#They immediately force him on a vacation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mellowwillowy · 7 months

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𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

CW: mafia related stuffs (ALL FOR READER...), disturbing ideations. NSFW

You were the subject of envy for everyone, the spouse of the infamous lawyer, Yulian de Alpheus, who possessed wealth, reputation, intelligence, and undying loyalty to you. To people, you were the beautiful dove living in the gilded cage he had given you, luxuries that fulfilled anyone's needs and wishes.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆?

To him, the one who was truly locked in the cage was him. He was and would forever be locked in the gilded cage, forever drowned in his adoration toward you. If he had to live in a world where you did not exist, he would not hesitate to shoot himself to death and find you again.

"Dear, how about we go on a vacation this month?"

His words had you choked on your food. He immediately stood up and pat your back, a handkerchief that you embroidered for him handed to you as he handed you a glass of water, "Apology, did my question catch you off guard dear?"

You shook your head while you regained your composure, "It's just that I was surprised, you had been busy these days so how could you spare me your time for a silly vacation?"

Yulian chuckled as he patted your head, "True, and I plan to work even harder to finish all the mess they had shoved me to work on, I'm sure I could finish it right in time before our estimated vacation."

You frowned to yourself, your husband had always been a hard-working man. It was no surprise judging by the amount of assets he could own at such a fairly young age. While some of it was thanked to his father, you knew those would not remain had he not worked hard to keep and grow.

"Dear, I don't want you to over-exert yourself with this case just for a vacation. If you were worried about me then please pay no mind, I am content with everything but you stressing yourself."

Yulian sat back and started slicing the meat on his plate, "Dear, I did not marry you just to have you live in this house as a prisoner," the way he sliced things was of good etiquette but you knew. You knew how he always looks at the things he sliced as a subject of... low-life. "I want my beloved to live in happiness, a life where you get to have and own anything you want without a single worry," It's almost as though he wished he could use more force with the knife, "A life where you do not wish to end," Yulian used his fork to pick the sliced meat up to your lip, "A life where you wish you could live in for eternity."

You thought to yourself for a moment, drowning in thought before smiling at him, "Yes, a vacation this month sounds nice." You opened your mouth and ate the piece.

"What were you even thinking about to the point you tangle yourself into this mess?" Yulian furrowed his eyebrow, in his office was the leader of a renowned mafia group in the underground world and Yulian sat on the leathered chair with his hand wiping his white gun.

The ringleader's subordinates were clearly displeased with the way Yulian easily belittled the case and him but they knew better than to cause a mess.

"So? What do you need this time?"

Yulian stored the gun back in its respective place, locking the shelf with the key before handing the ringleader's subordinate a folder of files.

"I'll need you to fabricate everything I handed you. I've given you options of people for you to use as a scapegoat as well."

The ringleader took the folder and started reading the files in it, scanning the words that were typed on it.

"And I expect you to finish it all by this week. I'll be taking a vacation for myself by the end of the month so I'll finish the case in a few trials. I'd like you to find a way around the judge and jury as well. The more the better, understood?"

Yulian was an infamous lawyer. A lawyer who would validate any way to make his client proclaimed 'Not Guilty'. As much as he hated having to drag his name around the underground world, he had no choice but to work together with them. Why?

"Fine, I'll inform you everything this weekend." The ringleader left the room with his subordinates following behind him meekly. The moment they had walked out of his building and entered the car, one of them posed a question.

"Why did you let that shrimp belittle you, boss? It's not like he is the only lawyer we could have our hand with."

The ringleader did not look at his subordinate as he was still analyzing the content of the files. Even so, he was still attentive enough to answer them back, "Well, if you know exactly how strong my influence is, why do you think I allow him to boss over my men?"

The man gulped as his hand held the steering wheel tightly. Why would a measly bug be able to hold power over his boss?

"... He somehow got his hands into our mud. In simpler terms, he blackmailed me."

His right-hand man sighed, "Yulian is nothing but a coward, Kaspar. A coward."

What difference did it make to him? The fact that the two of them blackmailed people to survive while the ideations were biased to each side was nothing but hypocrisy.

"And yet he is the coward that dared to step into the underground world just to protect his spouse..." Kaspar winced at the word 'spouse', "he did all of that just for the love of his life. Is that supposed to be considered foolish or not...?"

The men fell silent until one of them proposed a question, "Then why not use his spouse against him?"

The basement that you did not know even existed. You knew there was a bunker down your house but you were never aware of the existence of the basement.

You were asleep so technically you couldn't have heard anything. No, the room was made to be soundproof, no one could hear what was going on in the room.

But you heard it anyway. You heard it faintly, the sounds of people screaming. It wasn't clear, almost below a whisper but it kept you awake. You looked to your side and found your husband absent from the bed again.

"Is he working again?"

You stood up and slipped your feet into the slippers before walking out of your shared bedroom. The hall was lit up by the warm white lights, the light that always comforts you no matter what. You walked toward his office which was located on the first floor, giving the grand door a knock before entering it.

"Dear?"

No one was inside the room. The room was laced with the smell of coffee, the only thing that he probably could love aside from you. You walked to his desk and read some of the files on it. The words on the paper were beyond your comprehension so you stopped reading it, glancing at the cup of coffee, you feel the cup with your hand. It's cold and full. Weird.

You took a look around his office, bookshelves on the side while a framed portrait of you and him hung on the other side.

He must have really loved this portrait, refusing to change it with a new one.

"Dear?"

You jumped at his voice, where did he come out from?

"Dear, where did you come from?"

"Ah, I was in the washroom. What brings you here? Did something wake you up?" Yulian asked you as he approached you while drying his hand with his handkerchief.

You took a closer look at it, it's not the same handkerchief you gave him. Weird. He had always been insistent on only using the handkerchief you embroidered for him.

"Dear?"

"Ah," you snapped out of your thought, "it's just that... I felt lonely. How long are you going to stay up again tonight dear?"

Yulian thought to himself as his eye shot toward the corner of the room, "Please, don't wait for me. I won't be finishing my work in any time so I hope you would use those time to retreat yourself to bed." Yulian pat your cheek before giving your cheek a peck, his emerald eyes had always drowned you in a ripple of the lovesick sea.

His hand snaked its way to your waist as he led you back to your shared bedroom, opening the door for you and urging you to lay on the comfortable white bed. He placed the blanket on top of you before sitting next to you, humming a lullaby while easing you down.

"My little Lily of the Valley is a curious soul hm? Your husband told you to sleep and you naughtily sneaked out of your room..." He playfully reprimanded you while you tried to drift yourself back to sleep. Hearing him teasing you like this was weird, but at least in a good way. What boosted his confidence?

"Someone like you should not wander around in the mercy of nighttime, even if it was in our own house," his hand caressed your hair while his eyes stared into your half-lidded ones, "my lily-of-the-valley should not wander around in the darkness anymore..."

Did you hear him right? Come to think of it, what woke you up earlier?

"Good night, my love."

"Good night, bastard."

A thud and the man who was tied to the chair plopped down, lifeless. The other men could only tremble in horror as they waited for their turn. Perhaps death would be the only slightest bit of virtue that he could offer, a mercy at his hands that was covered in bloodstains.

Just as he approached the other men, the alarm rang. Someone had entered his office. Yulian turned on the screen to the camera and saw you walking toward his desk, observing everything that was scattered on it.

He was glad that he didn't put anything 'suspicious' on it even if you wouldn't understand it. He didn't want to risk it.

Yulian went to the sink and washed his hands before motioning for someone to come out from the darkness. The members of the mafia walked out and waited for his order.

"Ah right, relay this message to your boss. Not only do these bastards will have to face the consequences of trying to touch my beloved, you guys too, will have to face it."

The men shuddered in fear as they thought of what he could do to them. The greatest mercy they could have would be that their boss would be the one who punished them and not the lawyer himself.

"Remember," Yulian walked toward them, hand taking out the handkerchief you embroidered for him, "I work for Kaspar so that this kind of thing won't happen. If this happens again, I'd personally make you guys crawl through the tunnels of prison for eternity."

His emerald orbs almost lit up into a burning fire as his jaw tightened in anger. He made his way toward the door before taking a look at the handkerchief.

He shouldn't use it for something so filthy.

He slid it back into his pocket and used another plain handkerchief instead.

"In short, he is the man who would not hesitate to kill his own children, his own blood and flesh, or his family just to save and love his beloved Lily of the Valley."

Kaspar sighed as he read the report. The scapegoats that he offered were his men who were on duty to protect his spouse.

"He is the man who had lived for eternity just to find and love his beloved again and again."

