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wileys-russo · 24 days

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colour blind II f.rolfö (18+)

still working my way through the anxiety that comes with posting and not hating things that are 18+! minors DNI or you will be blocked. all swedish is translated so apologies if its wrong! colour blind II f.rolfö

"älskling!" you looked up from your phone at your fiancé's shout for you, tucking it into the pocket of the sweatpants you wore which were hers anyway.

the swedish crest sat on your thigh and you'd rolled the ends of the pants up several times so you wouldn't trip over given your fiancé's long legs seemingly made up eighty percent of her body.

"you called?" you smiled in amusement as you appeared in the door frame of your shared bedroom, though it was quickly replaced with shock as you took in the tall blonde standing a few feet away in front of the large mirror that faced your bed.

"gold or silver?" the defender asked with a frown of indecision, holding up two different belts against the dark charcoal two piece suit she had on, a black bralette you were fairly sure was yours just visible as she'd only done up the bottom button of her jacket.

"kärlek did you hear-" fridolina stopped as she glanced to you and saw your face, a smug smile curving into her sharp features as a small chuckle left her mouth. "you like then?" she turned to face you properly now, both belts still in hand and gesturing to her choice of outfit.

"no i hate it. you look far too good and you need to change right now." you shook your head furtively as your fiancé moved toward you, tossing the belts onto the bed and stopping now looking down at you in amusement.

"bedårande, like you could ever tell me what to do." frido sighed, her thumb tracing your bottom lip sending goosebumps down your arms as her chuckle reverberated around the air between the two of you.

you stood on the tips of your toes as she bent down, ducking her head toward you agonizingly slow, lips just ghosting your own as her thumb remained on your bottom lip.

"gold or silver min söta?" the blonde breathed out, grinning as you tried to close the gap between the two of you and her head retracted back, thumb tugging your bottom lip downward before letting go with a small pop.

"gold." you answered right away, near floating as you were finally rewarded with a quick kiss, the footballer pulling away far too soon for your liking as all traces of her touch disappeared from your body.

"yes, gold." she swiftly grabbed the belt from the bed and moved back to the mirror, nodding in approval before slipping it through the loops of her suit pants, having undone her jacket your eyes roamed the sliver of tanned toned skin between them and the bralette with a hungry gaze.

you looked away right as she caught you, clicking her tongue disapprovingly and giving you a look as you smiled innocently and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"thought you didn't do what i told you to?" you teased lightly at the way she'd just done exactly what you said by going with the gold.

"it doesn't count if i give you the options and tell you to make a decision älskling, watch it." the blonde warned with a smile but you could see that slight glimmer in her eyes warding you off not pushing it any further.

"don't you roll those at me, you know better than that hjärtat." her tone sharpened as you rolled your eyes playfully, yet another warning as mentally the blonde chalked up a second strike in her mind.

since being finally medically cleared after her knee surgery and returning back to full time training your fiancé had admittedly been absent a lot lately.

the days that would once be spent driving her to and from the training centre or checks ups and appointments were now gone as she was again cleared to be behind the wheel, and having normally been the driver in your relationship the blonde was all too eager to resume that role.

the hours you'd once spend wrapped up together under a blanket watching mindless reality tv in your shared home were gone, quality time together some days now felt like mere minutes as she was flying in and out of the door all hours with various commitments and meetings and trainings.

but nights were your favorite time of day with your swedish lover.

the two of you unless out for date night or far too tired to be bothered would near always cook dinner together. a routine you'd fallen hopelessly in love with on just your fourth date with the defender when she'd invited you over to cook you dinner, the first time the two of you had spent any time together that wasn't in a public setting had you nervously excited

frido picked up on this energy right away and was quick to welcome you with a soft kiss hello as she invited you in. a quick tour of her apartment was followed by a spontaneous make out session like horny teenagers when she was determined to 'show you how soft her mattress was'.

the blonde had put music on while she cooked and twirled you all around boasting she could have been a ballroom dancer if she didn't pursue football.

your shared laughter echoed melodiously around the fragrant kitchen, the swede singing along, every now and then dipping you and stealing kiss after kiss as she insisted on having you assist her to prep things, much as you teased that the entire point of someone cooking for you was not to be involved.

but when you were given a sweet kiss every time you completed a task as simple as stirring something for a few seconds or chopping up some peppers, who were you to complain.

fast forward to the life you'd built together over the years, currently living together in spain after spending a couple of years in germany and back home in sweden where you'd first met, now very happily engaged you'd follow the blonde anywhere in the world she asked you to.

and as much as the defender swore up and down that she wouldn't, you knew she'd also do anything and go anywhere you asked at the drop of a hat, both of you just as much head over heels for one another and unable to imagine a life without the other in it.

in winter she'd be sure to make good use of the fireplace she'd insisted on having in your spanish home despite the fact it hardly got anywhere near as cold in barcelona as it did in sweden.

you'd always tease her for stocking it up while the pair of you had hardly any clothes on and it was still not even near the negatives in temperature, a stark contrast to the way you'd need to be well bundled up in sweden to which she'd just roll her eyes and hide a smile.

the two of you would be tangled up together in front of it talking about everything and nothing for hours until the logs had died out and all that was left were mere crackling embers as your fiancé would pick you up and effortlessly carry you to bed.

though that was nothing compared to the much grander fire place she had back in sweden in the home you both owned there for when you returned during breaks and holidays, a fire place that you'd both done many many things in front of.

you'd always feel a particular ache return anytime you'd glance at it even when sat dormant, cold and empty when the two of you were back in sweden.

looking at it your mind always raced back to a night you'd acted up at a dinner with some friends, one of the first nights you'd spent back in sweden after moving to germany so frido could play for wolfsburg.

having not seen anywhere near as much of your girlfriend as you'd liked the entire time you were both back home and feeling a little neglected you decided to do something you knew would capture her attention.

needless to say the older girl had spent the entire evening making you pay for it once you returned home from dinner, whisking you away the very moment she'd generously paid the bill for the entire table.

it hadn't taken long once you started properly going out together and sharing your bodies with one another that despite her soft and loving tendencies as a partner, frido not only needed but craved and relished being in control.

in control over you, your behavior, your body, your orgasms. and you learned very quickly just how far she would go to put you back into place if you dared forget it, never to take her kindness for a weakness as in the blink of an eye she could go from ridiculously soft to domineeringly stern so fast it made your head spin.

your body had been near screaming for release the very moment your girlfriend had all but thrown you against the front door the second it closed, shoving her tongue in your mouth and simultaneously wrapping her large strong hand around your throat.

a small moan left your mouth as she'd tangled her other hand in your hair and tugged you to the living room where the fireplace was alive and crackling. its warmth wrapping tendrils around the small room as you were pushed down to your knees in front of it, frido having stocked it up well before you'd left for dinner.

once the taller girl got what was required and made herself comfortable on the shaggy rug on the floor with a cushion behind her back, she'd beckoned you over and for hours held you prisoner on the edge of a release she didn't deem you'd earned with your behavior at dinner.

which she had no problems advising over and over, stripping you down to nothing the swede had you ride yourself up and down her favorite strap which sat on her hips at a sinfully slow pace as she sat back and read a book like you weren't even there.

much to your displeasure she'd hardly undressed herself, keeping on the dark forest green pants she'd worn to dinner and getting the harness comfortable over her hips.

the swede had removed her coat and jumper as she left you kneeling in the living room before the fireplace. which had her in just an intricate lacy bra which left very little to the imagination, which was also forest green and matched both the pants she had on and the lacy thong hidden beneath them which was supposed to be an intended reward for you.

as you rode yourself up and down the strap at her ordered pace the only words that left her lips were warning you to be quiet or keep going as you'd whine needily or attempt to stop, her tone cold and calculating which somehow just made you crave her even more.

feeling you were nearing the edge again she'd ordered you to slow down, sharply twisting your left nipple between her thumb and forefinger when you didn't do so fast enough as tears pricked at your eyes and you broke down begging for a release.

the older girl had only looked at you over the top of her book with a slight pout, one hand moving to settle against your cheek as you leaned into her touch, her thumb gently wiping at the tears.

"poor baby. you just need it so badly, mm?" she'd whispered as you nodded and her sardonic smile grew, pushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, your forehead beaded with sweat as still you rode yourself up and down, legs shaking and on the brink of collapse.

"you look so pretty when you need me min ängel, such a pretty pretty girl." the blonde had cooed softly, her thumb moving to slip into your mouth as she gripped your chin tightly and forced your head back, leaning in closer.

her bright blue eyes stalked your naked body hungrily as her tone once again became sharp and cold barking out her next order, the sudden switch from soft to stern making your head spin but in the very best way.

"now, did i tell you that you could stop? nej. gå igen!"

back to present day of course you'd never resent her for the fact she was around much less, having worked tirelessly to pick up the pieces when the setback from the injury had broken her all those months ago.

you were endlessly proud of your fiancé and nothing made you happier than the day you watched her run back out onto the pitch, the cheers deafening as you caught her eye and grinned. of course she only went and scored a goal, making a heart at you with her fingers as you'd laughed and cheered even louder.

though just as much as you were proud of her, you also missed her and missed her presence around as much, to which you knew you could just tell her, but you knew that was much less likely to get you what you really wanted.

"vacker flicka." you complimented with an adoring smile as she fixed the belt around her waist and popped in some simple gold hoops, flashing you a grin through the mirror.

"min underbara flicka." the blonde returned your soft smile, moving to cup your face in her hands and kissing you so tenderly as if worried you might break. "now, for your outfit älska." frido poked at your nose and let go, striding off into your shared closet as you leaned back on your elbows.

glancing at the clock you knew there wasn't a chance the two of you would be late given how early the blonde had gotten ready, forbidding you from doing the same until she had the time to carefully select every element for you.

again, the need for control.

"this." she returned a few moments later with a floor length deep cherry red dress in hand, the two of you headed out for a celebratory dinner with her management team after a successful month back on the pitch for your fiancé.

"is it not a big formal kärlek?" you asked carefully as the blondes eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown. you'd last worn the dress to the wedding of one of your closest friends, and though you knew it was a fancier restaurant you were to dine at tonight it felt a bit much.

"you do not like it?" the defender questioned with a neutral tone though you saw from the ever so slight clench in her jaw you needed to tread carefully here. "no i do baby but, it is just a dinner though, no?" you echoed softly.

"yes, a dinner where i want to show everyone my beautiful fiancé and how good she looks in red. so, put it on please käresta ." frido spoke calmly, clearing the distance between you both and very carefully laying the dress out on the bed beside you, smoothing out a few loose wrinkles.

"okay." you agreed with a nod and a smile up at her, the taller girl straightening up with a hum, thumb tracing your jawline. "good girl." the blonde praised as your stomach flipped, a kiss pressed to your forehead before her phone started to ring and she quickly excused herself to the office so you could get ready in peace.

you assumed the phone call was work related as you'd already done your makeup by the time she returned, now trying to decide on your hair. "leave it out." your fiancé spoke as she strode back into the room, seeing you frown lightly as you tugged at your hair trying to decide how to do it.

"you look gorgeous." the blonde smiled, a laugh leaving your lips as she grabbed your waist and dipped you, kissing your cheek as to not smudge the pale pink lipstick you'd just finished applying.

