins on the table, Toru. You could’ve used them.” You say, worried that he’ll be without his handkerchief for the night.

“But I wanted to use my handkerchief so I can sniff your pussy juices when I miss you.”

“What the fuck?” you cackle and kick him playfully. Just like that, all the fear and guilt disappears with a stupid joke from your stupid boyfriend. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just kidding,” he smirks. “Or am I?”

“Ugh, you’re such a perv.” You shove him away with a wide smile on your face, but he pulls you back to him and showers your face in kisses. “Get away!”

“Nuh–uh. You’re mine now, baby.”

He grabs you roughly and places you in his lap, legs spread on either side as he continues wiping you clean. “My baby’s pussy is already sore. I don’t wanna make it worse with napkins.”

You agree with him; a soft handkerchief rubbing against your pussy is much better than the slightly rough texture of a napkin. Your heart flutters with adoration for him. What could you have possibly done in your past lives to deserve a lover like Satoru? He takes care of you in ways you don’t think about.

He’s your soulmate, after all. But his level of attentiveness is unmatched.

Satoru finishes cleaning the mess he left on your pussy and helps you step into your panties and fastens your bra for you, then grabbing your dress from the ground and pulling it over your body.

“Why the pouty face?” he teases.

“Because it’s not fair that you look like you’re about to walk a fashion show and I look like this.” You wave your hands in front of yourself, signalling his attention to your messed up hair, smudged lipstick and crinkled dress. Meanwhile, Satoru’s suit is perfectly pressed and his hair isn’t so much as an inch out of shape.

He only smiles dotingly while using his thumb to wipe the edges of your lips and helps comb your hair with his fingers until you look presentable.

His soft fingers graze the back of your neck as he zips up your dress and he fiddles with your necklace, centring the chain so the pendant sits in the middle of your chest. You turn around in his arms and wrap yours around his neck, pressing a deep yet gentle kiss to his lips.

But the innocent kiss is soon disturbed by a knock on the door. Fortunately, this time you’re fully dressed when it opens. Unfortunately, the same man from earlier is the one opening it.

Your eyes widen and immediately look away from him. Fuck, maybe it was real, maybe you were just imagining him. Either way, your body drowns in shame as he enters the room.

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaims, inviting him in. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Satoru pulls the guy into a hug and he averts his eyes as soon as they land on you. You to swallow nervously.

“Well, I’m here,” he says. “But everyone’s wondering where you are.”

“I know. We were just about to head out. By the way, this is YN. You remember her, right?”

“Of course, I do,” the guy smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Those are filed with something else, something that makes your heart beat ten times faster. “You never stopped talking about her.”

Satoru guffaws and smack his shoulder before coming back to you and pulling you towards the man. You try to fight against it but it seems Gojo is still in the dark about the situation and you don’t want to be the one to tell him.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted you two to meet,” Toru says. “But YN, this is Suguru, my friend from university. And Suguru, this is YN, my girlfriend.”

The two of you stare at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Satoru laughs and takes each of your hands and presses them together. It takes a few more seconds and a deep breath for you to force on a smile and shake his hand.

The touch from his skin is enough to irk you. It shoots sparks up your arm. Making eye contact with him is as fearsome as you thought it would be, because your hole clenches around nothing against your will.

His dark eyes and tied–back dark hair ignite something dangerous in you and despite your innate need to look away from him, you can’t.

“Geto Suguru.” He introduces himself. His name is familiar, Satoru has talked about him a few times before. The way it rolls off his tongue sends an unfamiliar shiver through your body. “It’s nice to finally meet you. For three years, he never shut up about his girlfriend. I was starting to think you weren’t real.”

Satoru smacks him again and you retract your hand as if touching him would pass you a disease. But you can already feel it bubbling inside of you. The shame. The guilt. The intrigue.

Those feelings are a disease alright.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you manage to say. “Satoru spoke a lot about you also.”

“I’m sure he did.”

His voice grates against your insides and you feel both nauseous and excited. You sigh, pushing the feelings aside and convincing yourself it’s just the after effects of having your guts rearrange by Toru’s cock. But it niggles inside of you no matter how much you try to ignore it.

You are ever so grateful for Toru’s cheery voice pulling you from the depths of your thoughts.

“Are we going to this party or what?”

“Of course,” you finally tear your eyes from Suguru and place your hand on Satoru’s arms, not missing the way Suguru’s gaze lingers on it. “Let’s go.”

[haeseolar]

he's the one i dream of

mileapo - school!au, student council president apo, delinquent mile

rated G, 2k words

twitter / based on these photos

----

“P'Mai, you’re late again.”