-- log end

Afternotes:

I didn't expect the fic to be this short (says the one who got lazy mid-way and cut half of the story...) anyway, I thought to myself, rather than let this rot in the draft, wouldn't it be better to post it even if it was only half completed without any proofread yet?

I'm really happy my first LIfE Project event features my favorite son, Yulian first! The next one might be Eleanor!

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#oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #reader insert #x reader #yandere headcanons #LIfE Project #Yulian the Corruption

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

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lqvesoph · 27 days

Text

She’s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: Quali day in Melbourne also means some secrets are being spilled…

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 3

The flight to Melbourne was only about three hours. Three hours that Daniel spent sleeping while Lando and you talked about god and the world.

He told you a lot about his family, his parents and siblings and his two little nieces. Your heart swelled a little at the pictures of him holding the two girls on vacation last summer.

You glanced over at Daniel and then turned your gaze to the British boy next to you.

"So, I was thinking-"

"So, about today morning-"

The two of you started at the same time, chuckling and looking down. "You go first", you quickly said, wanting to hear what Lando had to say first.

"About this morning, I… I really like you. I feel like I know you, which is pretty strange considering the fact we haven’t known each other that long. But I wanna get to know you more because… I really like you", he spoke, shyly glancing at you, only to find you smiling at him.

"I would love that, Lando", you smiled, reaching to grab his hand and interwind your fingers. "Can we please keep it low when people are around though? Because I really need to tell Oscar first before he finds out from stupid gossip pages and I don’t think his home race is the place to tell him that I’m dating his teammate", you chuckled at the last sentence.

Lando nodded in understanding and pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. "That’s totally fine by me", he smiled, dropping your interlaced hands back into your lap.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"What on earth are you doing here??", your best friend called when he spotted you lingering in the back of the Mclaren garage. He quickly signaled his engineer that he’d be back shortly before walking over to you.

"You’re not even wearing any sort of Red Bull colour", Oscar stated after he looked you over once, mustering the white summer dress and lack of Red Bull hat.

"C’mon, I can’t go ‘round parading Red Bull as an Australian at the Australian Grand Prix, especially not when my best friend who’s also Australian drives for a different team", you chuckled, your eyes finding Lando’s for a second who still stood in front of the computer, looking at data along with his engineer. He sent you one of his adorable little smiles before shifting his attention back to work.

"I think this is honestly the first time you’ve ever stood inside here for more than 5 seconds and without me forcing you", Oscar chuckled.

Before Oscar could drag you to his side of the garage, Lando showed up behind him, a wide grin on his face.

"And who do we have here, Red Bull’s princess in papaya", he smirked. Your smile immediately brightening at the sound of his voice. "Well we’re not as far as me actually being IN papaya, I’m colour neutral today", you replied, making Lando raise his eyebrows before pulling his Mclaren hat off and pushing it down on your hair in a quick motion.

"Heyy!", you protested with a giggle and tried to slap his arm away. "That looks way better, wouldn’t you say Oscar?", the brit laughed and turned to his teammate, whose invisible question mark was getting bigger and bigger.

Thankfully his race engineer called him back before he could pose any of his million questions. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t still keep his eyes on the two of you, catching the gentle squeeze Lando gave your hand, that held on longer than necessary.

📍Melbourne, Australia

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, ybsf

yn.adams: Feels great to be back in Australia and especially at Albert Park!! Quali up next🏎️

comments:

landonorris: Loads of papaya right here🧡

> landonorris: Even a papaya sunset🤭

> fan: How did he convert her over to McLaren???

> fan: That d must me hella good if she’s willing to change teams…

oscarpiastri: How am I only posted once???

> fan: Oscar asking the important questions!!

> fan: Fr tho how did she post Lando 3x??

danielricciardo: I’m sorry, is that papaya I see there??

kellypiquet: You look absolutely gorgeous!!

> yn.adams: Luv uuuu

ybsf: THE BEACH PICTURE!!

liked by landonorris

fan: That’s a lot of papaya for you, miss🤨

fan: Posting Lando 3x in one post…

fan: Daniel with the truck LMAOOO

fan: Not a single photo from the Red Bull/RB garange🫣

> fan: Lando be turning her into a Mclaren fan

load more comments…

*~**~*

Your heart swelled with pride when you saw Lando jump up to P4 on the leader board, your smile just slightly getting bigger. You clapped your hands a few times, celebrating Max’s pole with the other crew members but secretly also Lando’s good starting position for the race tomorrow.

You quietly hushed out of the garage to walk down the paddock to Mclaren, waiting for Lando to arrive.

"Heyy!", he called with a laugh. You giggled and opened your arms for him. His curls were slightly damp from the sweat but you pushed your fingers through them anyway as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I’m proud of you!", you muttered for only him to hear and felt him smile and squeezed your hip. "Thank you", he smiled and pulled back.

"You wanna come inside?", Lando then asked, nodding towards the papaya hospitality. You hesitated for a second but nodded and resisted the urge to grab the driver’s hand.

He smiled for a few pictures and waved at fans before opening the door for you.

"Lando, debrief is at 6", Jon reminded Lando before said boy grabbed your hand and dragged you towards his driver room.

He pushed the door shut behind you and unzipped his orange race suit, the black fireproof coming to show.

"These are so hot", you muttered, letting your intrusive thoughts take over as you trailed your fingers along his chest. Lando chuckled and pulled you closer by the waist. "You wanna take ‘em off?", he joked teasingly but the glint in his eyes told you he really wouldn’t mind if you did.

You chuckled and pulled his lips on yours, his tongue finding its way into your mouth shortly after. Lando pushed you back until the back of your knees hit the couch and he let you down on his carefully, all while letting his hands roam up and down your body.

You whined when he sucked the gentle skin on your neck, his hand coming to rest on the back of your thigh. You put your hands on either side of his face and pulled him back up so your lips could touch again.

"Lando, have you seen- oh wow, that’s why you didn’t come to congratulate me!"

The door opened, making you push Lando away from you and scrambling up to sit straight on the couch.

Oscar stood in the doorway, putting his hands on his hips. "Respect, mate. I didn’t think you’d be brave enough", he said, turning his gaze to Lando.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that your best friend would keep his mouth shut.

"Huh?", Lando asked, a confused expression gracing his face. "Just because Mark has always been against his daughter dating drivers, I mean I tried when I first met her but respect mate", Oscar kept talking, now crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Mark?", Lando questioned, his confusion growing as the seconds passed. You silently begged Oscar to finally quit talking but he didn’t catch on.

"Mark, her dad? Mark Webber", Oscar explained, now confused as well.

"Your dad is Mark Webber?", Lando called, turning his head to you.

Just then your phone chimed with a new message.

dad: What’s going on with you and Lando?

taglist

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#lando norris #mclaren #f1 #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #landoscar #dando #landan #mark webber #ln4 #quadrant #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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sparklovespink · 2 months

Text

ENHA HYUNG LINE! --- gf w/ strict parents!

18+, blow job, fingering, slut shaming, risky + semi-public sex, lots of teasing,

⠀⠀ ⠀myslut masterlist

HEESEUNG was not liked by your parents when they met him. they like him a lot more now, at least. loves to help around the house when you have him over for family celebrations. still, when's he's over they never fail to remind you, "keep that door open." you do, because when have you ever known better? not until heeseung shows you. the placement of your room has your bed not in the view from the doorframe so he sits himself at the edge, you knelt in front of him while he lets you rest your head in his hand.

he hushes you, pulls out his cock and guides your mouth onto his tip. he's taking in all of your soft moans, throws his head back at the way your lips kiss along his length. "you just love my cock in this pretty mouth. can't get enough of it." he hisses through gritted teeth when you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock. the risk of getting caught has him so turned on, has him pushing his cock further till your really gagging on him, because you look so fucking pretty choking on his dick.

JAY'S the type of guy to get along with your family immediately. your parents love jay, your siblings think he's the best guy you could've possible brought home, and you know your family would trust him with anything. he comes over for family dinner parties and social events, and your father introduces him to everyone.

so of course no one thinks much when the two of you slip away, jay pulling you into the first empty room down the hall, pressing you against the door. keeps his fingers in your mouth as he fucks you, rolling his hips against your ass. "imagine if you're parents knew how much of a slut you were?" he coos, listening to you whine around his fingers, begging him not to tell. "don't want them to know how good your boyfriend fucks this cunt?" he pulls his fingers out of his mouth and brings them down to your clit, teasing you because he's such a meanie. "c'mon, try to stay quiet for me baby."