"charming as ever sötnos." you smiled softly as she grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with a wink making you grin, the girls reply cut off as her phone rang again. she gave you an apologetic look as you waved her off, promising to meet her downstairs once you were dressed as she kissed your cheek again and you heard her footsteps retreat out of the room.

eyeing off the cherry red maxi dress a few things came to mind, and suddenly a multitude of voices were all screaming things at you and trying to drown out the others as you crossed your arms, looking between the dress your fiancé selected and back toward your closet where you knew a handful of other options lay waiting.

you knew what you should do, and what the consequences of not doing as your swedish lover had asked of you would be. but the thought of what those could lead to coupled with the fact that the voice which seemed the be loudest was the one urging you to find a different dress, meant a decision was quickly made.

frido was still on the phone when you finally made your way downstairs, the two of you needing to leave within the new few minutes to be on time to the restaurant, which to your fiancé meant being fifteen minutes early.

though as her eyes landed on you she mumbled an apology in swedish and quickly ended the call, piercing blue orbs raking over you and the fact you were not wearing the dress she'd so lovingly picked out for you.

"that is not the red dress i picked kärlek." she spoke calmly, phone in hand as she raised herself from the sofa and stalked toward you. you made a face of surprise and looked down at yourself at her words.

"isn't it? i guess i must be color blind." you smiled, watching your fiancé's jaw clench as she arrived in front of you. your breath caught in your throat as suddenly her hand was gripping your jaw and tilting your head back, unimpressed stare baring down at you.

"älskling. tonight is important to me, do not be a brat." the defender warned sharply, your stomach flipping at her tone but still the smile never left your face, well aware that would only infuriate the tall blonde even more.

you winced just slightly as her fingers dug into your jaw and she moved your head to the side, bending down so her lips ghosted your ear. "you will go upstairs and put on the dress i chose, quickly. or i can make us late and i will turn your ass the same shade of red as that dress and you can struggle to sit down all night." your fiancé rasped as your knees nearly buckled at her words.

"now hjärtevännen are you going to change or am i taking off this belt you so lovingly chose?" she smiled as if her words didn't make your legs go limp as she let go of you and you swallowed.

"words baby." frido reminded hands moving to your waist and holding you in front of her. "i will go and change." you managed out, head melting even more as she hummed happily, thumb again tracing your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick slightly.

"good girl."

at dinner you'd wound up sat across from your fiancé, and despite her very clear earlier warnings, you were far from on your best behaviour.

you ignored the blonde as she tried to speak with you, investing your attentions instead in her pr representative who was sat on your left, indulging his seemingly endless stories about his wife and kids who in all honestly seemed lovely but in this moment you could have cared less about.

all you cared about was the piercing gaze from the woman across the table which you felt burning into the side of your head as you hardly spared her a glance of your own, merely offering a hum or a nod as she tried to capture your attention back on her.

normally your fiancé despite her at times controlling tendencies was not a jealous woman, you'd never given her a reason to be as the two of you were far too in love with one another to pay anyone else a glance.

and anytime you'd acted out prior you'd never used flirting with another person to do so, to you that was as bad as cheating and as much as at times you enjoyed nothing more than riling up and getting under the skin of your swedish lover you knew that was a step too far.

but that didn't mean you were above placating this poor mans stories and photos as a means to ignore her, there was no flirting, no touching, nothing above platonic but still the lack of attention you threw her was doing wonders at making fridolinas head burn with annoyance.

once everyones food came you switched tactics, eating in an overtly sexual manner and paying now near too much attention to the blonde across from you, holding eye contact as you sucked on your spoon with a sultry smile and gave a quiet moan of pleasure, not quite loud enough to attract the attention of those around you but it worked a treat on your fiancé who stiffened.

her warning looks were dismissed as sat across the table and surrounded by her team she could hardly give you a verbal talking to, settling for her blue orbs piercing lasers into your head sending a message of their own which still you ignored.

the final straw came when the desert plates were being cleared and the wine was still flowing, conversation not near ceasing as you were growing tired of waiting.

you uncrossed your legs and kicked off one of your heels, slowly raising one and finding the blondes chair, suddenly pressing the tip of your foot inbetween her legs against her covered crotch.

you smiled subtly as frido choked on her mouthful of wine from the one glass she'd been babysitting all night having training tomorrow. her team fussed over her as her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and she pushed your foot away, shooting you a glare and quickly assuring everyone she was fine as conversation resumed.

her legs now crossed you slipped your shoe back on and dragged your foot up and down her leg, smiling calmly as her eyes burned in warning to stop.

though when you didn't you weren't surprised as suddenly she stood, excusing the two of you claiming she needed to be well rested for training and smiling at the jesting boo's which rang out at her words, but only you could see that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

finished saying your goodbyes her arm settled across your shoulder, guiding you out without a single word, the bill already settled she merely sent a smile to the hostess on your way out.

"get in." she spoke quietly, opening your door for you once you'd reached the car, closing it with a slight slam as you smiled, though that dropped the moment she slid into her own side.

"did you enjoy your meal min kärlek?" you questioned as she started up the engine and pulled out of her parking spot, a stony silence filling the car as her eyes never strayed from the road in front of her.

and though she was doing a seemingly wonderful job at presenting unbothered, you could tell you'd gotten to her from the big three.

the vein in her neck which looked about ready to pop, the way her knuckles went white with how hard she was gripping the steering wheel and the small ripples of tension where she was continually clenching her jaw as she drove.

your excitement grew at the prospect of finally getting what you wanted, remaining silent for the rest of the drive until finally she pulled into the driveway and shut off the car.

the two of you opened your doors, still walking in silence toward your home, your fiancé opening the front door as you strode inside before her, hearing it shut with a click.

kicking off your shoes at the door you barely made it upstairs and one step past the threshold of your bedroom before her hand grabbed the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your throat as your back pressed into the wall and the blonde loomed over you.

she still remained silent, jaw clenched as her piercing blue eyes raked over you, burning with an intensity you'd not seen in far too long, a slightly predatory look hidden behind her obvious displeasure with your actions.

"wipe that smile off your face." her tone was once more cold and calculating, sending a shiver through you as your lips pulled downward into a straight line.

"one dinner. i ask you to behave for one dinner, and you cannot." she spoke with a small shake of her head, the look of disappointment which washed over you having your stomach twist in a completely different way.

"you wanted my attention min älskade, yes?" you waited a moment before speaking, unsure if she actually wanted you to until her hand let go of the back of your neck, instead fisting at your hair and tugging so your chin soared upward and she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"yes." you answered her, a smile curling into her lips though not one of happiness as her grip on your hair tightened, her other hand still wrapped around your throat though not yet applying any pressure.

"and what are you supposed to do if you are feeling neglected sötnos?" your fiancé questioned calmly, eyebrow still raised. "tell you." it pleased her how quickly you answered, though your answer to her next question did not.

"and did you tell me?" "not with words."

you let out a small moan as at that the hand wrapped around your neck squeezed, her rings cold against your skin which was flushed with heat at the thought of what was to come.

with that you were pushed down to your knees, her hands leaving you as she took a few steps back and you remained where you were, knowing better than to even think to move.

"you seem to have forgotten your place älskling." you watched on with a slackened jaw as your fiancé shrugged off her suit jacket, smoothing it out and draping it over the back of the vanity chair, stepping out of her own heels.

now stood only in charcoal grey suit pants and the lacy black bralette you now knew was yours, you watched as she slowly backed up even further to the bed, eyes locked with yours as you not dared to break her stare.

"from now on, you will do as i say. yes?" taking a seat against the headboard she spread her legs and cocked her head to the side as if sizing you up as you nodded.

"words. i will not warn you again hjärtat." her tone was sharp as you exhaled shakily. "yes." you nodded again as she moved around a little until she was comfortable, hands folded behind her head as you felt yourself grow wet simply at the sight of her.

"stand." she spoke, smug smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as you did so immediately. "strip." you bent over and grabbed the end of the maxi dress, slowly pulling it up and over your head, feeling the blondes eyes hungrily ravish you.

"no underwear älskling? you are a brat." she clicked her tongue with a smirk and a shake of her head as your arousal worsened at those words, removing your bra next at her command.

"come here." she patted at the space between her legs as you almost fell over yourself in your haste to go to her, a slight frown forming as you attempted to climb into her lap only for her to turn your body so your back rested against her chest.

your breath hitched as her ankles hooked around yours, forcing your legs to spread open as her hands glided teasingly over your bare stomach, short nails raking lightly against your hips.

"please." you breathed out as her lips kissed your jaw, hissing as suddenly her fingers were twisting at your nipples causing your hips to buck. "now min kärlek i know you clearly have a problem with this, but listen." her teeth grazed your ear as you fell silent.

"you wanted my attention and you acted out, hoping i would punish you." the older girl started as you nodded. "yes." you spoke, moaning as her large hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed. "that was not a question." she growled as you nodded and just as suddenly as it was there her hand let go and moved back to tracing patterns on your bare stomach.

"you wanted me to touch you, fuck you, teach you a lesson about behaving." she whispered in your ear as your eyes closed and she continued to kiss at your neck, hands ghosting across your skin but not where you needed them, goosebumps rising at her uncharacteristically soft touch.

you opened your eyes and frowned a little as she interlocked hands with yours and swiftly removed your engagement ring, sliding it onto her pinky and keeping a grip on your hand.

"you want me to touch you min kärlek but that would be a reward, and only good girls get rewards. you are not a good girl." she tutted, spare hand grabbing your jaw and forcing your head back against her shoulder so you looked up at her, bright blue eyes and a wolfish grin baring down at you.

"say it." she spoke firmly as you swallowed. "i am not a good girl." you parroted as her eyes roamed your face. your jaw slackened as still forced to look up at her you watched as she took your hand which was intertwined with yours and brought it up to her mouth, your fingers sliding her mouth.

your breathing labored as her eyes remained locked with yours, pulling your hand from her lips with a small string of salvia still connecting them, moving your hand to sit on your stomach, her much larger one on top pinning it there.

at this point without her even doing anything you were dripping with arousal, your fiancé well aware of the fact as she sighed.

"you know i had plans for tonight after dinner hjärtat, i even bought you something special for the occasion. but now, now you have ruined all of my plans." again the condescending tone of her voice had you growing even wetter.

"you thought that being a brat would get you what you wanted? get me to touch you, to fuck you into the mattress and remind you of your place, for hours and hours until you learned your lesson." her words were said in the calmest of tones but it had you letting out a moan.

"but baby you forget that the only person who knows what you need is me, and right now you need to learn to do as you're told." her breath was warm as she chuckled against your neck, nipping at the soft flesh of your throat as you attempted to buck your hips but her hand which pinned yours to your stomach pressed down to prevent it.

"so i will not touch you." your fiancé warned sharply as your eyes flew open and she moved your hand to ghost above your centre. "you will touch yourself and do exactly as i say. or else i will follow through on my promise from earlier and your perfect little ass will match that pretty red dress on the floor and you will get no pleasure from it." she warned sternly as you nodded, her hand leaving yours.

her touch left you entirely for a moment as the apprehension of awaiting instruction had your stomach coiling, her hands sitting on her thighs which were nestled snugly around your body, her ankles still hooked around yours and forcing your legs open.

"one finger sötsaker, slowly in and out." her voice was barely above a whisper, lips trailing wet kisses across your neck as you lowered your hand, inserting your middle finger inside yourself.