Mile glares at Apo as he passes by, making sure their shoulders brush against each other. It sends a shiver down his spine. Whether it’s simply from the touch or the knowledge that with everyone else Mile would have no issue bumping straight into them out of spite, he’s not sure. 

Apo doesn’t let Mile walk far without him, trailing hot on his heels, heaving his backpack higher up as he goes.

“Have you been smoking again? Is that why you’re late?”

Mile throws a cold glare over his shoulder but doesn’t respond. It’s fine - Apo is more than used to this by now, having spent almost the entire school year worming his way under Mile’s skin enough to just get him to look at him. And so what if he had to pull out the ‘I’m the president of the student council’ card one too many times? It barely worked anyway, considering Mile’s general lack of respect and interest in such a hierarchy, only made worse by the fact that Apo is a few years younger than him. 

“P'Mai, you -” Apo jogs so they can walk side by side, although the view of Mile’s broad back was nice while it lasted. He likes looking directly at the other boy, eyes tracing over the contours of his build - wide shoulders, only made more obvious with the bulk of their school blazer, then the gradual taper down into his slim waist. It makes Apo sweat a little under his collar, his tie suddenly feeling too tight around his throat.

“Slow down for a second!” Apo finishes, grabbing a hold of Mile’s bicep.

He finally stops, those narrowed eyes zeroing in on Apo again. “You were telling me off for being late, but now you want me to be even later?”

“Well,” Apo shuffles, his white trainers squeaking against the linoleum flooring. He doesn’t let go of Mile’s bicep and uses his other hand to push his glasses back up his nose in a nervous gesture. “It’s been a while since we last spoke, so I just wanted to check-in. How’s your music class going?”

Mile sighs, the fight leaving him. He always turns up to school like this: pent up, his muscles wound up tightly like he’s gearing for a fight. Usually, he is, but not because of his own doing - the neighbourhood kids and other nearby schools all seemed to revere him as some type of prize to beat. You take down Mile Phakphum, and you’re the king of the area, earning the respect and fear of hundreds of others. Apo finds it completely pathetic and unnecessary, especially considering that they were all nearing their 20s.

“You could’ve texted me and asked this,” Mile replies flatly, his eyes straying to where Apo is still gripping him.

Apo jolts, hurriedly letting go. He tries to ignore the flush blooming across his cheeks. “I would’ve done, but you take forever to reply.”

Mile raises an eyebrow, looking down the straight slope of his nose. Apo clears his throat, heart hammering away behind his chest. He always feels so small when he’s in front of Mile, despite their height difference barely being even a few inches.

Taking over the student council had been easy. Rallying everyone into some form of subordination to show his authority had been easy, too. It had taken plenty of work, endless days of continuously proving himself, but it’d worked out. The worst thing about it was that Apo looked like a walking target for bullies. He’s not ignorant of his outward appearance and the way he carries himself - for him, it’s a matter of his personal pride. He likes looking smart, with his small circular frames and neat hair, pristine uniform and spotless track record, along with straight A’s in all his classes. Trying to get people to take him seriously and look at him as anything other than an object to ridicule was something he didn’t think would be possible, but he still did it.

Being faced with Mile’s handsomeness, on the other hand? That’s still something Apo is trying to manage. He’s seen the same face, the same features, heard the same voice and admired the same silhouette now for months, but it never gets easier. His pulse still speeds up, his stomach explodes with butterflies, and his cheeks go pink without any proper reason apart from just being within the general vicinity of Mile. Apo’s gone through worse and conquered a whole lot more, yet this one seems like the only mountain he can’t reach the top of.

He’s not sure when it started. It was as if he woke up one day - normal, no Mile centric thoughts - and then the next, he was head over heels for him and it was all he could think about. After that, his brain was completely infested with thoughts of Mile’s sharp jawline, his piercing deep brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, and the soft scent of smoke sweetened by a vanilla cologne. His strong arms, even stronger calves that he only saw when he peeked outside the classroom window during the other’s P.E class to watch, and - 

Apo hears a sigh, and then there’s a hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair.

“Stop worrying about me and get back to class yourself, prez,” Mile says gently.

Apo startles out of his thoughts, but not quite. 