JAKE'S a sweet heart, one hundred percent. your parents think he's so sweet, ridiculously kind. sometimes they think he's questionable but they treat him like a son-in-law nonetheless. and he's managed to convince them to let you come over for the holidays. and they think you'll be skiing and going on coffee dates.

which you do, at least when jake doesn't have you bent over the expensive island table of his parents vacation home, splitting you open with his big cock. the house is empty, so he's not holding back, fucking into you at an ruthless pace. you don't know how long he's been at it, fucking you so hard you can barely think about the snow angels you had asked him to make with you just moments ago. "s'much better than being out in the snow, right baby?" he'll ask, balls deep inside your warm cunt, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. "mmm, so much better."

SUNGHOON might have been liked by your parents before you even realized loved him. they worship the ground he walks on, always inviting him over without even asking you. sometimes, you'll come home to find them sitting with sunghoon in the living room, waving you over. sometimes you wondered if these were really the same strict parents that raised you.

and they're love for sunghoon has you so amused. what would they think if they knew he was the one finger fucking your poor cunt barely minutes after greeting them? the two of you on your bed, and he has you sat on his lap, hand in your panties and his fingers working fast. you clench so hard at the sound of footsteps, thighs closing. he forces them back open, scissors his fingers inside of you. "shh baby, s'all good." he whispers, groping your tit with his free hand as you grind down on his thigh, "you're alright."

#will be getting to asks soon!#heeseung smut #jay smut #sunghoon smut #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #🥽—✩ enhypen

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 8 months

Text

Vacation: Part one

PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing :: OPLA!Sanji x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Oral(f recieving), Semi-Public sex(they did it in an alley), Light teasing

Word Count :: 3,373

Summary :: After being forced on a vacation at the Baratie, you catch the eye of a certain blond cook who loves to tease you.

A/N :: I was trying to find the right mix between pervert simp anime Sanji and suave charming live-action Sanji. There will for sure be a part two.

Go watch the One Piece live-action.

“I see a place we can stop to make repairs, Captain Tommy,” You said, eye still focused on the small floating mass in the distance.

You worked on a merchant ship for a wealthy businessman named Greylock. You were his top secret contract negotiator. The reason you were a “secret” was because he never introduced you as a negotiator. You would always find your way to sneak into his potential clients’ and contract partners’ inner circle to figure out what type of people they were and what they wanted. With this personal knowledge, you would then come up with the best plan of action to secure a beneficial deal for the business. It was easy for you thanks to your typically quiet demeanor. You knew when to stay silent and read the room.

Captain Tommy, Greylock’s business partner, set a course for the wooden structure floating. “Let’s hope the owner’s kind enough to let us port for a while.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to repair the damages?”

“The storm banged us up pretty good, not to mention all the scrapes we’ve gotten from pirates.” He glanced around the ship. “I’d say at least three to four weeks.”

You cursed quietly under your breath. “Greylock isn’t going to be happy about that.”

Captain Tommy shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. The ship’s falling apart. We won’t be able to make it to a port town before the ship sinks.”

You knew Greylock would be upset once you told him, so you took precocious measures to alleviate the anger.

You stood with him on the deck, watching as you approached your soon-to-be temporary home. "You know sir, you've been mentioning wanting to take a vacation for a while."

He sighed, shrugging. "That's because I'm getting older and tired of working. I became a merchant to see the world, not to work endlessly."

"Well then, how about you finally take that vacation now while we repair the ship?"

He turned his head to give you a weary look. "Take a vacation while the ship is repaired?"

You nodded with a smile. "Captain Tommy told me it would take at least three weeks to repair the ship. Instead of worrying about work, you should relax during that time."

"(Y/N)-"

"And you can give the crew a chance to rest. Were y'all dreary from that dreadful storm, not to mention the attacks we had to endure before?" You patted his shoulder. "You know what they say, a happy crew is a dutiful crew. And a tired crew typically ends up killing someone."

Grey lock laughed at your made-up saying, but you were able to persuade him. "You're right. We've been working too hard recently without a break." He looked out once more, finally in the distance to see the name of the place you'll all be staying for the next month. "Lads!" He shouted loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "I want you lot to enjoy yourselves at the Baratie. Think of our unscheduled stop as a surprise resort! Haha!"

Immediately the crew lit up. While everyone cheered and began to talk about what they'd do with their spare time, aside from repairs, you looked up at Captain Tommy. He had a small smirk, giving you a wink. He knew if anyone could get Greylock to give the entire crew a break, it'd be you.

You walked into Baratie behind Greylock and Captain Tommy. It was typically for the three of you to grab a bite together whenever you arrived at a new town so that you could discuss your work objectives. Today, however, it was simply a meal between friends.

A fish man greeted you at the entrance, accepting a small fee before allowing you to take your seats.

You looked over the menu, wondering what to try first. You'd be around for a while and we're sure you'd get to try a few items on the menu before departing. Greylock and Captain Tommy chatted with one another, used to your silence. They knew that you spoke when you felt you needed to.

The swing doors to the kitchen flew open. You glanced up from the menu, seeing a blond man to have caused the small ruckus. He looked upset, brows furrowed and tight lips turned down.

'I wonder what got him so riled up,' You thought.

You kept your eyes on him, noticing he was making his way to your table with a tray of bread rolls in hand. When he was about halfway, he noticed you sitting right of Greylock and his mood instantly seemed to pick up. After his eyes locked with yours, his gaze lit up and a dashing smile graced his lips.

Seeing his mood do a complete one-eighty after spotting you, you shot your eyes back down to your menu. 'Please don't be our waiter. Please don't be our waiter. Plea-'

"Hello gentlemen and fair lady, my name is Sanji. What would you like to drink to start you off? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock."

Almost throughout his entire introduction, you could feel his line of sight fixed on you. He didn’t mind that you didn’t look at him. It allowed him to sneak a glance at your chest without being noticed.

"Anything fancy would be a waste on me. I'll just have a simple whiskey to start with," Greylock said. Captain Tommy put up two fingers, requesting the same.

"And what will you be having, darling?"

"Hm… I'll have a sweet tea."

"A sweet drink for a sweet girl understood."

Your eyes shot towards him, a little shocked by his straightforward demeanor. He gave you a quick wink before walking away.

Now, it was time for the old men to act like school girls.

Greylock started the teasing first. "Awe, our little (Y/N) has a young man who's interested in her,"

"And by the small blush on her cheeks, I'd say she's interested too."

"Wh-what blush?" You stuttered, only now feeling the heat center in your cheeks.

"The one that's covering your entire face." Captain Tommy laughed.

"Shut up. I was just caught off guard by his remark." You practically shoved your face into the menu, embarrassed to face the men before you any longer.

They continued laughing for a moment before talking about what to order.

After Sanji came back with your drinks, it was time for you three to place your orders. Again, your colleagues ordered before you. This time though, you spoke right when Captain Tommy finished his sentence.

"And I will have the seared ahi tuna."

"Do you want the chocolate sin cake after for dessert, love? It's so moist it'll melt in your mouth, I promise," He said in a sultry tone for no other apparent reason than to get a rise out of you.

And once more, you were left stunned and your face was heating up. You were certain he was only teasing you, but you were still upset giving him the presumed reaction he wanted.

"She would love the chocolate cake!" Greylock's hand patted your back hard, causing you to fall forward a bit on the table. "It's been a while since she's had a good pastry."

“Coming right up.”

He left with a swift turn on his heels and when he was out of sight you glared daggers at the two accompanying you.

“What do you think you’re doing, sir?”

“Trying to make sure you have a fun time here.” He took a swig of his whiskey before continuing. “Listen, you’re always working hard for us, and you rarely make any time for yourself.”

You sink in your seat a bit. He was right. On the rare occasion you did flirt with others, it was to secure a deal, and then, you were gone.

“Plus, the boy’s easy on the eyes. You’d be mad to not give him a chance.” He bursted out laughing.

Captain Tommy was a bit more comforting with his words. “You probably won’t interact with him much, so don’t mind him.”

Choosing to believe him, you relaxed for the remainder of the meal. ‘Captain Tommy’s right. As long as I don’t come here again, I probably won’t run into him.’

Too bad you had a crew that loved to go out because about two days later, you found yourself back at the Baratie. This time, Sanji wasn’t your waiter which you were more than thankful for. Captain Tommy and Greylock might’ve teased you a bit, but the men with you now would have embarrassed you so much you would never step foot out of your living quarters again.

Around mid-way into your meal, you excused yourself from the table to go use the restroom. While walking down the hallway, your attention was on the various paintings that decorated the wall.