"you sound so wet baby, i bet you are dripping." you didn't need to see her face to hear the smirk which would be plastered across it, her left hand moving to cradle you and holding your body flush against hers.

all that left you was a gasp of pleasure at the agonizing slow pace you were fingering yourself, not nearly enough but so much better than nothing as the blonde lips continued to kiss across your skin lightly.

"faster." frido spoke as you obeyed, pumping the single digit faster as again it wasn't quite enough but still you felt the pressure start to build. "one more finger, but slower now." she sung out softly, the way her teeth sank into your shoulder a complete contrast to her tone as you whined.

"no no sötnos, none of that now. this is your fault, and you will learn your lesson." she cooed, ordering you to speed up your pace as you did so, writhing slightly but her one arm wrapped around you held your body down from moving much.

"are you close baby?" she whispered out, sucking a mark into your neck as your eyes closed and you nodded, nearing your climax as you pistoned your fingers faster in and out of yourself.

"good, stop."

you were almost sure you didn't hear her right, hesitating just for a moment which was enough for her other hand to grab at your wrist and yank your hand away with a slight squelch as your fingers left you.

"fuck." you moaned out as her fingers pinched your nipple and her tongue flattened against your neck, licking over the deep red hickey fast forming on your neck, the contrasting sensations sending your head spinning.

"you will do as your told. when i say stop, you will stop." she warned sternly as you nodded, her fingers leaving your nipple as she moved your hand back downward and you started over with one finger again as instructed.

"can't even get yourself off baby? poor thing." she cooed, tone shifting entirely as she kissed over the mark on your neck, once more ordering you to stop right as you were about to hit your peak, a defeated whine leaving your mouth as your head thumped against her shoulder.

"do you need help älskling?" she questioned, grinning at the way you nodded instantly and reached for her hand which darted out of the way as she tutted. "oh no no no, not like that." she shook her head, grabbing your hand again and moving it down.

"you mirror what i do." she whispered in your ear, and before you could even blink her ring and middle finger slipped past your lips, fucking slowly into your mouth as you moaned.

"now you do the same baby." you gagged slightly but followed her order, slipping two fingers into yourself as your hips bucked at how sensitive you were from the two denied orgasms.

"faster now." you felt her grin against your neck as she fucked your mouth relentlessly and again you gagged as she cooed and kissed your cheek, your own fingers speeding up as your head pushed back into her shoulder and your hips jerked, legs still forced apart by her own.

"i bet you are so tight min kärlek, so sensitive." she whispered as you groaned against her fingers which prodded deeper as you gagged and sweat beaded at your forehead. "are you close?" your fiancé cooed as you managed a nod.

"good, stop." her fingers left your mouth, salvia wiped against your cheek as you cried out in need, a slight sob heaving at your chest as your hand fell limply to your side.

"poor baby, do you need to come?" the blonde teased as tears pricked at your eyes and you whined, the sound leaving your mouth more of a broken sob as her thumb rubbed circles into your cheek.

"you look so pretty when you cry sötnos, my pretty girl. so needy, but listening so well. finally doing as you're told." the older girl cooed, fingers catching the tears which leaked from your eyes.

her hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head back as her lips found yours, fingertips pressing into the sides of your jaw as you moaned into her mouth, your bottom lip caught between her teeth as she pulled away slowly, dragging it with her before it snapped back with a pop.

you hardly had time to process anything before finally, her hand trailed downward, one finger teasingly circling your overstimulated clit as you gasped and your hips bucked up.

"such a good girl älskling, doing whatever i say, such a good girl. so fucking wet!" she moaned into your ear as your eyes rolled and two of her long fingers slipped into you with ease, pumping in and out and building up pace.

"hold it until i say so." she warned, hardly needing to thrust more than a few times until you were right on the edge, whining needily as her other hand pressed against your lower stomach, only pushing you closer to a release.

"beg for it." the blonde ordered with a smug smile, nipping at the column of your throat as you near saw stars, teetering dangerously close but squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to stop yourself from falling.

"please, please please baby please!" you begged breathlessly, voice cracked and broken as your fiancé tutted. "you can do better than that kärlek, tell me what you need." a third finger slipped in as you cried out and your head pushed against her shoulder as your body writhed in her vice like grip.

"need you, need you to fuck me, please need you to fuck me so bad please!" you sobbed at the feeling of having to hold back, oversensitive and dying for relief as finally you were given permission.

"come for me min flicka."

with those words uttered you let go, an unholy sound leaving your mouth as your legs shook and you saw stars, the prolonged build up and constant denial over and over meaning your orgasm hit you hard.

"too much!" you shook your head as the defender never slowed pace, fucking you relentlessly through that first orgasm as her hand caught yours which tried to push her away.

"one more baby, give me one more." she cooed encouragingly and you moaned as within seconds your second orgasm was building rapidly, the constant praise coupled with your fiancé's lips ravishing at your neck sending you into orbit.

you saw white as you came again, body writhing and liquid squirting out all over the bed sheets as your mouth opened but no noise came out and the blonde slowly helped you ride it out before removing her fingers and bringing them to her mouth sucking them clean as you lay there chest panting and eyes closed.

"you did so good min flicka, so so good." she praised softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as you tasted yourself on them and eyes fluttered open. "are you okay baby?" immediately her demeanor shifted as her bright blue eyes looked down at you in concern as you managed a nod.

"i love you. i love you so much!" she promised, running a hand through your hair and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, gently pulling you into more of an upright position as the two of you lay there for a moment allowing you to catch your breath.

"do you want a bath? or i can go get a wash cloth? what do you need?" your fiancé asked moving a few flyaways from your face. "bath please." you managed out as gently she moved out from behind you, laying you down and pressing a few feather light kisses against your lips and promising to be right back.

your eyes closed and you focused on your breathing as her footsteps hurried away, returning a few moments later as her hands gently helped you to sit up, propping a cushion behind you as your head thumped against the headboard.

"drink please min älskade." she encouraged softly pressing a bottle of water into your hand and a kiss to the crown of your head before padding away again as you took a few gentle sips, the familiar ache settling between your legs which still felt shaky.

managing half the bottle you placed it down on the night stand as fridolina returned, a soft smile on her face as she stood by the bedside. "ready?" you nodded as she leaned down and slipped her hands under you, hoisting you up and into her arms bridal style.

"next time we do this i will make sure you do not have jelly legs." your fiancé teased softly as you managed to hit her shoulder, your wedding a matter of weeks away now.

as you arrived to the bathroom you were hit with the smell of lavender, a few drops of essential oils in the steaming hot bath having you relax as ever so carefully the blonde lowered you down into the water which was the perfect temperature.

"stay." your arm snagged the back of her suit pants as she turned to leave, face softening as she looked down at you. "you can change the sheets later, i need you right now." you spoke with a rasp as the taller girl nodded, stripping herself as you sat up and she carefully slipped in behind you.

you sighed in relief as your eyes closed, lazy kisses littering the back of your neck as the blonde mumbled sweet nothings against your skin, hands ever so gently massaging at the knots in your shoulder as you could have melted right into her then and there.

"i cannot wait to make you my wife min käraste."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #fridolina rolfo x reader #frido rolfö #fridolina rolfö #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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jinuaei · 1 month

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Alastor x Fallen Angel! Reader

Accidentally getting 'married' to Alastor

Part 2

You fucked up.

You don't know what you did but you know you fucked up somewhere. One moment you were in heaven doing something, the next you see a red sky in front of you. The feeling of air rush behind you as you finally realize that you were falling, the smell of something burning and rotten eggs surrounding you as you fall deeper and deeper to your demise. Or what you thought was your demise, what you instead fell onto was a roof that momentarily broke your fall, before face planting to the ground. That wasn't graceful of you.

Groaning in pain you try to sit up before a sharp burning sensation spreads through your back, at where your wings was supposed to be. The sound of dripping enters your ears and your vision is blurry when you try to open your eyes, you can only see blobs of colours and the most prominent one was red as well as... Gold. Pupils dilating, your eyes finally take in the view in front of you. White feathers fall around you as golden blood seeps into your white clothes, the pain, you realise came from your wings, getting ripped apart and burning off when you fell. You try to decipher where you're currently at, from what you see, you seem to be in an alleyway, behind you is a dumpster covered in your blood and feathers, following the trail of blood you see the roof you hit when you were falling.

You hypothesize where you're supposed to be, with how adamant Heaven is in teaching angels not to do any sins nor question the higher ups, its kind of impossible not to know what will happen to those who defy heaven as well as where they will go. A pentagram encompassing the whole red sky, the scent of sulfur, blood, and brimstone flooding your senses, with this in mind you now know where you are.

"I'm in hell..."

"Yes you are, my good fellow!"

Startled, you scream and cover your head in hopes of protecting it.

"Well that's quite rude! You're not supposed to scream bloody murder when someones trying to be friendly you know?," his voice was odd, staticy, akin to an old radio.

You sheepishly drop your hands down to your lap and look up at the man in front of you. He's quite the tall demon, dressed in red... well actually everything about him is red, save for the black accents in his outfit and ends of his hair. Speaking of hair you keep glancing up at the tufts of hair attached to his head, and if you look closely, the antlers hidden behind his fluffy bangs. Is he supposed to be a deer? That's actually really cute.

"Erm... Sorry, just I was just surprised someone popping out from nowhere," you reply, hands fidgeting with one of your broken feathers.

Eyeing the golden blood and the broken wings behind you, the demon grins, showing off his sharp yellowed teeth. Nevermind that's TERRIFYING.

"Now what's an angel doing in hell? Not to mention a bleeding one! How tempting," he licks his teeth, already thinking about how delicious your angel meat would be.

Something tells me that this demon is NOT here to help. Now think! Make something up so you wont get killed by this red deer thing!

"I'm your spouse assigned by heaven!," you blurt out, not even thinking properly due to the fear of death.

Both of you froze as you stare at each other, one with horror, and one with disgust.

"And why do you think I would believe that?," sneering, he starts to creep closer and closer.

"Because... That's the reason why I fell! How can I meet my husband if I'm in heaven and you're in hell? I was so eager to meet you that I turned myself into a fallen angel just to be with you!," you smile widely, desperately trying to convince him.

He raises an eyebrow at that, mulling over whether you're telling the truth or not. Even if you are lying it'll be good to have a fallen angel on his side, and it'll be quite hilarious seeing the expressions of the hotel staff reacting to you being his spouse.

"If I am your fated one, what's my name? Surely heaven must have given you my name at least?"

Oh Gabriel's trumpet he got you there. "Alastor...?," unsure, you gave out a random name. If you're wrong, hopefully he kills you quickly.

...

"Hm. Perhaps you truly are who you say you are. Forgive me for being quite rude earlier, it's unbecoming from your husband to be." Holy cow you are lucky. You breathe out, the nerves simmering.

"Come on then let's get you cleaned up! What kind of husband will I be if I don't provide for you my dear?," he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere. His shadow cleaning up all the blood and feathers in the alley.

Now that's out of the way... What the fuck did I do to become a fallen angel???

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #maybeeeee soon to be yandere alastor?