Maybe it was the time that Mile finally responded to him with more than a glare. Or maybe it was the time that Apo managed to break up a fight that was brewing outside the school gates, and Mile gave him a curt nod of thanks before walking off. Or, maybe, more recently, it was when Mile started to truly pay attention to him, letting him stay with him in the music room during lunch, listening to Apo’s complaints and ramblings, even chuckling at some of his jokes. Then, if it was around that time, it could’ve been when Mile smiled properly at him for the first time. Not just a small upward quirk of his lips, but a real, genuine smile that completely transformed his whole face. It lit him up like a golden halo, making his eyes crescent into delicate moons, his lips pulling across his teeth as he beamed, his cheeks bunching up sweetly, two sets of dimples appearing with the action. It stole the breath right out of his lungs, looking like a fish out of water as he gaped, and even now at the mere thought of it, he fears he may do anything to try and see it again.

Apo swats his hand away, delayed in trying to smooth down the wild strands of hair that Mile had messed up, caught up in his daydreaming about Mile’s smile. “I’m allowed to be a little late, you’re not!” 

Mile rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. His tie is barely done up, loose underneath his shirt collar, and his shirt is half-untucked into the waistband of his trousers. It’s enough to have him written up for a dress code violation. Apo should write him up. Yet, if he does that, it’d mean losing sight of the effortless dishevelled look that Mile pulls off. He supposes he finds it… somewhat charming, after all. Even if it means he’s showing bias amongst the pupils, he can’t find it in him to care. 

Apo never said he wasn’t perfect, and he definitely never said he wasn’t selfish.

Especially when it means that he can reach out, trying to steady his shaking hands, to redo Mile’s tie for him. 

“You’re always so messy,” Apo mutters, the toes of their trainers pressing against each other, the warmth of their bodies radiating between them from their close proximity.

Mile’s breath hitches. He’s seen Mile’s football teammates initiate physical contact with him easily, and Mile accepts it just as quickly, only batting them away from his hair but nothing else. Apo wants - he wishes - he had the courage to do that. To reach out without a second thought, without being bogged down with all these fluttering nerves and the sound of blood rushing in his ears from a simple interaction between them. Apo wonders if he tried to brush down the stray strands of hair from Mile’s bedhead, would he be pushed away too? Maybe Mile would let him get away with it, just like a lot of other things the student allows him to do without more than a mumbling complaint. 

Apo glances up at him through his eyelashes above the tops of his lenses, curious, but Mile isn’t looking at him. He’s staring past them with a scary amount of concentration, the muscles in his jaw twitching from being clenched so tightly, his cheekbones pinkened. Apo’s stomach sinks. It’s clear from that alone that Mile is fine with everyone else touching him, just not Apo. He supposes that’s fine - if anything, considering Mile is somewhat of a delinquent, and Apo is the equivalent of a thorn in his side, he guesses that it wouldn’t be the most ideal situation for Mile to feel comfortable in. It doesn’t take long for him to sort it out, the sting of rejection fuelling him to go quicker as he’s used to doing it with practised ease on himself. Within a few twists and tugs, Apo pushes the tight knot up to the base of Mile’s throat, making sure it settles nicely in the middle of his collar.

“There,” Apo declares, patting Mile on the chest. 

Mile jolts beneath his palms, his pectoral muscles tensing and then relaxing. He peers down, running a hand over the newly tied tie.

His expression gives nothing away, not even when their gazes meet. “Not gonna nag me about my shirt as well?”

“Unless you want me to shove my hands down your pants, you can do that bit yourself,” Apo scoffs, crossing his arms petulantly. 

The air thickens around them, Mile’s neutral expression falling into something else. Something dark, dangerous, a twinkle in his eye forming. Apo feels cornered, a piece of fresh meat in front of a starving lion. He adjusts his frames on the bridge of his nose again, wishing that the lenses were tinted so he had some form of physical barrier between him and the way Mile is watching him.

“Shame,” Mile says vaguely, tucking the hem of his shirt lazily into his waistband. It looks even worse than before, sticking out at odd angles, and Apo’s hands itch to get a hold of it and sort it out for him. 

Instead, Apo wrinkles his nose at it in distaste, his ears burning with the insinuation of Mile’s response. “Just… be on time tomorrow, okay? Then I won’t have to nag you so much.” His voice comes out more venomous than he intended, biting and exposing the fact that it hurt his feelings a little.

“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see your pretty face first thing in the morning,” Mile replies, smirking when Apo looks at him in pure shock.

“P'Mai!”

Mile leans in, his breath hot over Apo’s lips, sending puffs of condensation across his skin. His skin ripples with goosebumps, tiny spikes and shivers working their way down his whole body. Mile’s hair tickles across his forehead, catching behind his glasses. 

“I’ll see you later, prez,” Mile whispers.

He pulls back as quickly as he comes, walking away down the hallway to his next class. Apo remains still from shock, enduring roils of embarrassment and something else he’d really rather not put a name to stirring in his gut until Mile is almost too far away to see.