Since you weren’t paying much attention to what was in front of you, you collided with a firm chest. You nearly stumbled back until a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

“Ah-! I-I’m so sorry! I should have been paying attention to where I was… going…” You looked up at the person you had bumped into, locking eyes with a familiar blue-eyed blond.

He gave you a large grin, replying. “No need to apologize madam. I should be the one apologizing,” You tilted your head, “for disturbing a fine piece of art like you.”

You immediately turned away, hoping he wouldn’t catch your growing blush. “Can you please let me go?” You asked timidly.

You felt his hold tighten for a quick second before letting you go. Without another word, you rushed past him to the women's restroom.

Sanji watched you run away, a playful grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with this one,” He mumbled, already missing the feeling of your body pressed against his.

This would be how every interaction you had with the blonde cook and occasional waiter, played out. You would try to be formal with him, he'd make a flirty or suggestive comment, and then you'd start to blush or stutter.

Typically it was whenever you went to eat at Baratie, but there were a few occasions when he managed to catch you outside.

"I must be in heaven because I'm seeing an angel before me." You tensed up in your seat and froze upon hearing Sanji.

You were at the small outdoor bar next to the giant fish-headed restaurant. Around the end of the first week, you noticed that the place had a pretty good view of the sunset. Sure, you saw the sun set often, but you rarely actually watched it fall below the horizon line, disappearing until morning. It was a minor peaceful event you wanted to enjoy on your supposed vacation alone.

The sky had already darkened by this point. You were just around to finish the drink you had.

"Good evening, Sanji."

He sat next to you, pouting playfully. "Come on m, (Y/N). We've known each other for over two weeks now. There's no need for you to keep acting so stuffy all the time."

You crossed your arms. "I'm not stuffy."

"Yes, you are. Every time I see you it's always a quick sentence or two before nothing but silence. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

'I wish it was that simple.' In fact, you were having the opposite reaction. You were used to making contracts and business deals with people when you spoke to them. You weren't used to being openly flirted with for no reason.

Like always, you avoided making eye contact with him. This time, you fixed your attention to the remaining ice cubes in your drink.

He leaned closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Or maybe, it's because you're too shy to admit you like me," He whispered, hot breath hitting your ear and sending a tingle throughout your body.

You snapped your head around, face burning up when you saw how close he was. That damn coy smile plastered on his perfect lips.

He chuckled to himself, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Why do you keep messing with me?" You bluntly asked. Frankly, you were getting tired of his game, even if you weren't entirely sure what this game was.

This was the first time you had caught him off guard. He leaned back a bit, tilting his head. "What makes you think I'm messing with you?"

"If you actually had an interest in me, you would've told me or showed me by now. You just keep saying sweet nothings to mess with me and I'm sick of it," Your voice was growing frustrated, finally voicing your opinion. "I'm trying to enjoy my vacation, not be bothered by some- Hey!"

He grabbed your hand, lifting you from your seat with a tug and pulling you away. You followed, partly because you were unable to pull away and partly because of curiosity as to where he was taking you. He led you to a small alley a bit away.

Before you could question his intentions, he leaned down to press a firm kiss onto your lips. His hands fell to your hips, holding onto you with a firm grasp and locking you against the wall behind you. Almost as if he were afraid you’d try to escape. His nerves were quickly set to rest when you began kissing him back, your hands holding his shoulders. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you gladly parted, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth.

After some time, he pulled away and began trailing kisses down your neck. As he did, you felt his hands wander to the button of your shorts.

Feeling him work to undo them you asked him, “What are you doing?”

He pulled away, a coy smile still on his face. “Showing you that I have an interest in you.”

He began to pull your shorts down and you felt your heart begin to race. You weren’t directly out in the open, but if someone going down the main walkway happened to turn their heads they’d spot the two of you.

“Sanji, wait- What if- Ngh!”

He started rubbing your clit through your growing wet panties, chuckling at the quick response he got. “‘What if’ what, darling?”

You glared at him, trying to voice your concerns, but again, he continued to distract you with pleasure.

He knelt down on one knee, grabbing your left thigh, and hooking it over his shoulder after completely removing your shorts. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he pushed and held your underwear to the side, revealing your pussy. He stuck his tongue in first, licking up your folds while maintaining eye contact with you through his blond locks. He continued this motion and you bit your bottom lip, hoping not to make a noise.

He wasn’t having any of that though. If there was one thing he loved, it was to know he was doing a good job. At first, he had started to tease you a bit because he thought you were cute when you got flustered. As the days went on, he noticed that you might not have said much, but you couldn’t hide your physical reactions to him. Your face was almost always flushed around him. Your grip on whatever you held tightened with the simplest of sentences. It made him wonder what type of lover were you? Quiet, non-verbal, highly responsive to the slightest touches, etc.?

He had just never gotten you alone to figure it out, until now.

He sucked your clit, earning a squeal in response. Your hands immediately shot down to his head, grabbing hold of his hair.

‘She looks so cute trying to stay quiet.’

He could feel his pants tightening around his crotch, watching you squirm because of his touch. It was getting difficult for you to stay up with one leg, especially when he slotted two fingers into your wet cunt. He curved his fingers in you, moving them slowly at first before picking up the pace to match how quickly he was flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Sa-Sanji, I- I don’t think I ca-can last much longer,” You whined.

Even without you telling him, he could tell you were getting close. Your walls had started to tighten around his fingers and he had to hold the thigh of your standing leg to support you. He would’ve loved to have you come undone around his tongue, however, for his first time with you, he wanted to fully see your expression.

He pulled away and you let out a loud sigh of relief, panting a bit. You were a little disappointed you hadn’t finished but were hopeful to continue this in a more private enclosed area. Your head was a bit fuzzy though, and you didn’t pick up on the small noise of him undoing his trousers or when he completely pulled down your panties.

He grabbed your thighs and housed you up to position the head of his penis right at your entrance. When you felt it rub against your slick folds, your eyes widened. The two of you watched as he pushed his cock in, seeing it disappear in your cunt. He groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment at how tight you were wrapped around him. You whined, feeling his length fill you up.

Slowly, he rocked his hips back and forth, giving you a chance to adjust to him. He watched your face with amusement, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment in your expression. You were still biting down on your lip, hoping to be as discrete as possible given the situation you were in.

With one swift hard thrust though, you let out a moan. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, allowing him to clearly hear all your little whimpers and mewls of delight.

After hearing your moan, he began to thrust harder, wishing to hear more of your voice. You could hear his grunting too, breath growing heavier and heavier with each stroke inside you.

No longer needing to hold you up with both hands, one of them slipped underneath your shirt, sliding under the cup of your bra. He groped your breast, happy at how soft it was in his hand.

The harder he continued to thrust, the shakier your moans got. You were getting close to your release again and he wasn’t far behind, his own breathing now becoming ragged. Now, with each thrust, he could feel your walls tighten around him. Wanting to make sure he got a good look at your face when you came, he briefly removed his hand from your breast to tug your hair back. With your face pulled away from his neck, he plastered his lips against yours, shoving his tongue once more in your mouth. After, his hand returned to groping your breast.

His grip on your thigh was so tight, that you were sure there would be markings. With how hard he was kissing you, your lips were bound to be puffy when he stopped.

Your mind was becoming foggy and all you were focused on was the pleasure you were in, no longer caring someone caught you. You moaned against his lips, your entire body growing tense in his hold. Your walls clamped around him, finally hitting your high.

Seeing your eyes fall shut, engrossed in the feeling of climaxing, combined with how your cunt squeezed against him, he hit deep one last time before unraveling himself. His cock pulsed in you, dumping his entire load inside, savoring how your body milked it.

He pulled away from the kiss, each of your breaths now shaky trying to regain your composure. Your head fell back against the wall, eyes remaining on him.

“What do we do now?” You asked.

“We plan out the rest of your vacation. You’re here for at least one more week, right?” He kissed your cheek. “That gives us one more week of fun, darling.”

#one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #sanji x reader #sanji smut #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #one piece sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji smut

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melzula · 1 month

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I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN

zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!

a/n: i love this trope

summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior

The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.

“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.

“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.

“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”

“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”

“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”

The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.

You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.

“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.

“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.

“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”

“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”

“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”

The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.

“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.

A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.

“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”

“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.

“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.

“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”

“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”

“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”

You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.

“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”

“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”

“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”

“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”

“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”

“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”

“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”

“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”

You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.