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kookslastbutton · 2 months

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Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

"We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

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#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #fic:thoseeyeschico #kookslastbutton

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punching-pentagrams · 3 months

Text

Love In a Hopeless Place

Chapter 1

Hey all! This is Dany (they/them) and its my first time writing a fanfic, so please be nice :) This will be multiple chapters but I'm not sure how many, so we will see how this goes! This chapter is mostly set up :) Lucifer x prostitute fem!Reader Word Count:2.6k words CW: Mentionings of suggestive sexual content, prostitution, angst, sadness, depression (there will be more fluff/smut in later chapters)

Light of the morning started to stream into the large bedroom through a small gap in the curtains, the light hitting at just the right angle as the light slowly moved throughout the morning until the light started to cascade down the face King of Hell.

Lucifer began to blink his eyes open, groan, and shift away from the thin line of light that had disturbed him from his well fought for sleep. After a few minutes he sighed, lifted his head up high enough to look at the clock before letting his head drops back into the pillow with a groan.

"Too early," Lucifer mumbled to himself against his pillow. But after a few more minutes, he started to stretch and sit up in bed, because he needed to, because he was the King and eventually there would be some meeting or paperwork that he would need to attend to.

Lucifer briefly glanced over to the side of his bed, her side of the bed, well... not anymore. Not for the last seven years. He felt a familiar tightness start to form in his chest as he stared at it.

Lucifer shook his head as if to try and shake the bittersweet memories of his life with Lilith away, crawled out of bed, and went to his wardrobe to find some clothes for the day before the sad thoughts could stop his momentum. He put on his signature white and red suit adorned with little gold details, black bowtie and boots. He did the best he could to smooth out his messy blonde hairs before popping on his hat that was wrapped in a golden snake, along with an apple and a crown. Reminders of Eden.

Looking at himself in the mirror he looked pleased with his outfit, thinking of how if he looks fun, he will feel fun, and if he feels fun, he can get through another boring day... probably. Lucifer grabbed his cane and left the room to go to his study, flashing his big toothy charismatic grin to his staff and getting a quick update about his meeting later with the Sins from his secretary as he walked down the hallway.

As he got to his study, the maid was finishing setting up his breakfast for him at his desk. She turned, gave Lucifer a quick bow before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Lucifer turned to his desk and dropped the smile, something about it felt a little more painful today. He chalked it up to one of those days when he really didn't get good sleep, as opposed to the nights of just... regular bad sleep.

Lucifer ran his hands down his face and looked at the stacks of disorganized paperwork covering his desk, and sighed before taking a sip of his morning tea.

He sat down and got to work on the paperwork, trying to get as much done as he could before the meeting he had later that afternoon. It was gonna be a long day

____________________________________________________________

Before long, Lucifer was off to his meeting. He normally hates meetings, but he enjoyed getting to see some of the Sins, like Bee and Asmodeus, so that made it at least a little more tolerable. The meeting went by rather quickly, luckily, because most of the other Sins also normally hate meetings, and if the ran too long, people like Mammon would start complaining.

Asmodeus was the best one to have at meetings, he normally was in a good mood and either contributed ideas or was good at getting Mammon to shut up for a few extra minutes so that Lucifer could finish. Unfortunately, Asmodeus was also really good at picking up on when Lucifer's smile felt a little more forced than usual.

After the meeting, the other sins started to leave, and Asmodeus quickly grabbed Lucifer's attention before he teleported back home.

"Ah, Ozzie! What can I do for you, my friend?" Lucifer said turning towards his friend with a smile and a flick of his cane.

"Are you... doing ok Lucifer?" Asmodeus said cautiously, all three of his faces showing slight concern.

"Well ya of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Lucifer shifted a little as he stood, leaning slighting more on his cane, fidgeting with his suit jacket, and looking behind Asmodeus to check that everyone else was gone.

Shit, was it that obvious? I thought I keeping it together well, Lucifer thought to himself.

"Well... its just that... how do I put this... " Asmodeus put his hands together, and sighed, "You seem a little tense. Not like in a way that everyone can see, though. But... I just know you," he said putting a hand on his hip.

Lucifer deflated a little, dropped his smile and crossed his arms, "Fine. I just... didn't sleep well last night... I guess"

"Because?" Asmodeus asked, knowing there was probably more to it.

"Just the usual stuff, feeling lonely, boring meetings, more paperwork than I can deal with, its just all... ugh... draining..." Lucifer said sadly.

Asmodeus frowned, "And what do you do when you are feeling this way?"

Lucifer thought for a few minutes while, messing with his cane, "Lock myself in my office and make rubber ducks... or... stare at my ceiling... for hours."

Asmodeus rubs a hand down his main face before sighing and looking again at Lucifer, "If I may, Lucifer, you need to do something other than rubber ducks or staring at walls. I mean, there is nothing wrong with the duck. Just maybe try to get out there? Make some new connections, talk to someone other than just your staff, the Sins, or the Overlords. Literally anyone."

Lucifer scoffed, "Like who? I don't know if I am ready to try building anything with anyone again yet." Lucifer said looking at the ground.

"Well... when was the last time you talked to Charlie?" said Asdomeous

Lucifer flinched at hearing the name of his estranged daughter, they had not been close for a long time, not since she was small, definitely not since Lilith left him.

"Like... a month ago over the phone. We only ever talk for a few minutes at a time for small things... I don't know if she really wants anything to do with me. Or what I would even say to her" Lucifer said softly.

Asmodeus sighed, "Well you could always hire a prostitute or something to keep you company." He chuckled to himself.

Lucifer looked up as Asmodeus and blinked "I beg your pardon?"

Asmodeus holds up his hands innocently, "I'm just kidding!"

Lucifer looked off to the side and though for a second about the idea.

"Wait, are you actually considering it?" Asmodeus asked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"Maybe. I guess... I could try it out and... if I don't like it or them I just never have to see them again... Right?" Lucifer looks at Asmodeus, who returned an encouraging nod. "But I don't know how the process works though, also, I kinda don't want it getting out that I've hired a prostitute," Lucifer said hesitantly, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair as he starts to stress about the idea.

Asmodeus' three faces lit up with joy, "Well lucky for you, I am just the guy to help you with this!" Cuz you know he is the Sin of Lust and all.

Asmodeus grabbed out his phone and started typing furiously while Lucifer looked on confused, curious, and a little nervous.

"I'm sending you my favorite recommendations, they always have the best options for prostitutes/call girls, and are always discreet. You can even use a fake name, maybe have a driver go pick them up, and pay in cash! Nothing gets traced back to you. I've helped some other Sins and Overlord get set up before." Asmodeus chimed as he wrote out his text to Lucifer, and then paused and looked up at him with a little bit of nervous regret for letting that last comment slip. "But you didn't hear that from me."

Lucifer mimed a motion of zipping his lips, locking it, and throwing the key behind him as he gave Asmodeus a wink.

Asmodeus smiled, then went back to his text "Ok, you will just need to call them and tell them what type of person you want, ok? I've put them in order of my most to least value places, they are all good though."

Lucifer continued to think about this new idea, a mix of emotions swirling in his stomach. He hated that it came to this, but Asmodeus was right, he was so fucking lonely and burnt out that he could not stand it. Lucifer didn't really know what he needed, but maybe a night of emotionally detached sex would blow off some steam. Worst case was that he hated it and sent the prostitute home early with a "sorry for wasting your time" tip. Ya... this could work.

______________________________________________________________

A couple hours later:

The phone began to ring in a smoke-filled room that was only lit up by a few dim lamps and some neon lights flashing in the window that flashed things like "Girls, GIrls, Girls", pictures of dicks, and boobs, the standard classy brothel window decor. A short, stout pig-looking man coughed, cleared his throat, and picked up the phone.

"Luxurious Lady's Lounge, how may we service you today?" the man said in his most charismatic voice, but not without hints of sleaze leaving their own lingering notes.

The man on the phone was requesting a companion for the night and asked for discreet services.

"No problem chief, we use codenames for a lot of our clients and ladies. How would you like to be addressed?" asked the pig-man.

The man on the phone hesitant for a moment before responding with with name, Lance.

"Alright, Lance, and what kind of companionship are you looking for tonight?" asked the man, now starting to eye the available options of people in the room as the man on the phone spoke.

Across the room, closer to one of the few lamps in the room, you sat lounging on one side of a large soft couch, waiting for your next possible client after just finishing an in-house session. You were a newer resident of hell, only had died a few months prior, and had found yourself in hell. A little disappointing, but not surprising, as the life you had been born into did not give you many chances to do much more than accept the opportunities that helped you scrape by, none of those opportunities being very virtuous, and that is what you still continue to do here in hell.

Upon arriving, you had quickly learned in hell that money unfortunately still mattered, which meant you still needed a job, and most jobs in general were awful, but you just needed something. During your first couple weeks in hell you looked at your options, until eventually Larry, the pig-man on the phone found you and took a likely to you, which led to you taking the job here. It was fine, sex was fun, it paid the bills, and you didn't think that sex would ever mean anything more than a fun pastime in hell, so why not?

"Alrighty! Well lucky for you Lance, I have just the girl for you." Larry laughed as he looked across the room at you and gave you a wink with one of his red eyes. "Her name is (y/n), and she will be ready for you at 9 pm sharp. Sound good?"

New client, 9 pm. You look at the time, you have an hour. You start to walk up to the desk, but wait for Larry to finish the call to get deals.

"Ok great, she will be ready for pick up then," Larry hangs up the call and turns to look at you as he takes a drag off of his cigarette. "Alright baby doll, you got a new one for the night, code name is Lance, wants to keep it discreet. Got it? Just looking for a nice, sweet girl to show him a good time, lonely bachelor type, and he will be sending a car for you at 9 pm. Make sure to be out there early and looking pretty, ok?" he said wiggling his eyebrows.

"Of course," you said smiling. You turned on heel to go back to the make up room to get ready. Sometimes his sleaze made you feel a little uneasy, but he looked out for you and, at least from the rumors you heard, you would later be here then working for some hot shot like Valentino who gets a temper with his employees. At least Larry kept his hands to himself, but his gaze always roamed freely.

As you start to walk back you hear another woman's voice hiss out, "Oooooo baby doll is getting a chauffeur, he sounds rich, make sure you don't fuck it up sweety!" followed by a group of obnoxious giggles.

Ugh, Cynthhhhia. One of the mean girls of the lounge, a snake-woman with a viperous attitude. She hangs around three other girls that are only slightly more tolerable when they are not hanging around her.

You continue walking to the back room without breaking your stride or looking at her, only responding with a sly smile and a "well maybe if you weren't such a mythic bitch, Larry would schedule you with some high rollers too, Cynthia."

"That's Cynthhhhia you li-" and the sound is cut off as you walk through the door to the back. All you can hear is the murmured yelling of Cynthhhhia and Larry trying to get her to shut up. She was mean to everyone, no one really knew why, or cared. You learned pretty quickly that it was better not to get pulled into the drama, but sometimes you couldn't help but throw a quick jab back at her.

Satisfied with yourself, you sit down to freshen up your makeup. New clients sometimes made you nervous because you never knew what to expect, but that was also half the fun. You liked getting to know new people, people seemed to like you well enough, you already had a few regulars that requested you frequently and tipped well. It wasn't glamourous, but it was something.

You finish up by putting on a simple pretty dress that was more appropriate for your journey through the public than the lacy lingerie you were wearing, partly because the client asked for the interaction to be discreet, also because you have learned that clients like to have a "reveal" of sorts most of the time. The look on their faces was always fun.