“I knew it,” Apo unfreezes, delirium powering him as he spins around on the balls of his feet to face the same way Mile went. 

“Your breath stinks of cigarette smoke!” He yells after him, pouting when all he hears is Mile’s laugh echoing around him in reply.

[euphoricfilter]

缘分 (yuán fen)

pairing: jungkook x reader

soulmate au tiny thoughts/ headcanons

my new favorite chinese word is 缘分 (ping yin: yuánfen) which is the belief that destiny or fate plays a part in bringing two lovers together, or that a relationship is predestined to happen. and i think it’s so cute :(

so now i’m thinking jungkook soulmate au- possibly red string of fate type of story

☆ where jungkook works as a personal trainer, probably at some well known gym within the area. the pay had always been decent, enough for him to get by, and he got to do one of his many life’s passions so he’d never had a reason to complain

☆ the first time he meets you is in a convenience store, way past midnight because he had a client that had left late and barely anything for an overdue dinner, so he finds himself stumbling into the corner shop by his apartment

☆ he’d think nothing of the first meeting, a quick exchange; a few pleasantries and a polite smile. maybe the off thought, a meager worry that you’re working so late with no one to help you, and a wary walk home after your shift

☆ obviously he’d never expected to meet you again, especially not restocking cereal in the supermarket. your eyes would light up with recognition and he thinks his own must have done the same. galaxies reflecting in both your eyes, constellations that belonged to one another or fractions of stars whose hands were reaching out to be reunited

☆ the both of you would laugh about the second chance encounter. exchanging names, small talk about jobs, (you had 2 though were thinking of getting a third), and he found it endearing how much interest you had in his own life, genuine curiosity.

☆ and maybe that’s when he starts to think that maybe this was destiny, or the stars in the universe had aligned in such a way that surely your paths must meet at multiple crossroads, mapped out with fine ink that brought the two of you back together

☆ and maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel as bad for not asking for a way to contact you. because the smallest part of him believed that if it really were destined, surely you’d meet by chance again

☆ that doesn’t mean that jungkook doesn’t doesn’t play with what’s written in the stars. he starts walking home that little bit later, occasionally taking the alleyway towards the convenience store he’d first met you in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. activating reality squashing his dreams as you never seem to be working when he walks by anymore

☆ maybe a month later he sees you again. the moon barely visible behind the clouds, and a nice summer breeze tickling the bare skin of his arms when he sees you

☆ sat outside that very same convenience store, ice cream near melting as you kick your feet against the gravel path, shoes a little beaten up and eyes fighting to stay open.

☆ “jungkook?” you’d look up at him from where you’re sat, and he’d smile.

☆ and this time he took it as a sign to try and start something with you. either it be love or friendship, he would let destiny write the rest of your story for him

[bungalowbear]

one.

nanami kento x reader, pokemon au, wc: 730

nanami is a ranger with yuji as his trainee and reader is a psychic gym leader. had so much fun thinking up this little universe. many thanks to @strawberrystepmom for bringing out our inner trainersonas!

You’re sitting in the library, sipping on a hot cup of tea in front of the fireplace when you hear it. The loud, powerful knocks on the front doors echo throughout the gym. Zorua lifts her head from her front paws, ears perking up toward the sound.

“A visitor?” You glance at the clock resting on the mantle. It’s nearly midnight. “At this hour?”

Placing your cup and saucer on the side table, you rise from your seat and exit the library with Zorua following behind you into the hall. The path from the library to the front of the gym requires several turns down long hallways illuminated by the warm glow of sconces along the walls.

Once an abandoned family estate, your gym is the culmination of years of careful curation. Every detail from the carpet, to the light fixtures, to the crown molding was transformed during your renovation. There’s the library filled with shelves upon shelves of books, rooms for meditation and mental training, and the battle court in the backyard that was once a tennis court. The property also boasts a lush garden for Solrock and Lunatone to sit undisturbed, as well as a large freshwater lake where your Psyduck spends most of his time. It took several years to bring to life your perfect gym, fulfilling your dream of creating a paradise for psychic trainers and their Pokémon.

When you arrive at the foyer you stay standing at the other end of the room opposite from the front doors. The knocking is louder now that you’re closer, and Zorua yips before jumping into your arms. You smooth a hand over her dark fur before using your telekinesis to open the gym doors.

A young boy with pink hair stumbles forward, nearly dropping the person he’s carrying on his back. Judging by his quick recovery, this boy must be stronger than he looks as he straightens up and adjusts the hold he has on the man’s thighs around his waist.