He has a lot of making up to do.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

#melzula writes #request #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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sleyu · 9 months

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thinking of perv!bf james who begs you to let him take dirty polaroids of you for when you’re apart. cause how else is he meant to get off without an image of his cum on your pretty tits or you choking on his cock? definitely keeps them in his wallet for easy access too

perfect timing, i just came back from work and all i could think about as i was making people’s drinks was perv ! james…

i am positively going insane at the thought of this. i referenced james asking for photos of you in my james bf headcanons, but i totally forgot to mention all the nudes he would beg for during summer vacation.（；＿；）♡

dating you has gotten him sex addicted and he can only spend so long merely imagining your face and body :( he has such a tough time cumming without you and he hates not having you there or being forced to resort to masturbating because it only further reminds him of his loneliness.

but, the photo-system you guys developed assures him that he’s the only one that gets to have personalized photos of you in his hands that are attached along with every love letter you send him. it also eases his loneliness and makes spending time apart easier for the both of you.

right before school ends, you suggest taking photos of the two of you for when the summer holiday begins and you both are separated by the barrier that is vacations and dependent families.

james practically loses his mind at the thought of this and he makes it his mission to take photos of you from his favourite angles and sights: taking you from behind (he begs you to turn your face to look at him so that it appears in the photo), your cum-covered face and tits, your legs spread with cum dripping out of your abused cunt, you choking on his cock, and your naked, spent body sprawled across his bed, fucked out after a particularly rough session.

some photos are downright filthy (every photo with the cum) which are the ones that he jerks off to the most, whereas others are taken with an artistic eye, aesthetically pleasing enough for him to put in his wallet or on the corner of his bedroom mirror.

the photo of you in his wallet would be something pretty and taken with purpose. it would either be your cum covered, smiling face (so that anyone who takes a glance at his wallet would assume it’s simply an innocent photo of his girlfriend), or, as we know, james loves the risk, a photo of your bruised and bitten tits, littered with hickeys and love bites.

god, when james finally reaches home from hogwarts, he immediately locks himself in his room to pull out the envelope of polaroids he’s taken over the year, eagerly searching through the photos he had taken of you. james is such a little pervert that his cock was already beginning to throb at the mere thought of jerking off to those photos of you.

even though you knew that he had these photos intended for his own personal, depraved purposes, something about pulling out his cock out from his slacks and slowly stroking himself to your pretty, candid, unknowing face—occasionally slapping his cock gently on the laminated paper—was so filthy and lewd to him.

of course, the picture deal has to be mutual and he’s more than happy to send you nude photos of him. one of the photos would be his hard, leaking cock tributing to the cum-covered photo of you smiling. looking at the photo and realizing how creepy and perverted it comes across only made the ache in his cock worse. he’d graze his length against his pillow, groaning to himself, making a silent prayer that all of this is enough to relieve the constant need in him and his craving for your cunt.

‘’m so fuckin’ sick,’ he’d sigh, grinning wolfishly.

i also have a sick feeling that not only james, but the rest of the marauders favourite photos to jerk themselves off to are the innocent ones in which you’re smiling happily into the camera, showing off your pretty sundress. of course, nothing beats the lewd photos of you, but they find themselves cumming harder at the unsuspecting photos, imagining your cute, smiling face in front of them, eagerly waiting to be covered and marked by their cum. something about tainting and subsequently corrupting the innocence and purity that the casual photos reveal drives them mad.

‘gonna fuckin’ ruin you the next time i see you—fuck,’

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augustinewrites · 1 year

Text

sweet nothing ft the fushigojos to make up for the last fic i wrote for them heh

gojo satoru was not made for domesticity. this has always been something you've known, something you've accepted.

you're just not sure that he has.

it's a little past midnight when he trudges into your bedroom, tired lines creasing his pretty face as he shuffles around the room. he greets you with a quiet hey, and a peck on the forehead before stripping off his uniform, tossing it into the basket with a little more force than necessary.

you raise a brow at him, but stay quiet as he stalks into the bathroom. in the years that you've been together, you've learned better than to back an emotionally repressed sorcerer into a corner and force him to say how he's feeling. especially one who’s just gotten back from assignment.

you try and fail to return to the novel you were reading, staring blankly at the page until gojo steps out. his hair is damp, a towel slung low around his waist as he digs around in the closet for underwear.

there’s no pageantry, no winks or eyebrow waggles or light teasing of, like what you see? stuff that would usually make you roll your eyes, but that you suddenly realize has been missing lately.

okay, something is definitely wrong.

so you shut your book, placing it on the nightstand as he crawls into bed next to you. he says nothing, simply reaching across you to flick off your lamp and plunge the room into darkness.

it’s with a heavy sigh that he rests his head in your lap, grabbing your hand and plopping it into his hair before hugging your legs.

"i can't go to okinawa with you guys tomorrow.”

“satoru,” you can’t help but frown, carding your fingers through his hair. “we’ve been planning this trip for months.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” he says, strained. “you should just take the kids without me. take shoko, or something. megumi’s already stocked up on his spf, and tsumiki was really looking forward to picking seashells—”

“satoru,” you interrupt when you catch his voice break. “are you— are you okay?”

he’s crying, you realize when he doesn’t respond, instead pushing his head deeper into your lap, muttering, “no.”

“talk to me,” you murmur, smoothing your hand down his spine.

"i don't want the kids to think that i didn't want to go."

"you've been talking about seeing me in a bikini for weeks, i think they know how badly you wanted to go."

your comment pulls a small laugh out of him, but it's still interrupted by a sniffle.

"what's this really about?" you ask softly.

"i've been...missing things lately," he mutters quietly. "little league games, piano recitals, science fairs. i leave before they're awake, i get back when they're about to go to bed."

sorcerers who are referred to as 'the strongest' don't get days off. they go where they're needed, when they're needed.

"you know they don't hold any of that against you."

"i know," he says, sitting up to look at you. "but i don't want them - or you - to feel like i'm not choosing you. because i would, but i can't. and i'm just tired. of all of it--"

you wrap your arms around him when his voice breaks once more, pulling him into a hug. he reciprocates immediately, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he releases a shaky sigh.

"it's not just about being there for the big things," you murmur. "it's about...being there when they need you to be. i can't hit a baseball to save my life, so you're the one who takes them the park to practice. you're the one who taught tsumiki how to read sheet music, and found a way to explain the concept of infinity to a ten year old so he could win the science fair."

without him, there would be no little league games, piano recitals, or science fairs to attend.

"besides, we can always go on vacation some other time," you assure him, rubbing circles across his back. "it's not worth it if you're not with us."

_____

satoru wakes to the sound of muffled laughter. a quick glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand confirms that it's 7am.

the lack of warmth pressed into his side tells him you're up too. it's rare that anyone is awake before he is, especially on weekends or days that he's set to depart. he can hear bits of your conversation with the kids as he gets ready for the day, changing into his uniform and shoving clothes into a bag.

"what shape should i try to make?" he hears you ask. ah, you must be making pancakes.

"a heart!" tsumiki suggests.

"japan!" megumi argues.

he knows you're going to make both. you're doing so when he saunters onto the scene, humming along to whatever song tsumiki's put on the record player as you drop chocolate chips into the batter.

he sweeps your hair away from your neck, dipping his head down to press a kiss to the nape of your neck.

then he turns to the kids, who are in the process of setting the table. "did, uh, you guys already talk about okinawa?"

tsumiki nods, but megumi just shrugs, wrinkling his nose. "there are a lot of jellyfish there anyway."

he of course goes on to inform everyone of the different kinds of jellyfish and all the horrible ways they could kill you. tsumiki chimes in to say that they won't attack unless they're bothered.

you press a mug of coffee into his hand, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss to his cheek before joining the kids at the table with a plate of pancakes.

the scene that unfolds in front of him is a simple one, but one that he's dreamed of all his life. a family sitting together for a meal, laughing and chatting about things that don't really matter.

the world's always going to need him. but this? this is all he needs.

because gojo satoru wasn't made for domesticity, but for his family? he'll try.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #keeping up with the fushigojos #gojo fluff #sweet nothing by taylor swift #jjk fluff

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sixosix · 5 months

Text

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.”

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin drabble #wanderer fluff #genshin impact #kunikuzushi x you

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Chapter One. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

Tag List -

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3K notes · View notes

dreaming-medium · 7 months

Text

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 5

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Cockwarming - Felix

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: End of the quarter reports are due and somehow one of the calculations got messed up; it’s nothing you can’t do by hand. And luckily you have a preppy secretary who will stop at nothing to make sure you’re relaxed.

————————————————————

“Felix, can you bring in my incoming forms, please?” you say into the intercom on your desk.

“Right away, ma’am.” His deep voice answers you immediately through the speaker.

Leaning back in your large office chair, you cross one leg over the other and look out of the floor to ceiling windows that line the wall behind your desk.