You look at the clock, it was almost time. You get on your long black coat that was lined with faux fur I mean you may be in hell, but you still didn't feel good about real fur jackets, and you walk out to the front of the brothel to wait for the car.

After a few minutes of waiting and a couple of cat calls from men walking down the street, a nice black car puts up front. A man in a suit rolls down the window and looks out at you with a stoic face, "y/n?"

You give a little wave and say "That's me, baby."

The man nods and the back door unlocks. You slide in and close the door. As the car starts to drive off you settle into the soft car seats, mentally getting ready for another night of work.

———————————————————————

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want added to the tag list for future chapters! 💖

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel #fanfic writing #fanfiction

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asumofwords · 4 months

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Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long.

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.”

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise?

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight.

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat.

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out.

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind.

And by your luck, you did see him again.

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him.

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours.

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor.

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it.

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm.

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back.

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place.

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor.

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses.

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred.

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.”

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him.

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class.

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted.

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips.

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph.

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets.

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure.

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought.

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win).

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book.

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought.

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM.

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there.

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst.

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there.

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold.

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly.

Shame built inside of you.

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots.

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him.

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk.

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him.

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core.

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance.

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance.

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you.

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t.

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits.

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them.

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down.

Oh shit.

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound.

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more.

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest.

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.”

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure.

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close.

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him.

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands.

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious.

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf.

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch.

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

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adharastarlight · 2 years

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Sirius: bros before hoes!!!

James: bet.

*later*

Sirius: where the hell were you???

James: with your brother

Sirius:

James: you know, like you sai- ...thats not what you meant

#this popped into my head and its gold #so enjoy #marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #dead gay wizards #sirius black #james x regulus #remus lupin #wolfstar #starchaser #the black brothers #bros before hoes #james fleamont potter #james being an idiot #regulus arcturus black #sirius orion black

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secretsecretbunny · 3 months

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Just friends: stray kids smau.

Part one: "there are no flaws in ghibli."

paring: lee minho x f!reader - roommate!skz

genre: fluff, angst, future smut, roommates au.

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual jokes. alcohol mention.

PLEASE read character intros/story set up: here

You had the large sofa set up with a few fluffy blankets and pillows, streaming service pulled up on the big TV when Minho emerged from his room. You were still wrapped up in the group chat when he silently leaned over the back of the grey couch, head next to yours, smiling mischievously before asking lowly in your ear, "so, which ghibli movie are we watching?", making you jump in surprise with a screech as he laughed at your reaction.

"JESUS, TWINKLETOES. WEAR A BELL OR SOMETHING!" you exclaimed, hand over your chest.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips as he plopped onto the cozy sofa beside you.

A sly grin spread across his face as he mused aloud, "yeah you'd like that, huh? a nice collar with a little bell fastened around my neck?" he winked.

You rolled your eyes "I'm gonna hose you down". you said, looking him up and down in an attempt to be threatening, but the more you thought about it, it did sound.. no. You shook off the thought, looking back at the TV.

Minho laughed and raised an eyebrow, his sharp features still amused as he asked again, "You gonna answer or what? Which movie are we doing?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes once again, this time with a subtle smile on your face. You leaned back into the cushions "I don't know, I was gonna let you choose", you responded, scrolling through the list of Ghibli movies on the screen.

"Oh, well then obviously The Cat Returns." he replied immediately. You perked up "Sweet, I love that one! Popcorn?". Minho nodded "obviously. I'll make drinks if you make the popcorn?" he asked. "deal." you said, standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

Your bare feet were chilly on the cold tiles as you walked into the large spacious kitchen. White marble countertops sat in contrast to the many black cabinets and their handles with gold detailing.

You opened the pantry and grabbed a bag of popcorn, then popped it into the microwave before turning around and hopping up to sit on the counter to watch Minho make the drinks. The marble countertop was cold on your pajama short clad legs as you kicked your dangling feet, feeling excited for movie night. "you want drinks or do you want drinks?" he asked, pausing what he was doing. "Hmm, drinks" you answered. He spun around, opening the glass liquor cabinet with a flourish "pick your poison, princess." he gestured at the dozens of bottles and raised his arms to emphasize the amount, making his shirt ride up and expose a line of soft skin above his sweatpants. You forcibly drag your eyes away to look at the extensive alcohol collection.

"do we have limoncello?"

"duh" Minho responded, grabbing the bright yellow liqueur. "what do you want it in?"

"sprite. add a bit of maraschino cherry juice?"

"you got it, princess." He meticulously prepared the drinks in tall, clear glasses, crafting a similar beverage for himself out of convenience, though likely not out of desire for the taste. The popcorn in the microwave emitted a high-pitched beep, prompting you to stand up and carefully remove it before pouring its contents into a glass bowl.

"ready?" you asked

he nodded "yeah. don't trip and spill the popcorn this time though." he chuckled.

"that was once!"

Minho looked at you pointedly, head cocked to the side.

"okay, twice. shut up." you grumbled quickly.

A grin spread across his face as he trailed behind you, heading back towards the plush couch.

As you prepared to enjoy the film, Minho placed the icy beverages within easy reach, arranging them neatly beside the heap of fluffy popcorn on the polished wooden coffee table. You cozied up into Minho as he sat down, the promise of cuddles being fulfilled.

You and Minho had been close friends since college, though it wasn't always that way. The first time you met him, freshman year, he was so unimpressed by your existence that you could barely get more than one word at a time out of him. He seemed disinterested in getting to know you better, and his curt responses made you feel like an inconvenience more than anything.

||flashback||

You were running late again. Of course you were, what was new? You sighed dramatically as you walked to your class, not even bothering to rush yourself at this point. Taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, you attempted to calm yourself. You knew you were starting a project today and the professor probably had already assigned you a partner since you were late. Most likely whichever poor soul it was that didn't get chosen by another classmate.

You entered the lecture hall, coffee in hand, sitting in your usual seat. You had just rested your forehead on the cool surface of the table when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up with a pout you made eye contact with probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

"y/n, right? I'm your partner for the project." he said, his tone mildly annoyed.

"That's me. Sorry I'm late, I uh, overslept." you said with a nervous laugh and a warm smile.

"Don't care. You know what the project is even about?" he asked condescendingly, glower on his face.

Your smile dropped as you scoffed. The attitude on this guy. "Of course I do, why wouldn't I? It's been talked about for weeks." you responded, matching his tone.

"Well, you missed the opening lecture today because you were late, I don't know if that's a consistent problem for you or not." he rolled his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him. It definitely was a consistent problem, but he didn't need to know that. "Whatever. Let's just get started."

Throughout the next few weeks, you and Minho collaborated on the project, constantly disagreeing over every minor detail. It wasn't until your mutual friends, Chan and Changbin, intervened that you began to tolerate each other.

"You two are so similar it hurts." Changbin said as he watched you and Minho bicker over something as simple as which font to use.

"Don't compare me to him!" You said in offense.

"We may not see eye-to-eye on anything else, but our shared disdain for each other is undeniable." Minho said, arms crossed over his chest.

"what, you got a word of the day calendar or something? or are you just trying to meet your word count for the day." you spat out with disdain.

"Please, you're both getting on my nerves. Sit down and work on your project before I lecture you in the middle of this library." Chan huffed, frustration clear in his voice as he tried to work on his own homework.

"Yes, dad." Minho uttered sarcastically. "Wouldn't want to get myself grounded from the Nintendo for a week."

Your attempt to suppress your giggle failed as you laughed at his witty remark. You brought your hand up to conceal the wide grin spreading across your face while Minho observed your reaction intently, furrowing his brows with a tilt of his head.

"What?" You ask defensively.

"Nothing. Just never seen you laugh. The smile looks better than the scowl you're usually wearing"

You turn your head back to your laptop in an attempt to hide how flustered his comment made you. "Be funnier then." you mumbled.

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a small laugh of his own as he sat back down in the seat beside you. "I'll keep that in mind." he noted with a hint of sarcasm. Chan and Changbin shared a knowing look, smirks on their faces.

From then on, your interactions with Minho took on a playful edge. The back-and-forth banter and witty remarks became a Hallmark of your relationship, bringing you closer together.

As you continued to hang out frequently, Chan and Bin were always part of the crew. On occasion, Chan's cousin Felix would tag along, and before long he began inviting his own friends to join in on the fun as well. Your close-knit clique soon swelled up to an impressive total of nine members, marking the start of countless memorable adventures that are still talked about today.

The decision to drop out was made collectively about two years later by you and your friends due to an unfortunate event involving a harmful rumor that nearly jeopardized everything between your circle of friends. It simply didn't feel worth the trouble anymore. The frequent arguments you had with outsiders, the dirty looks, and the hushed whispers as you passed by made you feel culpable. The gossip topic made it feel like your fault. It affected you the most but the boys were treated horribly as well. You all began skipping classes, which honestly only fueled the rumors, but none of you could handle the treatment anymore so you all decided to drop out, Felix offering one of his families many large houses as refuge. You've all been together since.

||present day||

You were midway through the movie, thoroughly engrossed in the plot, while laying on the couch wrapped up in a warm and cozy blanket. Minho was spooning you from behind, his arm draped over your waist as he too followed along with the storyline of the film. When you spoke, it was in a soft voice laced with reminiscence "you know, I used to have a crush on The Baron." Your words came out with lighthearted laughter. Minho lifted his head to look down at you, his dark eyes meeting yours. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, saying everything he needed to without uttering a word. "what?! he's charming!!" you said in defense against his incredulous expression. Minho just huffed out a small laugh and shook his head before laying it back down on the pillow. "furry" he accused. You elbowed him lightly in the stomach "you're the worst" you said with an exaggerated pout "you like it" he responded.

You gradually fell asleep before the movie ended, rolling over to snuggle into Minho's warm chest, his soft black shirt pressed against your forehead. He gazed down at you with a gentle smile, brushing away any strands of hair from your face. The word "cute" escaped his lips in a soft whisper as he gazed at the sleeping form beside him. The warmth and comfort of the moment washed over him, and he too succumbed to the call of sleep. But their rest was short-lived, as exaggerated retching sounds mixed with the persistent vibration of their phones shattered the tranquility. Rolling onto your back, you groaned, annoyed at the interruption. Minho grabbed his phone, checking the group chat. "god, they're being annoying" he grumbled, voice laced with sleep. "when are they not?" you asked, snatching your phone up to check the chat as well.

Back in your room, you collapsed onto your comfortable queen-sized bed, which was adorned with a variety of plush blankets and pillows in different shapes and sizes. The color changing LED lights provided a soothing pink glow in the dimly lit room. As you re-read the group chat, you couldn't help but smile at the picture Felix sent before saving it to your phone. You then locked it and placed it on your bedside table. The comforting weight of your many blankets soon lulled you back into a peaceful sleep.

You had only been asleep for a mere two hours when your phone rang, waking you up once more. The sudden noise jolted you out of your slumber and left you feeling groggy and disoriented.

"hello?" you answered, voice rough from sleep.

"hey.. need you over here." a man's voice came through.

You glanced at the time on your phone, rubbing your tired eyes while trying to focus on the bright screen. "now?"

With a tantalizing tone, he uttered the words, drawing out each syllable "Yes now. I'll pay extra."

You let out a deep sigh, standing up and quickly getting dressed in decent clothes. "alright. come pick me up. I've been drinking, I can't drive."