“Hello?” the boy calls out. His voice rings out clearly in the empty foyer. “Is anyone here? We need help.”

He doesn’t see you right away. Not until both your feet lift off the floor and you slowly approach him. You study his face for a reaction to your presence, and you’re impressed by his lack of fear. Most people that end up at your gym have rarely encountered someone with psychic abilities and immediately start trembling. But this boy stares up at you with a wide eyed and awed expression.

“Y-you’re flying!”

His eyes jump from your face to your feet, bending lower to examine the empty space between the bottom of your shoes and the floor.

“I’m actually levitating,” you say, smirking.

“Wow,” he marvels, drawing out the sound as he straighten up again. “So cool.”

His enthusiasm makes you smile, but now that you’re up close you can see the state the man on his back is in. Your face falls at the sight of the head resting on the boy’s shoulder. Blonde hair sticks to the sides of the man’s face, obscuring most of what isn’t already squished against the boy’s body, but you make out a dark bruise blooming near his temple along with the blood that flows from the gash on his cheek.

“What happened?” you ask.

“We were going after poachers when we got caught in a rock slide,” the pink haired boy answers. “He pushed me out of the way and ended up taking some hard hits from the debris. Please, can you help him? Your gym was the closest place I could find.”

Zorua sticks her nose out to take a timid sniff at the unconscious man then turns her head back to look at you. You see worry in her usually playful blue eyes and run your hand across her back to soothe her.

“Poachers?” Your brow furrows. “So, you’re Rangers?”

“We sure are,” he says, chest puffing with pride. But then he turns a bit sheepish. “Well, he is. Technically I’m still in training.”

You hum, taking another look at the man. The longer you stare the more his presence piques your interest, a familiar aura that suggests you’ve met before.

“What’s your name?”

“Itadori,” the boy says. “Itadori Yuji.”

You tell him your name, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“Follow me, Itadori.”

series masterlist

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @bungalowbear-archive and turn on notifications.

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you���ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I’ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

[yuujispinkhair]

Masterlist: Yuuji x Reader

You show me good loving, make it alright. Need a little sweetness in my life

Fanfics - Oneshots:

Birthday Cake

Sleeping Beauty dark content!

Sweetest Remedy

Baby, you’re a firework

The fastest sexiest pizza in Tokyo

Birthday Boy

Go shorty, it’s my birthday! (Almost) Yakuza AU

How would Yuuji put a ring on it?

Cherry blossom hair and cotton candy kisses

Sundress Season

Cake by the ocean

Summer in the city Yakuza AU

Under the Killing Moon Vampire AU dark content!

Winter nights - warm me up, baby

Sweet like chocolate

Heat Warning

Brother (dark content!!)

Champagne & Sunshine

Wildest Dreams (Yakuza AU)

Rough Mission, Rough Sex

Friends with benefits with Yuuji

Fanfics - Series:

The songs you grow to like never stick at first College AU

Summer Paradise with Yuu Lifeguard AU

Fanfics - Threesomes + Poly:

Link to Masterlist

Headcanons:

Getting naughty on the phone with the JJK men

The JJK Men taking care of you after a stressful day

Dates with the JJK boys

Getting into a relationship with the JJK boys

Yuuji with an artist girlfriend

Fall and Halloween with the JJK characters

All I want for Christmas is Yuu

Yuuji taking care of you when you’re on your period

Yuuji as a big brother

Being Yuuji’s housewife/Yuuji being your househusband

Alpha!Yuuji headcanons (Omegaverse)

Thirsts + Other Drabbles:

Somnophilia with Yuuji

Perfect boyfriend Yuuji

Comforting Yuuji after a mission

A sweet day with Yuuji

Yuuji on a leash

Yuuji being loud in bed

Tugging on Yuuji's hair to get his attention

Yuuji and the Jennifer Lawrence incident

Stripper!Yuuji

Wearing Yuuji’s hoodies

Making Yuuji lose control

Being Yuuji's personal trainer at the gym

Yuuji worshipping your breasts

Sex in the kitchen with Yuuji

Sexy sparring session with Yuuji

Facesitting with Yuuji

Worshipping Yuuji's chest and nipples

Watching a scary movie with Yuuji

Blowjob in the kitchen with Yuuji

Wearing Yuuji's boxer briefs

Coffee shop date with Yuuji

Subby Yuuji

Giving Yuuji a handjob

Yuuji cooking for you

Yuuji reassuring insecure reader

Please don't copy or repost my stories. I am always very happy about comments and reblogs.