Your arms cross over your chest and your bottom lip pulls between your teeth in deep thought.

Various different items on your to-do list for the day fly through your mind as you stare out over the Seoul skyline.

Partnership approvals, tax forms, time sheets.

Being the CFO for a large cooperation like this one was never easy. There was never a single day in the office that you weren’t busy. When you think about it, you can’t even remember the last time you took a vacation day.

Once you get this high in the corporate ladder, it’s supposed to get easier, that’s what you thought. It’s what you were told your entire life. But, now that you’re here, you see that it’s the exact opposite.

Every single day is filled to the brim with meetings, phone calls, and business lunches. It’s all chock full of fake smiles and forced laughter.

You worked your ass off to get to where you were now, and nothing was ever going to change that. Sleep be damned..

A gentle knock sounded through the room.

“Come in,” you call out, turning your chair to face the door.

The door opens and Felix walks in with a large stack of papers in his hands. His crisp white dress shirt is tucked into his navy blue dress pants, a matching tie around his neck. A pair of thick black glasses sat perched on his nose, face framed by long, perfectly kempt, blond hair.

“Your inbox, ma’am,” he says warmly, walking closer to your desk.

“Thank you, Felix.” You motion down to the empty desk in front of you. “You can just place them anywhere.”

He nods and gently places them on an empty spot on the wood.

“Do I have any more meetings for the day?” you ask him, flipping through the papers.

“No, ma’am.”

You run one hand through your hair tiredly. “Good, good.” A beat. “What time is my first meeting tomorrow?”

Felix reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps on the screen a few times before speaking up. “Ten o’clock.”

“Really? That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day.”

“Your 8:30 was rescheduled to the afternoon.”

“Now that makes sense.”

Your eyes tiredly flick over to the time on your desktop. “Jesus, Felix. Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?”

He shifts his weight on his feet. “Yes, but I don’t leave until you do.”

“I told you that you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s just in case you need me, you know?” A soft blush covers his cheeks, but you pay no mind to it.

“You’re putting these hours on your timesheet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You sigh again. “Tomorrow is the day, isn’t it?”

“If you’re referring to the quarterly rebalance, then yes, it is.”

At the end of every quarter, you were in charge of verifying each analyst’s calculations and reading their predictions for the next one before presenting them to the board of directors.

Every single time you end up staying at the office until the wee hours of the morning.

Last quarter, you didn’t leave the office until two in the morning. And, like every quarter, Felix stayed with you.

“Well, then,” You put the forms back down on your desk and push your chair away to stand up. “I’m not going to bother with these tonight when I’ll be here until sunrise on Saturday.”

“Should I have your car brought around?”

“If you could, please.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

Felix briskly leaves the room and you roll your head around your sore neck.

“Fuck quarterly rebalances.”

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

Your hand runs over your face for the millionth time in the last four hours. The numbers are starting to blend together at this point.

The analyses started coming in around 11 AM and since then you just haven’t stopped.

Line chart after line chart, spreadsheet after spreadsheet, everything looks the same now.

You’ve been hung up on one single data set. There’s a random spike in it for no reason at all. Why is there a spike in this calculation?

You cannot move on to the rest of the data until you get over this spike.

Blindly, you reach over to the phone on your desk and press the intercom button. “Felix,” you say after the beep.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Can you please patch me through to Seo Changbin? There’s no way this spike is correct.”

The sound of typing on a keyboard echoes over the line.

“Seo Changbin clocked out three hours ago, ma’am. Would you like me to ring his personal phone?”

“Three hours?” you ask incredulously and look down at the time. “Holy shit.” you murmur under your breath.

8:00 PM. It’s 8:00 PM.

“Ma’am?” Felix grabs your attention after a second of waiting.

You throw your glasses down onto the desk and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. A headache has been resting behind your eyes all day.

“No,” you say after a few moments. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just run the numbers myself.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with for now, ma’am?”

You look around the room, the sun is setting over the skyline. A sigh leaves your chest.

It’s hard to believe you were working for nine straight hours on this. When was the last time you looked up?

“Have you eaten yet, Felix?” you ask, keeping your eyes outside.

“No, ma’am.”

“Order whatever you want, make it double. Put it on the corporate card.”

Felix’s deep laugh comes through the intercom. “Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

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

Two plus two is four, right? Yes, of course it is. Two plus two has always been four. They wouldn’t just change that suddenly, right?

But you’re so delirious that you still punch it in your calculator.

“Two plus two...” When the calculator says four, you stare at it. “To be honest, I was expecting something else with how tonight is going.”

Laughing at your own joke, you continue to re-input the numbers into the spreadsheet on your desktop.

A knock at your door pulls your attention.

“Come in!” you call out without looking up.

The door clicks open. “Delivery!” Felix’s cheery voice calls into your office.

You look up at your secretary with weary eyes. His mouth pulls into a sympathetic smile.

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” you groan and lean back in your chair. Your muscles scream from the movement and you grunt. “I just verified two plus two on the calculator.”

“Still four?”

“Surprisingly.”

“I think it’s time for a break, then.”

Peeking at the clock, it says it’s around 9:00 PM now.

With an apologetic smile, you look up at Felix. His white collared shirt is undone at the top, no tie around his neck. A plain pair of tight black slacks hugging his legs. He’s looking at you with nothing but pity in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” you say while taking the takeout container from him. He just laughs.

“Don’t apologize, it’s all part of the job.” He shifts in place for a moment and turns and looks at the door.

“Where’s your food?”

“Oh, at my desk.”

“Why don’t you bring it in here? I’d love the company. Wayne can only do so much for my sanity.” You point at the house plant on your windowsill.

A little nametag on the front of the pot says ‘Wayne’ in cursive.

Felix’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn a bit pink. “Oh! Yeah! I’ll um… I’ll go grab it and be right back.”

You follow his lithe body as he rushes out of your office with one eyebrow raised.

Strange.

True, this was the first time you invited him to eat in your office with you. But it’s not like you ever had the opportunity to do so.

Typically, you ate in your office by yourself while still working. Truth be told, you had no idea when Felix’s lunch break was. He was always available when you needed him. Did he work through his lunch too?

Your secretary re-enters your office slightly out of breath.

“By the way,” he pants. “I had forgotten to order us drinks, so I got this out of the vending machine for you.”

He comes up to your desk holding out your favorite drink.

“Ugh, what would I do without you?” You smile and take the drink. “Pull a chair closer, you can eat on my desk too. It’ll get all over you if you try to balance it like that on your lap.”

Eagerly, he places his food on your desk and scoots forward. The redness in his cheeks deepened.

Soft lo-fi music is coming through your computer and filling the silence in the air. You crack open the takeout container and dig in.

It’s a stir fry. And stir fry has never looked this good in your life.

“This is so good,” you basically moan after taking your first bite.

“O-Oh, yeah? I’m glad you like it,” Felix stutters back and takes his own bite.

“It’s definitely much needed after today.” You whine and look back at your desktop.

“What’s going on with the numbers?”

“Based on what Changbin gave me, it says our internal earnings spiked massively this quarter. And yes, while this is great, it’s extremely abnormal. If this is true, I need to verify it before I can present it; otherwise, I’ll look like a fool.”

Felix listens intently to your explanation. “I don’t think you could ever look like a fool, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Felix.” You smile at him. He grins back and suddenly it’s like the sun is back up. His pearly white teeth shine in the office light.

“You have such a pretty smile,” you compliment him. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Felix squirms in his seat and looks down bashfully. The blush spreads all over his face. One of his hands comes up and rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

Chuckling softly, you turn back to your calculations.

The gentle, twinkling sounds of lo-fi beats do nothing to help calm the swirling confusion in your head.

Minutes pass and you’re staring at the same algorithm.

Your shoulders are slowly coming towards your ears with all the tension in your body. When you lean forward to use your keyboard, a burning pain runs through your back.

“Fuck.” Your hand flies up to grab where your shoulder meets your neck to massage it and roll your head around.

“Everything alright?” Felix asks.

“Yeah, I just get so stiff sitting at my desk while I work on the end of quarter stuff. Feels like my shoulders are on fire.”

No amount of massaging your own shoulders seems to be working, though.

Felix looks down at his food for a moment, then back up to you. His eyes shift away from you nervously.

“Before this job, I had gone to massage school for a few months. Would you like me to see if I can work those kinks out?”

Normally, you would say no. It would be so wildly inappropriate to have your secretary massage your shoulders while you work. Imagine if someone decided to walk in?

But now? When no one else is here and there’s no end in sight with these analyses?

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, unsure.

He seems to perk up a bit. “Not at all!”