"Already here." the man hung up without another word.

After storing your phone in the pocket of your torn jeans for safekeeping, you pulled on your plush jacket to go along with your simple yet comfortable tank top. Not wanting to waste any time choosing footwear, you opted for the first pair within reach - sleek black ankle boots featuring sturdy block heels. As you passed by the living room, Felix was still awake. You noticed that he was engrossed in a video game on the big screen TV. His fingers moved swiftly across the controller while his eyes remained fixed on the action unfolding before him. Despite being deeply immersed in the gameplay, when you went walking by, he immediately stopped what he was doing and looked back at you.

"Hey, bubs, where are you going? It's already 2 a.m." he asked, confusion and a hint of concern in his voice.

"just a work emergency!" you said simply as you ran your hands through your bed head, attempting to tame the unruly strands.

"this late?"

"yeah, I'll be back soon."

"I- okay. be safe, y/n."

You nodded. "of course, always."

You walked out the door and hopped into the luxurious black car with tinted windows that was already waiting for you. When Minho heard the sound of an engine, he got up to take a look outside his window and watched as you stepped into the sleek vehicle. He couldn't help the concern he felt as he watched it pull out of the long driveway and disappear down the street.

You were back home a mere two hours later, trudging through the door and heading straight to your room, ignoring Felix's lingering stare. You kicked off your shoes and removed your coat and pants before crawling back into bed and immediately passing back out. Tomorrow morning was gonna suck.

part 1.5 || part two || part three || part four

notes: and there's the first chapter of my first ever series! 😬 I hope you liked it!! I know we're starting off slow but I promise it'll pick up! please feel free to leave feedback and interactions so I can feel out what you guys like for part two! ily!! 🩷

There will be no taglist. Please turn on my blog notifications if you want to catch updates for this series!! ♥️

#series: just friends #bunbunworks #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #skz fake texts #stray kids fake texts #straykids #straykids fake texts #straykids x reader #skz smau #stray kids smau #lee minho #lee know #yn fic

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evilminji · 6 months

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Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #thinking with Portals AU

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dilatorywriting · 8 months

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Monster Mayhem: Love Drunk

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You are a succubus, who is apparently really bad at their job. At least if your poor, nitpicking victim has anything to say about it.

A/N: Sorry for being horny on main, but here we are lol I've been writing a lot of little bits lately for a Twst OC of mine, and decided that hey, y'know what, might as well revamp some of the ones that are easily revamp-able into my usual reader-insert style and pump out some shenanigans rather than just letting them languish away in google docs. So here we be.

🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content!

READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ

“You’re late.”

The steam billowed as if with a sigh, and a familiar figure melted from the warm spray.

You blew a wet strand of hair out of your face with a noise that was nearly a raspberry. “I was busy.”

“I didn’t realize you had a life outside me,” Vil droned, only mostly serious. The little succubus seemed to pop out of the shadows at the slightest beckon, and even when you were gone, you always came back with nothing but talk of all the ways you’d worked to improve your craft since the last they spoke. And of your strange, card-faced friends, on occasion. But that was a topic you tended to hoard closely to your chest like a dragon to gold.

“Not everything revolves around you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Vil leaned his head back to rinse the remainder of the conditioner from his hair. “Then maybe you shouldn’t act like my good opinion is the only thing keeping you employed, fed, and housed.”

You went warm in the ears, even under the heat of the steam, and crossed your arms petulantly over your chest. At least you’d been keen enough to not pop into his shower fully clothed this time. That had been a mess. You shifted back and forth on the balls of your feet with a grumpy, little huff and Vil didn’t bother to fight the way that his eyes followed the slowly rolling droplets of water that trailed lower with each fidget.

“Whatever. I’m here now, aren’t I?” you grouched. “But anyways, what’s the plan for today? Out late again?”

“More all-day shoots,” he said, reaching up to replace one bottle of custom hair product for another. “And an interview to follow that’s meant to be a pre-recording for the morning programs tomorrow. So that could be close to midnight, depending on when we finish up.”

Your nose scrunched in sympathy. “Ew. I don’t get why you do all this stuff. It sounds like a nightmare. Human media is so strange.”

Maybe it was. But—

“It’s worth it,” he huffed, running one of his newer serums through the silky strands of his pale hair. He glanced down at you from beneath his dripping bangs. “Have you been using the conditioner I gave you?”

“Do you think there are functional showers in Hell?” you snipped, and then averted your gaze in chagrin. “I have been trying. I just—it’s not always an option all the time,” you said, a bit embarrassed.

“Come here,” he sighed, twirling his finger in a sign to show him her back, and you shifted closer obediently.

It was always so funny, he thought, as he reached out to scrub white bubbles into your mused hair. That you would spit and hiss, and throw such a tantrum over everything. But when it came to actually obeying his orders? You were always putting one foot in front of the other to meet him more than halfway. If he said ‘jump,’ you’d whine and complain but inevitably ask ‘how high.’ Like a loyal little stray that growled and raised its hackles but would come preening for food and attention at the first whistle.

“Sounds like a stressful day,” you hummed, arching into his fingers like a cat being stroked down its spine. “Are you still stuck working with that one guy you hate? Nigel, or whatever?”

“Neige,” he huffed, giving your hair a soft tug in rebuke. “And yes. The project hasn’t wrapped yet.”

“So a very stressful day,” you mused, tilted your head back to thump against his chest and stare up at him through the steady stream of water overhead. He watched the thin, feline-like, pupils of your eyes flash and widen into something round and dark. “This’ll be perfect then.”

“What?” he scoffed, as if he hadn’t just seen those pulsing, black pupils himself and felt something in his stomach tug. “That I’m stressed?”

“No,” you huffed, cheeks puffing out in irritation like he’d known they would. “Because I’ve been practicing.”

He arched a pointed brow and your cheeks went rounder yet. You stepped out of his hold and turned so the two of you were chest to chest. Vil let his hands fall to rest at the dip in your back and you pressed along him in one, lean line from toe to hip. Those strange, iridescent irises of yours flicked over his face, his lips, and those rabbit cheeks went hot with embarrassment. (“Humans kiss each other,” he’d said during one of their earliest meetings, when he’d leaned in with a smirk to brush his mouth against your temple and you’d nearly started seizing. “It’s what they do.” And you’d gone rattlingly indignant and started sputtering about impropriety of all things. All while you were sitting there butt naked and demanding he let you jerk him off so you could meet your weekly quota).

Your eyes dipped low beneath your lashes. And then you darted up quick to press a peck to his chin before immediately dropping to your knees. You leaned forward to nuzzle into the soft, blonde hairs tufted there and then dragged your tongue up the length of him in one, long lick. Vil fought a shiver.

“Practicing, huh?” he droned, affecting boredom as best he was able.

“Yes,” you replied, determined, and gave another lick. Shorter, this time. And more focused along the delicate, pink crown of him. “You made fun of me last time! Called it a ‘High Schooler’s First Blowjob!’ How could I not practice?”

“Oh? With who?” he scoffed, a bit more bitter jealousy seeping into the sneer than he would have liked.

Your face went scrunchy with embarrassment again and then you were sinking back down to run your tongue against the thick vein along the underside. Vil reached out to twine his fingers in your hair and you ducked forward to take him into your mouth.

“You’re lucky you caught me before I got out of the shower,” he said on a sigh, hips twitching when you gave a firmer suck. “This would hardly be worth dirtying myself all over again for—”

You pressed her tongue sharply into the little slit at the head and then dragged the muscle forward in a wide sweep—circling the whole of the most sensitive creases and then applying that same, lovely, suction all over again. Vil groaned, low and rumbling, and he could practically taste the bubbling excitement of your pride bursting along his lips.

You hummed—smug—intentionally loud and muzzy, so that it shot through the buzzing nerves in his skin like a symphony. Vil grit his teeth and dug his fingers into your hair to yank. Instead of popping off with an indignant whine and a trailing string of saliva, you narrowed your eyes at him and then dove forward—relaxing your throat and swallowing him down until your nose was pressed into his pubic bone. Vil cursed, head falling back against the tile wall with a punched-out moan and fingers twining shakily in the short hairs by the base of your skull.

“You have been practicing,” he mumbled, fighting the urge to go a bit cross-eyed when you swallowed around him.

You hummed in affirmation. It vibrated all the way from head to base and he shivered in time with it.

After too many long, long seconds of him nearly slipping down the wall with the curl of his toes, you popped off with a cough.

“I can hold my breath for ages now,” you declared proudly, a smear of milky white smudged along the corner of your lips. You leaned forward to prop your chin up against the jut of his hip bone and smirk up at him with a look that was a touch too genuinely excited to be truly impish. “Told you I could do it.”

“How foolish of me to have ever doubted your dedication,” he scoffed, still a bit too breathless for the sarcasm he was trying to spit. It nearly came out on a gasp and your grin grew wider. He sneered, a bit too harsh under his fluster, “What with your stalwart focus on never even touching the kits I’ve bought you. Let alone making any of the other bevy of improvements that I’ve been trying to put into place for weeks now.”

“Oh?” you droned, sharp. “Well, sorry to disappoint, Lord Vil. I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

And then without preamble, you were swallowing him down all over again all the way to the root—nose brushing the soft, pale, hair there as you dutifully squeezed your throat and ran your tongue along the underside until he was practically seeing stars. You drove forward further, hands coming up to dig your nails into his thighs as you pushed yourself until you were trembling and pinpricks of sharp tears dotted your lashes. One of those hands shifted between his legs, and you reached out with careful fingers to twine around the delicate stones there and squeeze.

Vil curled forward and came with something that was nearly a shout, trembling and loose as he emptied himself down your throat. You swallowed around each pulse, sending zip after zip of oversensitive buzzing through his veins.

You pulled away with another round of coughing, looking positively debauched. You scrubbed some of the dripping water out of your eyes and then moved to swipe away the stray drops of sticky whiteness that had managed to escape your otherwise valiant efforts to drink him dry.

“Better?” you grinned, hair mused and cheeks wet and sore.

A quip rested on his tongue. Something about how you could not be, when there’d been nowhere to go but up? But the genuinely delighted look on your face, and the soft, hesitant, undercurrent of nervous tension underneath had him loosening his fingers from your hair to rub at one of the milky stains littering your chin.

“It was good,” he said. “Better than that, even. Well done.”

“Worth taking another shower for?” you beamed.

“Worth an entire morning’s routine,” he smiled, far too soft, and leaned down to press a long, wet, kiss to your lips when you went spluttery and shy.

“I can come by your trailer, if you want,” the succubus offered, as Vil busied himself with blotting a towel over your dripping hair.

“Oh?” he mused. “I thought you only needed to feed once a day.”

“Well, sure. But I mean for your stress relief,” you said on an indignant little puff, crossing your arms tight across your chest. You peeked up from beneath your lashes, cautious. “I mean, only if you’d want that sort of thing.”

He reached out to cup your cheeks and pinch. You whined under his prodding but didn’t swat him away.

Vil sighed, dramatic and put upon. “I suppose if you insist. How could I deny my most precious little protégé anything they ask, hmm?”

“Easily, if the past few weeks are anything to go by,” you sneered around his tugging. “And who’s ‘your protégé’?! I’m the succubus here!”

“Yes,” he drawled. “A succubus who’s needed me to teach them everything they know. What a fearsome creature, indeed.”

“I could fuck you to death,” you threatened, eyes flashing bright and eerie.

Vil pinched harder, until the skin under his fingers went nearly white, and you winced—those same, slitted eyes going a bit glassy and nervous. He leaned forward until his breath ghosted along your lips and he watched your throat bob in a gulp.

“I’d like to see you try.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Succubus!Reader #Monster Mayhem Succubus Part 1 #SPICY CONTENT

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the-californicationist · 2 months

Note

Hey🐻❤ Can i say something ? Yeah ? Sooo

Price and Reader have sex in an abandoned parking lot after going to a bar🍻

That's all I had to say 🙇‍♀️❤

omg hot!!! hope this is kinda what you were looking for. im so sorry for the wait. thank you for being patient with me!

The After Party

The MacTavish wedding was the party of the century, and you were feeling the effects of their pricey Brut champagne. Your husband, John, had stolen a bottle for you, and you were nearly half-done with it, carefully pulling it up to your lips and letting the tiny bubbles pop on your tongue.

Even though it was almost dawn, the party was still raging inside the bar Johnny had rented out. John had taken you aside and whispered into your ear,

“C’mon. Have a smoke with me, missus.”

While the newlyweds were distracted by their guests, so you and the captain had made a break for it, sneaking out of the reception undetected. You smiled, following him out back into the parking lot, admiring his ass in those silky black slacks. He always looked so fit when he got dressed up, even if he hated every minute of it.

John headed to his truck, popping open the door and digging around for another cigar. You leaned against the tailgate, trying to find some relief for your aching feet. John noticed your discomfort,

“Those heels botherin’ you, love?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Here,” he helped you up onto his tailgate, sitting you on the cold metal, “Let’s sit for a while. Give me a chance to enjoy this.” He wiggled the fat cigar in his hands, smiling at you.

“Aren’t they gonna miss us?” You nodded to the bar, listening to the sound of muffled dance music coming from its bright, glowing windows.

“Ah, I’m sure the happy couple is plenty distracted.”

John hopped up on the tailgate with you, puffing on his cigar, making sure the tip was evenly lit. When he was happy with it, he offered it to you. You took it, sucking the smoke into your mouth and tasting its sweet tobacco and vanilla notes. It was a huge cigar, so too much of it and you’d really be wasted. The champagne was already enough to make your cheeks hot.

You closed your eyes, trying to sober up a bit. John’s hand rubbed your bare back, fiddling with the straps of your low-cut dress as he fussed over you.

“Is my girl a little bevied up tonight? Maybe I should take that bottle back,” he laughed at you, teasing you good-naturedly.

“No,” you clutched the bottle like a prize, playing with him, “Pry it out of my cold, dead hands, mister.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender,

“Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you get into trouble.”

“What trouble?” You took his cigar from him again and purposefully took a long drag, challenging him, trying to goad him into flirting with you.

He fell into your trap, chuckling as he took one of his fingers and traced his way from your sparkling gold necklace all the way down into the cleavage of your dress, making you gasp,

“You know what trouble,” he leaned in for a smoky kiss, stealing his stick back, “My woman, dressed like that, gettin’ sloshed on champagne… I know where this path leads.”

“Oh?” You giggled, running your palm across his heavy thigh, feeling his muscles through the expensive cloth, “Where’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” He raised his eyebrows, getting a little smart with you, and hopped off of the tailgate. He stood in front of you, cigar bitten in his mouth, and used both of his hands to pull you closer to him, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his wide body.

You giggled, letting yourself be man-handled, enjoying every moment of it.

Then, he reached both of his warm hands up under the glittering hem of your dress, tracing up your legs, feeling their shaved smoothness, until he found your hips. John smiled, balancing the cigar expertly on his lips, enjoying the surprised look on your face. His fingers twirled around the straps of your thong, and he pulled it off of you, guiding it over your knees and past your strappy heels, admiring the gold lace that filled his palm.

He brought the panties to his nose and dodged your half-hearted kick as you admonished him,

“John!”

“What?” He was incredulous, “I know this smell.”

He had the audacity to sniff them again, and you smacked him on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him react. John smiled, recoiling, teasing you,

“Smells like sloshed, horny wife, so it does. Mmm.”

“Oh, my God! What if someone saw you?” You hissed, laughing in pure shock at your husband’s actions.

“And?” He put on a serious face for you then, pocketing your panties, spreading your legs, and tucking his body between them again, getting right up in your face and taking a long pull from his cigar, letting the smoke linger between you, cascading down his full lip. He snarled, “Who’s gonna stop me? Did you see any bloke in there bigger than me? Stronger, hm?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart race with excitement at his sudden dominance. Even if you knew he was just trying to get you riled up, it was working.

“Did you see anyone who would have the bollocks to stop me from touching my woman…” His hands were wandering, rubbing your smooth thigh up and down, pulling on the tight muscle of your calf, “Whenever, or wherever I want?”

You shook your head again, biting your lip, leaning back into the bed of the truck, letting your breasts lift towards his face, taunting him with your skin.

He took one of your shoulder straps and pulled it down, letting it dangle across your arm. As it did, the top of its delicate fabric triangle folded, lower and lower, until the top of your breast was exposed, falling almost as low as your nipple.

His eyes narrowed, giving you a hard stare,

“Give me your hand, missus.”

You held out your hand, palm up, submitting to his whim.

He took it in his and pulled you forward, lowering your arm until your fingers felt the rigid marble cock he was concealing behind his zipper. John pressed your palm on him, flexing his muscle for you, letting you feel his desire.

You were leaning so far over that his face was right by your ear, and he whispered to you, menacingly,

“If I wanted to, I’d have taken you in that bar, and there’s not a fuckin’ man alive who could stop me.”

“So,” you said, staring him down, showing him your fearless hunger, “Take me, then.”

It was his turn to wear a mask of surprise on his face, but it quickly turned to joy. He hopped up into the truck bed with you and pulled you inside, lifting the tailgate closed with a loud slam.

John kept a thick blanket in the truck bed for emergencies, and he folded it up, laying you down on it, making sure you were comfortable. He kissed your neck, but he wasted no time in peeling down the top of your dress, exposing your nipples to the night air. You took the cigar from him so he could suckle on your flesh, leaving little hickies where he wanted to, something for you to admire later.

You smoked his cigar, letting it get you high as your husband fondled you. His mouth was hot and greedy, and you realized John was a little more worked up than you had previously assumed. You could feel him thrusting against you absentmindedly, not realizing he was doing it, rubbing himself against your beaded gown.

You caught his furry jaw in your hands, pulling him away from his delicious work, dragging him up to kiss your mouth. You shared his smoke between you, letting it fill your senses. You’d take a drag in, share it with him, letting it fall into his lips, and then kiss him through it, tasting each other among the warm notes.

“John,” you whispered between his wet kisses, “I need you.”

“Need to work up to it, love. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, rucking up your dress.

You smiled, knowing he would realize the truth in just a moment. Indeed, as soon as you felt his fingertips dip into your pussy, his eyes shot up in shock and wonder. He breathed in a gasp, dipping his finger into you again, not believing what he was feeling,

“You are so wet for me. Naughty girl. So ready for your man’s cock, hm?”

“I told you,” you kissed him, feeling his finger sink deeper inside of you, drowning in you, “I’m ready for you, John. Don’t make me wait.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked you off of his skin. Then, he went back for seconds, dipping his forefinger into you like you were the batter of a cake, sugary sweet and forbidden.

Then, once he had his fill of your taste, he fumbled with his slacks, raking his black leather belt off in one long pull, letting it clatter somewhere in the metal bed of the truck. His fingers pried open his button and yanked down his zipper, freeing his fat rod and jerking it with his hand.

Unceremoniously, and in a bit of a rush, he mounted you, rucking up your dress even further. You spread yourself for him, wrapping your legs around his strong glutes, feeling them squeeze together to help him thrust into your hungry core.

It was a tight fit, as usual. John was always so heavy and thick; you had a hard time working up to his size. But, you took a deep breath and let your wetness glide him in. His ragged sigh of relief was intoxicating.

“Oh, bloody hell, missus.” He furrowed his brow as if in pain.

“You alright, John?” You tried to relax, but you could feel your body responding without you, pulsing around him with a warm, eagerness.

“You’re warm, baby. Just what I needed. So fuckin’ good to me.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and began to thrust into you, deeper and deeper until he found his end. In the back of your mind, as you gazed up at the sparkling stars, you hoped no one could hear you, but your husband’s earlier dominance made you care a little less. And as he built you up to a frothing orgasm, you found yourself caring not at all.

Suddenly, the music from the bar got louder, and you heard the door slam closed to the bar. John stilled above you, covering you with his body, watching over his shoulder for someone to come by. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you gave his cock a squeeze from inside of you, pulling at his shaft with your muscle. He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a quick pulse in return, teasing you. Both of you were clearly excited about the prospect of being caught.

Footsteps made their way through the gravel lot, the loud jingle of keys, a door opening and slamming shut. Then, their engine revved and they pulled away, leaving you alone again.

“Filthy little thing,” John whispered, picking up his pace again, “Squeezin’ me like that. You tryin’ to get caught, missus?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, John. Want to feel you come in me.”

“Christ,” he lamented, clenching his teeth and fucking you faster, obviously heated by your words and your wet, sticky desire, “Squeeze me again, then. Yeah… ungh… just like that. Keep doin’ that, pretty girl. You’ll get your wish.”

When he thrust into you, you tried to relax, letting his cock slip inside. Then, when he tried to leave, you twisted your muscles against him, pulling him in, trying to milk his come from his swollen head. It was driving him wild. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head as he thrust into you, harder and harder, chasing down your orgasm with a vengeance.

He put his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, growling at you through clenched teeth,

“Suck.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours, feeling your tits bouncing as he fucked you, holding his fingers in your mouth, and you began to suckle on them dutifully. You could smell and taste your scent, and it was making you feral. You let your tongue loll between his fingers, sucking hard on his sensitive tips, watching his face as his jaw fell slack.

Then, he pulled them away from you and used them to rub against your clit, one finger on either side, making tight circles and teasing you until your legs began to shake.

“Holy fuck,” he said, watching you fall apart, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t ya? Gonna come on me, baby?”

You nodded, plucking at your nipples, squeezing your breasts as they shook from his thrusting.

“Good girl. Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You felt your body go rigid as the bright, flashing pleasure coiled its way into your belly, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. Quick as a flash, John kissed you, letting you moan into his mouth instead of into the night air, quieting you as you exploded underneath him, shamelessly bucking against his hard length as you rode out your pleasure.

He kept kissing you, sucking at your tongue and bottom lip, talking to you through your bliss,

“That’s it. Just what I needed, pretty girl. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

“I love you, John,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed with your emotions and the deep sensations he was giving you.

It caught him off-guard, and he smiled from it,

“I love you too, baby. You ready for me, hm?”

You nodded, whispering a yes into his neck. He looked at you with a pleading expression,

“Tell me.”

“I need your come, John. Come in me. Fill me up, please. I want you to come in my pussy. I want it running down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck!” He raised his voice just for a moment, but you didn’t care.

As you watched him tumble into his orgasm, shuddering between your legs, nothing would distract you from that gorgeous scene. His face twisted and then relaxed, exhausted from his efforts, a half-smile painted on his lips.