Another moment passes while you weigh it in your mind, your lip pulls between your teeth before looking at him a bit sheepishly. “If you don’t mind…”

Felix is up on his feet, food immediately forgotten. It almost startles you how fast he’s up and around the back of your chair.

You had shucked off your blazer a few hours ago. Just your button up on, the top few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

Felix stands behind you for a moment, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Do you have any lotion?”

“Yes, actually.” Reaching down into your desk drawer, you pulled out an herbal lotion that your one friend had gotten you as a gift.

“‘Stress Relief’, huh?” Felix teases when you set it on the desk.

“A friend thought it would make a great gag gift with everything going on,” you laugh to yourself and stare back at your computer. “She didn’t realize how appropriate it was.”

Once more, Felix moves his hands around your back, his lithe fingers sweeping your hair off the back of your neck. Instead of keeping it down, you lean forward and grab a long pencil out of the cup and twirl it around your hair to then pin it up.

It’s a trick you learned back in college.

Felix watches behind you silently, his breath hitches slightly when he sees your hair settle all pinned up. Strands fall out of the bundle and frame your face and neck a bit.

It’s the most perfect messy hairstyle he’s ever seen.

Felix’s jaw clenches and he gulps, pulling himself together.

“Do you mind if I, ah– lower the back of your shirt a bit?”

“Yeah, here.” You’re already back in word mode; after looking at the sheer number of raw data littering the spreadsheet on your desktop, you were no longer focused on your secretary.

You unbutton more of the buttons and let your shirt slide off your shoulders a bit. Your cleavage was still covered– mostly.

Felix’s brain whites out for a split second and he has to physically force his brain to reboot. There’s a slight twitch in his pants at the sight of your naked shoulders. You’re always in those high-collared shirts, blazers, sweaters, so ungodly professional.

But your clothes are always so skin tight. Or you’ll wear a blouse like this one and a tiny little pencil skirt.

Felix leans down and pumps some lotion on his hands, rubbing it together to warm it up before setting his hands on your wonderfully smooth skin. It takes every fiber of his being not to let out a moan at the feeling.

His breathing picks up as he digs his thumbs into your muscles.

Immediately, you groan at the feeling. “God, that already feels so good, Felix.”

His name, you said his name, moaning nonetheless.

He can only make a noise of acknowledgement while he continues to work out the high strung muscles in your neck and shoulders.

Meanwhile, your brain is completely focused on your calculations. It’s so much easier to focus on everything when it doesn’t feel like your back is on fire.

Felix’s hands are absolutely magical. Everywhere he rubs loosens up underneath his strong, yet gentle, grip. He kneads right at the base of your neck and every knot slowly releases.

Small moans slip past your lips without realizing it.

And just because you don’t realize you’re moaning does not mean that your secretary hasn’t. Every single sound that comes out of your mouth goes straight to his dick. His slacks have tightened significantly, a tent pitching higher and higher each second.

He scolds himself internally. He knows he needs to pull it together, you’re his boss. You sign his paychecks. But fuck, knowing that you’re making those noises because of just his fingers is messing with his brain, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Felix runs over a particularly tight knot and you jump with a yelp.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he apologizes profusely, keeping his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you soothe his worry. “God, I already feel better. It felt like someone was stabbing flaming daggers into my shoulders.”

Your voice sounds somewhere else. Even though Felix has been your secretary for almost two years now, you’ve never spoken this casually with him. You were always professional, always so put together.

The work in front of you has you so consumed that you don’t realize how much your tongue is slipping.

It’s been like this the entire night. You’re too distracted to care.

“I can’t believe you chose to pursue this instead of continuing with massage school.” you continue.

“Well, I had originally gotten this job to pay for massage school. Then, when I got this position, I realized it paid more than being a masseuse ever would.”

You move your head around your shoulders, “Still.” you write down a string of numbers, click around on your keyboard, punch a formula into the calculator, then write something else down. “God, your fingers are fucking magical.”

Hearing you curse sent a lightning bolt down his back and Felix’s head is shot into the clouds. And you were complimenting him!

“I can’t imagine what else those fingers can do.”

Now he knows he’s dreaming. Did you really just say that? Did he hallucinate it? His fingers pause on your muscles.

Your own words must have sunken into your brain; your entire body goes rigid and you gasp, one hand flying over your mouth. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Oh my god, Felix.” you say quietly, your tone is horrified. “Felix, I am so sorry, please. Oh, god.”

You can’t even turn around to look at him. It’s like ice water was injected to your veins. How could you have said that? He’s going to report you to HR! Who wouldn’t? You quite literally just harassed him in the workplace.

“I have no idea why I said that.” you sputter.

Say goodbye to everything you worked for. You threw it out the window by accidentally letting your tongue slip while he massaged your bare shoulders.

While you were apologizing profusely, you didn't feel him lean down until you heard his baritone voice was right next to your ear.

“I could show you.”

Like a zipper, pleasure shoots right up your spine. It makes you sit up straighter in your desk chair. Your mouth is suddenly so dry.

“W-What?” you stutter out, still looking down at your desk.

Felix is so close behind you that you can smell his cologne wrapping around your nose. It’s so fresh. It has a cotton-like musky smell to it. You’ve always caught whiffs of it when he came breezing through your office.

So many times you’ve found yourself leaning into the smell, and now here you have it so close to you.

“I could show you what these fingers can do, ma’am.” he purrs in your ear. Goosebumps raise all along the back of your neck, the hairs stand on end and a shiver creeps up on you.

His warm, slippery hands slide from your shoulders down your bare arms to grip them for a second before sliding back up. Felix reapers the motion a few times, letting his hot breath fan over your exposed skin.

“But,” the gravel of his voice makes your insides flutter. “You need to finish these calculations, ma’am.”

You hum in response, allowing your eyes to flutter closed and you lean back into his touch.

Felix chuckles under his breath. “I have an idea.”

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

Oh, it was a sinful fucking idea. Did he really think you were going to get any work done like this?

Felix had sat down on your desk chair, the tent in his pants so painfully obvious. At the same time, you can’t deny the wetness in your panties. It was getting worse and worse during that massage.

It’s only natural.

He grabs your hips and pulls your body towards him, his face level with your lower stomach. He looks directly up at you, his fingers curling into the fabric of your pencil skirt.

Those deep brown eyes staring up at you with a lustful haze covering them. Every freckle was highlighted on his face due to the blush covering his skin.

You bring one of your hands up to his face and softly caress his cheek, letting your fingertips dance over his skin. Felix leans into your touch; he turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

“This is crazy,” you whisper down to him.

“The secretary sleeping with the boss is not a new concept, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, but it’s usually the other way around.”

One of your knees comes up and rests on the chair right in front of his crotch. Felix bites his lip and his eyes squint shut for a moment.

His hips stutter, you can tell he’s trying not to roll them to rub against your bare skin.

Your head cocks to the side and you smirk. “Come on then, I need you to be fully hard if I’m going to sit on your cock.”

One of the deepest moans you’ve ever heard pulls from deep within his chest. Felix’s head tilts back and his grip on your hips tightens. In a fluid motion, he gyrates his hips and you feel his cock press right against your leg.

A devious smile crosses your face, you move your hand down to grip his face tightly to bring his clouded gaze back to you.

“Come on then, Felix. You can do better than that.”

He whines and closes his eyes again, his hips stuttering and moving faster, harder. He parts his lips to begin panting. Each breath is hot and heavy, you can barely hear your music over it. The heat from his exhales goes right through your shirt.

Further and further, he descends into a subspace.

“Good boy,” you praise and it goes straight to his head.

Felix gulps and moves his hands around to grip your ass a bit.

In a quick movement, you rip your leg away from his hips.

Felix cries out and his eyes fly open to look at you with astonishment.

“Did I say you could touch me like that?” you hiss down at him.

“No, ma’am.”

Your head cocks to the side and you stare for a few seconds. “I need to get back to work already. Take your cock out.”

His eyes widen and he hesitates, not used to hearing such filth tumble from your lips. You tighten your grip on his face.

“I’m waiting, Felix.”

He’s then fumbling with his pants trying to fulfill your wishes. He’s practically scrambling. Why isn’t the zipper fucking working? Come on, come on.

Meanwhile, you drop his face and pull your skirt up around your waist, revealing your black lace thong. While still fumbling with his own pants, Felix moans, staring at the beautiful sight in front of him. It sounds like it’s punched out of him.

Teasingly, you hook your thumbs around the elastic band and drag it down your legs slowly.

Another whine comes out from Felix’s throat. His tongue practically falls out of his mouth at the sight of your pussy, acting like a starved dog.

“Please,” he pants, not able to tear his eyes away from it. “Just a taste. Just one. Please, ma’am, please.”

Smirking, you lightly slap his cheek twice. “You get three licks, honey.”

He can’t get his mouth on you fast enough. Felix wraps his lips around your glistening folds and runs his tongue up through your juices, collecting whatever he could on his tongue.

You both moan at the same time at the sensation.

“One…” you moan out.

Another lick pulls another moan. “Two!”

After the third lick, he swirls his tongue around your clit, making your knees feel weak. “Fuck! Three!”

You roughly grab his hair and yank his mouth away from you. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes half lidded. It looks like you took a puppy away from its bowl.

His full lips glisten with your arousal.

“Sit back on the chair, hands to yourself.”

Felix reluctantly leans back in your chair, his cock at full mast and dripping with precum. His head is flushed red. He is painfully hard.

He rests both of his hands on the arm rests of the chair and keeps his lustful eyes on you.

A smirk pulls at your lips as you kick your panties off, heels staying on.

You turn around and grab Felix’s cock tightly. His hands tighten around the armrests with a gasp.

“Remember what I said, Felix. No touching.”

“Yes,” he pants.

“Say it, then.” you demand, hovering your pussy over his cock. You both can feel the heat of each other radiating off.

“No touchinggg—!” While he was talking you dropped down onto his length.

Both of you moan out loud, your head kicks back at the delicious stretch. God, it’s been too fucking long since you’ve gotten laid. This job takes everything from you.

You roll your hips a few times, getting adjusted. With each movement, Felix lets out a noise: a whine, a grunt, a moan, a whimper, everything in between. He’s singing a chorus of pleasure in your ear.

“We have to get a little closer to the desk, Felix.”

It takes every ounce of strength, but your voice comes out even and Felix clocks that it’s your professional voice. You feel his cock twitch inside you.

Slowly, he rolls the chair towards the desk and you immediately return to your work. You snap back to it so fast it makes Felix whimper again.

Your heat is wrapped around him in the fucking best way. There’s no way he’s alive right now. For months he’s touched himself thinking about what you looked like underneath all those professional clothes.

You’re always so uptight, what if you just let loose for once? What would it be like?

Your pussy clenched down on him and Felix whines, throwing his head back. Oh, this was going to be torture.

Just until you finish verifying the calculation, that’s what you said. As soon as you verify the numbers, then you would let him have you.

“You just need to behave.” You told him.

How is he supposed to behave when you’re so fucking tight and wet around him? He can feel each breath you take.

Besides the fact that you’re surrounding his cock, your naked thighs are right there on top of his. He wants to grab them so hard it’ll leave his fingerprints in your skin, maybe it’ll bruise in the shape of his handprint.

Felix can’t help his hips bucking at the thought.

You clench again and moan. “Felix,” you warn.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Sorry, ma’am!”

Oh, you love that. You absolutely throb around him. Huh.

The soft hairs on the back of your neck tickle against his nose, he can still smell the lotion that he rubbed into your shoulders.

Felix is grabbing the armrests so tight his knuckles are turning white. His nails dig into the leather painfully.

He licks his lips nervously and he gets another taste of your arousal that was still on his skin. It makes his eyes roll back.

You adjust on his lap. The movement of your heat around him makes his head spin. The drag of your hot, soaking wet walls over his length is the most consuming feeling he’s ever felt.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath.

“Stop moving.”

A small sheen of sweat breaks out on his forehead.

Why no touching? Why couldn’t he snake his hand around and up your blouse? He could cup your tit and pinch and pull your nipples until you’re clenching around him so tight that he could scream. He could lick all the way up your neck and pull your earlobe into his mouth while he listens to you panting his name.

Why can’t he touch you? God, he just wants to touch you.

Here he was, living out his wildest wet dream, and he couldn't feel your soft, supple skin underneath his fingers.

Why can’t he turn your head and consume your lips with his own? Shove his tongue down your throat and suck on yours like it’s a piece of candy.

He should’ve taken his pants off. This way he would’ve been able to feel your juices drip down and soak his thighs. You’re so fucking wet he thinks he might die.

Felix’s eyes travel to the desk. He could absolutely bend you over the top. He could pull your hair and make you scream. He could make you forget all about–

“Aha!” When you scream, he jumps in surprise. His hips buck up and your pussy clenches around him. You both moan.

“Did you get it?” he pants out. His voice sounds so much weaker than he wanted it to; he sounds like he just ran two miles.

“Yes! He used net earnings instead of gross in one formula! Oh I am going to kill him.”

Thank the fucking lord. You figured it out. You did it, can he please please please–

Felix must’ve started thrusting up into you before he could even register the movements. His mind is so cloudly with lust that he can barely think straight.

“Easy, Felix.” you whine out through moans. He can just tell you didn’t want him to stop either. “Let me just finalize the chart and then–”

Felix cries out and then slumps his head forward to rest between your shoulder blades. “Ma’am, please, I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Haven’t I been such a good boy for you, ma’am?”

You hum and roll your hips ever so slightly. Just this slight amount of movement drives Felix insane. He whimpers loudly and his legs begin to shake underneath you.

“You have been a good boy, Felix. Why don’t I give you a reward?”

“Please.”

“Why don’t you let those pretty little hands roam until I’m done?”

“Thank you!” he cries out with a hoarse voice.

Immediately, his hands fly to your thighs and he grips the flesh tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you cry out under your breath, your walls clamping down on him tightly.

“Can I use my mouth, ma’am? Please please please please–”

“Yesss…” you hissed at him.

Felix attaches his lips to your neck and begins to suck on the soft skin while his hands wander up your body.

One hand goes right under your shirt and pulls your bra down. Those magic fingers pinch your nipple.

Every reaction your body has envelopes him in the most amazing way. He can feel everything your body likes. He can feel how you like when he rubs around your nipple rather than pinching it. He can feel how much you love when he uses his thumb to play with your tit while his mouth bites at your neck and hit other hand teases your soaking wet folds.

“Felix…” you warn. It’s all empty, though. Your typing has completely stopped, work has been forgotten.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, ma’am.” He moans when you tighten. “Let me make you feel good, ma’am. Let me be such a good secretary.”

With the gentlest of touches, Felix plays with your clit. Just with that soft touch, your body spasms around him.

“I can make your body sing, ma’am. Let me be of service to you.”

Another gentle pinch of your nipple. It’s going straight to his head how he can feel how much you’re fighting him.

“Don’t you want to cum around my cock, ma’am?”

You break. “Please.” you whine out.

It’s enough for him.

Both of his arms tighten around your body, his feet plant firmly on the floor and he begins fucking up into you like his fucking life depends on it.

He turns into something of a fucking animal with how he’s rutting his cock into your sopping wet heat. He thrusts so hard and so fast, you think he might go through you.

His teeth bare for a moment from the exertion, but he bites down where your shoulder meets your neck.

Your head throws back onto his shoulder. Felix grabs your entire tit to anchor his hold, his thumb brushing over the nipple over and over, each one sends a ripple of pleasure through you.

His other hand rubs harder at your clit, you clamp even tighter over him. Both of you grunt and groan. There is no silence in your office; is the music even playing anymore?

You turn your head to look at him. “Kiss me, Felix.”

He captures your lips without a second thought. It all feels so fucking deliciously good. He sucks on your tongue just like he always wanted to.

Your mouths glide over one another sloppily, spit getting everywhere on your mouths.

With each thrust, each flick, each rub, your orgasm gets closer and closer.

Felix shifts his hips a bit and hits your g-spot so hard you cry out into his mouth, he swallows the noise.

“You’re so fucking tight, ma’am. I can feel you clenching so hard. You’re close, aren’t you?”

All you’re able to do is nod. He’s stimulating you so much that you can’t find your voice.

“Fuck!” he cries out, “Fuck fuck, give it to me, please. Please cum for me, ma’am.” His voice is so low, it's so hoarse from arousal.

A particularly hard thrust launches you over the edge, your orgasm seizes every inch of your body. Felix keeps going, fucking you right through your orgasm.

Deep, guttural moans come from his chest as your body begins to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated as he gets closer to his own peak.

“Cumming, cumming, cumming!” he shouts and bites your neck again.

Felix spills within you, his hips sputter and he continues to talk through it.

“So good, fuck, thank you, thank you. So fucking good, fuck, oh my god.”

The room begins to settle, both of your pants becoming softer than the music. Felix holds you close to his chest still, not letting you go.

Your eyes flicker to your desktop.

“... I’m only halfway done. Your cock isn’t going anywhere.”

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