He looked down at you in surprise, breathing heavy and recovering. He slid himself out of you, leaving you with a terrible emptiness. You felt his cream drip from your body, and he wiped his cock on your thigh before he tucked himself back into his dress pants.

John collapsed next to you in the truck bed, staring up at the stars for the first time, resting his head on your breast.

You were wrecked, and you pet his hair, softly soothing yourself with him.

He looked up at you, that playfulness returning to his eyes,

“Runnin’ down your legs, hm?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes,

“Yeah, so? You seemed to like the idea, mister.”

“I do,” he kissed your breast and took your nipple into his mouth, watching you squirm from being overstimulated, “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re not serious,” you gasped.

“C’mon. No one’ll notice.”

He sat up, checked the surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and then helped you up. He lowered the tailgate and helped you stand. Your feet still ached in your shoes, and you had to catch yourself on his strong arm. He steadied you, making sure you were alright before he grabbed your hand and led you back inside.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, John,” you felt your cheeks blush bright red.

“Be brave, missus. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

His face suggested more of his dirty fun, and you nodded, crossing your fingers no one looked at you too closely.

Luckily, no one had noticed your absence. John helped you into a booth and ordered two more glasses of champagne, sliding into the seat beside you. All night, through the slit of your gown, he rubbed your leg, getting little drops of his come and playing with it on your skin, working you up and teasing you in front of all of your friends, secretly smearing his gift into your thigh.

All night, and during the drive home, you couldn’t keep his hands off of your legs. He kept playing with you, getting bolder and bolder by the minute. When you got into the house, he stripped you, leaving your gown abandoned on the kitchen floor, carrying you straight into the den and laying you on the couch, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom.

He had a burning look in his eye as he commanded you, taking off his clothes as he barked his orders,

“Spread your legs, missus. Let me see you. Wider.”

You did as you were told, your mind reeling from his threatening tone, eager to submit to him again.

“Mm. You are fuckin’ gorgeous covered in my come. It’s everywhere,” he stared at your pussy and your inner thighs with wonder, using his hands to feel the shining fluids coating your skin.

Then, to your shock, he bent to lick you clean, sucking on your folds and lapping at your wet hole, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper, trying to eat himself out of you.

“John!” You gasped, “What are you — ungh, fuck!”

His fingers fucked you as he ate from you, swallowing what your body gave him, licking up his mess from your legs and lips like a hungry dog, ignoring your cries of protest.

“You want me to stop, missus?”

You shook your head, petting his scalp and scratching your fingers through it.

“Aye,” he grinned, “Didn’t think so. Hope you’re ready for round two.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider a reblog! Thank you!!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #oh captain my captain #ohcaptainchallenge #it's captain season

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 7 months

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 1

Summary: After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: it's really just a fluffy thing, lots of pining, they're both touch-starved

A/N: I wrote this a while back and it's not too bad, so enjoy! Here you can find Part 2 (@tripleyeeet you know this already but enjoy still! also, @yn-ymn-yln you might like this)

\_/

The day was slowly fading into the night as the fire of the camp stretched towards the burning sky.

It had been a weirdly uneventful day: you had wandered around without a real aim or purpose all day, mostly enjoying the view than actively looking for more loot. You still managed to stumble across a couple of lonely barrels and chests, gaining nothing really useful other than a well-crafted dagger with neat gold details in the handle.

Your companions were nowhere to be seen, probably drinking in the village nearby or resting in their tents or simply enjoying the company of somebody else.

As you sat alone next to the fire, sketching a bird roaming a few feet away and looking for food in the grass, you didn’t really mind a chance to enjoy your own company.

“There you are!”

The bird flew away in a ruffle of feathers when Astarion’s voice rumbled in the small clearing your camp was set in.

“I thought you had joined the others at the tavern,” he said, plopping down behind you with a tired sigh.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for drinking…” you mumbled with a shrug, your hand jotting down the last details of the bird before they left your brain, “or being among other people.”

“I better hope you don’t mind my company.”

His head popped over your shoulder, but you didn’t raise your gaze from the drawing, too focused shading the charcoal with your finger than giving in to his egotistical nature.

“You know I don’t,” you assured, blowing away the excess black dust from the parchment, “but you did make my model fly away.”

Astarion scanned silently the small sketchbook still open in your hands from behind your shoulder. You could feel his breath brushing your ear, creating a web of shivers that ran one after the other along your spine.

“Look at that.” His fingers reached for your drawing. You held your breath as they hovered over the dark and slightly smudged lines. “I had no idea we had such a talented artist within our group.”

“I’m not that good,” you scoffed with a smile, turning your head ever so slightly towards his, “but thank you.”

“However,” he continued, scratching thoughtfully his chin, “you could definitely use a better model.”

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together before clicking your tongue. “You’re right, I should ask Gale to pose for me.”

“Gale?!”

“Or Shadowheart,” you added, ignoring his insulted tone. “Her features are so soft, perfect for a portrait.” You met his eyes with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, pulling back and leaning on his arms. “I suppose she could be a decent model, but I don’t see her around to be sketched.”

You snorted, turning around on your seat to face his narrow scarlet eyes.

“Oh, is my annoyance amusing to you?”

“If you wanted me to sketch you so badly,” you started, turning to a blank page of your sketchbook, “you could’ve simply asked.”

Astarion stared at you for a second, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide in surprise. Those were the small expressions that you loved more about him: those seconds in between, where his facade broke for a moment, revealing something so brief that simply couldn’t be faked.

Then he cleared his throat and his mask of smugness covered his face once again, annihilating whatever real emotion that had made its appearance on his features. “If you insist, darling.”

He laid down on the grass, propping himself up with his elbow. His head rested on his closed fist, tilted as his half-lidded gaze was stuck on you. “So, how do you want me?”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. No matter how many times he looked at you like that or his words tickled your brain with lewd thoughts, Astarion always managed to stir something in your guts; a pull you couldn’t always ignore, especially when you were completely alone.

“You can just sit up,” you assured him, breaking away from his eyes to sharpen your pencil. “I’m not that good of an artist to draw you like that,” you explained a moment later, pointing at the relaxed —and obviously thought-out— position he was in.

“As you wish.”

Surprisingly, Astarion immediately followed your request, sitting back up with not even one objecting word.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, leaning towards you, “if anatomy is the department you lack, I’ll be more than happy to aid you with your… sketches.” A devilish grin appeared on his face as his hand moved in the air with his words. “In every position you might ever need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your calm voice and mischievous grin, almost mirroring Astarion’s, were in no way a faithful reflection of the turmoil storming your chest and mind.

“Now stay still,” you told him, your focus slowly shifting to the drawing as you started laying down the first few guiding lines.

“I’ll be as immovable as a rock, darling.”

“And silent,” you mumbled, your eyes darting from the page to Astarion’s slightly vexed expression.

Astarion noticed your frowning, however he had no time to articulate the question on the tip of his tongue that you had leaned in. Your hand reached out hesitantly, almost waiting for him to pull away or shoving you back in an instinctive reaction. But he didn’t.

You gently grabbed his chin, guiding his face slightly to the side. Then your thumb moved to the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing away the crease of irritation altering his features. You could feel the tension in his muscles give away under your touch, any resistance crumbling under your fingertips.

“There,” you whispered, admiring the calm expression on Astarion’s face. “Can you stay like that for a while?”

“Of course, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke. There was a sudden softness to him, one that you had never seen for longer than the blink of an eye. It was almost overwhelming, even after you had lowered your gaze to work on the small portrait.

Your pencil, guided by your hand, moved quickly on the page. You didn’t really need to look at Astarion to sketch him. His cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his features had long been carved in your mind.

If he had taken the sketchbook —as you feared he was going to— when he appeared next to you, he would’ve found pages and pages covered in quick and small drawings of him. Studies of his face, hair, hands; whatever your mind could recall accurately.

Nonetheless, there was always something that you never managed to get exactly right.

You moved your gaze from the page, studying closely his eyes and the ever-changing glint behind them as you tried to recreate it with charcoal and parchment. An impossible task that made you sigh more loudly than you expected.

“I can almost smell your brain fuming, darling.”

You put down the pencil, straightening your spine and stretching your sore neck. You scrunched your eyes, exhausted of drawing in the dim and shifting light of the flames.

“Is it done?”

When you opened your eyes, Astarion was subtly peering over the page, the smug grin on his face unable to hide his nervous anticipation.

“I think so,” you mumbled, shading one last detail before staring critically at your creation. As you looked at it, you noticed so many details out of place: a line too straight, a curl too twirly, a shadow too dark…

“It could be better,” you said apologetically as you handed the sketchbook to your model, “but I hope you like it.”

Hesitantly, almost as if the book was made of fire, Astarion took it.

He stared at your drawing for a long time, his fingers following the charcoal lines and then looking for those same shapes on his face. A small shaky breath left his lips as his fingertips moved on his neck, brushing the scars of the bite.

“I had never seen them on me before,” he whispered, scoffing slightly as his hand fell back on the drawing.

“I actually drew them a bit too high,” you explained, pointing at the sketch with your smudged fingertips. “And the nose is too straight, and it’s all a bit of a mess-”

Your voice was cut off when Astarion took your hand in his. Before you could utter another syllable, he brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Nonsense, darling. You’ve given me a mirror in which I will always be able to see myself.”

He kissed the inner part of your wrist, his eyes locked in yours as his teeth grazed your veins. “How will I ever be able to repay you for this?”

“You don’t have to.” Ignoring your burning skin, you squeezed gently Astarion’s hand in yours as his eyebrows shot up. “I did this for you and you only. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Astarion still looked at you with a puzzled expression while you took your sketchbook out of his grip, took the short dagger hidden in your boot and carefully cut the page with his portrait out of it.

“This is yours,” you said handing him the rough sheet of parchment, “and it should’ve never been taken from you in the first place.”

As if he was handling the smallest and frailest animal, Astarion accepted the page in his hand, his wide eyes still marveling at the way your lines came together to recreate him.

“I…”

For once, words failed him.

He looked up from the sketch and a million emotions crossed his face. Confusion and relief. Sadness and recognition. Fear and joy. And that softness, that overwhelming look empty of all the sharp edges that defined him every other moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing a shaky hand on your cheek. “I won’t forget it.”

That touch was alien to you.

It wasn’t the kind of touch that you had learned to expect from Astarion. It wasn’t sexual or teasing, anticipating a pleasure that he seemed always so eager to satisfy. It was gentle, hinting at an intimacy you had never dared to entertain, not even when you were falling asleep in your tent and your neck was still sore where his teeth had dug their way into your flesh.

His thumb moved slowly, hesitantly on your skin. You were both entering uncharted territories and you could do nothing more than being careful. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you always did, kissing softly his palm to let him know that you wanted it.

That you craved this intimacy, no matter how long you both needed to get there.

Some voices reached your ears —drunken and loud singing— and before you could make out who they belonged to, Astarion had already moved away, leaving your cheek to the cold touch of the night.

He quickly folded the drawing and put it away, giving you one last small smile before a smug grin bloomed on his face and removed every other emotion. He stood up and headed towards Gale and Wyll, the swaying owners of those voices that had just entered the camp.

As the crowd was becoming a little too much for your liking, you headed into your tent, falling with a sigh on your pillow. You could still hear the other three outside, but your mind was wandering far away, relishing in the memories of that night as you slowly fell asleep.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

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